Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [766]
“You must do like lots of research, huh? I mean, I know you make it up, but some of this…man, I’m telling you, it’s pretty fucking real. I loved the autopsy scene where they find out the killer took the stiff’s thumb. How do you come up with that crap?” He opened the book and started flipping the pages, still keeping his place. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking real.” Then suddenly he looked up and smiled. “I think you like your killer.”
Andrew leaned his head back against the worn fabric of the sofa. He wished the throbbing would stop. It skewed his thinking and interrupted his hearing. If he didn’t know any better he’d say a murderer had just given him one of his best reviews. He smiled to himself, wondering how his publisher might use it, maybe on the paperback—four-time, no make that five-time murderer says, “It’s pretty fucking real.”
Jared didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t getting any response, any feedback. Maybe the man preferred one-sided conversations. He continued to remark on the realism before he launched into his analysis of the parts Andrew had gotten wrong. Yep, a true book reviewer after all.
Andrew simply rubbed his aching head and listened. Somewhere during Jared’s diatribe Andrew realized that Charlie and Melanie had been in and out of the cabin, packing the car. He noticed his belongings being carted off. He jerked forward, sitting up and twisting around. Where the hell were his briefcase, his notebooks and laptop?
“Relax, man,” Jared said, but this time he sounded as if he was comforting rather then restraining Andrew. “I’m making sure they get everything you need.”
“Everything I need?”
“Yeah, you’re coming with us. Consider it research.”
CHAPTER 37
9:41 a.m.
Omaha Police Department
“What else do we have?” Grace asked Pakula over really bad cheap coffee at his desk. Maybe it only tasted bad because she kept remembering the smell of Kramer’s Starbucks.
“Shoe print is a size twelve Nike Air. Darcy might have the breakdown of those pebbles tomorrow.” He met her eyes and held her gaze as he said, “So, what if they match the ones from your backyard?”
“Just one more reason to believe it’s Barnett.”
“Why would he snoop around your house?”
“Are you kidding? He shows up in the courtroom, outside my dry cleaner’s, at the same grocery store I shop? He’s trying to freak me out.”
“Yeah, but how can he freak you out by sneaking around your backyard if you don’t know he’s there?”
“Look, Pakula, I’m not making this up.”
“Hold on. I’m not saying you are. All I’m saying is if he gets a rush by showing up and having you see him, then why sneak around your backyard? Why not pull in to the driveway or something like that?”
“So what are you saying, Pakula?”
“Are you sure he wasn’t inside?”
Grace stared at him. It wasn’t possible, was it? She didn’t want to think about Jared Barnett walking through her rooms, touching her things.
“We need to catch this bastard,” she said. “What about the manhunt? Last I heard on the news they had found the Saturn.”
“Yup. Crashed in a field off Highway 6. A farmer had his pickup stolen about the same time. Didn’t see it taken. It was gone when he came home. They must have made their way through the storm and the field and took the pickup before the roadblocks got set up. We’ve got an APB on the pickup. They won’t get far.”
“Okay. Great. So we’ll probably have him by the end of the day. If it is Barnett, he won’t be getting out of jail free this time.” Grace shoved aside her coffee and stood up to stretch. The mess on Pakula’s desk was worse then hers; she couldn’t remember having ever seen its surface. “What about the receptionist?”
“Upgraded to critical. She’s not conscious. Doctors aren’t sure if she’ll regain consciousness. Doesn’t sound good.”
“I need to get back.” She crumpled her foam cup and tossed it into Pakula’s wastebasket. For once it wasn’t overflowing. “Oh, here’s something that might cheer you up. Max Kramer wants to plea-bargain a client who just happened to recognize our convenience-store robber.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient, indeed. Who’s his