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Rebecca, wicked girl, you are predictable. Of course you would come to the maze. Of course you would follow her footsteps.
Frightened, aren’t you? You know you’re different. That you’re one of Them. You sense it, like I sense you.
Have you guessed it yet?
I see you shiver and quake and tremble. I hear you cry out. Do you know I’m here? Watching. Waiting.
Do you know your fate, devil’s spawn?
And now you run…RUN…
Go ahead…run as fast as you can, Rebecca.
I watch the taillights of your car disappear as you flee and I can’t help but smile through the rain. Your escape is futile and you know it.
I will catch you.
When it is time.
Chapter Seven
“Detective…”
Mac, who’d had a telephone pressed to his ear waiting for the county prosecutor to answer, looked up to see Lieutenant A
ubrey D’Annibal give him the high sign from his office, a glass-walled cubicle at the end of the squad room. Dropping the phone, Mac headed into the lieutenant’s office without a word, and D’Annibal closed the door behind him.
D’Annibal had smooth, silvery white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a love for Armani suits that was paid for by his wealthy wife’s substantial trust fund. He was also damn good at his job, and he expected excellence from all members of his staff. Mac watched as he hooked a leg over the corner of his desk and folded his hands together.
Lecture time. Not a good sign.
“Just got off the phone from the lab,” he said with only a trace of his West Texas drawl audible. “They’re sending PDFs on a couple of pictures of those bones you’re so interested in.”
“Yeah?” At long last. It had been nearly a week since the body had been located, but the lab had been “backed up.” Which was nothing new. In the meantime, Mac had been forcing himself to be patient.
D’Annibal rubbed his jaw slowly, a gesture that meant he was deliberating on how to deliver his next news. Mac braced himself, and after a moment, the lieutenant said, “You know, I wasn’t here when that girl disappeared. I hadn’t moved to the great state of Oregon from Texas yet. I was making my way through the ranks, proving myself, following the path, keeping my aim in sight. Meanwhile, you were out here stirring up a heap of trouble for yourself. Claiming murder without a body. Accusing the students at a private school, some of whom were quite well heeled and whose families were well respected, of killing a young girl-a runaway. From what I understand, you were a regular town crier about it all. That about right?”
“There’s some truth in there,” Mac admitted, though he could feel how rigid the cords in his neck had become.
“You really tore up the turf. Lots of people didn’t like your ways. High-handed. Bullish. Misconceived. Obsessive. Lots of words were bandied about. None of them too complimentary.”
Mac nodded, wondering how long this was going to take. He, above anyone else, remembered what had come down. And yes, he’d been too gung-ho, too convinced on too little evidence, he thought now, in this glassed-in office that suddenly felt stuffy. “Has the lab nailed down the girl’s age from the bones?”
“Give me a moment,” D’Annibal said. “I’ve got to get some things straight. I’ve got to hear a few things from you.”
Mac held back his frustration as best he could but was having a helluva time with it. Mentally counting to ten, he asked, “What do you want to hear?”
“I want to hear that you won’t go off half-cocked. I want to hear that you won’t act like you want to pistol-whip innocent people. I want to hear that you’ll conduct a proper investigation.”
“I’ve never pistol-whipped anyone, sir.” Mac was having difficulty reining in his temper.
“Only with accusations,” his boss agreed.
“Oh, hell, what do you want me to say?”
“That if I turn this investigation over to you, Detective, you’ll treat it, and everyone you interview, with respect. I don’t want some indignant ass-wipe whining to me about police brutality. And I know”-he lifted a palm against Mac’s protests-“that you aren’t physical. But you’re a badger, and I don’t want you badgering.”
Mac’s pulse began a slow pounding and he was vaguely aware of a phone ringing on the other side of the closed door. “You’re giving me the investigation?”
