Deadly Visions Read online

  “No.”

  “Sweetheart, it's only until—”

  “I don't want to go home. If any reporters bother me, I'll tell them to bug off.”

  “It's not just the reporters. When this story breaks, the other kids and even your teachers will be asking you about it.”

  “So what?”

  “They'll ask you a lot of things about Mommy. It might upset you.”

  “What's to be upset about? I know she's dead. It can't get any worse than that.”

  “They'll ask about the voice you heard. They might make fun of you.”

  “If they laugh or pick on me, that's their problem. Isn't that what you always say?”

  Cal chuckled. “Yeah, Dad. Isn't that what you always say?”

  Joe turned toward him. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, when we walked in here. Hell, it was my idea to come get her. But now I don't know. The girl makes sense.”

  Nikki gave him a curt nod.”Of course I do.”

  Joe wrinkled his brow. “I still think you should come home.”

  “I want to stay here. Please?”

  Joe sighed. Nikki could be so damned stubborn, just like her mother.”Do me a favor. Don't talk about this to anyone, not even your friends or teachers.”

  “What am I supposed to say?”

  “Say that it's a police investigation and you're not allowed to talk about it.”

  Nikki picked up her canvas knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. “You're afraid people are going to think I'm crazy. You're afraid they're going to lock me up like they did Suzanne.”

  “She told you about that?”

  Nikki nodded. “When she was a kid, she spent a whole year in a special hospital because she heard her dead friend talking to her.”

  “That's right.”Joe pushed Nikki's hair off her forehead. She had always liked Suzanne. “But that's notwhat this is about, honey. I just don't want you to talk about it until we have a handle on things, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Leave it to the Spirit Basher to steal my thunder,”Howe said as Joe entered the squad room.

  Joe shot him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

  Howe grinned. “I proposed to Regina this morning, and she accepted. We're getting married in May.”

  “Hey, that's great. Congratulations.”

  “Of course, you're the only one that anybody's thinking about today. Timing was never my strong suit.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Apologize to the public information office. All the nutty calls about you are being directed there.”

  Carla walked into the room. “I just talked to the feds. The Narada Study has been officially disbanded, but the U.S. Department of Defense still respectfully requests that we maintain our silence about it.”

  Howe rolled his eyes. “About a half-baked study that yielded zero results? Fine.”

  “What's Monica Gaines's status?”Joe asked.

  Carla shrugged. “Hanging in there. You gotta give her credit, she's a fighter. Doctors didn't think she'd make it through the night.”

  “Still unconscious?”

  “Afraid so.”

  Joe sat down at his desk. “I wish I knew who she met in that bar. There was something interesting going on between them.”

  “What, you don't check your voice mail anymore?”

  Joe turned to see Sam walking into the room, accompanied by a uniformed officer from downstairs.

  Sam hefted a thick brown package under his arm. “I called you four times yesterday. You don't think I have better things to do?”

  Joe motioned for the officer to leave.”Sorry, Sam. I was kind of busy.”He pointed to the package. “What did you bring me?”

  Sam tossed it onto his desk. “A gift, made to your specifications. I'm still not sure about this.”

  Joe tore into the paper and revealed half a dozen white terry-cloth robes. “Excellent. Thanks, Sam.”

  Howe grinned. “More hotel robes? Are you going to model those too?”

  Joe carefully rewrapped the package. “Not yet. Tonight.”

  “Why tonight?”Carla asked.

  Joe nodded at Sam.”We need to rehearse.”

  “You should have given me the security tape, Bailey.”A faint tone of defiance tinged Tess Wayland's voice.

  “Extortion is against the law.”Joe fell into step with her as she hurried down the twenty-seventh-floor corridor of the Georgia Pacific Building. He'd come from Sam's shop and was amazed to find that the Monica Gaines's Psychic Worldproduction offices had moved overnight. The building's conservative atmosphere was shattered by the blue-jean-and-T-shirt attire worn by the dozens of technicians and assistants.

  Joe ducked to avoid a boom microphone. “I told you that there was no way you were getting that tape. Is it true that you did a reenactment with actors playing me and my daughter?”

  “We usually try to get the real people for our reen-actments, but I had a feeling you wouldn't be inter-ested. We found a good match for Nikki, but I'm afraid that the man who plays you is about thirty pounds overweight.”

  “Oh, this just keeps getting better,”Joe said sarcastically.

  “He's actually quite good. The look on his face when he hears his late wife's voice gave me chills.”

  “Are you sure it wasn't nausea?”

  “You haven't seen it yet, Detective. It's tastefully done.”

  “Right. Like the Monica-Gaines-on-fire reenactment?”

  “That's airing on tonight's show too.”

  “Can't wait.”

  “If you came here to try to pull your story, it's too late. It's already gone out to the stations.”

  “That's not why I'm here. I came to give you a different story.”

  “I see. A little gratitude for giving you cell phone info?”

  “No. Any gratitude was instantly erased when you released that story. I may be fair game, but you have no right to upset my daughter. I'd like to break your neck.”

  “You'd have to stand in line. So what's the story?”

  “Bring a camera crew to Monica's hotel at eight-thirty tonight. You'll see then.”

  “Give me a hint. How do I know you're not intentionally wasting my time?”

  “In order to get back at you? Not a bad idea.”

  She studied him for a moment. “But I don't think you're doing it now. I'll be there.”

  “And, by the way, don't think I'm naive enough to think that you haven't already checked out that phone number she called.”

  “You mean to her sister? Okay, so I put a research assistant on it. Too bad it wasn't somebody more interesting or exotic. Are you sure you can't give me some idea why I'll be paying overtime for a camera crew tonight?”

  Joe stepped aside to allow a crew member and a camera dolly to pass.”No.”

  “I didget under your skin, didn't I?”

  “Don't push it. Listen, while Monica was away, she spent some time with a man. Fortyish, maybe a little chubby, with dark hair. Does that ring a bell with you?”

  Tess shook her head. “No, and I thought I knew most of her usual boy-toys.”

  “It may not have been in one of her usual haunts. I traced the connection to a small town in the middle of nowhere. She and this guy spent some time together in an out-of-the-way dive.”

  “Ooh, now we're getting somewhere. You musttell me where this happened.”

  “South Carolina.”He shook his head.”I can't be any more specific than that. Think about it, will you? Ask around with the people who knew her.”

  Tess scribbled on her yellow legal pad. “Believeme, I will. If I have my way, he'll be our guest on Friday's show.”

  Exactly the reaction he'd hoped for. Let the self-serving witch do a little of his work for him.”See you tonight.”

  Shawn Dylan walked into his hotel room and looked around. Nothing fancy, but it would do. He'd been careful to avoid any of the hotel chains that he usually patronized. He d
idn't think he had any rivals on his tail, but with the stakes this high, one couldn't be too careful.

  Dylan flipped open his leather satchel and spread its lethal contents on the bed. He'd brought a few of his favorites. He picked up his 7.65mm Beretta Brevetto and checked the ammo cartridge. Oiled and ready. He rested it on the pillow. Four packets of blasting gelatin were contained in flat, square-shaped packages that reminded him of condom wrappers.

  He picked up a wrist-strap switchblade and fastened it to his left forearm. Its fiberglass construction proved handy for avoiding metal detectors, and the triggering mechanism was much more reliable than the earlier models, which had a nasty habit of unexpectedly ejecting into the wearer's wrist. He clasped his right index finger over the trigger and watched the brandy-colored blade spring across his watch-band and extend midway over his palm. He pressed again and the blade retracted.

  He'd used it on Haddenfield's assistant in the hospital stairwell the other night. The poor, stupid kid.

  Dylan sighed. This was supposed to be a simple assignment. Just a trifle, his superiors had told him, while he recovered from his hellish mission in Chechnya.

  Chechnya, where he'd watched a busload of his countrymen blown to bits. He could have prevented it, but it would have meant destroying months of undercover work. Excellent decision, his commander told him.

  Tell that to the people on the bus.

  This was supposed to be his reward. An easy, low-stress assignment.

  Nothing easy about it, he thought bitterly. Especially now, when he was about to come face-to-face with a serial killer.

  In a hotel room directly two floors below Monica Gaines's suite, Joe raised his arms while Sam patted down the folds in the fire-retardant bodysuit.

  “How does it feel?”Sam asked.

  “Snug.”

  “Good. If you get an air pocket, the air could heat up and burn the hell out of you. I still think you should wait for the stuntman.”

  “He's working on a film in St. Louis. I'll be okay.”

  “Did you tell Nikki you were doing this?”

  “No, I didn't want to worry her.”

  Sam raised his index finger. “That should be your barometer. If you're thinking about doing something risky, think about whether you'd want your daughter to know about it.”

  “She'll see it on TV tomorrow.”

  “And she'll be madder than hell at you.”

  “Probably.”

  “I don't know why in hell you invited the camera crews anyway. I'd like to pitch them all down the elevator shaft.”

  “So would I, but the captain wants to dispel as much of this mumbo-jumbo as we can. We need to shed some light on Monica Gaines's attack.”

  “Torchlight?”

  “Very funny.”Joe uncapped a tube of Zel-Jel, a product used by welders and other laborers who worked near open flames. He smeared the gel on his face and neck.

  Sam pulled a polyester cap over Joe's head and handed him a robe.”They're waiting for you outside. It's not too late to back out, you know.”

  Joe smiled. “You said the same thing when I did that bungee-jump-straitjacket escape from the rafters of the CNN Center.”

  “At least this time you won't get arrested.”Sam grinned.”Now get outta here.”

  Joe threw open the door and saw two dozen cops, reporters, and cameramen. He squinted in the camera lights'glare.

  Howe and Carla stood front and center, standing near Captain Henderson. Howe shook his head. “Now I know why you became a cop. You wanted to give performances people were forcedto attend.”

  Joe shrugged.”Whatever puts bodies in seats.”

  “Bodies,”Henderson repeated dryly. “Unfortunate word choice. Show us what you got.”

  “Right.”Joe addressed the group. “Before Monica Gaines was injured, she thought she heard a voice.She was taking a bath, and she reached for the one article of clothing in the room—a terry-cloth bathrobe.”

  Sam raised the bathrobe for all to see.

  “She put it on, and the voice threatened her.”

  A television reporter jabbed her microphone toward Joe. “Do you know where the voice came from?”

  “I'm afraid I don't. At least, not yet.”Joe slid the robe over his bodysuit. “But Monica did what almost anyone else would have done—run. She grabbed the doorknob—”

  Joe gripped the knob and turned it.

  “—threw open the door, and ran down the hall. She punched the elevator button, then grabbed the handle for the stairwell. I'm going to retrace her steps, so please move to the other side of the elevators.”

  The group moved toward the elevators, where two firemen stood with large extinguishers.

  Henderson's gaze narrowed on Joe.”You aren't going to do anything foolish, are you?”

  “It'll be fine,”Joe said.”I promise.”

  The spectators walked to the end of the hallway. As the cameramen set up their new positions, Sam leaned close to Joe. “You're sure about this?”

  Joe smiled.”You might not want to stand so close, Sam.”

  Sam recoiled.”Crap. You're right.”He stepped back. “You're a walking time-bomb. Get it over with, will ya?”

  Joe motioned toward the firemen. They raised the long extinguisher nozzles.

  Joe took a deep breath and ran down the hallway, picking up speed as he neared the elevators. He pushed the elevator button.

  He turned and moved to the stairwell door, the robe's tail billowing behind him.

  He reached for the steel door handle.

  Ignition.

  A flash of white light, then the robe burst into flames.

  He whirled toward the spectators, who watched in shock. All except Tess Wayland. She was enjoying it, the coldhearted bitch, probably imagining how it would cut into the next episode's on-air promo piece.

  Jesus, were those firemen just going to let him cook? In a moment, he'd be frying alive in front of all these—

  The firemen went into action. Within seconds, the flames were replaced with white foam, covering him from head to toe.

  The journalists and cops stared in stunned silence.

  Sam rushed to his side, joining the firemen in brushing away the foam.”You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just call me the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

  “Well, it's better than burned toast.”

  “Get me another robe, will you?”

  “Don't tell me you're gonna do it again.”

  Joe peeled off what was left of the charred bathrobe.”No way.”He turned toward the others.”I believe that Monica Gaines's robe was treated with what magicians call flash powder. In its usual form, it's harmless. Depending on the type used, it's activated either by heat or a low-voltage jolt of electricity.”

  “Are we talking about static electricity?”Henderson asked.

  “Exactly. Monica Gaines's robe could have ignited when she touched her doorknob, and that may have been the plan. But she may not have accumulated enough of a charge in the short distance between the bathroom and her front door. She ran down the hallway. The elevator button is plastic, so the charge still wasn't released. She grabbed the door handle, and that's when it happened.”

  Tess glanced back to make sure her camera crew was getting it. “The static electricity ignited the flash powder, but you said it's usually harmless.”

  Joe's chest itched. He scratched himself through the bodysuit. “It is. Flash powder alone couldn't have done this. It gives off very little heat. It was used as an activator for a much more flammable compound. We soaked my robe in alcohol, dried it in the sun, then treated it with the flash powder.”

  Carla nodded. “So the static charge ignited the flash powder, which in turn ignited whatever compound was in the robe.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you found anything in Monica's robe that confirms this?”Tess asked.

  “Not yet. Unfortunately, there was very little left of her robe, and it could have been contaminated by the solutions used by
paramedics on the scene. The crime lab is running tests.”

  Joe scratched his chest again. It was now more than an itch; it burned.He unzipped the front of the bodysuit midway down his chest and rubbed the area. Tender.

  Sam's face tensed. “Joe?”

  “It's okay, Sam. It's just a little—”

  “Holy shit.”Tess Wayland's cameraman zoomed in on Joe's bare chest.

  Joe looked down at what everyone else in the hallway had already seen.

  A circle with two intersecting lines.

  They arrived at the Grady Memorial Hospital emergency room twenty minutes later.

  “Cut it off,”Joe said curtly to Dr. Taylor Grant from the examination table.”Get as much skin around it as you can.”

  The doctor frowned. “Relax. We don't want you to bleed to death.”

  Carla and Howe stood in the doorway. “We have enough samples from the murder victims,”Carla said.

  Joe shook his head.”Not like this one. This sample is fresh. It might make a difference, right, Doctor?”

  The doctor nodded. “Possibly, but we can find out what we need to know with just a thin layer of your skin. Please relax.”

  “Get as much as you need.”

  “Don't worry. Just lie still.”

  The nurse injected him near the mark.

  “What's that?”Joe asked.

  “A local anaesthetic.”

  “It won't contaminate the sample, will it?”

  The doctor shook his head.”No.”

  Joe settled back and took slow, measured breaths.

  The doctor leaned over him with a gleaming scalpel that reflected the large examination room lights backto his forehead. Did the doctor ever blind himself from the glare? At the moment, it was probably better not to know.

  “Did you see any sign of the marking before tonight?”Howe asked.

  “None. I mean, I haven't given myself a breast exam lately, but I haven't seen or felt it. Sam saw me without my shirt right before I stepped out there, and I don't think he noticed anything. It may have been brought out by the heat.”

  Howe nodded. “The markings on the victims almost appeared to be an allergic reaction. From what, we can't tell. There was no trace of foreign matter on the skin samples.”

  Joe winced as the doctor's scalpel cut deeper. Evidently, the anaesthetic hadn't taken full effect. “It could have been laid there days before. That's why I think it's important to get this one right away.”