Chapter Thirty-Three
Icy sweat trickled down River’s neck. Lies. Kent’s dead. Cremated.
Turning to Vicki, the imposter jerked his thumb toward River. “Out in Texas, we were partners on the force for five years. You’d think he’d know me regardless of what I looked like now. Figured he’d, you know…sense me or something, sense that I’m Kent.” He gestured at himself. “Okay, so I’m in a different body, I get that. But seriously, after five years of being practically joined at the hip day in and day out….” He sat on the edge of the coffee table. “We worked well together, too. I remember when he came crying to me. His wife, Betsy, had left him. Did you know he’d been married?” He shifted his focus to River. “Remember? At the time, I wanted to tell you what a bitch she was, but settled with ‘you’re better off without her.’ But really, she just got bored. By the time she left, she’d screwed half the force.”
“Don’t talk about my ex-wife.” River jerked against the ropes holding him. He’d suspected Betsy had stepped out on him a couple times. The furtive glances at his coworkers, how she never quite met his gaze. But he wasn’t about to admit anything to this bastard. “It was the job. She left because she couldn’t take the hours I had to keep.”
“Just keep telling yourself whatever you have to.” With a shrug, the killer leaned toward Vicki in a gesture of intimate conspirators. “Really? There just wasn’t anybody left who wanted a piece of her ass.”
“Bastard,” River growled.
“Afterward, we got piss-assed drunk. Shared all kinds of secrets. Didn’t tell him about all the girls I’d killed, though.” He winked, held a finger to his lips. “Shh.”
“So, you and Kent talked. He told you stuff about me.” He glared, desperate to take the maniac’s focus off Vicki. “Nothing you’ve told me proves a damn thing.”
Jamie’s head swung around. “Ask me anything. We worked together, all but joined at the hip for five years. The last eighteen months the most intense, I might add. Damn, you had some good plans cooked up to catch me, but none of them ever panned out, did they? Kept me on my toes though, for sure. ’Course, that’s what made it so much fun. Cat and mouse. Marco and Polo. So, ask me, River. Something inconsequential, something only the real Kent Rowton would know.”
“Okay.” River smirked. The bastard’s arrogance had trapped him. “Where did we go for lunch our first day as partners?”
Jamie smiled. “Ah, a trick question. We started to go to Kelli’s Deli but got a call. We didn’t get to eat anything until dinnertime. We ended up at a little Chinese place called The Great Dragon.” He rubbed a finger across his chin, eyes rolling up and to the left. “Burned to the ground a month later, I believe.”
Shock rattled him. Damn. How did he know that?
“Is he right, River?” Vicki whispered.
“Yes.” But damned if he knew how.
She blinked, squeezed her eyes closed tight for a moment. When she opened them, she shifted her gaze from him to the floor near her feet. “How did he know?”
River stared at her, and her focus darted to the floor again. “I have no idea.” He looked at the hardwood and found a circle with a couple lines inside drawn in blood. Did she do it?
She tilted her shoes, revealing a thick red coating on the soles. She did draw it. Though her ankles were bound together, she had enough freedom of movement to create the design.
“Do you think it could be him…your dead partner?” Her lips thinned, anger burned within those gray eyes of hers.
River smirked in astonishment. She’s not scared. She’s pissed off.
Jamie laughed. “It’s me, and he knows it. He’s just locked in his little box of facts and evidence, too scared to step outside and see the real world.”
River gave her a slight nod. He would distract the killer, so she could finish the pentagram with the pointed capital D on the floor. Maybe mixing up the order will give us a chance. Maybe not. Either way, what the hell will it hurt?
“So, for the sake of argument,” he said, turning back to Jamie, drawing his focus, “let’s say you are Kent. How did you end up in Jamie Bennett’s body?”
“Funny story. Remember the trip I took to South America about two years ago? Found a Latina hottie who rocked my world.” He growled, a lascivious smile twisting his mouth. “Let’s just say she showed me more than a good time. Oh, so much more. She explained the path to me.”
River frowned. “The path?”
“La Trayectoria a la Vita Eterna. The Path to Eternal Life. She told me I could live forever. I’ll tell you, I thought it was bullshit.” A gruff laugh erupted from his mouth. “It was all about the hot Latin pussy. You know?”
“Yeah.” He just bet it was.
Jamie stilled, his gaze pinned on River. “But then stuff happened. Strange shit. Instantaneous fires. Not like the candles igniting shit, but full-blown bonfires, bursting to life, green and blue flames lapping the stacked wood. People fell into unexplained comas or spoke in another language. Levitation—damn if people didn’t just lift right off the floor. Shit like I’ve never seen. And let me tell you, there was more than one time I wished you’d been there, too. Seeing all the craziness right along with me.”
“They could’ve rigged it,” River countered, playing against him, keeping him engaged. Using his peripheral, he noted Vicki had managed another line inside the circle. “How much money did they get from you?”
“Not a dime.” Jamie leaned forward, put his forearms on his knees. “Every follower had more than they needed. Big houses, fancy cars, planes, yachts. What did they want me for? That’s what finally convinced me to give it a try. A taste of the good life after living on a cop’s salary, why the fuck not?”
“So what’d it start with?” River tilted his head, snorted. “Kill a few chickens, stand around naked, and chant?”
“No. My god demands sacrifice of the Mayan variety. Beating hearts, dedication, belief. The first two were easy.” He licked his lips, rubbed his palms together. “Snatching those girls, offering those hearts to Thurisaz. Gotta say, not as difficult as I’d thought it would be.”
River jerked. “Thur…?”
“Thurisaz. A high demon. Creates chaos. Loves sacrifices.” The guy’s eyes turned glassy as though he was remembering something.
Pure adrenaline pumped through River’s veins. Holy shit. Lenny was right. The dogged reporter had discovered the truth and shared it with him, but River had been so sure he’d veered off the road of sanity.
“Of course….” Jamie’s focus sharpened on River. “It was strange at first. I’d take out the heart, perform the ritual, and turn my back. Then there’d be this flash of light, and when I turned around, it was gone. Damn if that still-warm, bloody, beating heart hadn’t just disappeared.”
“You’re sick,” he spat.
“Maybe.” The madman’s brow arched. “But how else could I still be here? And you know, it got easier with each kill.” He pointed a finger at River and grinned. “But you? You made it fun.”
He glared. “What the hell do you mean?”
“All your schemes to catch me. All your plans, the hope sparkling in your eyes each time you were sure you’d stop the madness and capture the Valentine Killer. And then the disappointment, the devastation that consumed you when you realized he wasn’t there. You’d missed again.” A smile warped Jamie’s face, and he leaned forward. “Except I was there, wasn’t I? Every time you thought you’d failed, the Valentine Killer was right there next to you, helping work the scene.”
The bastard looked at Vicki, pursed his lips, and clucked his tongue. “For such a brilliant detective, he sure dropped the ball. Took my death for him to finally put all the pieces together.”
Panic gripped River’s throat and squeezed. Shit, what if he figures out what she’s drawing before she finishes? He jerked, forced his chair to scrape across the floor. “And what about you, asshole? You’re not so brilliant yourself.”
Jamie’s gaze lasered on him. Fire burned in those dark eyes, though his mannerisms remained unimpressed. “What are you talking about?”
“You were my partner, Kent. My partner. Why the hell would I ever think you were the killer?” He tilted his head toward Vicki, aimed his words at her but kept his eyes locked with the bastard across from him. “I mean, who gives a shit if he had to die for his reign of terror to end? It ended. And it happened because he screwed up. Muffed the booby trap that was supposed to give him a chance to escape, but instead caused his tunnel to freedom to collapse. Got pounded by falling rock to boot. Bled out. Kinda sad if you think about it.”
The killer’s nostrils flared. “Yeah. I screwed up.” His tightly controlled tone filled the room. “But I sure had fun slicing and dicing sweet Mindy Carter before everything went to shit. And as I lay there on the floor, the world fading around me, I started to doubt it all.” He shook his head and snorted. “I mean, was some demon really gonna save my ass? But then a bright light filled the cavern, and a voice whispered in my ear. ‘Continue your work for me.’”
“Right.” River glanced at Vicki. She’d managed another line in her drawing.
“Then I died…everything went black. I heard whispers all around me. When my vision cleared, I saw SWAT and police everywhere. The coroner and some kid lifting my body. And I knew. I knew this was it.” He reached out to touch something only he could see. “I stood behind him—that kid—and…pushed myself inside. He passed out. Shock, I guess. But it gave me time to hide in Jamie’s subconscious. To wait, watch.”
“Sweet bedtime story.” River sneered. “Your mom tell you that one when you were a kid?”
“It’s not a story.” Pointing a finger at him, he grinned. “You should’ve seen your face when Captain Suarez accused you of playing a part in all the killings.” He shifted his attention to Vicki. “They thought there might be a bomb beneath me. So they tied a rope to me and flipped my body. Of course, there was no bomb. I wanted them to know who I was.” He tilted his head. “You okay, Riv?”
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, but every inch of his skin prickled. The hairs on his neck stood on end. How had he known they’d turned Kent’s body? Jamie hadn’t arrived with the coroner at that point.
A chill oozed down his spine, twisting his stomach. There was no way the bastard could know, unless…. God. No, it can’t be true. The knot in his stomach tightened, warning him otherwise. Vicki’s next symbol.
“Lost my athame.” Jamie glanced at Vicki. “That’s a fancy word for ceremonial knife, in case you didn’t know,” he mock whispered to her then faced River again. “Captain Suarez found it beneath my body and bagged it.” He shook his head. “It’d been a gift from my Latina girl. Shame. I’d used it in so many murders and sacrifices. I really miss it. I mean, you can’t perform an offering to a demon without an athame and expect to be taken seriously.” He reached to the sheath at his waist and yanked out his large hunting knife. “So I created my own. And look, right here on the end of the hilt I carved Thurisaz’s symbol, dedicating all the blood it spills to him. Nice, huh?”
A scratching sound came from upstairs. River craned his neck. Had backup arrived at last?
“Aw, Moochie must be hungry,” Jamie crooned.
“Moochie?” River started as a yip floated down from above. “You brought a dog with you?”
“Wasn’t mine. Belonged to the old biddy across the hall.” He grinned, tapped the flat of the knife blade to his chin. “What a complicated little web I’ve woven. See, I needed to move around, hunt my next sacrifice without Jamie becoming suspicious. I didn’t want my host freaking out over a drop of blood or a piece of clothing, at least not until I could take over his body completely. So, I created a roommate, took on the name—”
“Brent.” Vicki’s wide eyes focused on the killer.
“Ah, yes. The pub.” He tilted his head. “There was a glow about you and your dark-haired friend. I had to put you on the list.”
“But the dog,” River interjected. She hadn’t finished the drawing, and he needed to buy her more time. “Why the hell did you snatch a dog?”
Jamie stared at him for a moment, his eyes filled with sincerity. “Even psychopathic murderers get lonely sometimes.”
He clutched the arms of his chair. By God, the bastard wanted the damned dog as a companion. How sick is that?
Jamie shoved the knife back into the sheath. He looked at each of them in turn then sighed. “Well, it’s getting late. I should prepare the altar for another sacrifice. Thurisaz will be pleased.”
“You’re going to sacrifice us both?” River growled.
“No.” He jerked his thumb toward Vicki. “Just her. Thurisaz has a taste for females. Can’t say as I blame him. But you? Sorry, Riv. I’ll just have to kill you.” He strode toward the dining room doorway. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll feed your heart to Moochie so your death won’t be a total waste.”
River jerked against the ropes holding him, and although the chair creaked, he couldn’t break free. Fear and anger raged through him. His eyes cut toward his Glock still resting on the counter. The need to put a bullet in Jamie Bennett—or Kent Rowton or whoever the hell the monster was—ran true in every inch of his being.
Vicki had almost finished the drawing. She had the circle with a pentagram in the middle. The only part remaining of the Valentine Killer’s symbol was the pointed capital D in the center. She looked up at him.
“I didn’t want to just…give up.” She shook her head. “I thought….”
“Mixing up the order of the symbols.” He smiled, his heart aching. God, he wanted to hold her, kiss her lips. “Good thinking.”
“I’ve never tried this before. I don’t know what will happen.” Her slim shoulders rose, fell. “If anything.”
“At this point, I don’t think it’ll hurt.”
“It could speed things up.” Her focus shifted toward the dining room doorway. “He could come out here and kill us that much sooner.”
“He’s going to kill us anyway.” He glanced down. She rested her foot at the bottom of the symbol, waiting to finish it. “I say do it.”
She bit her lower lip and blinked back tears. The sight ripped at his heart. She raised her feet, lowered them to the center of the drawing, and dragged down a straight line.
She lifted her chin. “You don’t have to say anything.” A soft smile quivered on her lips. “But I need you to know I’ve fallen in love with you.”
With a quick jerk of her feet, she completed the pointed capital D. The Valentine Killer’s symbol lay drawn in blood on the floor between them.