Touching Evil (3 page)

But there was something about the woman in the blue coveralls below.  There were two other overall-clad workers, and they deferred to the tiny female.  She didn’t spend much time talking…all her focus was concentrated on Janice.  And Sonny knew—he could feel—that the woman understood death as well as he did.  Maybe even better.

He watched while his poor Janice was zipped away in a bag and hoisted on a stretcher. Then the woman started to talk to a man that even from this distance Sonny could tell was a cop.  

But the man didn’t interest him.  Now that Janice was being taken away, the woman would leave too and Sonny wouldn’t see her again.  The thought had his head buzzing the way it did when he got upset.  His heart galloped and his mind raced for a way to make sure that didn’t happen.  He needed to learn everything he could about the dark-haired woman with IOSME emblazoned across the back of her navy overalls.  And then he and that particular female were going to get better acquainted.

A sense of urgency nudged at him and he gave an inner sigh.  But first he had to do as Vance had ordered.  Sophia Channing was a threat, so Sonny had to eliminate her.  

Get the woman
.  Mommy’s whisper was louder this time.  
Do it now.
 

He let his binoculars hang from the strap around his neck and began to climb down from the tree.  There was only one way to silence that voice.

And that was to obey it.

Chapter 2

Sonny hummed along to the radio as he drove.  He’d made a quick stop at home to get the things he needed and then driven directly to Channing’s condo.  He’d been watching it ever since Vance had gotten word to him.  Yesterday all the state-issued vehicles had left the address, one by one.  Sonny hadn’t been inside before, but Vance was thorough, in spite of being a complete maniac.  The man had left information about the security system and crude maps detailing the layout of the condo’s interior and the approach from the rear.  

Getting rid of the women had always been left to him before, but this time Vance had been specific.  Use a gun.  At least three shots.  Maybe Vance knew something Sonny didn’t.  Maybe guns were different and the woman wouldn’t need to be buried to be really dead.  Maybe three shots to the head and dead was dead.  

He smiled at the rhyme, repeating it a few more times as he turned into the development that housed Channing’s condo.  There was a cul-de-sac to the back and right of the condo, across her backyard and another.  Sonny preferred to park further away and approach from the rear on foot.

First he donned gloves, slipping a small penlight in the pocket of his hoodie before fitting night vision goggles over his eyes.  Vance had laughed at his fascination with military and police equipment, but since Vance was sitting in a cell under round-the-clock guard Sonny could be pretty sure the man was no longer laughing.  

Taking his time, he crossed yards, avoiding houses with kennels in the back.  He paused occasionally, taking a careful look around but all was still.  It was after three.  Most would be asleep.

The cul-de-sac was ahead, and a single street lamp bathed the circular space with a soft glow.  He jumped the fence in the next yard and veered to the other side so he wouldn’t be spotlighted in it.

An urgency was building inside him, ignited by the whispers in the back of his mind.  But he didn’t need to listen to them.  He knew what he had to do.  And the sooner the deed was done, the sooner he could concentrate on the other woman he’d seen tonight.  The one who had taken such care of Janice.

He needed to find that woman.  Needed to be sure she was exactly what he thought she was.

But he was already certain.  They were kindred spirits.  

Which meant she might even understand what he was about to do.

*  *  *  *

“We’ve got activity.”

Cell in hand, Cam strode toward the back of the inside perimeter that had been established around the crime scene, dodging Seth Dietz as the criminalist wrestled one of the massive strobes into a different position.  “Where?”

Agent Tommy Franks’ voice held a note of suppressed excitement.  “Back corner of Channing’s lot.  He’s headed for the rear door.”

Adrenaline spurted through Cam’s veins.  The covert operation at Sophie’s condo had been a gamble, especially since before a few hours ago they’d had no indication that Vance’s accomplice was still in the area.  Maybe the UNSUB was tying up loose ends before he fled the state.

Which meant this might be their one and only chance to capture the man.

“Do you have a visual of his vehicle?”

“Negative,” came Franks’ laconic reply.  “Might have parked on the street a block in back of hers.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Cam promised, heading toward the steep hill embankment beneath the tree line.  And that was going to push it, even running with lights.  “Call for back-up.  Tell them to roll up silent.  Everything in place inside?”  His mind immediately went to Sophie, but he elbowed aside the concern.  When trying to trap a predator, one had to use the right bait.  They’d taken precautions for her safety.  He concentrated on scrabbling up the hill without landing on his ass.

“Exactly as you wanted it.”

“He’ll be armed.  The kids tonight said he had a gun.”  Once up the hill he turned on his Maglite before plunging into the woods.

“We’ll be ready.”  

Agent Corbin Boggs would be somewhere in the vicinity.  Cam knew the two men were more than capable, but he still cursed the time it would take him to arrive on scene.  “No heroes.  But I prefer the UNSUB alive, if possible.”

Disconnecting the call, Cam made his way through the woods as quickly as he dared.  If all went according to plan, by morning they’d have Vance trussed up so tightly that he’d never wiggle free.  If the accomplice could be persuaded to flip on the other man, the whole case might never even have to go to trial.  Sophie wouldn’t have to testify.  And Vance would never again see the outside of a prison cell.  

And that was the thought that would sustain him on the race across town to Sophie’s condo.

*  *  *  *

The first key was stiff in the lock.  The initial time Vance had been inside he’d had two made from wax impressions he’d taken of a set found inside.  Eventually the key turned, and Sonny used the other on the deadbolt.  The door swung open soundlessly.

He slipped the keys back in his pocket and took out a penlight.  The next few seconds would tell the story.  If Vance’s tampering with the alarm had been discovered, the opening the man had fixed in the system would fail and there would only be a thirty-second window to kill Channing and get out again.

Switching on the penlight as he opened the door quietly, he walked exactly to the spot where Vance had said he’d find the keypad for the alarm.  If his entry was discovered the light would switch from green to red, and an alarm would alert the security company and the woman inside of an unapproved entry.  He scanned the area as he waited.  Channing’s bedroom would be through the kitchen, first door to the left of the living room.  Even if the alarm were triggered, he’d be gone long before help could arrive if all went according to plan.

The light on the alarm winked green.  Even better, no racket split the darkness.

He reached up to secure the night vision goggles and unzipped his hoodie part way, taking the pistol with its attached suppressor from the makeshift holster strapped around his chest.  Then he tiptoed in the direction of Channing’s room.

The place was still. Not even the ticking of a clock marred the silence.  He sidled up to the door in question.  Pushed it open and raised his weapon.

*  *  *  *

Seven-year-old Carter Hammel came awake slowly, wondering what he was doing in the sunroom.  It took a minute to remember.  The stuff his mom had given him for pain had made him fall asleep at like seven o’clock.  But it was really dark out now.  

Fretfully, he pushed aside the quilt his mom had spread on him.  He was covered in sweat.  Even his leg inside the cast felt sweaty and gross.  

“Mom!”  He wanted a drink of water.  And he wanted to change his clothes and go to sleep in his own bed.  “Mom!”

But she didn’t answer.  Her bedroom was too far away.  He’d have to do it on his own.  And he hated the crutches.  They made his armpits hurt.   Sulkily, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked out the window.  That was about all he could do these days and it really, really
sucked
.   Mom said she’d call to see if Ryder or Zach could come over for a while tomorrow.  But that was still a long time from now.  And he was going to have this stupid cast on for five more weeks.  That was more than a month before he could ride a bike or play ball.  Why couldn’t he have broken his leg when he was still in school?

Something moved in the darkness outside.  Carter forgot his complaints and strained to see.  Angel, Ryder’s black lab might have gotten loose again.  If so maybe he should call his friend’s house.  The last time Angel had gotten out, the animal control people had picked him up and it had cost money to get him back.  

But it wasn’t Angel.  It was tall, like a man.  He jumped over the fence and ran across Carter’s yard.  

“Mom!”  He yelled louder this time, not taking his eyes off the window.  Maybe it was a robber.  Maybe he was coming
here
.

But the man ran clear across their yard into Dr. C’s.

Forgetting his hatred of the crutches for the moment, Carter grabbed them and struggled to his feet.  He went to the door of the sunroom and unlocked it.  Pushing it open, he hopped awkwardly to the end of the patio and peeked around the corner of the condo.  Just in time to see someone dressed all in black go into Dr. C’s house.

His stomach felt like he was going to throw up.  Carter was the one who had seen the blue van in front of Dr. Channing’s last week with the funny sign on its side.  He’d had to talk to that agent guy about it.  And yesterday he’d heard his mom talking on the phone and she said Dr. C had been kidnapped and then gotten away.

He knew what kidnapped was.  They heard all about stranger danger at school.  And he wondered if Dr. C would’ve got kidnapped if Carter had seen the guy in the blue van.  If he’d gotten a look at him so the police could’ve caught him before he hurt Dr. C.

Chewing his bottom lip, he considered going in to get his mom.  But he already knew what she would say.  That he was imagining things again and that he should go to bed.  

He hadn’t imagined the guy jumping over the fence.  He knew he hadn’t.

Positioning his crutches, he turned and hopped back into the house.  Quiet this time.  He didn’t call for his mom.  Instead, he went to the kitchen, and stood in front of the refrigerator.  She’d put the BB pistol his dad had bought for him way up on top, saying she’d talk to his dad about it.  Carter knew that meant that he wasn’t going to get to keep it.

But right now he took one of his crutches and pushed the BB gun over the side of the fridge and then reached up to catch it when it fell.

Holding it in his hand, he immediately felt better.  If there was a bad guy at Dr. C’s house again, this time Carter was going to stop him.

*  *  *  *

The master bedroom was empty.  The bed was stripped.  No one had slept there recently.

To be sure, though, Sonny stepped inside the room and checked the adjoining bath.  It was empty, too.

Nerves jittering through him, he slipped back into the living room and drew the penlight out of his pocket again.  There was a second bedroom in the condo.  Maybe Channing was sleeping in it because hers brought bad memories.  Vance had taken her from her master bath.  Just walked right up to the shower she was in and snatched her out of it.  Vance might be an animal, but he didn’t lack balls.

Aware of the passing seconds, Sonny moved swiftly through the living room, skirting the couch and end table to approach the bedroom door that led away from the room.  It was partly open.  And when he peeked inside, the tightness in his chest eased a little.

This bed was occupied.  Although the room was dark, it would be hard to miss the figure under the covers.  He shoved his goggles to his forehead, wanting to make sure. Channing was facing away from him but he recognized the bright blond hair from Vance’s description.  Sonny took four long strides toward the bed, raising his weapon as he moved.

*  *  *  *

“Are you inside yet?”

There was a faint crackle in the radio transmitting Frank’s voice to the whisper mic Boggs wore.

“No. I’ve got movement next door.  You think this guy brought a friend?”

Franks was silent for a moment.  “Did you see two approaching the condo?”

“Negative.”  But Boggs strained his eyes, scanning the area he’d seen the activity coming from.  

“It could be the neighbor.”  Which, both of them knew, could spell a very different sort of trouble for them than an accomplice.   

Boggs caught another glimpse of movement.  Someone was crouched on the next-door patio, pressed against the house in the shadows.  He conveyed the information to the other agent, adding, “Let me know when you’re in place.  I’ll go in and you can take the second guy.  How far away is backup?”

“Another five.”

Boggs’ gaze traveled from the next-door patio to Channing’s condo and knew they didn’t have that long.

*  *  *  *

A passing headlight speared through the blinds and washed the corner of the room in light for a moment.  Sonny held his breath, wondering if Channing would wake.  Turn over and open her eyes when he killed her.

He didn’t like it when they looked at him.  He always turned them away first.  Otherwise their eyes turned into Mommy’s eyes as they bulged and bugged from a face that turned into her face.  Sonny didn’t like that at all.  

But Channing didn’t turn over.  The alarm on her bedside table clicked to the next minute reminding him of the need for haste.  
Three shots.  Do it now.
 

He drew closer until he was standing over the bed.  Drawing a breath to steady his aim, he squeezed the trigger.

The shots came in quick succession and even with the suppressor there was a sharp p
op, pop, pop.
  Sonny was prepared for it.  He’d been shooting since he was a teenager.  But he’d never shot at anything live before.  He wasn’t prepared for the blood.  It spattered his clothes, his face, the gun in his hand.  Panicked, he jumped back.  Wiped the wetness from his chin with his sleeve, and realized it was wet, too.  His stomach lurched in disgust.  Lowering the gun, he yanked the goggles back in place as he turned to run from the room, from the house, forgetting the need for caution.