They headed downstairs. Thor knew that Mike was going to drivehe had the official car and the keys. They both preferred their own driving.
What time did Enfield call you? Thor asked when they were on the road.
Six. He just said shake a leg and get to the airfield, and hed meet us there. Man, it doesnt bode well, him calling like thatwhen we were due in anyway.
Thor nodded, feeling uncomfortable. The reality of the dream had fadedin his field, nightmares occurred in the darkness and the light. Hed always known that you had to live with the losses as well as the triumphs. But his dadwho was still with the Alaska State Troopershad once put it into perspective for him by noting, Youll never stop the flow of evil that some men will do, but each time you save one innocent, you make it all worthwhile.
So he had dreams.
Nightmares.
He woke up and shook them off.
But now, the dream that had plagued him right before he had awakened that morning seemed like some kind of a foreboding.
That feeling increased when they reached the airfield and saw Special Director Reginald Enfield there, waiting for them.
Enfield was a solid, no-nonsense directora good man in his office. Hed had a kneecap shot out and knew he wasnt fit for fieldwork, but he could analyze a situation like few other men and collect invaluable information with his group of techs. That he was at the airfield meant they were onto something serious.
Enfield shook hands with the men as he reached them, his expression grim. Your chopper is ready and waiting. Youre heading straight to Sewardthere was a murder last night, he told them.
Thor waited for him to continue. It wasnt as if Alaska was immune to murderfar from it. According to reports by statisticians at the Bureau, Alaska was the most dangerous state for violent crime. Most of the time, murders were related to bar fights, cabin fever, drug or alcohol abuse and sometimes, domestic battles.
Thor had a feeling none of the above applied; if so, the local police or the state police would have been called in. Seward, Alaska, had a full-time population of three thousand plus, but tourism and the cruise industry could swell that number considerably. It was still a quaint and beautiful townone usually loved by those who flocked to see the beauty of the nations largest, last-frontier state.
He realized they were going to have to ask questions and so he began with the obvious. Sir, Im sure you plan on giving us more. Were being sent to Seward over a murder? Arent the local police and the state guys on it?
This one isnt your typical murder, Enfield said. Weve got agents headed here now from the DC areaits that much not your typical murder.
We have a serial killer on our hands? Mike asked.
Lets pray that we dont, Enfield said. He glanced at Thor. An old partner and friend of yours is on the way here. You remember Jackson Crow?
Thor was pretty sure that his heart missed an entire beat.
He hadnt thought about Jackson Crow in a long time, and had only seen him in his dreams.
Sure, I remember Crow, Thor said, hoping he sounded easy and casual. Great agent. We worked together a decade ago.
Enfield hesitated. We dont know yet if theres any relation here or not, but... He paused and then shrugged. You remember, of course, the Fairy Tale Killer? Tate Morley?
Now Thor felt as if his heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach.
Of course I remember, he said huskily.
Well, hes out.
Hes out? Thor said, incredulous.
Yeah. He escaped.
Thor felt a surge of anger. Hed been afraid of something like thished said so when he heard that Morley had been transferred for his good behavior. Morley had been incarcerated first in the Feds one supermax-security prison, but had then been transferred to max security and then a minimum-security prisonall over the last ten years or so.
Thor could never understand how the justice system allowed for such a thing to happen; the mans ninety-nine-years-plus life sentence hadnt been lessened by a parole board, and if hed been left where hed first been placed, escape would have been near impossible.
Enfield continued, Seems he made himself a shank, got himself into the infirmary, stabbed a doctor and walked out easily in his white coat and with his credentials.
When did this happen? Thor asked.
He was pretty sure that he was speaking normally, that he moved like a sane man. But in truth, he was going insane inside, his gut clenching and his body on fire.
He busted out yesterday, Enfield said. He hasnt had a lot of time to get here, but it wouldnt have been impossible. Victims name is Natalie Fontaine. She was a producer for bad TVbad being my opinion, of coursefilming in the area. Well, Gotcha is very, very bad. Vacation USA is okay. Anyway, I knew about Morleys caseeveryone knew about him. Im not sure hes the one responsible here. But Jackson Crow will be coming in along with a few of his people, and you and Mike will be taking the lead with him. He seems like an all right guy, willing to listen to the local power. Says that he doesnt know Alaska. You two do. Enfield stared at them and added, He must be something with the main powers that bethe calls I received came straight from the top.
Thor was somewhat surprised that his old friend had the power to demand in on a caseand bring affiliates with him. But then, hed heard about the special unit that Jackson headed beneath an enigmatic non-field agent named Adam Harrison. Very special. They even had their own offices.
Guys talked about it being the ghost-whispering-busting unit.
But jokes didnt last long. His old partners team had solved too many cases to be considered a joke.
You okay, Erikson? Enfield asked.
Was he okay?
Hell, no. The Fairy Tale Killer was out. There was a murder in Seward that seemed to call for help cross-country.
Hed dreamed about Mandy and Jackson Crow.
Mandy was dead.
Jackson Crow was on the way.
Thor felt his sense of dread take hold again.
The Fairy Tale Killer might be backin Alaska.
Sir, he asked Enfield, why would anyone believe that the murder in Seward might have been committed by the Fairy Tale Killer? Was the victim laid out to look like a princesslike Morleys victims?
No, Enfield said. Like I said, were not sure its the same manthe display of the victim was completely different. But the Fairy Tale Killer is out there somewhere. I have all the information in your folders in the chopper. You can read on your way. Just trust methe Fairy Tale Killer may not be at work up here, but this isnt your usual murder, not in any way, shape or form. God help youyoud better catch this monster fast.
* * *
Clara Avery came to an abrupt halt.
Shed been running, running, running through the snow, well aware that her very life depended on reaching the Alaska Hut before...
Before the killer caught up with her.
Her breath sounded like an orchestra to her own ears; her lungs burned as if they were ablaze with an inner wildfire.
Even as she came to a dead stop, she felt the thunder of her heart.
It was the blood, the blood spattered over the snow, that brought her to the abrupt halt.
There was nothing like it, nothing like the color of blood on the snow on a sunlit day. It was a riveting hue, brilliant and vivid against the golden rays shooting down from the royal blue sky. It was spattered in a clump and led...just over the next rise.
Shed thought he was behind her.
The killer.
But...
She couldnt just stand there in indecision.
But she didnt know what the hell to do. Was the killer behind her? Or had he somehow managed to move ahead?
No, that couldnt be the case. She knew that he had seen her at the Mansion, knew that hed still been in there, knew that he had heard her leave...
And was in pursuit.
There was only one way to goforward. Yet she dreaded every step because now...
Now she followed a tiny trickle of blood over the next rise of snow.
Stopping had been a mistake; her body seemed to scream now at movement, even though she wasnt running. She was walking slowly and carefully over the rise...
And then she saw her.
Dead in the snow.
Amelia Carson, her raven-black hair as startling as the color of the blood against the sea of white around her. She was faceup, arms stretched out as if she were embracing the sun or making a snow angel beneath it.
With her arms only. She was in two pieces, cut in half at the waist.
Her lower body and limbs lay just a few feet away, a pool of blood separating them.
She had met Amelia Carsoncelebrity hostess of many a short-lived TV showonly once. But she had met her. She knew her. And here she was...
Who else was dead?
She didnt even know! Shed seen the carnage at the Mansion and heard the movement upstairs and then the footsteps on the steps...
Clara stood still, her breath caught in her chest. She needed to think, but it seemed that her mind was as numb as her limbs. This scene had been displayed to strike fear and terror, to paralyze...
And it worked.
It was as if she was frozen.
* * *
Not your usual murder.
Though what was usual about murder?
And did it matter to Natalie Fontaine now that she had been victimized whether her death had been usual?
Natalie hadnt been killed for her money or possessions; she hadnt been sexually assaulted. It didnt seem that the act had been carried out in a fit of passionthough a great deal of thought and strength had gone into the execution of the deed.
Thor could still close his eyes and picture the room in the hotel, just as they had seen it, the body curled on the bed in what appeared to be a sleeping position. According to the medical examiner, the killer had strangled his victim before laying her out as he had, as if she were curled up...
Except her head was missing. It had been left on the dresser for all to see the minute the door was opened.
It was the head that had immediately assured the hotel staff that foul play had occurred.
The scene had been arranged like a tableau. It haunted Thor, and he knew he had viewed such a scene before...
In a picture? In an old crime scene photo?
Memory eluded him, so hed made notes of all the facts.
Joe Mason of hotel security had come up because some neighboring guests had dialed the desk about a disturbance.
Mason had dutifully gone to the room, called out, tapped and banged for entry, and then, receiving no response, opened the door at 5:35 a.m.
The FBI offices in Anchorage and across the country had been alerted soon after.
The crime scene had filled with members of different law enforcement agencies and forensic experts. Most of their information had been gleaned slowly and painstakingly from Misty Blaine, Natalies production assistant, who had just been getting dressed for the day in her room on the first floor. As experts learned more and more, they began to fear for others.
Law enforcement had to get out to Black Bear Island and find the people Natalie Fontaine had been scheduled to work with that morning.
A surprise had been planned for that daynot the horrifying one that had befallen her after all, but something gruesomely similar.
All in the name of reality TV.
And so Thor and Mike were now in a coast guard vessel, headed out to Black Bear Island.
Ironic, Mike murmured.
Yes, it was. Misty Blaine had told them about the scene that was to be staged later that day. The cast of the Celtic American Cruise Lines Saturday-night performance on the Fate ship had been told that a film company would be interviewing them for their show Vacation USA. Unbeknownst to them, the cast was actually going to be featured on the show Gotcha, a knockoff of Candid Camera and Punkd. Yes. Ironic.
The scenery that they encountered on their way was, in Thors opinion, some of the most beautiful and spectacular to be viewed anywhere on earth. Crystal-blue waters, peaks of white ice rising, a sky clear and majestic.
And Black Bear Island before them.
The main problem with the island was that not even the newest, smartest smartphone worked out there.
Natalie Fontaine should have arrived that morning. Ready to greet her first interviewee for the day.
Four members of Natalies film crew were also supposed to be out on the island alreadycameraman Tommy Marchant, sound technician Becca Marle, hostess Amelia Carson and fabricator Nate Mahoney. Joining them should have been four members of the cast and crew of Celtic American Cruise Lines Broadway-style Saturday-night show.
Also expected were the islands caretaker, Justin Crowley, along with the property manager, or glorified housekeeperhis wife, Magda.
The film crew was not answering the radio. Neither were Mr. or Mrs. Crowley.
Thor chafed inwardly, dreading what they might find, anxious to get there.
Hed been chafing all day, he knew.
The dream; the nightmare.
And now Jackson was coming, as well.
He tried to breathe. Usually, being on the water was like receiving some kind of a cleansing balm on the heart and soul. Nowhere else in the world was the air so crisp and clean.
The wind was in his hair, the sun on his face, as the ferry approached the rugged terrain of the island. There were no roads here that allowed for carsthe ferry gave transport to snowmobiles and dogsleds, the only conveyances that could bring supplies to the island.
Pity that it was privately held; it should have been part of the national park systema little piece of crystal heaven for the world to enjoy. It was elevated to such a height that even in summer, when the average mean temperature of Seward hovered around sixty degrees, there was often snow on the ground. Snow also covered the many peaks that rose in haphazard beauty here and there, dotted with crystal lakes, birds and animals finding refuge among them.
The island wasnt owned by the government or the public; it was the property of an absentee landowner, Marc Kimball, oil baron and Wall Street phenomenon. Enfield had assured Thor that Kimball had been advised via his assistanta very soft-spoken woman named Emmy Vincenzo, who Enfield hoped had truly comprehended the severity of his messagethat Natalie Fontaine had been murdered and police and FBI would be headed to the island in her stead. Kimball had rented the island and its properties out to Natalie Fontaine and her Wickedly Weird Productions, and was expecting their film crew this morning.
Thor had read the folder that had been left for him on the chopper to Sewardand listened to Misty Blaines panicky and barely coherent explanation of the day of filming that had been planned. None of it was good; all of it added ridiculousness to what was already bizarre, gruesome and horrible.