Kevin set the gun down. “Sorry. I can’t just let him push me around anymore.”

She nodded. “Put it back in the trunk or wherever you had it stashed, and please, don’t use it again.”

“I shot at him. You think maybe I hit him?”

“I didn’t see any blood. But they’ll find evidence of the shots.” She paused. “They may want you to surrender the gun. I don’t suppose it’s legal.”

He shook his head.

“Just get it out of sight before the others get here. I’ll talk to Jennifer.”

“Others?”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s time for her to take over here. I have a plane to catch.”

18

THERE WAS NO BOMB and Slater had met his objective forty minutes early. They had solved their first riddle within the allotted time, but it still had served the killer. He’d made contact with Kevin in person and escaped without a trace.

Sam had called Jennifer with the details while waiting for her cab to arrive. She was still unsettled about something—was even a little reluctant to call Jennifer, but she said that she had no choice. Of all the authorities, she trusted Jennifer the most. No cops until the ninety-minute mark had passed; that much she’d insisted on.

Jennifer was on her way with an FBI team to begin the investigation. Sam would be lucky to catch her flight; Kevin watched the cab’s taillights as it sped down the street and around the corner.

Yes indeed, they had solved the riddle. Or had they? He should be swimming in relief about now—he’d come nose to nose with a madman and survived. Chased him away with a few shots to boot. Sort of.

But his head still felt like it was caught in a vise. He agreed with Sam; something wasn’t right.

What was it about this appointment in Houston that was so important to her? And why wasn’t she forthcoming on the actual nature of the meeting? She knew the Riddle Killer was here. What was there in Houston?

And why wouldn’t she just tell him? Here in Long Beach the city was terrorized by the man the media had dubbed the Riddle Killer, but Sam was off on a tangent in another city. Made no sense.

A black car swung onto the street and roared toward him. Jennifer.

Two other agents climbed out with her, one with weapon drawn, both armed with flashlights. Jennifer spoke quickly to them, sending one around back and the other for the front door, which still stood open in a splintered frame. Sam had taken the car jack to it.

Jennifer approached him, dressed in a blue suit, hair flowing around her shoulders in the warm breeze. “Are you okay?” she asked.

She glanced at the warehouse, and for a brief moment Kevin imagined that her question was only a courtesy—her real interest lay in whatever awaited her prying eyes beyond the door. A new crime scene. Like all of them, she loved the crime scenes. As well she should—the crime scene led to the criminal, in this case Slater.

She turned her attention back to him.

“As okay as I can be, I suppose,” he said.

She walked up to him and looked into his eyes. “I thought we understood each other.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re on the same side here. I mean you tell me everything, or did our conversation yesterday not make an impression on you?”

He suddenly felt like a silly schoolboy standing in the principal’s office. “Of course we’re on the same side.”

“Then make me a promise you can live by. You don’t disappear unless we agree for you to disappear. In fact, you do nothingunless we agree you do it. I can’t do this without you, and I certainly don’t need you following someone else’s lead.”

An unreasonable sorrow swept over Kevin. He felt a knot in his throat, as if he might cry, right here in front of her. Again. Nothing would be so humiliating.

“I’m sorry. Sam said—”

“I don’t care what Sam tells you. You’re my responsibility, not hers. Heaven knows I need all the help I can get, but until you hear differently from someone besides Sam, you follow my lead. Regardless of whose idea it is, you talk to me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. “Now what did Sam suggest?”

“That I should do everything you say.”

Jennifer blinked. “She’s right.” She looked past him at the warehouse. “I want this creep as much as you do. You’re our best shot . . .” She stopped.

“I know. You need me to get him. Who gives a rip about Kevin as long as we get what we need out of him; is that it?”

She stared at him, whether angered or embarrassed, he couldn’t tell. Her face softened.

“No, that isn’t it. I’m sorry you’re living through this hell, Kevin. It’s beyond me why innocent people have to suffer, but try as I have, changing the fact is beyond me.” She held his eyes with her own. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just . . . I’m not going to let him get to you. He killed my brother, remember? I lost Roy, but I’m not going to lose you.”

Kevin suddenly understood. It explained her anger. Maybe more.

“And yes, as a matter of fact, I do need you,” she said. “You’re our best hope of apprehending a very demented nut case who happens to be after you.”

Now Kevin felt more like a clumsy freshman than anyone who might be hauled into the school office for discipline. Stupid, Kevin. Stupid, stupid.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Just don’t run off again, okay?”

“Guaranteed.” He lifted his eyes and saw the same strange look he’d seen in Sam’s eyes at times. A cross between concern and empathy. Stupid, stupid, Kevin.

Jennifer dropped her eyes to his mouth and took a deep breath. “So. You saw him.”

He nodded.

She glanced back at the door. “He’s progressing.”

“Progressing?”

“He wants more. More contact, more danger. Resolution.”

“Then why doesn’t he just come out and ask me for whatever it is he wants?”

She held a flashlight in her hand. “Are you up to walking through it with me? We’ll wait until my men come out—I don’t want to compromise any evidence. I realize you’re frazzled, but the sooner I know how this went down, the greater our chances of using any information we come up with.”

He nodded. “The cops know yet?”

“Not yet. Milton can’t seem to keep his trap shut. He knows we found you and so does the media. As far as the public is concerned, this didn’t happen. Tensions are high enough as it is.”

She looked at her watch. “We still have eighteen minutes left in his ninety-minute window. Somehow that doesn’t add up. Honestly, we were thinking library rather than warehouse.”

“Library. What wants to be filled but will always be empty?As in empty knowledge.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“We’re getting evidence; that’s what counts. We have his voice on tape; we have his presence in this building; we have more background. He’s had several chances to hurt you and he hasn’t. Sam told me that you spoke with him. I need to know exactly what he said.”

“More background?” Kevin asked. “What background?”

An FBI agent walked toward them. “Excuse me, just wanted to let you know that the lights are back on. Fuse was pulled.”

“No explosives?”

“Not that we can find. There’s something here I think you should see.”

She looked up at Kevin. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to show you what happened?”

“As soon as they’re finished securing the scene. We don’t want any more footprints or trace evidence than necessary. Hold tight.” She hurried for the door and disappeared into the warehouse.

Kevin shoved his hands into his pockets and ran his fingers over Slater’s cell phone. He was a klutz, no doubt about it. Maybe that was the sin Slater wanted him to confess. Kevin Parson is a fool and a klutz, a man incapable of entering society in any normal way because his Aunt Balinda beat his intellect against an imaginary wall for the first twenty-three years of his life. His mind is scarred beyond recognition.