The woman’s eyes filled with tears and she shuddered out a sob. “Zandra. Zandra Jones.”
The ambulance was pulling up to the curb. Daisy stroked the curve of the woman’s ear—one of the few places she didn’t have bruises. “Zandra, I’m Daisy. Can you tell us where you came from?”
She shook her head very slowly. “I walked and walked.”
“All right,” Daisy said as the EMTs rolled a stretcher toward them. “You’re going to the hospital now but I’ll meet you there, okay?”
Zandra nodded. “Can’t forget them.”
“Who, honey?” Daisy soothed.
“The others.”
Gideon felt a chill race down his spine at those two little words. The others. Some of the names Zandra had recited were ones he had not recognized. Either Zandra had misunderstood or the asshole had killed more women than they’d thought.
“You need to move, sir,” the EMT said briskly.
Gideon rose, tugging Daisy up with him. “Where are you taking her?”
“UC Davis.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 10:50 P.M.
He slid his knee off Sydney’s chest, straddling her, then slowly pushed himself back to sit on his heels.
She was dead.
And it had been so easy.
All those years wasted. I should have done this long ago. He drew a breath, feeling remarkably . . . free.
Until his reason returned and he remembered why he’d flown into an explosive rage.
Zandra was gone. Sydney had set her free. Had thrown her out.
To go straight to the cops.
Fuck.
He closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow to a normal pace. What now? What if the police come?
What if they do? They didn’t have anything on him. He’d never left physical evidence on any of his victims. Except with Daisy. But his own DNA was still not on record anywhere for them to match it to.
So what if Zandra said she’d been held here? It was his word against hers and she was in pretty bad shape.
The police probably wouldn’t have enough for a warrant. Probably. But he was too careful to wager on “probably.” If they did come in, he needed there to be no evidence that Zandra had ever been here.
He needed to get rid of Sydney’s body for starters. And there was still Kaley Martell in the freezer.
Of course . . . it was possible that Zandra was still out there, wandering the neighborhood. If Sydney had tossed her out with nothing, it was possible that she was still close by.
He blew out a breath, frustrated with himself. He’d wasted valuable time killing Sydney when he could have been looking for Zandra. He’d try looking for her first.
If he couldn’t find her, he’d come back and police-proof his house.
He jogged up the stairs, through the house, and to his Jeep. He had no choice but to use his own car in a situation like this. He had a blanket in the back that he could use to cover her up when he found her, just until he got her back.
When he’d simply kill the bitch.
Then he’d take all three bodies to his dumping ground. And he’d be done. From here on out, he’d kill his prey in their natural habitat. No more bringing them home.
He pulled out of his driveway, passing Sydney’s Mercedes on his way out. He’d have to do away with that, too. Eventually someone would start looking for her.
He drove down his street slowly, watching for the white nightshirt he’d dressed Zandra in before leaving the house earlier. Watching for anything resembling a crawling, stumbling woman.
He’d gone two blocks before realizing he’d automatically followed the route to Daisy’s house. He pulled into a driveway to turn around when an ambulance roared by, sirens and lights going.
No, he thought. It can’t be Zandra. Hopefully some old person just had a heart attack.
But something told him to follow the ambulance, so he did.
And his gut turned inside out. The ambulance stopped in front of Daisy’s house, where a group of people had gathered. He recognized Daisy’s blond hair as well as the Fed he’d shot, who now wore a sling. They were huddled around something on the ground.
No, not something. Someone.
“Zandra,” he whispered. But how? How had she known to come here?
And then he saw Mutt.
He swallowed hard. The damn dog. Mutt had brought her here. Here. To the one place that Zandra should definitely not be.
Carefully he turned the car around and headed for home. He hadn’t approached close enough to raise any suspicion, but when he got away from Daisy’s street, he floored it. He needed to destroy any evidence and then . . . Get away. I have to get away.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 11:00 P.M.
Daisy walked with Zandra, holding her hand until they loaded the woman into the back of the ambulance. “We’ll meet you there,” she promised, but she was shaking her head as she stepped back from the ambulance. “I don’t think she heard me,” she told them once the ambulance was gone.
“She looked dehydrated,” Frederick stated, then turned to Mercy. “Hi. I’m Daisy’s father, Frederick Dawson. You must be Mercy Reynolds.”
Mercy’s flinch was barely noticeable, but Gideon saw it because he was watching. “Mercy Callahan,” she corrected. “It’s nice to meet you, Frederick.”
“And that guy over there on the phone is Special Agent Hunter. He works with me at the FBI,” Gideon told her. Hunter had stepped away to update Agent Molina.
“He’s your bodyguard?” Mercy asked.
“More or less,” Gideon said. He looked down at the dog. “How did this dog know to come here?”
Daisy looked at the house next door, waving to a man watching from an upstairs window. She gestured for him to come outside. “That’s Ned Eldridge, the guy who texted Rafe about Mercy being here. Maybe he saw something. He’s on the Neighborhood Watch committee.”
“He’s been watching me for two hours,” Mercy confirmed.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Gideon asked her. “I moved away from here six months ago. I put my new address in my Christmas card in December.”
Mercy looked down at her shoes again. “I . . . I didn’t notice it.”
She hadn’t opened it, Gideon guessed, but that was a topic for another time. The dog and its owner were the highest priority now. “It’s okay,” he said softly because she looked ready to bolt. “Will you stay with me at my new place? I have plenty of room.”
She nodded but said nothing. She had that overwhelmed, panicked look in her eyes that he’d seen when he’d found her in the foster home.
The door to Eldridge’s house opened and the man rushed out in his bedroom slippers. “Daisy,” he said, grasping her hand. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” Daisy said, then introduced the rest of them. “Did you see the woman in the blanket?”
“I did. She came from that way.” He pointed behind him. “I was about to come outside when Miss Callahan got out of her car. I called 911.” He looked at Mercy. “I saw you on your phone and figured you were doing the same. I didn’t come out because Rafe told me not to scare you away.”
Mercy smiled tightly but said nothing.
“The dog has been by here before,” Ned went on. “I saw him earlier this afternoon. Not too long after you guys left. Some guy was walking him.”
“Was he about six feet tall with glasses, dark hair, and a mustache?” Gideon asked, describing the man who’d dared come near Daisy on Saturday at the pet store.
“Height’s the same, but nothing else,” Ned said. “No glasses, blond hair with a little gray in it, and no mustache.”
Daisy narrowed her eyes. “That’s what the guy in the bus station looked like. You remember, Gideon, the one who bought a ticket when we were asking about Eileen.”
“So he uses disguises.” Gideon blew out a breath. “Of course he does. How often did he walk the dog past here?”
“I saw him a few times. I went out to talk to him this afternoon because I saw him lurking. I would have reported him to the Neighborhood Watch if he’d kept it up. I don’t like strange people wandering the neighborhood. No offense, Miss Callahan,” he added politely.
“None taken,” Mercy said with a smile that loosened a knot in Gideon’s chest. He hadn’t seen that smile in too many years.
“So when Zandra escaped, the dog brought her here.” Daisy petted the dog’s head. “Good boy.” Then her head tilted. “I wonder if he knows the way H-O-M-E?”
Agent Hunter finished his call and joined them in time to hear her question. “Good idea. I need to get him a lead, then I’ll try the command.”
“I have one,” Ned said. “Give me a minute to get it for you.” He jogged back to his house.
“Now what?” Daisy asked.
“I’d like you, Mercy, and your dad to go inside and wait for another agent to take you to the hospital,” Gideon said. “I’m going with Agent Hunter and the dog. If we can’t find where his H-O-M-E is, I’ll meet you at the ER.”