Chapter
Twenty-Four

“What do you want?” Kate heard Tony ask the man holding a gun on them.

“You don’t recognize me do you, Mr. DeLuca?” The man led her over to the couch and commanded her to sit down. He took off his cap and his glasses. Then he pulled off a fake mustache and some kind of soft, rubbery material he’d used to reshape his nose.

“No,” Kate exclaimed softly. Somehow she’d known who it was from the moment he’d stepped inside the cabin. Everything started to come back, and she felt like she might faint. The blood, the screaming. Watching the light go out in Kelly’s eyes. Gerard advancing on her, evil etched deeply into his expression. She felt her body begin to shake, and she couldn’t control it.

Gerard touched his hair. “Yes, it’s me. A little bleach on top and some hair on my chin. The rest isn’t real.”

“Kate, it’s okay,” Tony said. “Look at me.”

She turned her head toward him. In his eyes she saw something that gave her courage. Just as he’d done during the trial. If she kept her eyes on Tony, she knew she’s be all right.

“He can’t help you this time, Kate,” Gerard said, his voice low and gravelly. “Put your gun on the ground and kick it over here, Mr. DeLuca.”

Kate could tell the last thing Tony wanted to do was give up his weapon. He usually had an extra, but he’d given it to Bobby. She looked over at Bobby, but he seemed glued to the spot in the kitchen where he’d gone to fire up the camp stove. She doubted he’d be much help to them. Maybe Tony would remember the second gun and find a way to retrieve it.

“Please join Miss O’Brien on the couch,” Gerard said, waving his gun at Tony. “And no tricks or I’ll kill her.”

Tony walked slowly toward her, but Kate could see in his face that he was considering a move toward Gerard. He was probably thinking the same thing she was. Gerard wouldn’t just shoot her. That wasn’t his way. He liked to take time with his victims. He enjoyed watching them suffer.

Even though she wanted Gerard dead, she didn’t want Tony to do anything foolish. They needed time to come up with a plan. One that would work. If Tony died now, she and Bobby had no hope of making it out of this alive.

“I’m not an idiot, Mr. DeLuca,” Gerard said. “I can see you’re wondering if you could overpower me. Take my gun. But I assure you, it won’t happen. You probably think I won’t really shoot Miss O’Brien. That I have other plans for her.” He swung his gun toward a terrified Bobby, who backed up several steps. “And you’re right. But I wouldn’t have any problem shooting your friend, whoever he is. If he’s dispensable, then please, proceed with your strategy. However, if you don’t want to watch him die before your eyes, then do what I asked and sit down.”

Gerard’s voice grew louder at the end of his diatribe, and Kate could tell he was serious. “Please, Tony,” she said. “Do what he says . . . for now.”

She prayed he would understand what she was trying to say. That this was not the moment.

As if he caught her hint, Tony put his gun on the floor, kicked it toward Gerard, and came over to the couch. He sat down next to Kate and took her hand.

Bobby closed his eyes, relief washing over his face. Kate felt sorry for him. Bobby had been brave enough to come looking for her. He certainly didn’t need this. She was angry that he’d been dragged into Gerard’s circle of evil.

“You,” Gerard said, pointing at Bobby. “Come over here.”

Bobby looked back and forth between Kate and Tony, obviously apprehensive.

“Do what he says, Bobby,” Tony said, his voice strong and steady.

Bobby walked slowly toward Gerard, who opened a bag he had with him. He handed Bobby two long zip ties. “I have it on good authority these are used by the police. I think they will do for my use.” He motioned toward Tony and Kate. “Put them on these two. And make sure they’re tight.”

Bobby took the ties and went over to Tony. Kate could see the fear in his eyes.

Tony stuck his hands out in front of him.

“No, Mr. DeLuca,” Gerard said. “Turn around. I want your hands behind your back. That’s what they did to me. It’s good enough for you, as well.”

Tony turned around and Bobby circled the tie around his wrists. Then he pulled the tab that stuck out of the locking mechanism. It was obvious he didn’t pull as hard as he could.

Gerard walked over to him. “Do you want to die today, Bobby? Pull it tight.”

“I . . . I’m sorry, Tony,” Bobby said, his voice quivering.

“It’s okay. Everything will be all right.”

Bobby pulled the plastic tie until Gerard finally smiled. “That’s good, Bobby. Now take care of the lady.”

Bobby walked over to Kate. His eyes sought hers. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m really sorry.”

Gerard hit Bobby on the side of the head, causing him to cry out in pain. “Quit talking and do what I told you.”

Kate stood up and then turned around. Bobby put the tie around Kate’s wrists and pulled it tight. She felt the plastic cut into her skin but stayed calm so Bobby wouldn’t know he’d hurt her. He obviously felt awful about what Gerard had forced him to do. She didn’t want to add to his guilt.

“You can both turn around and sit down,” Gerard said.

As Tony and Kate took their places back on the couch, Bobby turned around and stared at the killer. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Mr. Gerard?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“That’s it for now, Bobby,” Gerard said. “Why don’t you sit down in that chair?” He pointed toward a chair near the couch. Bobby sat down, a look of relief on his face. But before he had time to settle in, Gerard dashed toward him and hit him on the side of the head again, this time knocking him out.

Then Gerard turned toward Kate and Tony, his gun pointed right at them. “Now the fun begins.”

Leon put down the phone. He’d told the entire story to some woman with the FBI. She’d been polite but not too interested. She’d promised to pass the information along to someone who’d worked on the Blue-Eyed Killer case. The feds probably went through the same stuff they’d endured here. Tips leading nowhere. But in spades.

He started looking through the rest of the box’s contents. First he flipped through the small notebooks. Lots of strange drawings. Dead people. Blood. Guns. Bloody knives. None of it concerned him greatly. He knew firsthand that young boys liked to draw stuff like this. His son had done the same thing, and he was a great kid.

He picked up each item using a napkin. He’d bag it all for evidence. Maybe everything here had belonged to Darrell. But what if there was something from Barney? Could be important. Leon found himself smiling, even though there was nothing funny about a serial killer. But the “Blue-Eyed Killer” sounded a lot more ominous than . . . Barney.

The only thing he hadn’t looked at were the valentines. He picked them up and opened each one. What he saw inside the cards made his skin crawl. One was written to Tammy. The other was written to Ann. The same thing was scribbled inside both of them. I am your destiny.

He gulped and called out to Linda.

“Look at this,” he told her when she came into the room. “I can’t believe I didn’t check these out earlier. I just assumed they were cards from some old girlfriend. Got carried away with what was on that cassette tape, I guess.”

“Oh, Leon. This is important evidence. You’ve got to get in touch with someone. Turn this over to whoever is in charge.”

“I tried,” he said. “But the FBI blew me off.”

Linda frowned. “You’ve got to try again. Trust me, when they know what you’ve found, they’ll be interested.”

Leon thought for a moment. “I’ll contact the police department in St. Louis. They were knee-deep in this thing when Gerard was tried. Maybe they’ll be willing to listen to some rube policeman from the sticks.”

“You’re not a rube.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, you’re a brilliant rube, then.” She winked at him. “Even more important, you’re my rube. Now make that call.”