Kyle smiled now. DCAK was projecting, revealing more than he should about himself. “Well, I do want to humble Cross. I wouldn’t mind destroying his reputation. But no, I don’t hate Alex. Not at all. Actually, I consider him a dear friend.”
DCAK laughed out loud. “I would hate to be one of your enemies.”
“Yes,” Kyle Craig said, and then he laughed too. “You wouldn’t want to get on my bad side.”
“So, am I? Have I gone too far?”
Kyle reached out and patted the killer’s shoulder to let him know that everything was good between the two of them. “Now tell me about yourself. I want to know it all. And then,” Kyle said, grinning again, “you can tell me about your partner. I saw someone lurking back there in the shadows. I’d hate to have to shoot whoever it is. But, of course, I will.”
The woman who went by the name Sandy Quinlan stepped forward from the tree line.
“In your honor” were her first words to the great Kyle Craig. Perhaps disingenuous, but maybe not? Certainly fawning. Of course, she was an actress too.
Kyle nodded slowly, then said, “So tell me about John Sampson. Where are you keeping him, and what do you have planned?”
Chapter 113
BREE AND I RUSHED back to Kalispell late that evening—only to find that our original flights were still the fastest way home. There weren’t any alternatives, at least not one that we could afford.
So we checked into a motel, where neither of us got much sleep. Not being able to help Sampson during those critical first hours was killing both of us, but especially me. John and I had been best friends since we were kids, and I had a bad feeling about this. Still, I was with Bree, and we slept in each other’s
arms.
We finally arrived in DC on Sunday—wired but totally focused. I called Billie Sampson from the gate and told her we’d be at their house in twenty minutes. I checked in with Superintendent Davies on our way to the car. He was overseeing this personally. Davies was a friend of John’s too.
“New development while you were in the air,” Davies told me. “The bastard’s running a Webcast sometime today.”
“What do you mean? What kind of Webcast? What time?”
“We don’t have all the details yet. There was an e-mail around two—same distribution as the last one.” That meant a full media press. “He gave the URL for his site and just said it’d be going live by tonight.”
“Bree and I will be there as soon as we can. We’re going to see Billie Sampson first. It’s more or less on the way. Don’t take it off-line! Let it keep running. We need to see what he’s up to.”
“Already with you on that. It may be our only way to track this.” And by this, we both knew Davies meant Sampson’s murder and the gross public spectacle it was meant to become.
I hung up with Davies just as we got to the car.
“What did he say?” Bree wanted to know.
I didn’t answer right away. I was too busy staring at a package that was tape-mounted to the driver’s door.
White paper, silver duct tape. I’d seen something very much like it before.
“Bree? Listen to me, now. Back away from the car. Come over here with me. Take it very slow, and keep back.”
She came around to look. “Jesus. Is it an explosive?”
“I don’t know what it is.” I took out my Mini Maglite and leaned in for a closer look. “It could be anything.”
But when it toned, we both jumped back real fast.
Chapter 114
IT TOOK US a couple of seconds to realize that the sound we were hearing was a ringing phone and that it was inside the package.
I tore open the white paper and got a handful of doughnut crumbs, along with a black Motorola. The doughnut was some kind of lame cop joke, I figured.
Instead of caller ID, the phone showed a picture. It was of Sampson, and he was blindfolded. There was a wide gash and dried blood on the side of his face. I took a deep breath to keep the anger from overwhelming me before I answered the call.