Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [61]
“I’m fine. I was just faxing my report to John. I figured my work on this case was done.” She paused, then asked, “My work is done on this one, isn’t it?”
“I think so. It’s almost pointless now to try to keep up with his disguises. He has a full, thick head of dark hair, he’s bald, he has a brown ponytail, he has a blond crew cut. He’s driving a Taurus wagon, a Chevy pickup, a Pathfinder, a sports car . . .”
“He’s very, very clever, isn’t he?”
“Very.” Adam bit the inside of his bottom lip. It’s just a theory, he reminded himself. And he could be wrong. He prayed he was wrong.
“Where are you?” she was asking. “Are you still in Pennsylvania?”
“Yes. I’m in Spring Glen, but I’m on my way to see Rosello in Newkirk.”
“Oh?” Curiosity caused her voice to perk up just a bit. “Something come up?”
“Just want to compare notes on something.”
“You going to tell me?”
“After I speak with Rosello.” He accelerated as he pulled onto Route 30 and eased into the fast lane.
“Are you going to make it to your father’s wedding?”
“Oh, shit,” he swore. “That’s tomorrow afternoon. Damn it. If I’m not there, he’s going to think it’s because I don’t want to be there.”
“I’m sure if you explain what you’re working on . . .”
“My future stepmother won’t care. She’ll see it as a slight.”
“Is it possible to take an afternoon off?”
“Tough to do in the middle of an investigation like this. But, maybe I can squeeze out a few hours.” He sighed, wondering if, in fact, his father would understand.
Adam changed lanes, darting around a tractor trailer to get to open road. “Kendra, tell me again about the dog being poisoned.”
“What?” He could almost see her frown.
“Tell me about the dog. . . .”
He kept her on the phone for as long as he could, on the one hand soothed by the connection, however remote, on the other, worried that he’d soon learn that his crazy idea wasn’t so crazy after all.
When he arrived at the Newkirk Police Station, Rosello had the videotape already in the VCR.
“I’ve watched it twice already,” the chief told Adam, “and I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is you’re looking for.”
Adam caught the remote that Rosello tossed to him and rewound the tape, then hit play. The tape ran for almost forty-five seconds before Adam froze the tape.
“There.” Adam leaned closer to the screen. “That’s what I’m looking for.”
From his briefcase, Adam removed a folder. He dropped it in the chief’s lap, then watched for a reaction as Rosello thumbed through the pack of photos.
“You’re looking at the cross.” Rosello looked up. “The one your compositor is wearing.”
“It’s identical to the ones placed around the necks of the last two victims, apparently by the killer. The families of both of these women swear they’d never seen the victims wear such a cross.”
“Why do you suppose he did that?” Rosello looked back at Kendra’s image, motionless on the big screen. “Unless he’s trying to get her attention.”
“God knows he’s got mine,” Adam said, hitting the eject button and pocketing the tape. “I’ll get this back to you.”
“It’s a copy of the copy.” Sensing that Adam was in a hurry, Rosello stood up to walk him to the door. “I figured if the tape was so important that you’d drive all the way back here to watch it, that you’d want to be taking it with you.”
“Thanks.” Adam saluted as he headed for the exit. “I owe you one.”
“I just don’t get it,” Kendra yawned, then excused herself. She’d been reading in bed, had fallen asleep only to be awakened by Adam’s call. “Why would the killer be doing this? Because I did the sketches of him? My sketches certainly haven’t cramped his style at all, not as far as I can tell. If anything, he’s escalated his activity since that tape was first shown on television. And I’m not his customary victim of choice. I’m nobody’s mother. I’m not blond. I just don’t get it.”
“I’m not certain I do either, but it seems like too much of a coincidence. You’re on TV wearing a cross around your neck, he starts putting them on his victims.”
“Well, if he’s sending a message,