A cot had been set up against one wall, and his eyes widened when he saw a female figure lying on it, her head turned toward him. Even from where he stood, he noticed the girl’s eyes were filled with terror.

  When he stepped into full view, she spoke, her uncertain voice coming out as a breathless moan. “Help me.”

  Jake glanced around the room and then turned to Annie, two steps behind him. “Call the police.”

  He rushed to the cot and crouched beside the trembling girl. Her hands were tied to the sides of the bed, her feet lashed together and fastened to the end.

  But the most horrifying thing was that her head had been completely shaved. There was no doubt this was one of Izzy Wilde’s victims, and if they hadn’t gotten here when they had, she would’ve ended up like the girl in the park.

  Jake tackled the knots as Annie called the detective and filled him in.

  The girl’s arms were now freed, and Jake turned to the cord binding her feet.

  “Hank said a car’ll be here right away,” Annie said, hanging up the phone.

  The final rope fell free, and Annie helped the trembling young woman sit on the edge of the bed, then sat beside her, her arm around her shoulder.

  “What’s your name?” Annie asked.

  “Tanya.” Tears of relief flowed as the woman looked at Annie. “Tanya Arbuckle.”

  “Let’s get her outside,” Jake said.

  “Not so fast,” a voice said behind Jake.

  Jake spun around. Izzy Wilde stood at the bottom of the stairs, facing their way, a pistol in his hand. A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth. “It was nice of you to come here. Now I don’t have to look for you.”

  Jake edged sideways, away from the girls, attempting to put space between him and Annie. He needed to make himself the target. If someone was gonna get shot, it might as well be him.

  “Stay still,” Izzy said in a shrill voice, swinging the gun toward Jake. “I’ll shoot you if I have to.”

  “The police are on their way,” Jake said in a calm voice.

  Izzy’s eyes narrowed and he looked toward Annie and Tanya, then turned the gun their way. “Stand up.”

  Jake took a step forward, and the gunman swung the weapon back. “Stay still.”

  Jake dropped his arms to his sides, his hands knotted into fists, ready to pounce if it appeared the would-be killer intended to fire toward Annie.

  “Stand up,” Izzy repeated, a manic look in his eyes. He licked his lips and raised his voice. “Stand up.”

  Annie helped Tanya to her feet, her arm around the woman’s shoulder.

  Izzy’s eyes darted back and forth, then he motioned with the pistol. “Get over there beside your husband.”

  Annie didn’t move.

  Izzy raised the weapon and sighted down the barrel, his eyes unblinking. “Now.”

  Annie glanced at Tanya, then dropped her arm and moved toward Jake.

  “Get behind me,” Jake said to Annie. “He can’t shoot us all.”

  Izzy’s face twisted into a sneer as he sidled toward Tanya. He stepped behind her and wrapped one arm around her throat, holding the pistol to her temple with the other.

  The color drained from Tanya’s face, and she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself, her whole body trembling.

  “Let’s go,” Izzy said, prodding the woman toward the stairs.

  Jake took another step forward, careful to keep a safe distance from the gunman. The deranged killer was liable to shoot his hostage if Jake posed a threat.

  Had they rescued a victim with success, only to have her murdered in cold blood in front of their eyes? He had to do something.

  “Izzy, let the girl go,” Jake said. “You can take me with you.”

  Izzy gave a quick, sharp laugh. “I don’t want you. Maybe next time.” His eyes gleamed. “I got what I want.”

  Annie took a step forward, her hands up in surrender. “Then take me.”

  Jake looked at Annie in horror. He knew his wife had a brave streak, but this was going too far. “No,” he shouted. “Stay where you are.”

  Izzy backed up to the stairs and took one step up. Tanya stumbled to follow. “Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes on Jake. “I ain’t interested in your wife.”

  Jake moved to the bottom of the stairs, powerless to help as Izzy backed up the steps, dragging his hostage with him, the weapon still pressed against the terrified woman’s head.

  Where were the police?

  As soon as the unhinged madman disappeared through the doorway at the top of the stairs, Jake raced up the steps and leaped out onto the asphalt. He could hear sirens some distance away, drawing closer.

  The sirens had frightened off the gunman, and he had discarded his hostage rather than chance being caught. She had crumpled to the ground not far from the exit, her head in her hands, sobbing quietly.

  Jake looked around. Izzy Wilde was fifty feet away, running across the parking lot. The killer hopped a low fence, then ran behind a small building and vanished from view.

  Jake followed, pounding across the pavement. He vaulted over the fence and looked around.

  Izzy Wilde was nowhere in sight.

  Then an engine roared and tires squealed. Jake turned. A gray sedan spun around a car, hopped over a curb, and veered onto the street. Jake raced after the vehicle, cutting across the lawn in an attempt to get ahead of the fugitive.

  He reached the sidewalk as Izzy’s vehicle spun past. The driver was bent over the steering wheel, his eyes intent on the road ahead.

  Jake squinted at the speeding vehicle, memorizing the license plate number—404 LVX. It was a gray Volkswagen Passat. Probably about 2005 as near as Jake could tell.

  Wilde had gotten away again, but for the time being, the killer hadn’t been able to claim another victim.

  Chapter 25

  Thursday, 9:52 a.m.

  HANK TURNED INTO the driveway of 1166 Red Ridge Street and pulled up behind Jake’s Firebird.

  Two police cars were parked near the rear of the lot, and the area was being sealed off with crime scene tape. CSI was on the way, and the basement would soon be documented in detail, much of its contents carried away for painstaking examination.

  An ambulance sat idling, its rear doors open. The intended victim would be taken to the hospital as a matter of course. Assuming she was unharmed, she’d be released shortly thereafter, and Hank would take the woman’s statement as soon as possible.

  Hank and King stepped from the vehicle and went to the Firebird. Jake and Annie were leaning against the front fender watching the proceedings when the detectives approached.

  Jake turned toward Hank and cracked a wide grin.

  Hank nodded back and looked at Annie. “How’d you figure out he was here?”

  Annie laughed. “It wasn’t me this time. Jake figured it out.” She explained the theory Jake had been working on, then shrugged. “It just made sense.”

  King crossed his arms and glared at Jake. “You should’ve called us.”

  Jake shrugged. “I didn’t expect anything to come of it. It was just an idea, and we got lucky.”

  “He got away,” King said matter-of-factly. “How is that lucky?”

  Annie frowned at King. “Sure, he got away.” She motioned toward the ambulance. “But so did Tanya.”

  King shrugged and gazed around the lot.

  Jake handed Hank a scrap of paper. “Here’s his plate number. He’s driving a gray Volkswagen Passat—a sedan. Probably the same one he used before. He must’ve stashed it somewhere.”

  Hank took the paper, studied it, and handed it to King. “Get a BOLO out on this vehicle right away.”

  King glanced at the number a moment, then pulled out his cell phone and turned away.

  “We had no idea he had kidnapped another girl,” Jake said. “It caught us by surprise when we went down there.”

  Hank explained about the carton containing a lock of black hair that Luke Rushton had delivered to the precinct that morning. “You guys got here just in time. I’m convinced Tanya Arbuckle was destined to be his next murder victim.” He looked at Annie. “Does Tanya have dark brown eyes?”

  Annie nodded grimly. “Just like the other two.”

  “And I’m assuming she has black hair?”

  “Yup,” Jake said. “And it’s taped all over the wall down there.”

  Hank’s face took on a grave expression. “I’d better take a look.” He glanced toward the ambulance as it pulled away. “And I’m anxious to talk to Tanya Arbuckle. I need to retrace her steps and find out where Wilde might’ve found her.”

  “She was too shaken up to talk much,” Annie said. “All we could get from her is that she’d been kidnapped late last night after leaving a bar and heading home.”

  “Do you know the name of the bar?”

  Annie shook her head.

  “And Wilde is armed now,” Jake added.

  “He has a gun?” Hank asked.

  “A pistol.”

  “As far as we know,” Hank said with a deep frown, “he never had a gun before. He must’ve picked it up somewhere.”

  King had finished with the phone call and turned back, listening to the conversation. “It could’ve been in his vehicle,” he said.

  Hank thought about that a moment and then motioned toward King. “Let’s go downstairs.” He turned to Jake and wagged a finger. “Don’t forget your statements.”

  Jake nodded and King followed Hank to the rear of the building. Hank pulled two pair of shoe covers from an inner pocket, handing a pair to King. After putting them on, they descended down the steps into the bowels of the building.

  Hank took in his surroundings—the cot with the fragments of rope still attached, the hair taped haphazardly to the wall, the chair where Tanya had undoubtedly been shaved. It was all eerily similar to the shed they’d discovered at Izzy Wilde’s house that seemed like so long ago.

  He took out his cell phone and snapped some photos.

  “Looky here, Hank,” King said. He was crouched down, digging in a cardboard box. He held up a blue plastic tarpaulin. “I’ll bet he was gonna kill her here, wrap her body up in this, and then transport her somewhere else.”

  “Any blood on it?”

  King shook his head. “Nope. I expect he planned to use a fresh tarp for each victim.” He pointed to the box. “There’re three of them here. All brand new.”

  “Any receipt in the box? Any idea where he bought them?”

  King searched through the box, removing the tarpaulins one at a time. Finally, he announced, “Nope. No receipt.”

  Hank sighed and turned his gaze toward the bench. Beside the scissors and the extra rope lay three leather belts. It looked like Izzy Wilde had more than one victim in mind.

  So far, the last two had been fortunate and had escaped with their lives. Hank wanted to make sure there were no more.

  He stood back and glanced around the room again. It appeared Tanya Arbuckle had been the first victim held here. He’d intended to use this room as his new killing floor—his slaughterhouse and trophy room.

  Hank turned around as someone called his name from the top of the stairs. He went to the bottom of the steps and looked up. An officer was crouched on the landing.

  “Hank, there’s someone here who says it’s urgent he speak to you. Says his name’s Carter Wilde.”

  “Be right there,” Hank said. He turned to King. “See if you can find anything else interesting, and take a few more pictures. I want to talk to Carter Wilde.”

  King nodded and Hank took the stairs up, stepping outside.

  Carter Wilde stood behind the yellow tape, leaning on his cane, a confused expression on his face.

  “What’s going on here?” Carter asked. He waved toward the officers standing to one side. “They won’t tell me anything.” He glanced toward the street. “And what’re the Lincolns doing here? Is this something to do with my brother?”

  “I’m afraid it is,” Hank said. “Your brother was holding a woman captive here. The Lincolns found her, but Izzy got away.”

  Carter’s eyes bulged and his mouth gaped open. Finally, he asked, “Down there? In my building?”

  Hank nodded. “How would Izzy gain access to this room?”

  Carter shook his head, then narrowed his eyes and looked at Hank. “He must’ve gotten my keys. I keep them hanging by the door in my apartment.”

  “Did you see him recently?” Hank asked.

  Carter shook his head. “No. Not for some time.”

  “Does your brother have a key to your apartment?”

  “Sure, he does,” Carter said. “You don’t think …”

  Hank finished the statement. “That he could’ve let himself into your apartment and taken the keys to the basement?”

  Carter looked confused. “But I know the keys are there. They were there this morning.”

  Hank shrugged. “He could’ve made a copy and put the original back.”

  Carter nodded slowly, then drew his brows together and asked, “Is … is the girl okay?”

  “She’s fine.”

  Carter breathed a sigh of relief, then his face took on a worried look. “Detective, as much as it pains me to say it, you have to find my brother. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt someone else.”

  “It appears he has every intention to,” Hank said. “But we’ll get him.”

  King approached, nodded at Carter, and tucked his hands into his pockets. He turned to Hank. “CSI is here.”

  “Okay, we’ll let them do their job.” Hank looked at Carter. “I’m afraid the basement’s off-limits for a while. At least until we get everything documented. If there’s an emergency and you need to go down there for some reason, let one of the officers know.”

  Carter nodded and glanced toward the doorway to the basement. “I don’t understand why my brother would use that room for … his dirty work. I don’t go in there much, but if the air conditioner broke down, or we needed some electrical work done, someone would have to go down there.”

  “I’m betting it was temporary,” King said, turning to Carter. “Do you have any idea where he might go next?”

  Carter rubbed at his forehead before answering, “I can’t think of anywhere.”

  Hank turned as a team dressed in overalls carried equipment past them before turning back to face Carter. “Contact me if you think of something.”

  “Absolutely,” Carter said. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” He looked toward the basement, his lips in a tight line. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Detective.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Hank said, then looked at King. “Let’s get to work.”

  The Lincolns had left by the time Hank and King returned to the side of the building. He’d have to contact them later to get their statements, but right now, he needed to make sure all available officers were looking for the gray Volkswagen, then he’d check on Tanya Arbuckle.

  Izzy Wilde was on the run and, as far as Hank knew, had no place to hide. He prayed the fugitive was dumb enough to hold on to the Volkswagen.

  Wilde was on the run, but he was unpredictable. Hank felt sure it was a matter of time before the fugitive made a fatal mistake, but unfortunately, time was of the utmost importance. Izzy Wilde was determined to carry out his mad obsession without hesitation.

  Chapter 26

  Thursday, 11:14 a.m.

  IZZY WILDE pounded at the steering wheel and cursed a long streak.

  Life was such a never-ending struggle. It seemed like doing what had to be done was never easy.

  First that devil of a woman had gotten away, leading to him getting thrown in jail. He hadn’t expected such a violent response from a woman, and his face was sore where she’d attacked him, and his hand still ached where she’d bitten him like the dog she was.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, the last one had gotten away when the Lincolns interfered, and he’d almost gotten nabbed again.

  And he was fed up with it.

  He cursed again and spun the steering wheel into the Hillcrest Mall parking lot, then drove to the rear of the lot and backed into an empty spot near a rusty chain-link fence. He wouldn’t be seen here in the employee parking area.

  He didn’t want to chance buying another car—at least not until he figured out how he could do it undetected—so he planned to do the next best thing.

  He assumed Jake Lincoln had seen the plates on this vehicle; the big guy had been close enough. There must be a lot of gray Volkswagens in the city, and the police would stop them all, but he wasn’t planning on keeping it much longer.

  But it would do for now.

  At first, he’d planned to lie low until nightfall, but he was desperate to satisfy the craving he felt deep inside. His mother had done a wicked thing, and he had to erase the memory from his mind once more.

  And there was only one way.

  But he had an immediate problem. Finding the next wicked dark-brown-eyed woman was a snap. They were all over the place. The problem was where to take her. He’d had two perfect spots, but they were overrun by cops now. He yearned to go back to the old house where he’d grown up. That was home. But they would no doubt be looking for him there, and he didn’t dare.

  His soul was hungry and yearned for sustenance, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He got back into his car and sat still a moment, contemplating a plan, then started his vehicle and pulled out.

  He drove closer to the main doors. The mall was always busy, and there were no parking spots available. Perfect. That was what he wanted.

  He pulled up to the curb, where he had a clear view of the entrance. He searched under the passenger seat, found a small pair of binoculars, and focused them on the doors.

  People came and went. Men, women, old, young, couples, kids, and his craving grew.

  Finally, he lowered the glasses, licked his lips, and a smile spread across his face.

 

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