Maybe he’s a goodly distance away and using binoculars, but I
don’t think so. I’ll bet he’s just over there, somewhere in those
trees, and I think he watched you climb through that window,
watched me come out here and puke up my guts. You said he was
finally realizing who he is, what he likes, and this is it.”
Her eyes went blank, then she said, “He’s seen Tyler and Sam.
Oh God, he knows I’m close to them and doesn’t that make them
targets, too? What if he goes after them?”
“He could, but I doubt it and here’s why. He knows we’re not
fools. He knows there are a lot of us. He wants you. He’s made his
point. I can’t see him veering off course to kill Tyler or Sam. Why?
He wants to nail me, but I’m with you, staying with you, taunting
him. That’s why he wants me. Now, Dave and Chuck will start
looking around here when they finish in the house.”
“He’ll be gone by then.”
“Probably.”
“Do you think he killed her in those short minutes between
when he called me and all the men got here?”
Adam hesitated, then shook his head. “No, she’d been dead for
several hours, at least.”
“But her face, Adam, her face. It looked–fresh, even though all
the blood looked dried and clotted.”
“He did that after he called you, after he realized the phone was
tapped. She was already dead, Becca.”
“How did he kill her?”
Adam didn’t want to say anything more about it, but he knew
she wasn’t going to let it go, she couldn’t let it go. “He strangled
her.”
“Why was there dirt all over her? God, it was even on her feet,
in her hair.”
Oh, shit, he thought. He didn’t want to say it but there was no
choice. “There was dirt on her because he dug her up to smash her
face.” There, it was said, and he thought she was going to vomit
again. She closed her eyes, her arms fell to her sides, and her head
dropped forward against his chest. But she didn’t vomit, she cried,
making no sound at all, just cried, her hands fists against his Kevlar
vest.
“Oh, God, Becca,” he said and squeezed her hard. “I swear I’ll
get him, I swear it.”
She said nothing for a very long time. His knees were starting to
hurt when she finally whispered against his neck, “Not if I can get
him first.” She shuddered, then he felt her stiffen and slowly, slowly
pull back from him. She said, “He was through with her, probably
planning on leaving here, and so he killed her and buried her and
then decided it would be fun to play this big joke on me.”
“Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”
“He’s still here, Adam. He’s close. I can feel him. It’s like something
very black and heavy crawling over my skin.”
He said nothing.
“But why? I just don’t understand why he picked me. Why is he
doing this to me?”
Again, Adam said nothing, but he thought, If Krimakov is really
dead, then there isn’t a motive, and I don’t have the foggiest idea, either,
why he picked you.
Becca couldn’t get Linda Cartwright out of her mind, she kept
picturing her, lying there, her face smashed, and no one to take care
of her for hour upon hour.
Sherlock handed her a cup of coffee, steam rising from the mug
like cigarette smoke. “You only slept a couple of hours, Becca.
Here, drink this.”
“None of us slept for more than a couple of hours,” Becca said.
“Where are Adam and Savich?”
“Adam is out talking to Dave and Chuck. They just took over
outside patrol. He’s going to get some other people here, some of
his own people, to free up these guys.”
“Maybe Hatch is coming.” At Sherlock’s raised eyebrow, Becca
added, “I heard Adam talking to him on the phone. Yeah, I was
eavesdropping, so Adam had to tell me. He said Hatch speaks six
languages, has lots of contacts, is really smart, and smokes. Adam is
always trying to get him to stop smoking by threatening to fire