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But now she was speeding into the right area. She was due east, and a mile from the tower. She was on a main street, with side streets branching off it, and in this area, she was sure he would be.
Climbing out of the car, she continued on foot, striding forward, listening carefully, all her senses attuned for what she might find.
She had a feeling she was close.
Twenty yards further on, she saw an alleyway. It was dark; the streetlight didn't reach in that far, and it was lined with large dumpsters. Juliette's heart skipped a beat.
Was this was where he was, where he had chosen to kill?
She might not see him because he was adept at disguising himself. She would need to walk in, get close to him, and hope she could then see past whatever camouflage he was using.
He wasn't showing himself to her, that was obvious. He was hiding away, or else, he was already busy painting the face of a woman he'd killed, and her stomach churned at the thought.
And then, as she hurried down the alleyway, smelling dirty water and the faint odor of rot, she heard a whisper that chilled her spine.
"Hello, lady agent. You got here in time? Come over here, my American friend. I have something to show you!"
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
The words felt like ice down Juliette’s spine. They were deeply personal, and the tone was chilling. This killer knew her. He’d seen her, he’d tracked her in the States, and he knew who she was without her speaking a word. She spun sideways, looking more carefully, and this time, against the darkened wall and behind a dumpster, she saw an almost invisible curtain of black netting. It was concealed by the building’s overhang a couple of yards above, and it was very dark.
Her hand was on her gun, but she couldn’t shoot. No way could she shoot now. She had no idea what was behind there.
Did he have a victim? Was she alive or dead? He could be busy painting her face even now.
She couldn't see. He could be holding a woman in front of him with his hand clamped over her mouth. He could be crouched over a dead woman, busy painting her face in gold. She couldn't see anything but the shadowy netting that didn't even allow her to judge its depth.
“How do you know me?” she asked, buying time to see if she could figure anything else out about this scene.
"I saw you in America," he said. "You were looking at my statues. I saw you trying to hunt for clues."
"Why are you telling me this?" Juliette said. His accent was American, he was from the States, and he'd traveled to Europe to embark on the next stage of these creepy murders. She felt filled with horror. Her mouth was dry.
"If you come closer, I'll show you something. I did it for you. I didn't want you to miss out. Come closer, and I'll show you what I did for you."
"If you've killed someone, I don't want to see it," she said, feeling sick at the thought of what lay beyond that curtain, which she now saw was propped at each end by two dumpsters, and attached to the wall above. It looked like a section of brick, like a darker patch in the wall. Visually it was totally confusing, just like the stage paint of a statue.
And it was working to mislead her eyes. She had no idea where he was beyond it.
If only she could see! She wouldn't hesitate to shoot him. She had identified, beyond doubt, that he was the killer. She'd followed him and he'd recognized her and there was no way on earth such a killing would be anything but righteous.
But she couldn't. Because she had no idea what lay beyond that thick netting. Was he alone? It didn't sound like he was. He wasn't making her think he was alone.
Did he have a victim there? Was someone already dead, lying inside that netting?
She couldn't see it move. It was unlikely anyone was alive and conscious unless they were too terrified to move a muscle.
“But have I killed anyone?” he asked.
“Maybe you don’t have anyone there at all, and you’re just bluffing,” she said.
“I don’t think so,” he whispered again, and this time, Juliette heard it.
The tiniest whimper of a woman’s voice. Anxiety surged. He did have someone there. He had a hostage. And now, the priority was to save her life.
Juliette had to act fast. She had to make a decision. No way could she shoot. Right now, that wasn't something she could risk.
She didn't even know if he had a gun. He might be training it on her right now, luring her in.
