The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(119)

“I agree.”

“She’ll go back to where she killed Rackonelli, a place she knows will give her decent cover. A place nearby. Do you remember exactly where her body was found?”

“Kind of—the general area. Head toward Georgetown, we’ll figure it out.”

Vail pulled away from the curb and accelerated.





62


The auxiliary light was still flashing, so Vail leaned on the horn and cars cleared a way for them.

“We need to get the exact location,” she said. “Don’t have time to guess wrong. Call Gifford. I’ve got his cell.”

A moment later it was ringing through the Bluetooth. Voice mail came on and Vail left a message.

“Try my unit chief. Look in ‘contacts.’ Stacey DiCarlo.”

“I’ve got it.” Underwood manipulated the phone and it again began ringing. “You think she’s still at the office this late?”

“No idea. Don’t know much about her. Except that I don’t like her.”

“DiCarlo.”

Vail shot a look at Underwood. Maybe I need to reevaluate her. “This is Karen Vail. I need some help. Can you look something up in my files?”

“Your files? For what?”

“I don’t have time to explain. But it’s got to do with the Blood Lines case. Thomas Underwood’s in the car with me. The killer’s not who we thought it was. And she’s got my son.”

“Whoa, back up a second, Vail. What the hell are you going on about?”

“Look, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I don’t have time for this. Just pull up my files. If you can’t do that, I’ll find someone else to help—”

“We’ll deal with your insubordination later. Tell me what you need.”

I need a new unit chief.

“Exact location where the Rackonelli body was found. Carla Rackonelli.”

“Where am I looking?”

“I organized the file by victim,” Underwood said. “Everything’s cross-referenced, but fastest way to get what we need is to go to the Rackonelli tab.” He turned to Vail. “Did you change the file?”

“Just added to it. All your original reports and notes are just as you left them.”

“I’m calling it up on the server,” DiCarlo said. “Give me a few minutes to sort through everything.”

If it was your son you wouldn’t need a few minutes.

“Text me the location as soon as you’ve got it. I need to make another call.”

Underwood hit the red “end call” icon and looked to Vail for instructions.

“Call Curtis.”

He was on the line seconds later. “Good timing, Karen. We’re closing in on the tracking signal’s twenty.”





63


Curtis pulled to a stop in front of The Gibson at 23rd and L, a ten-story brick apartment building. Tarkoff got out, his Glock in hand, moving forward cautiously.

Curtis followed, consulting the iPhone’s display as he walked up to a large chain-link fence.

“Well?”

He could barely hear Vail’s voice emanating from the speaker but did not want to take his eyes off the screen until they got a fix on Jasmine.

“Used to be a Metro PD building here but it’s now a huge construction site,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Give us a minute.” They stood shoulder to shoulder, Tarkoff looking out at the street while Curtis peered through the narrow openings between the privacy slats at the steel girders that represented the structure’s skeleton. “Ben, you see anything?”

Tarkoff looked down the block, turned in a 360-degree arc, and faced Curtis. “No.”

He again checked the map on the iPhone. “She should be right there, thirty feet away. Maybe around the corner? I can’t see because of all that heavy equipment behind the fence.”

They walked about fifteen paces when Curtis stopped and elbowed Tarkoff. “That woman in the parka, crossing L.”

“She’s got a hood up, can’t see her face. But there’s no one else nearby.”

“Let’s check it out.”

Tarkoff dodged an approaching taxi and jogged across 23rd, approaching from the left as Curtis came up behind her.

“Police,” Curtis yelled. “Don’t move. Get down on the ground!”





64


Vail turned to Underwood, her eyes wide, her pulse racing. She kept driving, leaning forward in her seat, listening for any clues as to what was happening.

“Is it her?”

Tarkoff’s voice.

“No,” Curtis said. “Goddammit. Sonofabitch.” Into the handset: “Not her, Karen. She’s got the tracking device in her jacket pocket but it’s not Jasmine.”

She beat me at my own game.

“Karen, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I got it. Thomas and I are on our way to a place that may have meaning to her. Where she killed before. Rackonelli.”

“Rackonelli. That was somewhere on the outskirts of Georgetown. A park?”

“We’re trying to get an address. Soon as we have it, I’ll send it to you.”

Underwood disconnected the call—but Vail’s phone rang almost immediately. He held up the Samsung. “Someone named Oliver Aldrich.”