fascination with television, with fame. The elaborate costumes.
Costumes!
In the Federal Building, you could dress as an agent, a passport office employee, or a police officer. He’d have been a police officer, for the costume.
Mac pumped his fist.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Suddenly, his mind flashed back to the elevator ride with Isabelle. A police officer had been behind them. At the time, Mac had merely been aware of another man looking at her–something that happened often. So often, he hadn’t given it another thought, just reacted without thinking, satisfied the man had looked away.
Now Mac knew why the new composite looked familiar.
“That was him,” Mac said, his jaw clenched.
The audacity of the location, the need to stalk his prey, the desire to win fame.
The phone rang and vibrated in Mac’s fist. He’d expected it to be Lou but it wasn’t. It was Sharon.
“It was a cop,” they said simultaneously.
“What?” Sharon said.
“Shoot the image of that Hispanic cop to digital reconstruction and to me!” he yelled, abruptly ending the call. He quickly dialed Sergeant Dixon.
“Sergeant,” he said, talking over Dixon’s hello. “Where do they film cop shows in L.A.?”
Dixon sputtered for a moment.
“Well, all over,” he finally said.
“No,” Mac said. “Not just any place. Think Linda Vista Hospital. Someplace abandoned, private, where you won’t be disturbed.”
“Right,” said the sergeant. Mac could hear the gears turning. “That would be the jail in Lincoln Heights. They shot L.A. Confidential and–”
“Where is it?”
“You know what,” said the sergeant, starting to catch some of Mac’s enthusiasm. “It’s not that far from Linda Vista or from County USC!”
“Text me an address right now,” Mac said, heading to the front door. “I’m downtown. Not far.”
“I’ll send backup,” Dixon shouted. “Don’t go without backup!”
“Text me the damn address!” Mac said, pulling the door open and ending the call.
Now it was his turn to stalk his prey.
• • • • •
Prentiss raised the knife and felt the familiar thrill begin when Isabelle’s eyes popped open.
“I can read you ,” she screamed. “I can feel your pain.” Prentiss began the downswing just as the words hit home. Only an inch from her knee, the blade came to a haltering stop. “Don’t you want someone to understand you?” she said, her voice shaking. He stared at her, his jaw tight. “ Your pain,” she repeated. “The ultimate pain. Isn’t that what you want?”
He did have the ultimate pain. All day. Every day. No one knew. No one even suspected. He stared into Isabelle’s tear-streaked face. But she could feel it. She would know!
Prentiss looked at the downward-turned blade in his hand. He didn’t have to give this up–maybe just delay it. Isabelle’s entire body trembled, her fear so palpable he could feel it. He faked a jab at her and relished her quick shriek and the way she jerked in the chair.
Yes . Maybe he didn’t have to rush this.
Slowly, he closed the knife even though his heart had started to race.
This kill had become completely unique.
CHAPTER TEN
Everything about the place was right , thought Mac. Right down to the fake vehicle in the parking lot . A white Crown Victoria with a push bumper added and a few antennas. But the license plate was wrong. It had regular registration tags.
It’d only taken twenty minutes and, aside from the Crown Vic, the enormous parking lot was empty. Mac pulled as close to the building as possible, parked, and jumped out. He pulled his Glock out of the holster and ran.
• • • • •
Isabelle couldn’t keep herself from shaking. The handcuffs rattled constantly. The Chameleon slowly circled behind her. Though he’d put the knife away, Isabelle’s dread only rose. Her hands behind her, there was no way she could know when he’d touch her. He moved
Costumes!
In the Federal Building, you could dress as an agent, a passport office employee, or a police officer. He’d have been a police officer, for the costume.
Mac pumped his fist.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Suddenly, his mind flashed back to the elevator ride with Isabelle. A police officer had been behind them. At the time, Mac had merely been aware of another man looking at her–something that happened often. So often, he hadn’t given it another thought, just reacted without thinking, satisfied the man had looked away.
Now Mac knew why the new composite looked familiar.
“That was him,” Mac said, his jaw clenched.
The audacity of the location, the need to stalk his prey, the desire to win fame.
The phone rang and vibrated in Mac’s fist. He’d expected it to be Lou but it wasn’t. It was Sharon.
“It was a cop,” they said simultaneously.
“What?” Sharon said.
“Shoot the image of that Hispanic cop to digital reconstruction and to me!” he yelled, abruptly ending the call. He quickly dialed Sergeant Dixon.
“Sergeant,” he said, talking over Dixon’s hello. “Where do they film cop shows in L.A.?”
Dixon sputtered for a moment.
“Well, all over,” he finally said.
“No,” Mac said. “Not just any place. Think Linda Vista Hospital. Someplace abandoned, private, where you won’t be disturbed.”
“Right,” said the sergeant. Mac could hear the gears turning. “That would be the jail in Lincoln Heights. They shot L.A. Confidential and–”
“Where is it?”
“You know what,” said the sergeant, starting to catch some of Mac’s enthusiasm. “It’s not that far from Linda Vista or from County USC!”
“Text me an address right now,” Mac said, heading to the front door. “I’m downtown. Not far.”
“I’ll send backup,” Dixon shouted. “Don’t go without backup!”
“Text me the damn address!” Mac said, pulling the door open and ending the call.
Now it was his turn to stalk his prey.
• • • • •
Prentiss raised the knife and felt the familiar thrill begin when Isabelle’s eyes popped open.
“I can read you ,” she screamed. “I can feel your pain.” Prentiss began the downswing just as the words hit home. Only an inch from her knee, the blade came to a haltering stop. “Don’t you want someone to understand you?” she said, her voice shaking. He stared at her, his jaw tight. “ Your pain,” she repeated. “The ultimate pain. Isn’t that what you want?”
He did have the ultimate pain. All day. Every day. No one knew. No one even suspected. He stared into Isabelle’s tear-streaked face. But she could feel it. She would know!
Prentiss looked at the downward-turned blade in his hand. He didn’t have to give this up–maybe just delay it. Isabelle’s entire body trembled, her fear so palpable he could feel it. He faked a jab at her and relished her quick shriek and the way she jerked in the chair.
Yes . Maybe he didn’t have to rush this.
Slowly, he closed the knife even though his heart had started to race.
This kill had become completely unique.
CHAPTER TEN
Everything about the place was right , thought Mac. Right down to the fake vehicle in the parking lot . A white Crown Victoria with a push bumper added and a few antennas. But the license plate was wrong. It had regular registration tags.
It’d only taken twenty minutes and, aside from the Crown Vic, the enormous parking lot was empty. Mac pulled as close to the building as possible, parked, and jumped out. He pulled his Glock out of the holster and ran.
• • • • •
Isabelle couldn’t keep herself from shaking. The handcuffs rattled constantly. The Chameleon slowly circled behind her. Though he’d put the knife away, Isabelle’s dread only rose. Her hands behind her, there was no way she could know when he’d touch her. He moved
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