A Killer's Mind (Zoe Bentley Mystery #1)(101)

It was a shotgun blast of guesses and hunches, and his face showed that some, or even most, hit their mark. He slowly put the phone back in its cradle. Zoe knew that the shock would fade, that in a minute or two he would start rationalizing, finding answers to all her questions. She had to keep striking now, while the metal was hot.

“A woman named Susan Warner died a few months ago,” she said. “You might have read about it in the paper. We have reason to believe her death was linked to Veronika’s. And we suspect she may have been your client, that your brother went to her home several times. Can you look it up? Maybe we’re completely mistaken. Maybe this was all just a huge misunderstanding.”

Clifford turned to his laptop and began tapping, his keystrokes mechanical, his expression dazed. Finally, he leaned back and said in a defeated, toneless voice, “Susan Warner was our client. Jeffrey went to her home three times.”

Zoe’s mind whirred. There were so many questions she wanted to ask this man. But one question took priority over all the rest.

“Where is your brother now?” she asked.

“I . . . I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”

“You said he went to see a client.”

“That’s what I assumed. He didn’t tell me.”

“We need a list of all the clients your brother’s handled in the past three months,” Tatum said.

“Could be hundreds of names.”

“Let’s check, okay?”

Clifford’s fighting spirit had been shattered. He showed them how to read the Excel sheet on the laptop. Tatum sat by the computer and began to go over the list. Zoe was about to argue but then saw he was clearly much more proficient than her when it came to manipulating the data. For a burly FBI field agent, he had impressive computer skills.

There were ninety-three names on the list.

“He’ll be attacking her in her home,” Zoe said. “That means he’ll probably target a single woman.”

Tatum removed the men, leaving forty-one names.

“Do you think he’s targeting a woman with children?” Tatum asked.

“Probably,” Zoe said. “But we can’t really tell if the client is a single mother from this list.”

“Laura Summer,” Clifford said. “She wanted a discount because she’s a single mom.”

Zoe glanced at the name. “He visited her twice,” she said. “I think that’s her.”

“We need to make sure,” Tatum said.

Zoe dialed the number on the file, and as she listened to the phone ring, she said, “Email this list to Martinez. We’ll call him on the way and explain.”

Tatum nodded. As he worked on it, he asked Clifford, “Does Jeffrey have a phone with him?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Sure.”

“We’ll need the phone number.”

Clifford nodded and grabbed a piece of paper.

Zoe waited, tapping her foot anxiously. Laura didn’t answer her phone.

“No answer,” she said.

Tatum pressed send and stood up, grabbing the piece of paper with Jeffrey’s number on it. “Let’s go.”





CHAPTER 73

The blue van Zoe had first seen by Sorenson’s Plumbing was parked in front of Laura Summer’s home, instantly dispelling Zoe’s hope that Jeffrey Alston was really fixing someone’s drain. Tatum switched off the engine and checked his gun.

Zoe had called Martinez on the way and explained in very general terms what they had learned. Martinez sounded livid but was professional enough to realize that his top priority had to be taking the serial killer off the street. He’d handle the rogue FBI personnel later. Police squads were on their way.

“I’ll take the back door in case he tries to bolt when they get here,” Tatum said. “You wait in the car. Watch the front door. Let me know if he leaves through it. And welcome the cavalry when it gets here.”

Zoe nodded. She was useless here, of course. She was untrained. She’d stay in the car.

Tatum drew a small gun from an ankle holster and handed it over to Zoe. “That’s a Glock 43. It has seven bullets. Use it only if there’s no other option.”

She nodded numbly, taking the metal object from his hand. It was cold and surprisingly light. She held it pointed away from them both, terrified.

Tatum opened the driver’s door and got out.

“Don’t be a hero,” Zoe said.

He smiled at her, more a grimace than a real smile, and shut the door.

Zoe watched him creeping alongside the house to the back. He was smooth, alert, and fast. Every movement was calculated to avoid the line of sight from the windows. She found herself fascinated with her partner’s skill as he edged his way, crouched, gun in his hand. As she spent days with Tatum and his silly jokes and antics, it was easy to forget he was also highly trained for hostile situations such as this one.

He disappeared behind the corner of the wall, and she was left alone. Almost instantly, she could taste bile in her mouth. Her throat constricted, and she breathed heavily, staring at the house. What was going on in there? Were Laura and her children dead already? Was Jeffrey pumping embalming fluid through Laura’s throat right now?

The hand holding the gun trembled. Scared it might accidentally fire, she placed it on the seat next to her, still warm from Tatum’s body heat. He had only left half a minute ago. It felt like hours. It felt like weeks.