Touching Evil (28 page)

No, he had joined because Noah Bishop had been quietly recruiting qualified people with paranormal abilities for a very specialized unit of investigators, and that had appealed both to Quentin's innate curiosity and sense of justice and his need to make use of a unique talent the rest of the world found incomprehensible—and even frightening. If they believed in it at all.

"Some friend I've been," John muttered beneath his breath.

It said a lot for Quentin's nature that he had remained a loyal friend, both humorous and unoffended all these years despite John's patent disbelief. John wasn't so sure what it said about his own nature. That he was incredibly stubborn, perhaps?

Perhaps.

"John."

He straightened away from the doorjamb, surprised that he'd been so preoccupied he hadn't heard Maggie approach. As soon as he saw her face, he took a quick step toward her almost instinctively.

"What is it? What's happened?"

She tucked her sketch pad under one arm and reached for her phone, her smile a little strained. "Hollis thought she might have remembered something, but it's nothing we didn't already know." The lie came easily to her lips, but she went on immediately just in case John's acute perception where she was
concerned told him more than she wanted him to know. "I'm worried about her, though. She and Ellen Randall are the only surviving victims so far; Ellen's still blind and no threat to this animal, but Hollis might be able to see again, and I'm afraid that would disturb him enough that he might try to come after her again. Even though the surgeon and the staff here have agreed not to publicize the operation, the news is bound to get out sooner rather than later. I think she should be guarded, just in case he finds out about it."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"Yeah. Andy? It's Maggie. Are you guys making a night of it? I know, I'd just as soon work as try to sleep too. Listen, do you have somebody you can post here at the hospital, outside Hollis's room? I don't want to scare her, but I think she should be protected. No, but if this bastard finds out she might be able to see again—yeah, she could be a threat to him. Clear it with the hospital, okay? Thanks."

She listened for a moment, then closed her eyes briefly, and they were bleak when she opened them again. "I see. So he's not giving them even a chance to survive now. And not wasting much time between victims. He must have grabbed Tara Jameson within hours of killing Samantha Mitchell. Yeah ... a whole new ball game. No, John's still with me, so we'll come together. Right."

She listened a moment longer, then frowned and said, "Is that Luke I hear?" Her face tightened, and she said in a voice John remembered from their first meeting, "Do me a favor, and tell him I'd appreciate it if he hung around until I got there. I want to talk to him. Yeah. Thanks, Andy."

Watching her drop the phone back into her pocket,

John said, "Do you think Drummond will listen to you?"

It didn't even occur to Maggie that John hadn't needed to ask what she had in mind. "I think he'd damned well better. Stubborn is one thing, but this has gone way too far to keep bumping up against Luke's pride."

"Even he has to see that much now. I gather they found Samantha Mitchell's body?"

"Yes. He'd killed her outright." She drew a breath. "Cut her throat."

John watched her steadily. "Then I'd say it's way past time to pool our resources and manpower and work together."

Maggie nodded. "Definitely. Whether Luke Drummond likes it or not."

"You've got my vote. And I have a hunch Andy is going to agree with you too."

She nodded. "I'll make sure first, okay it with Andy, and then I've got a few home truths for Luke. If I have to, I'll go to the chief—and I'll make sure Luke knows it."

"Blame me for the fact that Quentin and Kendra are already in town," he told her. "He can bitch at me all he wants without hurting any of the rest of you."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. And if you need any extra ammo, you might try telling him the governor owes me a favor that I've been very hesitant to call in. So far."

"Is that true?"

"Yeah. I was saving it in case Drummond got nasty and tried to shut me out of the investigation entirely, but we might as well play every card we've got."

Maggie nodded again. "Okay. I'll use it if I have to."

John put an arm around her, partly because she
looked exhausted and partly because he needed to touch her, and said, "Let's go."

Scott came into the conference room and sat down in a chair across from Jennifer. "Beats me what's going on, but it looks serious. Andy's in a huddle with John at his desk, and Maggie is in Drummond's office. The door is closed—but you can still hear Drummond."

Jennifer grimaced. "If he's pissed enough to be yelling at Maggie, it must really be serious. He's more careful with her than he is with any of us."

"Because the chief is so high on her."

"Yeah." Jennifer looked at her watch. "Nearly eleven. Andy said we should put ourselves back on the clock if we're planning to hang around."

"Suits me," Scott said. "All I do at home is stare at the walls trying to figure this thing out."

"I know what you mean."

"Any luck finding that transient?"

"Not so far. I called some of the other shelters in the area, but they don't have anybody matching his description or claiming the name David Robson."

"You don't really think this guy saw a ghost, do you, Jenn?"

"I think he might have seen something. At the very least, something that shook him up."

"Because Terry Lynch says so?"

"He's a good cop, Scott."

"Sure he is. I'm just wondering what a drunken transient could possibly have seen to make him believe he'd seen a ghost. Smoke? Light hitting a patch of mist just right? Somebody dressed all in white?"

"All good possibilities," she admitted. "But maybe
he saw something else, Scott. From what little we do know, this bastard may be wearing a mask at least while he's with the victims—one of those hard plastic masks. I'd think that would look plenty creepy even if you were cold sober."

"I guess."

Jennifer sighed. "I know it's a long shot, but what have we got to lose checking it out?"

Scott sighed as well. "Nothing."

"Exactly." Jennifer reached for the phone. "I have a couple more shelters on my list that should be taking calls even this late. Besides—even long shots finish first every once in a while."

"Not when you bet on them," Scott replied in a voice of wry experience.

"I don't like being threatened, Maggie." Drummond's voice was level, a distinct change from his roaring of only moments before.

On her feet in front of his desk, she leaned forward and planted her hands squarely on his blotter. "No? Then stop making it necessary, Luke. This thing has gotten way out of hand, and if you were honest with yourself instead of so bullheaded you refuse to see reason, you'd admit it."

"My people can—"

"Your people are out of their league. They're damned good cops, every one of them, but they've never had to deal with this kind of monster before. Nothing in their training or experience has prepared them for it."

"If you'd just produce a sketch—"

She straightened and half laughed. "Fine, blame it
on me. I don't give a shit. Say your sketch artist just couldn't do her job, and that's why you can't catch this animal."

He had the grace to flush, but his eyes remained angry. "We're doing everything in our power, everything that can possibly be done. And the chief agrees with me; why call in the FBI when we don't have so much as a piece of conclusive evidence for them to fucking investigate?"

"Listen to me. You're a hunter—think about it. What's the logical thing to do when you're after a particular kind of animal? You look for experienced hunters. When you have a bear problem, you damned well find somebody who knows how to hunt bears."

"Cops hunt criminals. And—hey, surprise!—we catch them too."

Maggie deliberately dropped her voice to a conversational tone, unthreatening, even unemotional. "Yes, you do. But this isn't just another criminal, Luke— that's where you're misjudging the situation. This is an animal, a human monster going to inhuman extremes to hide his evil face even from his dying victims. And when you go after a monster, you need somebody who knows how to hunt them."

"Like the FBI."

"No, like a very specialized unit
within
the FBI." She allowed her voice to sharpen. "A group of highly skilled, trained, and dedicated people who don't care what the headlines read after they've done their job and gone. They don't care who gets the political points. All they care about is putting monsters in cages where they belong."

Again, Drummond flushed slightly, this time at the biting comment about his political aspirations, but
all he said was "I've never heard of this specialized unit."

"No, you probably haven't. Like I said, they don't seek publicity—the opposite, if anything." She watched that sink in, and added, "But if you'll check back through the law-enforcement agency bulletins the Bureau sends out, I'm sure you'll find them mentioned a few times. They're the Special Crimes Unit—SCU. Formed to assist local law enforcement to handle unusually challenging violent crimes. Their success record is quite impressive. They have a mandate never to interfere with local law enforcement, only to advise and provide support and assistance— when requested to do so."

"How come you know so much about them?"

"Someone I know nearly joined that unit a couple of years ago." She shrugged. "What I can tell you is that they're good, Luke. They're very, very good."

"I still don't see what they could do that we can't," Drummond muttered.

Maggie knew he was going to give in—however grudgingly—so she kept her response matter-of-fact. "Like I said, they've hunted monsters before; maybe they'll have a take on this the rest of us would never think of. But even if they don't, the murder of Samantha Mitchell raises the stakes, doesn't it, Luke? People are going to be asking what
more
you're doing to stop a sadistic rapist who has now become a brutal murderer. Call these expert monster hunters in, and you've got an answer for them."

"Shit." He leaned back in his chair until it creaked, scowling.

"You know it's the right thing to do. Even more, it's the smart thing to do. Luke, a few days ago you asked me
to try harder to give you a picture of this monster. Now I'm telling you that I can't do it alone. I can't do it just by talking to blinded victims. I need help. I need people who can help me to understand the way he thinks."

"Is that why you're so cozy with Garrett these days?" he asked sourly.

Ignoring the implication, she said, "As a matter of fact, John decided a few days ago that if you couldn't use the resources of this FBI unit, then maybe he could. You know how determined he is to find the man who attacked his sister, whatever it takes. He happens to have a friend in the unit, and the friend is here in Seattle along with his partner, on their own time and off the books. We have them to thank for how quickly Samantha Mitchell's body was found."

She had been reasonably sure that last would keep him from exploding, and she was right. But she nevertheless didn't give him time to start sputtering.

"Nobody's stepping on your authority, Luke, and all of us have only one goal in mind. We just want to stop this monster before he kills again. Give us all the tools we need to do that. Be a smart politician as well as a smart cop and call the unit in officially. Give Andy the okay to open up the investigation to them. I promise you won't regret it."

"I'd better not," he growled. "Send him in."

Maggie didn't allow a shadow of triumph to show and didn't waste time leaving the office. The bullpen was less busy than usual at this late hour, but she was still aware of considerable covert attention as she made her way to Andy's desk, where he and John waited. Not that she was surprised by the interest—Drummond's voice had rattled the windows, so it had undoubtedly been heard out here.

"He wants you," she told Andy. "He'll probably bluster a bit, but bottom line you'll get the okay to bring Quentin and Kendra in officially."

"Did you have to promise your first child?" Andy asked dryly as he rose.

"No. But I may be pouring brimstone out of my shoes tonight."

He grinned at her, then headed for Drummond's office.

"Well done," John said. "Here—sit down." He decided not to add that she looked very tired and he was worried about her.

She did, taking the other visitor's chair. "I think I'd almost rather interview a dozen witnesses than argue with Luke. He's about as bullheaded as they come."

John smiled faintly. "You convinced him. That's the important thing."

"Let's hope so." She smiled in return. "Are Quentin and Kendra likely to be up?"

"Oh, yeah, they're both night owls, especially during an ongoing investigation. Are you sure enough of Drummond to call them in right now?"