Chapter 59
Morris met Rachel at her internship so he could pick her up. She wasn’t happy about it and demanded that he tell her what this was about.
“Something’s come up,” Morris said, his voice heavy. “Let me take you to your mom’s office so I can explain it to both of you together.”
Rachel not only had his flinty gray eyes, but also his stubbornness. “Dad, if you expect me to budge from here, then you better tell me about it now.”
Morris took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Please, sweetheart, let me do this my way. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious.”
Rachel was going to argue further, but she saw something in her dad that she’d never seen before. A crack in his granite-hard exterior, exposing a glimpse of vulnerability. Reluctantly, she nodded, and left him so she could explain to the assistant prosecutor she’d been assigned to that she had a family emergency she needed to deal with. After that, she and Morris left together. While Morris drove, Rachel was at first going to press him for more information, but then relented when she saw the intensity hardening his face.
When they arrived at Natalie’s therapist office, Fred Lemmon, who had earlier returned from Chicago, was keeping Natalie company, along with Parker. The dog instantly went into his whirling-dervish mode as he attempted to greet Morris and Rachel at the same time before finally plopping down by Rachel’s feet, grinning in the clownishly happy way that only a bull terrier can.
Natalie took Rachel’s hand. “You have me worried,” she said to Morris.
“I’m worried also,” he confided.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Fred Lemmon told them, and he left the office.
Morris tried to force a smile, but couldn’t manage it. “The serial killer I’ve been hunting, the so-called Malibu Butcher, murdered two more people last night,” he said. “A couple living in Culver City. MBI was hired by the husband seven months ago.”
“You were hired by the father of one of the four girls who were killed in Malibu,” Natalie said, her voice falling off as if she were in a trance.
Morris nodded bleakly.
“But you thought it was a coincidence. That he had been invited to the home by one of the other victims?”
“He was, but he was still targeting Mia the whole time. This psycho waited outside of MBI last Thursday night and ambushed the cleaning lady who does our offices so he could force her to let him back in. Then he went through our files picking out his victims.”
“Did he murder her also?” Rachel asked.
“We don’t know. She’s been missing since last Thursday. But this guy is going out of his way to make it personal with me, and he’s maybe the most dangerous serial killer I’ve yet dealt with for the simple reason that he’s not nearly as clever and smart as he thinks he is. This is unraveling for him, and we’re going to be catching him soon, but until we do, I need both of you someplace safe.”
Morris caught how Natalie squeezed Rachel’s hand just that much harder, and the steely glint in Rachel’s eyes as she shook her head, challenging him.
“I’m not letting him chase me out of town,” Rachel insisted.
“You have to leave for a few days,” Morris said. “The FBI profiler working this case is convinced he’s soon going to be upping the ante and making it more personal by targeting someone close to me. Which means either you or Nat. I won’t be able to concentrate enough to catch him if I have to worry about you two, and I’ll also have to dedicate all of my MBI investigators to protecting you instead of having them go after him. I need both of you away from LA if I’m going to catch him.”
“Where would we go?” Natalie asked.
“I booked you a suite at the Venetian in Las Vegas. Fred will be joining you to make sure you’re safe.”
Morris winced as he saw the sadness pass over his wife’s eyes. That this was going to be as close as she’d get to the beaches of Italy. Fortunately, she let the thought slide, since Morris wouldn’t have had the heart to comment on it.
Rachel clearly didn’t like the idea of being forced out of town by this madman, but she accepted the practicality of it.
“So I really don’t have any choice in the matter,” she said.
“I’m afraid not.”
Her cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk’s—the way they did whenever she had to give in on something.
“When do we leave?” she asked.
Morris checked his watch. “Your flight leaves LAX in three hours.”