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The man scowled at the screen. “Yeah, well, when it comes out, you watch. They’re looking under the wrong rug. There’s gonna be one big surprise. Maybe it’s O. J. Hey, Ray, someone should check if O. J.’s in town….”
He had taken just about as much as he could of the drunk. But the guy was right about one thing. The San Francisco cops were lost in space. Man, they didn’t have a clue. Lieutenant Lindsay Boxer was nowhere on this. Not even close to him.
“I’ll bet you something.” Chimera grinned at the old man. He put his face close to him, his eyes wide. “If they catch him, I’ll bet you he has green eyes.”
Suddenly, across the street, he spotted his target on the street. Well, maybe this will help Lieutenant Boxer focus. A hit real close to home. A little sidebar that he just couldn’t resist. He tossed a few dollars on the bar.
“Hey, what’s the rush?” The old man turned to him. “Let me buy you another brew. Hey, what the hell, you got green eyes, buddy.”
Chimera spun out of his seat. “Gotta go. There’s my date.”
Chapter 67
ON THE LONG DRIVE HOME, Claire Washburn kept coming back to what had happened to poor Jill. The whole ride down 101 to her home in Burlingame, she couldn’t put the terrible thought away.
She exited the highway at Burlingame and wound her way up into the hills. Her head pounded with weariness. It had been such a long day. These terrible murders, pulling the city apart. Then Jill losing her baby.
The digital clock on the dashboard said twenty past ten. Edmund was playing tonight. He wouldn’t be back until sometime after eleven. She wished he would be home. Tonight of all nights.
Claire swung onto Skytop and, a few yards later, into the driveway of her modern Georgian home. The house was dark; that’s how it was these days now that Reggie was away at college. Willie, her high school sophomore, was no doubt in his room playing video games.
All she wanted to do was to peel off her work clothes and slip quietly into her pajamas. Put an end to this horrible day…
Inside, Claire called out for Willie and, hearing no response, flashed through the mail on the kitchen table and brought it into the study. She leafed absently through a Ballard Designs catalog.
The phone rang. Claire tossed down the catalog and picked up the phone. “Hello…”
There was a hollow pause, as if someone were waiting.
Maybe one of Willie’s friends.
“Hello…?” Claire called again. “Once, twice… last time…” Still no answer. “Good-bye.”
She placed the phone back on the receiver.
A shiver of nervousness went through her. Even after all these years, when she was alone in the house, an unexpected noise, the lights on in the basement, sent a tremor through her.
The phone rang again. This time, she picked it up quickly. “Hello…”
Another annoying pause. This was starting to get her pissed. “Who is this?” she demanded.
“Take a guess,” a male voice said.
Claire’s breath came to a stop. She glanced at her caller ID. “Listen, 901-4476,” she said, “I don’t know what your game is or how you got our number. If you’ve got something to say, say it fast.”
“You know about Chimera?” the voice replied. “You’re speaking to him. Aren’t you honored?”
Claire froze. She arched upright in her chair. Her mind shot into gear: Chimera was a police department name. Had it ever been in print? Who knew she was involved in the investigation?
She pressed a separate line, about to punch in 911. “You better tell me who this really is,” she said.
“I told you. The little black choir girl was number one,” the voice replied. “The old bitch, the fat, unsuspecting cop, the boss… You know what they all had in common, don’t you? Think about it, Claire Washburn. Do you have anything in common with the first four victims?”
Claire’s body had begun to shake. Her mind drew a picture of the elaborate shots that had killed two of the victims.
Her eyes shifted outside the study window, to the darkness around her house.
The voice came back, “Lean a little to the left, huh, Doc?”
