Heartbreaker

Chapter 13

This was about as close as Laurant was ever going to get to a therapy session with a psychiatrist. There weren’t any of those in Holy Oaks. There were, however, several people she knew who could have benefited from a couple of long talks with a "head" doctor. Emma May Brie-as in the cheese-immediately came to mind. She was a perfect candidate for analysis. The sweet, but strange, woman wore a blue shower cap decorated with white daisies as a hat everywhere she went, rain or shine. She took if off for only one hour on Tuesday mornings when she got her hair done at Madge’s Magic, the local beauty shop that guaranteed to give every customer "volume." Emma May wasn’t the exception to their promise. When she stepped outside the shop, her thinning gray hair was indeed twice the size, that is, until she put her daisy cap on and squished it all down.

There were other residents who could also use a good psychiatrist, but the fact was, if the renowned Dr. Morganstern decided to go into private practice and hang his shingle out on Main Street, no one would ever go see him. It just wasn’t done. Problems were never discussed with outsiders, and anyone who was thought to be peculiar was simply given a wide path when he was having one of his "spells." What was taking Pete so long? He’d asked her to wait for him in the dining room, but that had been at least ten minutes ago, and she now so fidgety she couldn’t sit still. Just as she made up her mind to go back downstairs and finish sorting the laundry, the swinging door from the kitchen opened.

"I’m sorry I made you wait," Pete said as he entered, "but Monsignor and I got to talking and I didn’t want to interrupt a story he was telling me about one of his parishioners."

He closed the double doors leading to the hallway to insure privacy.

Although she had requested the meeting, she was suddenly dreading it because she knew what she wanted to ask him, and part of her was worried sick that he would agree.

"There now," he remarked as he sat down.

She couldn’t seem to sit still and was tapping her foot against the hardwood floor so vigorously her knee was making the table wobble. When she realized what a telltale sign that was about her mental state, she forced herself to stop. It was impossible to relax, so she sat ramrod straight, as stiff as a corpse, in the uncomfortable chair that made a squeaky sound of protest every time she moved.

Shards of sunlight filtered into the room through the old-fashioned, Victorian lace curtains, and the air smelled faintly of overly ripe apples. There was a large oriental bowl filled with fruit in the center of the table.

Pete didn’t show any signs of rushing. He opened the conversation by asking her how she was holding up.

"I’m doing all right." Could he tell she was lying?

Silence followed her response. He continued to patiently wait for her to gather her thoughts and tell him what was on her mind. She felt like a fool because she was having so much trouble getting the words out. What had seemed like a perfectly sound plan a half hour ago now seemed deranged.

"Have you ever skied?"

If Pete was surprised by the question, he didn’t let it show. "No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t. I’ve always wanted to try it though. What about you?"

"Yes, I used to ski all the time. The school I attended was surrounded by mountains."

"You attended boarding school in Switzerland, didn’t you?"

"Yes," she answered. "And I’d go up into the mountains every chance I could. I love siding, and I actually got pretty good at it. Since I’ve been in America, I’ve gone to the slopes in Colorado a few times. I’ll always remember how it felt that very first time I took the lift up to the top of a black… they rate the slopes by degree of difficulty you see. Green is for beginners, blue is for the intermediate skier, and the blacks are reserved for the experienced who want more of a challenge. There are other ratings too, like diamonds and double diamonds," she rambled on. "Anyway, the first time I stood on the edge of what appeared to be a sheer drop-off, I took the longest time gathering my courage to push off. I felt like I was standing on the cliffs of Dover. It looked that steep to me. I was terrified… but determined."

"And talking to me is like standing on that precipice again?" Pete asked.

She nodded. "Yes, it is… because I know that, like that mountaintop, once I push off, there’s no going back."

There was an uncomfortable pause before Laurant started again. "I guess I should start by being completely honest, shouldn’t I? I’d be wasting your time otherwise. I told you I was doing all right, but that wasn’t true. I’m a mess inside, and I feel like I’m tied in a thousand knots."

"That’s understandable."

"I suppose so," she agreed. "All I can think about is… him. My concentration’s shot," she added. "When I was doing the laundry for Monsignor, I was thinking about what I wanted to ask you, and I accidentally poured an entire bottle of bleach in with the sheets before I realized what I was doing. A very large bottle of bleach," she emphasized.

Pete smiled. "Think of the positive. They’ll be nice and white."

"They were green and blue stripe when I put them in the washer."

He laughed. "Oh dear."

"I’ll have to buy him a new pair," she said. "But as you can see, I’m having a little trouble…"

"Staying focused?"

"Yes. My mind’s racing, and I feel so… guilty."

Monsignor knocked on the door and poked his head inside.

"Laurant, I’m heading over to the hospital to make my rounds. I shouldn’t be gone long, and Mrs. Krowski will be here soon. Would you mind catching the phone calls until she arrives? Father Tom can handle any emergencies."

"Yes, of course, Monsignor."

Pete stood. "Just a minute, Monsignor."

Excusing himself, he went into the hall and called for Noah. Laurant heard footsteps on the stairs and then Pete spoke again. "Ask Agent Seaton to drive Monsignor and stay with him."

The old priest balked at the idea of having an escort, arguing that he could drive his own car, but Pete gently cut him off and firmly insisted that the agent accompany him. Monsignor realized it was pointless to argue and reluctantly agreed.

Apologizing, Pete returned to Laurant. Nick followed him into the dining room, closed the door behind him, and then leaned against it. Folding his arms across his chest, he winked at her, and his body language told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

"Did you wish to speak to Pete?" she asked.

"Nick asked to join us," Pete said. "I told him it was up to you."

She hesitated a moment. "Okay. But, Nick," she demanded, looking him right in the eye, "I would appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt or argue when you hear what I have to say. Promise me."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no."

Pete seized control of the conversation then. "You said you were feeling guilty. Why?"

Deciding to ignore Nick, she stared at the delicate rose pattern on the oriental bowl when she answered. "I want to run away and hide until you catch him, and I’m ashamed because I feel that way."

"You have nothing to feel ashamed about, and your desire to run away is quite natural," Pete said. "I’m certain I’d feel the same way."

She wasn’t buying that. "No, you wouldn’t. My reaction is cowardly and selfish."

Suddenly feeling restless, she got up and walked over to the front window. Lifting the lace curtain, she looked outside just as Monsignor was getting into the passenger seat of a black sedan.

"You’re being too hard on yourself," Pete said. "Fear isn’t a flaw, Laurant. It’s a safety mechanism."

"He’s out there now… looking for another woman, isn’t he?"

Neither Pete nor Nick answered.

"Get away from the window," Nick ordered.

She immediately stepped back and let go of her tight grip on the curtain.

"Are you worried he’s watching the rectory now?" She took a step toward Nick. "You told me you thought he’d accomplished what he came here to do and that he was on his way home."

"No," Nick corrected. "I told you he was probably gone. We aren’t taking any chances."

"Is that why Monsignor has an escort today? Yes, of course it is."

"As long as you and Tom are here, Monsignor will have an agent watching out for him," Pete added.

"We’re putting him at risk?"

"It’s just a precaution," he insisted.

"This man… he’s going to kill another woman soon, isn’t he?"

Pete chose his words carefully. "Until we can prove otherwise, we must assume he was telling Tom the truth. Therefore, the answer is yes, he’s going to take another woman soon."

"He’ll torture her and kill her." The room seemed to be closing in on her, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to collect herself. "And he won’t stop with just one more, will he? He’s going to keep on killing and killing."

"Come and sit down, Laurant," Pete said.

She did as he requested, sitting sideways in the chair to face him.

Her hands were clasped on her knees. "I have a plan." He nodded. "You’re ready to push off that mountaintop, aren’t you?"

"Something like that," she agreed. "I still want to run away," she added. "But I’m not going to do that." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nick straighten. "I want to catch him."

"We will get him," Pete assured her.

"But I can help you," she said. "And I have to help. For a lot of reasons," she added. "First and foremost are those women out there who don’t have an inkling that this monster is looking for his next victim. They’re the overriding reason I’m not going to hide."

Pete was frowning in anticipation. When he began to shake his head, she knew he had guessed what she wanted to do, and so she hurried to explain before he put an end to the discussion.

"I can be very stubborn and determined, and once I make a decision, I stick to it. All my life other people have tried to control what I do. After my mother died, the lawyers handling the trust made all the decisions for me. That made sense when I was young, but as I got older, I began to resent their totalitarian tactics. They certainly weren’t interested in how I felt, and I wanted to at least have some input in the decision making, but that wasn’t allowed. They decided what schools I would attend, where I would live, and how much or how little I could spend."

She paused to take a quick breath and then continued. "It took me a long time to get out from under their control, but I finally managed it, and I’ve found a place where I feel that I belong… really belong. Now this monster is trying to take that away from me. I can’t let him do that. I won’t."

"What is it you want me to do?"

"Use me," she blurted out. "Set a trap and use me to get to him."

"Are you out of your mind?" Nick exploded.

She heard the anger in Nick’s voice but tried to ignore him. She kept her gaze fixed on Pete. "Help me convince my brother that I should go back to Holy Oaks. That’s the first step," she said. "You have no idea how scared I am, but the way I see it… I don’t really have a choice."

"The hell you don’t," Nick argued.

She glanced up at him. "The only way I can get my life back is to take control."

"It’s out of the question," Nick insisted.

"No, it isn’t out of the question," she said, surprised at how calm she sounded. "Pete, if I go back home after he’s told my brother to hide me away, won’t he see it as a challenge?"

"Yes, I’m sure he will," he agreed. "This is a game to him. Otherwise, why would he have mentioned Nick? He knows Nick is with the FBI, and he wants to prove that he is much more intelligent than any of us."

"Then if I go back to Holy Oaks, he’ll think I’m playing into his hand, right?"

"Yes."

"There’s no way in hell you’re going back until this bastard is either dead or behind bars," Nick said.

"Will you please let me finish and then you can argue?"

She kept a wary eye on him. He looked like he wanted to pluck her out of her chair, drag her into the hall, and shake some sense into her. It was just the resistance she had expected.

"You can get into his mind, Pete. You can figure out what buttons to push and make him come after me, and if I make him angry enough… then he’ll leave those other women alone. At least that’s my hope. You and Nick could set a trap. You do this sort of thing all the time, don’t you? And Holy Oaks is a small town. There’s only one major highway leading in and out. I don’t think it would be too difficult to close the town, if you needed to."

"Laurant, do you realize-" Pete began.

"Yes, I know what could happen, and I assure you I won’t take any chances. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. I promise. Just let me help you catch him before he kills again."

"Using you as bait," Pete said.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "Yes," she repeated resolutely.

"You’re out of your ever loving mind. You do know that, don’t you?" Nick snapped.

"The plan makes sense," she argued.

"What plan?" he demanded. "You don’t have a plan."

"Nicholas, calm down."

"Pete, we’re talking about putting my best friend’s little sister into a situation-"

"Maybe you should stop thinking of me as Tommy’s sister," she suggested. "And start thinking like an agent. This is a golden opportunity."

"Using you as bait." He was repeating Pete’s statement, but unlike his superior, his voice wasn’t calm. Nick’s bordered on a roar.

"Will you please lower your voice? I don’t want Tommy to hear about this until we’ve made a decision."

Nick glared at her and began to pace around the room. Laurant was depending on Pete now to become her ally because, as bad as Nick was taking her plan, she knew her brother’s reaction was going to be ten times worse.

She knew she had to convince Pete. "I’m not going to spend the rest of my life hiding. We both know you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Nick and Tommy. With all the work you have to do, you couldn’t possibly drop everything and go running every time you heard about a threat. Isn’t that right?"

"Unfortunately, there aren’t enough of us to handle the load these days," he admitted.

"Your time’s valuable, and so I thought that maybe we could speed up this man’s agenda."

She could have sworn she saw a speculative gleam appear in the doctor’s eyes.

"What are you proposing?"

"Let’s make him crazy."

Nick had paused in his pacing and was staring at her with an incredulous look on his face. "He’s already crazy," he told her. "And so are you if you think Tommy and I are going to let you put yourself in the middle of his playground. Hell no, Laurant. It isn’t going to happen."

She turned back to Pete. "What would do it? What would push him over the edge? How could we make him so angry he’ll get careless?"

"Having listened to the tape, I can tell you that this unsub has quite an ego, and it’s important to him that the world believe he’s intelligent. It would infuriate him if he heard any criticism at all. If you were to discuss him openly in town, if you were to tell everyone about this fool of a man, then I believe he would speed things up. He’d want to get to you quickly just to shut you up. Mock him, and you’ll incite him."

"What else could I do?"

"Make him jealous," he said. "If he thought you were romantically and intimately involved with another man, then he would view that as a betrayal."

She nodded. "I could make him jealous. I know I could. Remember what he said on the tape? How Millicent betrayed him by flirting with other men, and he had to punish her? I could flirt with every man in town."

Pete shook his head. "I believe it would be more effective if there was just one man, and the unsub believed you loved him."

She waited for him to continue. Pete began to drum his fingers on the table while he considered the possibilities.

"He mentioned Nick by name. He dared Tommy to get the FBI involved, so it’s apparent he wants to play his game with us." Pete rubbed his jaw. "Let’s play into his hand until we see where it leads."

"What does that mean?"

"Let him think he’s calling the shots," Pete explained. "I wonder how he would feel if he thought his confession brought you and Nick together romantically. His carefully thought-out game would backfire, and he’d certainly feel like a fool. It’s an interesting idea." He nodded and added, "You and Nick should behave like a couple in love. That should push the unsub right over the edge." Pete qualified his suggestion when he said, "If he is what he says he is."

"Nick…" she began.

"There’s no way he’s going to buy it," Nick said. "He brings us together and we fall in love overnight? I’m telling you, Pete, it won’t work."

"We don’t care if he believes it or not," Pete patiently explained. "The goal is to taunt him and his little game. If you and Laurant act like lovers, he’ll believe you’re mocking him. He won’t like it one little bit. I guarantee it."

Nick shook his head. "No. It’s too risky."

"You’re not being reasonable," Laurant protested.

"I’m not being reasonable? You don’t have a clue what these creeps are capable of… not a clue."

"But you know what they can do," she pointed out. "And you could make it safe for me."

Bracing his hands on the tabletop, he leaned forward and shook his head. "You aren’t making an informed decision because you don’t know what you’re up against. There’s no such thing as a failsafe plan. Isn’t that right, Pete? Remember the Haynes case? Why don’t you tell her about that fail-safe plan."

Pete paused to consider how much he was going to tell Laurant before beginning.

"Before I started working for the FBI, men like Haynes were called psychopaths, and he certainly was that all right. Nowadays Haynes would be called an organized killer-as opposed to disorganized. He was meticulous in his preparation and planning, and he was highly intelligent. He always targeted a stranger, stalked her for months until he was very familiar with her habits. He would never have contacted her though or warn her the way this unsub has warned you," he thought to add. "And when he was finally ready, he lured the woman he’d chosen to a secluded area where no one would hear her scream. Like a lot of organized killers, Haynes enjoyed prolonging her agony as long as possible-it heightened his own pleasure, you see, and after he killed her, he always hid the body. That’s an important difference between an organized and disorganized killer," he explained. "Most disorganized killers leave the body in plain sight, and often they’ll leave the weapon they used as well.

"Haynes did keep souvenirs, however… most of them do, so that he could relive the fantasy, but also so that he would have a reminder that he had fooled everyone, especially the authorities. If it weren’t for his wife contacting us, I believe Clay Haynes could have gone on killing for years and years before he disintegrated. He was that clever.

"They set a trap to snare him. His wife had found the souvenirs in an old trunk, and she wanted to help us. She was terrified of her husband and for good reason, but she was determined to put him behind bars. Clay traveled during the week. He was a pharmaceutical rep, but he always returned home on Friday afternoon. They thought they had time, so they let Mrs. Haynes pack before they moved her to a safe house. An agent was with her and a couple of others were staked out front.

"Clay surprised everyone by coming home early. During interrogation he told us he went in through the basement, and he knew at first glance that someone else had touched his trophies. He came up behind the agent in the living room and killed him and then turned his wrath on his wife. When the agent in the house didn’t answer the phone, the others rushed inside, but it was too late by then. Clay had done quite a job on her."

"He butchered her," Nick said. "And she sure as hell didn’t die quick."

Laurant closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear any more details.

"Were you on that case?"

Pete answered. "Nick was a brand-new recruit. He had completed his training to work in my section, but at that time he was also working with the serial crime unit under a very capable man named Wolcott. Wolcott took Nick along to the crime scene."

Laurant saw the bleakness in Nick’s eyes and felt a crushing tightness in her chest.

"I saw what that psychopath did to his wife and the agent," Nick said. "And all the while he was killing the man inside and carving on her, there were agents outside waiting for him. Don’t you wonder what must have been going through her mind knowing that help was that close? I still think about it," he admitted. "It proved too much for Wolcott to handle. He resigned the next day."

"Haynes got away, but he was apprehended the following week," Pete interjected.

"A week and a day too late for anyone to help his wife," Nick said. "Things can go wrong and best-laid plans-"

"I understand the risks," she said. "This man who’s stalking me, he’s organized, isn’t he?"

"Yes."

"If he’s so clever and so organized, couldn’t he go on killing for years?"

"Some do."

"Then how can either one of you believe we have any other choice? The woman he’s hunting now… she’s someone’s daughter, or mother, or sister. We have to do this."

"Hell," Nick muttered. "Have you thought about Tommy’s reaction? What’s he going to say when you tell him about this half-cocked plan of yours?"

"Actually, I thought you might want to tell him about it. You could explain it much better than I could."

"No, I won’t do it."

Pete was watching Nick closely. "Interesting," he remarked quietly.

Nick misinterpreted the comment. "You can’t possibly think her idea has merit. It’s crazy."

"No, I think your reaction is interesting. I’ve already told you how I feel about your involvement in this, Nick. You’re too close to it."

"Yeah, well, I’m on vacation. I can do what I want."

Pete rolled his eyes and then tried to force his agent to be logical. "Laurant’s right about one thing. You need to start thinking like an agent. This is a golden opportunity."

She knew then she had her ally. "Will you talk to my brother?"

"You’re going to have to get Nick’s cooperation first."

"That isn’t going to happen," Nick assured her.

The phone rang, jarring her. Relieved by the interruption, she hurried to answer it.

"Three rings, Laurant. Let it ring three times before you pick up," Pete cautioned.

She didn’t understand why Pete wanted her to wait, but she nodded agreement as she continued on into the hallway. There was a small alcove, an indentation really, on the opposite side of the steps. A Queen Anne table just fit inside the recess. A black desk phone was resting on top of a pair of phone books, and there were a pad and a pen beside it.

Nick stepped out into the hall as Laurant picked up the receiver.

"Our Lady of Mercy," she said as she reached for the pen. "May I help you?"

She heard the giggling, and then a little boy’s voice asked, "Is your refrigerator running?"

She knew the joke and decided to go along. "Why, yes it is."

Another spurt of laughter followed, and then another voice shouted, "Then you better go catch it."

Laughter rang through the phone as Laurant hung up. Nick was watching from the doorway.

"Kids playing phone games," she explained.

The phone rang again. As she waited for the third ring to end, she said to Nick, "I guess I shouldn’t have encouraged him. I’ll be firmer this time."

"Our Lady of Mercy. May I help you?"

"Laurant." Her name was said on a low sigh.

"Yes?"

The voice on the other end of the line began to sing a bastardized version of "Buffalo Gal."

"Green-eyed girl won’t you come out and play, come out and play, come out and play. Green-eyed girl won’t you come out and play… Like my singing, Laurant?"

"Who is this?" As she asked the question, she whirled around and looked at Nick.

"A heartbreaker," the voice taunted. "I’m afraid I’m going to have to break your pretty little heart. Are you scared?"

"No, I’m not," she lied.

She cringed when she heard his laughter. It stopped as suddenly as it had begun and then he whispered, "Do you want to hear another song?"

She didn’t answer. Nick was rushing toward her; she could hear sounds coming from upstairs, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Pete watching her from the dining room, yet she was frozen by the voice on the phone. She was gripping the receiver so tightly in her hand that Nick had to use considerable force to pull it away and listen with her.

It dawned on her then that someone was taping or tracing the call, and that was why Pete had told her to let it ring three times. She should keep him talking as long as possible she thought, but oh God, the sound of his voice made her want to throw up.

"Is the song as stupid as the one you just sang?" she asked.

"Oh, no, no, this one’s sure to please. It’s so pure and… original. Listen close now."

She heard a click, and then a woman’s bloodcurdling screams. It was the most horrific sound she had ever heard. If Nick hadn’t been holding her up, she would have dropped to the floor as the tortured screams pierced her ear. They were almost inhuman and seemed to go on forever. Then, Laurant heard another click, and the screaming stopped.

"Aren’t you going to tell me to leave her alone? I have, you know. I’ve left her in a grave, even put a little stone on top so I’d remember where she is if I ever want to dig her up again. I do that sometimes, you know. I like to see what they’ve become. This one was a poor substitute for you, Laurant. Are you ready to play yet?"

Bile was rising to her throat. She could taste it.

"Play what?" she asked, trying her best to sound bored with him and with the conversation.

"Hide-and-seek. You hide and I seek. That’s how the game is played."

"I’m not playing any games with you."

"Yes, yes, you are."

"No," she countered, her voice hard. "I’m going home."

He shrieked, but she couldn’t tell if she’d just angered him or made him happy. Jerking the phone away from Nick’s hand, she straightened up and shouted, "Come and get me."