The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [91]
He moved through the forested cover and remained behind a row of hedges across the narrow road. Peered through his binoculars. Everything was quiet until one of the garage doors rolled up. He moved quickly through the brush, remaining low and scampering toward the house. The car backed out, then drove onto the long driveway. Front yard lights snapped on, illuminating the front of the garage with bright halogen spots. He sprinted along a row of bushes, using their cover to keep from tripping the side yard motion sensors. He clutched the cold, moist brick siding of the house and waited for the sectional wood garage door to begin closing.
As soon as it started lowering, the car drove off, its tires crunching on the rough gravel. He stepped over the sensors mounted along the floor of the garage’s threshold, then knelt down, a large black ball hidden in the corner shadows. The weak light from the small incandescent bulb barely lit the empty garage. The door thumped closed and he was alone. Just him and his stun gun.
And the bitch.
thirty-nine
After leaving Linwood’s house, Vail drove aimlessly, moving along the winding Georgetown Pike before getting back onto 495. Though it wasn’t a conscious decision, she was headed home.
When she walked into her house, her head was throbbing and her left knee was stiff from driving. She threw her keys on the table and trudged toward the bath. She felt dirty and wanted to strip down and relax in a tub of hot water with bubbles and a glass of cabernet. The perpetual stress over the past several days had reached a pinnacle, and she needed to find the release valve before the pressure cooker burst.
She started the water and heard a clunk in the bedroom. Her heart dropped. She shut the water and listened, but there was only silence. She moved toward her armoire, lifted her holster, and removed the Glock, then noticed her BlackBerry on the floor, its red light blinking. She picked it up and clicked through to the message: Bledsoe. The Dead Eyes code.
“Shit.” She reached him at home.
“Just got word,” he answered, not needing to ask who it was. The luxury of caller ID. “Thought you should know.”
“What’s the address? I’ll meet you—”
“Too risky—it’s one thing to work behind the scenes, but to show up at—”
“You only get one chance to see a fresh crime scene, Bledsoe. I need to see it, experience it. We’ll deal with the details later. And the fallout.”
“This one’s different, Karen.”
“If it’s different, it may not be Dead Eyes. That’s why I need to see it.”
“No, it’s different because of the MO, not the signature. He didn’t hit a middle-class professional. He hit a senator. State Senator Eleanor Linwood.”
Vail felt a swirl of dizziness shake her. She reached out, grabbed the edge of the armoire, and somehow hung on to the phone. Her vision was gray snow, her body spinning faster than a merry-go-round. Her headache was instantly worse, pounding at her temples like a pair of anvils.
“Karen, you there?”
“Here. I’m . . . here. I’m just, give me a minute.”
“I’ve gotta go, get over there. You want, I’ll call you from my car—”
“No, I’m coming,” she said, her head clearing. “I’m coming. I have to come.”
“Jesus Christ, Karen.” He paused a moment, then said, “Look, I don’t have time to debate this anymore. You wanna come, fine.”
“Was everyone notified?”
“Everyone, including Hancock, who’s probably at the scene anyway, and Del Monaco, who’s now on the task force. Chief’s going to be there, and probably the media—”
“I’ll worry about all that when I get there.”
“House is off Georgetown Pike—”
“I know where she lives. I’ll see you there.” Vail hung up, steadied herself again, and hit the number for Robby. “You heard?”
“Karen. Yeah, I’m out the door.”
“Pick me up on the way.”
There was a long silence. “You sure?”
“Dead sure. I’ve got something to tell you. I’ll be waiting out front.”
BARELY TEN MINUTES HAD PASSED when Robby stopped at the curb in front of her house. She got in and he pulled away in a hurry,