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“Okay, I’ll wrap things up here
then I’ll meet you in a half hour,” Lancaster said and Justin wrote down the directions just as Lancaster did.
“Agent Lancaster, is Sandman there?” Grace asked and she sounded hesitant. Maybe she was concerned that Sandstone might hurt her for sneaking away from him. Lancaster wondered if he could use that as his reasoning for not notifying anyone of this call. He smiled to himself.
The killer had to be stopped and she was willing to die trying.
“No, Grace, I’m sorry he’s not here. I don’t know where he is. Supposedly he and his brothers are somewhere that they can’t be reached. I’ll try to locate him and inform him of our plan. You stay low and don’t worry. We’ll stop this killer together,” Lancaster told her before he hung up the phone. He could feel his face turning red with excitement as well as the twinkle in his eyes and the somersaults in his belly, as he smiled, already celebrating prematurely.
Lancaster looked toward Justin “You didn’t hear any of that, do you understand me?”
“But, sir, don’t you think Sandstone and the others—”
“Fuck Sandstone, he’s not thinking like an agent. He’s thinking like a worried boyfriend. While he was hidden in a safe house having a fuck fest with her and his brothers, I was here busting my ass trying to find this killer. Grace’s the only lure we have to catch this killer. I’ll do everything I can to keep her alive and safe, but this is my case and I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to Sandstone anymore. Senior Investigator Burbank even gave her my number to contact and recommended me. He knows Sandstone can’t handle this any further and he wants me to take over. You keep your mouth shut and your ears opened. Let me know what Sandstone comes up with. Meanwhile I’m going to try and get the killer to search out Grace,” Lancaster said as he began to dial the telephone.
“How are you going to do that, sir?” Justin asked.
Lancaster didn’t answer him. He just smiled as he asked for Debbie Clark, the lead newscaster for channel nine eyewitness news.
* * * *
Justin listened while Lancaster informed the reporter of Grace’s decision to leave protective custody on her own and make her way back to Houston without the assistance of the FBI. He told Debbie Clark that Grace wanted to be with her family and that he was unable to locate her. They feared for her safety and she refused further protection.
Justin knew that Lancaster was asking for trouble but he made the call anonymously, only saying he was connected to the police department and this was inside information. Justin wondered if Senior Investigator Burbank really felt that Sandstone couldn’t handle the case or if Lancaster was lying. He may just have to call the senior investigator as soon as Lancaster left the room.
Ten minutes later Lancaster was swearing Justin to secrecy and heading out the door to meet Grace.
* * * *
Grace made her way across the field and was merely a five-minute walk from the green-colored house. She could see a flickering light on in the basement downstairs and wondered if Lancaster was already there. She knew she was only seven minutes late. She had to take cover on her way to avoid being seen by a patrol car in the area.
Slowly she made her way around back and noticed the unmarked police car and that the door was unlocked. She cautiously entered the kitchen area and could see the dust and cobwebs that had built up over the years throughout the house. The place was abandoned and it was obvious no one had been there in years. Everything looked old and in need of major scrubbing, especially the brown, dirt-covered countertops that used to be bright, shiny, and white. As she walked toward the doorway that led to the living room, the dark brown, wide-planked hardwood floors creaked with each step she took. The living room furniture was covered with sheets that faded over time and now resembled a dull tan color. She heard someone move behind her and as she turned around toward them a sleeping bag was thrown over her head and she was tackled to the ground. She screamed for help, calling Agent Lancaster, but no one answered and no one came. She couldn’t see anything. She tried to fight her attacker off but failed. He was way too strong for her and she instantly felt powerless.
* * * *
Her attacker brought her down a flight of stairs she assumed must have led to the basement. They definitely were still in the house. Suddenly she was being shoved across the room and as she lost her footing, she fell to the cement floor smacking her face and cheek to the concrete.
“Grace. Oh my God.” She heard the voice and instantly she recognized Donald’s voice. Was he the killer after all? Could Lancaster have been right?
Then she heard the other voice.
“Shut up. No talking!” the man yelled. She couldn’t make out whom it could be. The killer must have taken Donald as well. If she could only see who was there. She wished the cover wasn’t over her head. She felt the metal grab hold to her wrists then tighten and click. Handcuffs. She knew immediately they were handcuffs.
“Who’s there? Tell me what you want?” she called into the darkness.
Out of nowhere she felt the boot make contact with her ribs and she screamed in agonizing pain. She had just been kicked somewhere from the left, no the right. She wasn’t sure as she sensed the movement around her.
“Keep quiet,” the voice said and she did so until she felt a large wooden pole against her spine then the handcuffs being removed. She instantly pushed forward into the large figure, her attacker. As he pulled the pillowcase off her head, she saw a fist headed straight toward her face. She couldn’t move quickly enough as it made contact with her mouth and sent her flying into the wooden pole. She slammed back against the pole, then hit the floor. Severe pain shot through her system. But she wanted to know who the killer was. She wanted to see his face and put an end to the madness.
As she turned her head to look up, she saw the face of the serial killer and her heart dropped into her stomach. She suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. It was as if she lost her life in a split second and time stood still. She felt the deep hollow feeling, then the absolute shock to her soul.
“Oh my God, no,” she screamed.
* * * *
The phone rang just as Sandman began opening his e-mail messages on his laptop. He was receiving a message from Jim and hoped it was a picture of Charlie Vasco. He could be the real serial killer.
“Yeah, Jim, I was just downloading your message. I’m assuming it’s a picture of Charlie Vasco.”
