Blood Games. Faye Kellerman

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      “Oh yeah.” The conversation was meandering all over the place. “Paul’s playing a piano concerto called ‘Africa Fantasie.’ It’s not particularly hard but I happen to like it a lot. And I like to show support.”

      “I’ve never heard it.”

      “It’s a good one. Several versions are on YouTube.”

      “So … like what time are you going?”

      Gabe regarded her. “The bus leaves at one. That puts you into SC at around two-fifteen, two-thirty.”

      She nodded. “How much are the tickets?”

      “Not much. Like fifteen, twenty bucks. I’ll buy you one. If you show up, fine. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. No pressure. But if you do want to come, you can’t be late. I’m not waiting around.”

      “Understood.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “This day was magical … just magical.”

      “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Gabe said. “You should probably buy your friend something for covering for you.”

      “Ariella?” Yasmine smiled. “I’ve covered for her like a zillion times. This doesn’t even make a dent in the list. Now that girl is a real sneak.”

      “So you’re the good girl?”

      She shrugged.

      “Nothing to be ashamed of,” Gabe said. “You’ll do fine.”

      “I’m sure somewhere out there is a perfect twenty-four-year-old Persian Jew just waiting until I grow up.” She looked at him. “Persian girls tend to marry older guys. I mean, not always, but that’s the tradition. My oldest sister is engaged to a thirty-one-year-old. She’s twenty-three.”

      Gabe nodded. “Interesting.”

      They rode the remaining time in silence, Yasmine nodding off until she slumped to the side and slept with her head on his shoulder. Her face was turned upward, her full lips slighted parted. He could feel her breath warm against his neck. Her hair tickled his face.

      He was tired as well, but he couldn’t tear himself away from watching her sleep.

      A real cutie. Too bad.

      A few minutes before their bus stop, he gently shook her awake. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out, sat up, and rubbed her eyes. “I fell asleep?”

      “It happens.” He got up and pulled the string. A moment later, the bus lurched to a stop. “Let’s go.”

      It was a moonless night—cold and dark.

      “I owe you money for the cab.”

      “You don’t owe me anything.”

      “I insist.”

      “I won’t take it. C’mon. I’ll walk you home … or a few houses away from home, I guess.”

      “I’m supposed to be at Ariella’s.”

      “Where does she live?”

      “Just right around the corner, so I’m fine.”

      “I’ll walk you to the house. She’s covering for you anyway, so she must know about me, right?”

      “Sort of.”

      “That sounds ominous.”

      “More like mysterious.” Yasmine started walking … very slowly. She didn’t want the night to end. “Thanks again.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      They strolled for a few moments in silence, the only sound made by her clacking heels.

      “No, really thanks.” Yasmine stopped. “It was the most wonderful, special day of my life. I’ll never, ever forget it.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, running away and disappearing up a sidewalk, her heels clapping against the pavement until he could hear a door open and close.

      Then all was still.

      Gabe stood for just a few seconds, then turned around and started home, his cheek still burning with the feel of her lips.

      CHAPTER NINE

      FROM A DETECTIVE’S standpoint, suicide was a strange crime. There was a victim, but the perpetrator wore many faces: depression, psychosis, humiliation, overwhelming debt, rage, self-loathing, or that tragic combination of teenage angst paired with a firearm. Reconstructing Gregory Hesse’s mind at the moment of impact was impossible. All Decker was looking for was a hint of why.

      The week following Hesse’s memorial had been busy, the station house humming with crimes of every stripe. Most of his detectives were in the field, attempting to gather enough evidence to bring in bad guys who were at current, walking the public streets. Marge and Oliver seemed to be in and out of court, testifying on cases that took over a year to bring to trial. Thursday afternoon, Decker received a call from Romulus Poe of the New Mexico State Police.

      “It appears that your serial killer, Garth Hammerling, was in fact around my area. I’ve been trying to retrace his movements, but I’ve got gaps. The last I heard, he had bought a bunch of camping equipment and was headed for the National Forest in northern New Mexico. The area is the southern tip of the Rockies and it’s easy to disappear there. Around this time, it’s also real easy to get lost and freeze to death. You’d have to be a real good survivalist to make it through the winter, especially the one we’re having now.”

      Decker said, “I don’t know anything about Hammerling’s survival skills. I know he’s done some camping in the past.”

      “Camping in the Rockies in wintertime isn’t Yosemite in summer with power hookups and porta-potties. It’s rigorous and it’s dangerous.”

      “Good thing for Hammerling that he knows how to kill,” Decker said.

      “Maybe he’s good with drunken women. A mountain lion is another beast altogether. And let me tell you, in the winter, they’re hungry. I myself live off the grid—been doing it for decades. But even I wouldn’t camp up north in wintertime.”

      Decker said, “If you flew over the area in a helicopter, could you see anything?”

      “The area is filled with pines so even in the summer you can’t see much from up top except green. At this time of year, it’s all white, and after a few minutes you get snow blindness. I suppose if you got extremely lucky, you might see some smoke or something. Best to wait until he comes down to civilization. If we don’t hear from him, we can start looking when the thaw comes in March and we’d be just as likely to find a body as a live person. I’ll apprise the park rangers and let you know if we get any action. If he was smart, he’d realize that it’s cold outside and shimmy back down to warmer temperatures.”

      “Okay. Just don’t drop your guard. He is a very dangerous guy.”

      “Understood. СКАЧАТЬ