Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [77]
“Timmy.” His mom came around to the table and sat across from him. “The man on the radio is right. They did find Matthew last night.”
“I know,” he said and kept eating, though the cereal didn’t taste as good all of a sudden.
“You know? How do you know?”
“I figured that’s why Uncle Nick and Agent O’Dell left in such a hurry last night. And why you were up all night working.”
She reached across the table and brushed his hair off his forehead. “God, you’re growing up fast.”
She caressed his cheek. In public he’d have batted her hand away, but it was okay here. He actually kind of liked it.
“Where did you get Cap’n Crunch cereal?”
“You bought it. It was down with the other cereals.” He filled his bowl again though it wasn’t quite empty, just in case she took the box away.
“I must have grabbed it by mistake.”
The coffee was ready. She got up, leaving the afghan draped over the back of the chair and the box of cereal on the table.
“Mom, what does dead feel like?”
She spilled coffee all over the counter and snatched a towel to stop the puddle from running over the edge.
“Sorry,” he said, realizing it had been his question that had caused her clumsiness. Adults got so bent out of shape about stuff.
“I really don’t know, Timmy. That’s probably a good question for Father Keller.”
CHAPTER 42
The breakfast Maggie had ordered from Wanda’s sat untouched on the small table. It had come bundled in an insulated pack, served on stoneware and encased in stainless-steel covers. Steam had risen from the plate when the desk clerk had proudly unveiled it as though he had prepared it himself.
She was becoming a regular of Wanda’s cuisine without ever stepping foot in the diner. And although the golden eggs, butter-slathered toast and glistening sausage links smelled and looked delicious, she had lost her appetite. She had left it somewhere on the bathroom floor while she fought to gain control over her panic. The only thing she touched was the frothy cappuccino. One sip, and she thanked Wanda for having the good sense to invest in a cappuccino maker.
Her laptop occupied the other side of the table, close to the wall where a recently installed phone jack allowed the hotel to advertise itself to business travelers. She paced while her computer slowly connected her to Quantico’s general database. She wasn’t able to access any classified information. The FBI remained skeptical about the confidentiality of modems, and rightly so. They were constantly a target for hackers.
She had already put in several calls to Dr. Avery. The old-fashioned desktop phone confined her to the bed, so she couldn’t do her usual pacing. She stretched out on the hard mattress. After her shower, she had put on jeans and her Packers jersey. The exhaustion was overwhelming. It had taken every last bit of her strength to pull herself together, and that frightened her. How could one simple note provoke such terror? She had received notes from killers before. They were harmless. It was only a part of the sick game. It came with the territory. If she were going to dig into a killer’s psyche, she had to be prepared for the killer to dig back.
Albert Stucky’s notes had not been harmless. God, she needed to get past Stucky. He was behind bars and would be there until they executed him. She was safe. At least this note hadn’t been accompanied by a severed finger or nipple. Besides, the note was now carefully packaged and on its way Express Mail to a lab at Quantico. Maybe the idiot had sent her his own arrest warrant by leaving his fingerprints or his saliva on the envelope’s seal.
By this evening, she would be on a plane home, and this bastard wouldn’t be able to play his sick, little game. She had done her job, more than what was asked. So why did it feel as if she was running away? Because that’s exactly what she was doing. She needed to leave Platte City, Nebraska, before this killer unraveled any more of her already frazzled psyche. She could feel the vulnerable fray already, starting