The Killing League - By Dani Amore Page 0,65
new family. Preparing the nest, so to speak. Probably had a couple of snotty kids. Little, loud brats who demanded everything in the world and got it.
The nose of a red car pulled up against the curb and Ruth Dykstra knew it was Ellen Reznor. She parked on the same side of the street every time she came here for her morning coffee.
Ruth didn’t turn her head. She had a bus schedule in her hand and pretended to look at it.
The Reznor woman parked and went into the coffee shop. Ruth knew she would be in there no more than three minutes. She slid the needle out of her purse and held it underneath the bus schedule.
She stood, and moved to the side of the picture window between the front door and Reznor’s car.
She would bump the woman as she came out, and then “help” her to her car. Ruth would open the door and push the woman inside. Ruth knew that the woman never locked her car at this morning coffee ritual. Probably because she was with the FBI, the woman arrogantly figured no one would dare steal from her.
Ruth smiled at the woman’s foolishness.
Once Ruth had the woman in her car, she would do the thing that the Commissioner wanted. The thing that made this assignment different than the others.
Ruth was supposed to cut out the woman’s eyes.
93.
Mack
Mack lifted the sleeper sofa’s hideaway mattress and pulled it out, then unfolded the lower half and set the bottom bar on the floor.
He had offered to go to his hotel room at the LeMerigot, but Nicole insisted he stay with her. It was an argument he was more than happy to lose. He wanted to be right here, with her. It was really the whole reason he had come out to L.A.
Nicole came out with an armful of sheets and pillows. She had showered and put on a pair of cotton pajamas. Mack thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.
She dumped the linens on the bed.
“Let’s have a drink,” she said.
He quickly made up the pullout while she uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. They sat together in the living room, she on the couch, he in a leather club chair.
He looked at her. Time had only done favors to Nicole Candela. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Older, sure. But the clean lines of her face were etched with more definition, enhancing her classical beauty.
“Mumbuhi,” she said as she raised her glass.
He looked at her, not sure what she had just said.
“It means ‘health,’” she said.
“To health,” he said.
They both drank and waited for the other to start. Mack felt the wine slide into his body and he welcomed it. At the same time, he cautioned himself not to go overboard and do something he would regret.
“Okay, tell me what’s going on,” she said.
They had spoken briefly after Nicole was questioned by the team of detectives. Mack had also been interviewed, and then consulted with, on what had happened. Mack had been allowed to drive Nicole back to her home, with a police and FBI escort.
He sighed. “It’s a long story and I wish I had more answers,” he said.
“Tell me what you know,” she said.
“My theory is that some psychopath has organized a competition among active serial killers. It’s a contest. They’re targeting ex-cops, judges, lawyers, relatives of former victims, and victims who may have survived.”
“Like me. And you,” she said.
He nodded. “I don’t know what the point is, other than arrogance. Whoever is doing this wants to prove how good he is at killing. There are odds posted in Vegas and on online betting sites.”
“Sick. It’s just sick,” she said.
Mack could tell she was on the verge of crying, but he felt he had to tell her everything. He finished his glass of wine, stood and refilled it, then topped off Nicole’s.
Instead of going back to the club chair, he sat on the couch next to her. He put his hand over hers and felt a current run up his arm.
“It gets worse,” he said.
“Worse? How could it get worse?” she said.
She turned her palm up and her fingers encircled Mack’s hand. Mack felt her skin on his. Smelled her breath. He felt something shift deep inside himself. A door that had been closed off for years suddenly cracked open. Despite the pain, the death, the horror of what surrounded them, light flooded his soul.
He briefly panicked