Snake Skin (23 page)

Unlike her other three lovers—the news
director, station manager, and a city councilman—Burroughs always
satisfied Cindy's physical needs. Multiple times. Once she
submitted, she was able to experience orgasms with the merest
stroke of his hand, graze of his tongue. No other man had
ever—
ever
—been able to coax her to climax like Burroughs
could.

The others were business. Burroughs had
started out that way as well. A reporter could never have too many
friends in the police department. She and Burroughs had quickly
crossed the line, taken things further. It wasn't a relationship
but rather a mutual addiction.

Her fingers trailed over her bare stomach,
following the path his teeth had taken last night. She wasn't quite
certain who needed whom most and that made her a little
nervous.

During sex she was always in control.
Always. But the way she kept thinking about him in between
times—that was a bit frightening. Especially as she was certain he
never thought of her. Not that way.

She sat up, shaking her hair free of its
tangles. As long as this thing with Burroughs was good for
business, she wouldn't worry about it. Two mutually consenting
adults having good—make that great—sex, what was there to worry
about?

Her phone rang. She grabbed it and hopped
onto the unmade bed.

"Cindy, it's Felix. We're at that address
you gave us. The blue Subaru is gone, though."

"That's all right. Film some establishing
shots—be sure to get the house number in the frame." She slid her
palm over her red satin sheets—Burroughs' favorites—inhaled the
musky scent of sex, and found herself wishing he had stayed.
Probably was with Guardino right now. The bitch. Because of her,
Cindy was off the Yeager story. Temporarily.

"There's a man and a kid coming out, dressed
for church," Felix said. "Looks like they're walking."

"Film them, call me from the church or
wherever they end up. I'll meet you there." She hung up, staring at
the depression Burroughs had left behind in her pillows. Imagining
his reaction when she turned the tables on Guardino. He'd stay all
night after that. Most definitely.

Cindy rolled over onto her stomach, burying
her face in the pillow, kicking her legs with wild abandon.
Laughter rippled through her.

Guardino was going to be her ticket to a
lead story—maybe even a primetime special.

And Burroughs was going to help.

She loved it when a plan came together.

Chapter 20

Sunday 7:29 am

"You've got the camera in the necklace,"
Fletcher, the Customs guy, said as he draped the heavy, enameled
choker around Lucy's neck and cinched it tight. "Microphone in your
belt buckle." He started to thread the belt through Lucy's jeans
but stopped at her glare. Instead he backed away and held it out to
her. "Um, I guess, you can—"

Lucy took the belt and quickly secured it.
The back of the monitoring SUV was stifling and she was drenched
with sweat. Maybe she was coming down with whatever Megan had.

"Testing, testing," she said in a low
voice.

Fletcher watched the monitor and nodded.
"Good to go."

"Cover team in place?" Lucy asked.

"Parking lot and adjacent room. No movement
reported since the subjects returned from the restaurant."

Of course not. The three Canadians were
saving their energy for their special Sunday morning treat. "Got my
purse?"

Fletcher handed her Ruby's denim bag.
"Wallet with license and credit cards in the name of Ruby Miles,
photos of Katie, gum, Kleenex, house keys..."

Lucy rummaged through the frayed bag,
verifying that her cover details rang true even though they hadn't
changed since yesterday. Part of her ritual, part of the waiting.
"Move in as soon as I leave the room. Crisis intervention if I
mention a play date. Everyone clear?"

He stopped short of rolling his eyes. "Like
we didn't just do this yesterday?"

"I didn't ask about yesterday, I asked about
today. Everyone clear on the alarm signal?"

Fletcher tapped his earpiece and relayed her
inquiry. "Everyone's on board."

She stifled a yawn. Shook her hands,
flicking away her anxiety, and glanced at the clock. Fatigue and
heat swaddled her and her eyes drooped.

"Lucy, it's time."

She jerked awake, sending a searching glance
Fletcher's way. He had his back to her, didn't seem to realize
she'd drifted off. She slid her wedding band free and completed her
final ritual. A quick kiss for luck before carefully sealing the
ring in the change section of her real wallet inside her real
bag.

They were parked at the Monroeville Mall, a
few miles from the meeting place. Lucy had offered the men a few
options, and they had chosen a small motel off Route 22. She would
take the van there, make the final arrangements, verifying and
documenting that all three men were there to meet with
four-year-old Katie, and then leave. Her back up team would do the
take down. No fuss, no muss. Not today.

She drove the van there, to where the three
Canadians were waiting for their chance to meet with four-year-old
Katie. She parked in the space in front of the room beside the
subjects'. Checked that the van didn't block any sight lines to the
target door or window.

She yawned, popped her ear, left the van
running, got out and locked the door behind her.

The motel door opened before she could
knock. Eager.

A man with sparse blond hair, wearing a
dress shirt and navy slacks stood on the other side. "Ruby?"

Lucy ran a finger over her collarbone,
adjusting her choker as she got a good view into the room. "Are you
Earl?"

He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing in time
with his head. She stepped past him into the room.

An overweight man with brown hair and
glasses approached her, his arm outstretched to shake her hand.
"I'm Johnny."

The schoolteacher. She clasped his hand and
turned to look at the third man in the room. He stood by the
window, hands out of view as he peered through the drapes. "Where's
Katie?"

Ivan, the lawyer. He sounded like a lawyer,
all questions that really weren't questions but demands, his tone
half whining and half pouting, expecting to have things done his
way, right away.

Lucy spun around, surveying the room for any
unexpected surprises, then perched on one of the two beds. Both
were still made, there were no suitcases to be seen—they must have
stayed somewhere else last night. The only personal items in the
room were two large cameras and a digital video recorder set up on
a tripod.

"I can't believe how hot it is," she said,
fanning herself with one hand. "Bet it's a lot cooler up where yunz
are from."

"Yeah, about twenty-seven Celsius," Earl,
the podiatrist, said.

"I didn't come here for chit chat. Where's
the girl?" Ivan snapped.

"She fell asleep, so I left her in the van
while we discussed our arrangements. Don't worry, I locked the
door, she's fine." She smiled at the other two. "Sleeping like a
little angel. She's sooo excited about having her picture taken,
just loves the camera." She rummaged through her bag and handed
them several snapshots of Katie. Maternal pride stretched her smile
wider. "She could be a real star some day if I can afford enough
money to build her a real portfolio, you know?"

"She's darling," Earl said, running one
finger along his lips as he stared at the photo. Johnny was too
engrossed to say anything, his upper lip now shiny with sweat and
anticipation.

"Well, gentlemen, your money made it into my
account, so I guess if we're clear on the ground rules, we're all
set to go." Lucy nonchalantly crossed her legs, leaning back on the
bed. "I get to stay the entire time, photos only, no touching."

"But kissing," Earl put in, his gaze still
fixed on the snapshot in his hand, "you said kissing was all
right."

"If that's what you want. Is there anything
else you want?"

"I want, er, I'd like to give her a bubble
bath," Johnny said, his gaze darting up to meet hers then sliding
away again. "I'd pay extra."

"How much?"

"Five hundred."

"US, not Canadian?"

"Yes."

"And you, what do you want?" She addressed
the lawyer, still staring out the window.

Ivan jerked the drapes closed and whirled on
her, a pistol in his hand. A Taurus 9 millimeter—a serious weapon,
no frills, just deadly.

He was taller, younger, and in better shape
than the other two. Unlike them, he wasn't dressed for the
occasion, instead wore black jeans and a black polo shirt. A
twisted scowl cemented itself on his face but the gleam in his eye
was pure desire.

She'd seen that same gleam in junkies and
psychopaths. She had the feeling Ivan might be both. Lucy jumped
up, her gaze fixed on Ivan's hands.

"Look, if you guys are cops, I haven't done
anything wrong," she said, edging toward the door. Ivan stepped in
her path, aiming the gun at her face. She caught a glimpse of the
other men's faces. They appeared shocked.

"What do I want?" Ivan said with a sneer. "I
want your car keys and then I want you to kneel on the ground and
start praying."

Chapter 21

Sunday 8:04 am

Lucy froze. Ivan was too far away for her to
jump him and way, way too calm for her liking.

He'd fantasized about this a lot, a whole
helluva lot. He wasn't like the other two, she realized now. Ivan
targeted little girls not because he was a dedicated pedophile, but
because they were easy to control and terrorize.

Damn. How could she have been so wrong? Her
breath collided with the knot of fear tightening her throat. She
gulped them both down hard.

"I don't have the keys," she said, keeping
her voice low and her gaze on his hands, avoiding any challenging
eye contact.

"Don't mess with me, bitch!"

She saw his back-handed slap coming, and
rolled with it, dropping to her knees. He lunged forward, grabbing
her hair, twisting it in his free fist before she could reach her
weapon. Which would have been a suicide move anyway. Just as
calling in her team would be. Until she calmed him down and got the
gun farther away from her.

Instead, she reached for her hair, trying to
ease the pressure ripping across her scalp. Ivan planted the
Taurus' barrel in the center of her forehead, pressing so hard it
gouged her flesh. Adrenalin roared through her brain, so loud she
had to strain to ear his words.

"Earl, search her bag. Get the keys," he
ordered. "Johnny, find something to tie her up with."

"Where'd you get the gun?" the schoolteacher
asked, standing frozen on the edge of Lucy's peripheral vision.
He'd gone pale, couldn't seem to stop licking his lips.

"Never mind that. Just do what I say. Tie
her up." Ivan's words came fast, as if he had rehearsed them. Lucy
bet he had—late at night, alone in the dark, one hand wrapped
around his penis, the other stroking his gun as he fantasized this
moment. He sounded excited, thrilled with
anticipation…triumphant.

Show the fish what they want, but don't let
them have it.

A quick flash of her family filled her
vision. She blinked it away. She had to focus, stay in control. If
she was going to get out of here alive.

The dentist dumped her bag out on the bed.
"No car keys here."

"Where is it, bitch?" Ivan yanked her head
back so hard fire raced across her scalp, bringing genuine tears to
her eyes.

"I told you. I left the van running, it's
too hot to leave a kid out there," she blurted in a gush, letting
the tears flow. "Please don't hurt Katie, she's just a little girl,
please don't—"

"Earl, go see if what she says is true. If
it is, bring the girl and the keys back."

Earl left.
One down, two to go.

"What do you want?" Lucy asked, stalling for
time. Johnny didn't seem much of a threat. It was Ivan she needed
to worry about. As long as she wasn't restrained, she could get out
of this. Alive.

"I'll tell you." Ivan's gun remained
centered on her forehead but his gaze grew unfocused as he relived
his fantasy.

She'd bet this was the closest he'd ever
come to fulfilling it. For all his mental rehearsing, he was still
a virgin.

"First of all, I'm going to give you want
you wanted. You get to watch. Earl and Johnny will take their
photos, finish with the girl. Then we're going to take a drive out
to the woods. And then," his mouth parted in anticipation, sweat
gleaming from his upper lip, "it's my turn."

Uh huh. Couldn't any of these whack jobs get
creative? Always the same old sadistic fantasies, it was almost
comical. Except for the nine-millimeter aimed at her brain.

"I can't find any rope," Johnny said, his
voice petulant now that he'd gotten used to the idea that their
innocent little hi-jinks had suddenly morphed into premeditated
murder.

"Rip the cord from the lamp."

"I tried, I can't."

"Then use the phone cord. Damn it, do I have
to think of everything?"

He rocked back, his gaze shifting from Lucy
to Johnny. Just the opening she was waiting for.

"Play date!" she shouted.

She grabbed Ivan's gun hand, twisting it
away from her. His grip on her hair tightened, ripping a hunk out.
Momentum was on her side as she used the movement to propel her.
She launched up in a ferocious head butt, catching him under his
chin. The impact rocketed through her skull. She followed through,
propelling him down to the ground, twisting his gun hand so hard
bones popped as they separated, landing with her knee on his
windpipe.

Blood covered his mouth and jaw. His scream
ricocheted through the air. The door slammed against the wall. The
room filled with shouts of, "FBI, drop the gun, drop the gun,
hands, hands, hands!"