The Killing League

102.

The Commissioner

The Commissioner loved the Angeles National Forest, two hours north of Los Angeles, not because of its rugged beauty, but because it was an unrivaled dumping ground for bodies.

From drug dealers, to gang members to organized crime, the area was a regular cavalcade of people, dead or soon to be killed, who simply needed to disappear. The bodies of informants, competitors, and eyewitnesses potentially outnumbered the wildlife in the sprawling forest.

It also contained a few of the Commissioner’s early victims, back when he was still learning his craft.

With its narrow, twisting roads and steep elevations, the rugged and hardscrabble landscape was the perfect place to toss a body from the shoulder of a road, and watch it drop a few hundred, maybe even thousands of feet. The Commissioner had done it himself, many times.

Today, however, he would not be dumping the body of Nicole Candela over the side of the road.

No, he had much bigger plans for her.

The Commissioner drove higher and higher, up treacherously steep inclines until he reached the most remote parking area along the edge of the forest. It was less a parking area than a gravel turnout with a few areas of long grass matted down by previously parked cars. From the small shelf of cleared area, a dim path led into the woods.

He parked the car, retrieved Nicole Candela from the trunk and got her to her feet.

“Come along, Nicky,” he said. “Isn’t that what your friends call you? Nicky?”

Her arms were tied behind her. She was gagged, and he had fashioned a blindfold over her eyes.

He prodded her forward and enjoyed watching her trip over a tree root and fall. She fell hard on her shoulder.

“Oh, be careful Nicky!” he sang out. “You wouldn’t want to wind up like your old pal Jay Lucerne.”

He laughed when she tried to kick him. He simply sidestepped it, then spun her around and pushed her forward into the woods.

It took them ten minutes of hiking through the woods to get to the place he had previously scouted.

He pushed Nicole to the ground against a tree and tied her in place.

The Commissioner carefully took readings from his portable GPS and texted them to Wallace Mack.

He walked back through the woods to his car, whistling as he went. The air was so dry and clear up here. He loved the feeling of being above Los Angeles. Away from the smog and crowds. When this was all over, he might find a place in the mountains somewhere. Maybe Montana. Get away from it all.

He got back to his car and popped the trunk. The smell was not pleasant, but he was used to it.

He hoisted the surprise present over his shoulder, and walked back to the clearing.

The gift had taken some effort to acquire, and it was specifically for Wallace Mack.

The Commissioner hoped he would like it.





103.

Mack

The scene was madness.

Mack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A dead man in Nicole’s front yard. Dozens of police cars. Half a dozen FBI agents.

No Nicole Candela.

He cursed himself. Always a f*cking step behind.

Mack found the small contingent of people pretending they were in charge and knew what was going on.

“What happened?” Mack said, flashing his FBI identification. His mouth was dry and his heart was racing. No, he thought. No, no, no.

One of the FBI agents, a man Mack recognized from the ridiculous meeting in the conference room where he’d lost it with Whidby, answered.

“We’re not sure,” he said. “One assailant is dead,” he gestured at the body sprawled on the grass. “While that shooting took place, we believe someone entered the house from the back and abducted the woman inside.”

He got her. He got Nicole.

“Her name is Nicole Candela,” Mack said. It came out harsher than he had intended.

“Right,” the man said.

Mack looked around at the neighboring houses.

“Witnesses?” he said, trying to stay calm. Please let someone i.d. the car. A plate. Anything. Even as he hoped for it, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Reznor’s ex would be way too smart for that. Even if someone saw a plate, it would be stolen.

The agent shook his head. “Not yet, no witnesses. No sign of a struggle. The dog was in the bedroom with the door shut.”

Mack felt a momentary surge of relief. She wasn’t dead. They had taken her. He felt that Lance Gilford might be into his end game now.

“I’m going inside,” Mack told the agent, who had already turned away.

He went through the front door of Nicole’s house and tried not to look at the pullout that had remained empty throughout the night.

The guilt crashed in him like waves from the Pacific smashing against rotten pilings.

This was Nicole’s home. This was where she’d put her life back together again. And now, this was where it had all fallen apart. Again.

He had let her down.

Mack walked to the back door of the house and stood, gazing out over the yard. He had been here. He’d gotten her and ripped her from her life like wrenching open a wound that had just healed. He had to-

His cell phone vibrated with a text message.

Mack looked down.

No message.

Just coordinates.

He didn’t see them as a location. Or a map to some kind of final confrontation.

What he saw was a second chance.





104.

Nicole

The pain was excruciating. It stabbed the back of her head, then ran over the middle of her brain with sharp claws of pain.

She struggled to stand but the ropes binding her to the tree were tight.

Nicole fought back the tears that came when she thought of Jay Lucerne. One of the kindest, most gentle human beings on Earth. She knew what had happened. He’d been forced to do that, to approach the house, so that the psycho could come in the back and get her. She felt like a fool. How could she have let herself get captured so easily?

Nicole forced herself to breathe. Beating herself up wasn’t going to do anyone any good. She had to figure a way out. She tried not to think back to the Jeffrey Kostner abduction. About her struggle to get out, dislocating her shoulder. The terror and the hopelessness. Back then, she’d had no clue what she was really up against.

This was different.

This time, she knew exactly what lay ahead of her.

Her only hope was that the guy hadn’t searched her too carefully.

Because she had foolishly invested in a belt whose buckle inserted into the body of the belt with a small pointed knife.

She remembered ordering the knife and feeling like an idiot. It was almost some kind of weird James Bond invention dreamed up by Q.

The first time she had slipped it on, though, changed her mind permanently. It had felt great. A little extra security.

And like all her knives, she kept this one razor sharp. The only question was if she could use her hands to slide her belt around, pop the buckle loose and cut through her ropes.

With her hands behind her back, she was able to grasp the belt. The question was, could she get enough leverage to push the buckle backward through the loop, and pull it all the way around her body.

There was only one way to find out. She knew she didn’t have much time.

She had a sick feeling that Mack was on his way.

And she didn’t want to watch him die.





105.

Mack

Mack’s GPS Navigation told him he was less than two miles from the location The Commissioner had given him.

He pulled off the side of the road. Confident that he had the head start he needed, he forwarded the GPS coordinates to the FBI agents back at Nicole’s house, as well as the LAPD. Mack shrugged on a Kevlar vest and checked the spare clips for his Glock .45. He got back in the car and drove up to the coordinates.

He parked, and studied the surrounding forest. Only one trail branched out from the parking area. It ducked into a thick stand of dark trees and disappeared.

Mack took a deep breath and plunged into the trail.

The sun began to sink below the horizon. Gold and violet light permeated the thick air of the woods, and Mack slid his Glock from the holster into his hand.

“Lance!” he called out. He figured the man already knew where he was. Ambushing him was out of the question. The only chance he had was to get in his head.

“Lance Gilford!” Mack needed to throw him off his game, and telling the man he knew who he was might give Mack an advantage.

Silence greeted his calls.

“The fact is, you weren’t good enough for the Bureau,” Mack said. Maybe pissing Gilford off would spur him to make a mistake.

“This contest was bullshit and you know it! Just to try to prove how much smarter you are than me? What a joke!”

Mack stopped. The canopy was thick here, and dark shadows surrounded him.

“Anyone can kill innocent people. Fish in a barrel, Lance. All you’ve proven is that you’re a true psychopath. No regard for human life. Some prize you’ve chosen to award yourself.”

Mack walked deeper into the woods. He could hear pine boughs swaying softly in the slow breeze. Somewhere far away a bird cried out.

He could only hope that Gilford would want him to see Nicole’s death. He would want to see Mack’s reaction. He had to keep him occupied, keep him holding onto that desire.

He tried a totally different tack. “I know you blamed Ellen and I for you getting kicked out of the Bureau. But that was just bullshit politics, you know that,” Mack said. “You’ve proven you’re Bureau material. If you end this peacefully, I think you could become a consultant for the FBI. Like me. How does that sound?”

It sounded f*cking ridiculous to Mack, but he was dealing with someone totally delusional. He had to try to give the man some hope. Tear him down, then build him back up. Maybe somewhere in there Gilford would find a reason to let Nicole go. Or at least exchange her for him.

The trail rounded a corner, and veered toward an open area of the forest. A circle of light spilled from the surrounding pine trees.

In the clearing was a shape.

Mack stopped.

He peered at the form and immediately understood it was a body.

He let out a deep breath of relief.





106.

The Commissioner

He nearly blew the whole thing by laughing. His breath was coming almost too fast for him to keep up, but holding in the riotous laughter he wanted to let loose was a struggle.

The idea that Wallace Mack could outsmart him! It was so absolutely, mind-blowingly preposterous! The cheap psychological ploy of trashing him, then baiting him with hopes of being in the FBI. Good God. Did he really think anyone was that stupid?

The Commissioner looked down at Nicole Candela. She was conscious, he knew that. But she couldn’t move. She was going to die in a matter of minutes. He wondered if she understood that. If she was savoring these last few breaths of what amounted to her shitty little life. No, she was probably deceiving herself into the belief she could escape, like she’d done before with Kostner.

Yeah, not gonna happen. Kostner was Kostner.

But he was The Commissioner.

She was going to get what she deserved.

And so was Mack.

He took a peek as Mack stepped into the clearing. When the famous FBI profiler saw whose body the Commissioner had placed there, well, he didn’t want to miss it.





107.

Nicole

She knew she was in a nightmare. Not the dream kind of nightmare. The real, live, waking nightmare that she had lived in for years before finally pulling herself out, inch by agonizing inch.

Nicole could not believe she was here again. It was like she had never left. The clearing. The woods. The psychotic demon holding her life in his hand.

She heard Mack’s voice. Yelling something about the FBI, and letting her go.

Nicole heard her captor’s breath coming in great ragged gasps.

She pulled on her belt, tried to get the buckle around to her hands, to where she might be able to cut the rope. Mack was helping. If the a*shole here paid more attention to Mack, she could work the knife free.

She gave one especially strong pull and felt the buckle slide into her palm. She managed a glance up and saw his face for the first time.

The image was like a knife in the heart.

She now knew that she had never left the clearing. Never gotten away. Never been free.

Because here she was again.

With him.





108.

Mack

Mack studied the ground. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. He scanned the surrounding trees. No one. Nothing.

He knew it was a trap.

But he had to look.

He approached the body. He could smell the coppery scent of blood.

With his foot, he pushed the body onto its back.

Mack’s breath caught.

Lance Gilford.

Reznor’s ex-husband. The mastermind behind this whole thing. But who-

Mack whirled at the sound of a branch being snapped.

Nothing.

He looked back down at the corpse. Mack immediately knew Gilford had been killed some time ago. If not hours, days.

Which meant—

“Not who you expected, Mack?” a voice said.

He turned to look behind him, where the trail entered the clearing.

What he saw shook him to his core.





109.

Mack

The shocks were immediate. Nicole, with a gun to her head. She had dried blood on the side of her pale, drained face. A gag in her mouth.

But her eyes were alive. And wide with expression. Imploring him. Imploring him to…what?

The second shock was the man.

Mack had never seen him before. He looked vaguely familiar, though. Skinny, dark hair. Young. For a moment, Mack was taken back in time. No, it couldn’t be.

“Trying to place me?” the man said.

His voice was calm and assured, if a little excited.

“Okay, you’ve got me here. You fooled me into thinking you were Lance Gilford,” Mack said.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?” the man said. “I used him for his computer expertise. He really hated you and your old partner. But he would only go so far.”

The face was bothering Mack. It almost looked like—

The stunning recognition didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ah, did you put it together?” the man said.

“You look like Jeffrey Kostner,” Mack said.

“Not bad, Mack! But you haven’t gotten to the best part yet,” he said.

Mack saw a strange light in Nicole’s hands. She made short little movements. Mack instantly understood what she was doing.

Mack had to keep him talking.

“What’s the best part?” Mack said.

His Glock was raised, the front sight on the guy’s face.

“We were almost family once,” the man said.

“Family? How so?” Mack tried to judge how much time Nicole needed.

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but I used to f*ck your sister.”

Mack lowered the gun a hair. His teeth ground.

“You—”

“That’s right. We used to screw, but I got tired of it. So I started feeding her booze left and right. After she passed out, I’d literally pour drinks down her throat.”

Mack tightened his grip on the gun. His hand started shaking.

The man smiled. “Remember me now? I went by ‘Shelby’ back then.”

Mack did remember. Shelby had been the drunk who’d locked himself in an apartment with Janice for months on end, drinking. Mack had been told he had died. Now, he saw that had been part of the plan all along.

“It was when I was doing research on you, right after you and the bitch here killed Jeff. I saw your sister’s brain was going fast from the booze. So I just sped her along a little bit. Course, I think most of the brain damage happened when she was passed out and I just kept pouring it into her. Couple times I’d use smelling salts to bring her around. Pour some good old 150 proof grain alcohol down her gullet.”

Mack registered but barely heard most of what the man had just said. His brain had kicked in at the sound of another name.

“You said Jeff,” Mack said. “You were talking about Kostner.”

“My half-brother,” the man said. “You never found Jeff’s Dad, did you? Well, he ran off, found my Mom, knocked her up, then they both died of drugs. I almost did, too. Until I found a reason to live.”

He put the muzzle of his pistol against Nicole’s temple.

“Actually, I found two reasons. You see, I’m a big believer in family. I had nothing, but there you were parading around like a hero, all for killing my brother.

“He was a monster, just like you. Guess it runs in the family,” Mack said.

“Say goodbye to your girlfriend here—” the man said. His hand tightened around the gun at Nicole’s head.

He never got a chance to finish the sentence.