Killing Ways Page 17

  ‘Who are you?’ he said.

  Ren and Robbie flashed their credentials like Men in Black. ‘We’re the FBI,’ said Ren.

  ‘What the—’

  Ren sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. ‘This game,’ said Ren. ‘It’s fairly violent, would you agree?’

  ‘Extremely violent, I would say,’ said Kurt. ‘I know it doesn’t look good, but it’s only a game. I’m not that kind of guy. That’s like saying people who watch Game of Thrones want to go around chopping people’s heads off and raping women and – they don’t, it’s fantasy, it’s what people do.’

  You’re not the brightest man in the world.

  ‘Mr Vine, do you know this woman?’ said Ren, setting down a photo of Amanda Petrie.

  His eyes widened. ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Ren. ‘Take another look.’

  ‘I swear to God,’ he said, ‘I have never seen this woman in my life.’ He paused. ‘I will admit, though, that there is something familiar about her. Who is she?’

  ‘Keep looking, Kurt,’ said Ren. ‘I think you do know this woman.’

  ‘Oh, you’re right, yes!’ he said. ‘I can definitely help you there. Her name was Amanda, she had bumped into this crazy lady and I bumped into them. You must have seen it in the news – we crashed into the medical center. It was a whole nightmare.’

  ‘Kurt – Amanda Petrie is missing,’ said Robbie, stepping in, sitting down beside Ren. ‘She hasn’t been seen since yesterday evening, which normally wouldn’t bother anyone, except for the fact that she’s missing a very special family occasion that she organized.’

  ‘That was her sister’s birthday party! She told me about that. Aw, maaan—’

  ‘Do you know where Amanda is?’ said Ren.

  ‘What? No. How would I know that? I only met her, like, once. We didn’t even exchange details or anything. I don’t even know where she lives. I don’t know anything about her, apart from the party.’

  ‘Did she tell you where the party was going to be at last night?’ said Ren.

  ‘Uh … no! Because she didn’t know at that time. We barely spoke … she just said she’d been looking at a venue, hadn’t even pinned down a date.’

  ‘Kurt, where have you been for the past twenty-four hours?’ said Ren.

  ‘At the store, like for an hour yesterday, and back here then, playing this. You can check – I’ve been playing almost seventeen hours straight.’

  What a life.

  Robbie set his black rucksack down, unzipped it and took out a Quick Capture kit. He hooked it up to his laptop with a USB cable. Kurt Vine looked at it, panicked.

  ‘Hey, what’s that?’ he said.

  Relax, tinfoil boy.

  ‘It’s for taking your fingerprints,’ said Ren. ‘In twenty seconds, they’re captured, then uploaded to Detective Truax’s computer.’

  ‘Then what?’ said Kurt.

  ‘Then we create these amazing collages that we exhibit in the Robischon Gallery,’ said Ren. ‘We run them through AFIS. Which I’m sure you know is a national database of fingerprints.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Kurt, holding out his hands. ‘Go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘Well, then, that’s great …’ said Ren. ‘You’ll be able to make the opening night of the exhibition.’

  Kurt wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow.

  ‘OK,’ said Robbie, ‘put two fingers at a time on the glass.’

  As I stand idly by, contemplating the glorious world of the round-the-clock gamer.

  Robbie glanced up at Ren. She moved around to the screen.

  What the fuck?

  Ren turned to him. ‘Kurt, this is not good news for you.’

  His eyes widened. ‘What? What do you mean? Why not?’

  ‘Your prints have been found at the scene of a serious crime.’

  ‘What? No way. That’s bullshit. That can’t be right. Show me that.’

  Really?

  ‘This is a set-up, man,’ said Kurt.

  ‘Do you have alibis for the six dates listed here?’ said Ren.

  ‘Six dates?’ said Kurt. ‘Oh my God – do you think I’m that serial killer? No way! I know absolutely nothing about these women. I am not a rapist or murderer. I’m just a regular loser, playing a fucked-up video game.’ Kurt looked from Ren to Robbie. ‘I don’t even have to look at those dates,’ he said. ‘Home, home, home, home, home, home: alone.’

  ‘Who do you think would set you up?’ said Ren. ‘Who would have reason to do that?’

  ‘Set me up? I’m not … this is, like, a nightmare. I’m not … who would set me up? This is the greatest ever mind-fuck. I need to wake up from this. I need to wake up.’

  ‘Level 10 of Hufuki has real women,’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes, but not real real,’ said Kurt. ‘They’re women who like to pretend they’re being hurt. It turns them on. That’s not my problem. They’re not actually hurt. I’m not actually hunting them. This is all fantasy. Don’t you people get fantasies?’

  ‘Kurt, we’ve taken a look at a map of your property.’ Ren unfolded it and handed it to him.

  ‘Let’s take a little drive,’ said Ren. ‘Down to here.’ She pointed to a row of barns.

  ‘Mm, I don’t know … do we have to?’

  ‘Do I look like someone who does things I don’t have to?’ said Ren.

  Kurt shook his head. ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Well, let’s go, then.’ She looked at Robbie. ‘Can you please take him via his wardrobe?’

  This is not a pants-optional trip.

  When they had driven a mile through Vine’s property, they began to see smoke rising up through the trees.

  What the fuck?

  ‘Where’s that coming from?’ said Ren.

  ‘Oh my God!’ said Kurt. ‘I don’t know! Near the barns?’

  As they got into the clearing, they could see flames. They screeched to a stop.

  Fuuuuck!

  Robbie put a call in to the fire department.

  ‘They won’t be here for at least half an hour,’ said Ren. She turned to Kurt. ‘What’s going on here?’

  He was wide-eyed. ‘I don’t know! I don’t know! I was in the house. You saw me. I couldn’t have done this.’

  ‘This has been burning quite some time,’ said Ren to Robbie.

  Ren jumped out of the Jeep. Robbie jumped out after her. ‘Ren! Don’t! It’s not safe.’

  ‘It’s fine!’

  She was hit with a wall of heat.

  ‘Don’t be crazy!’ said Robbie.

  She kept running. ‘Don’t leave Vine!’ she said. ‘Stay where you are!’

  I’m in the middle of a fire … what the fuck?

  She ran toward the barn and could see, through the smoke, it was filled with chopped timber. In front of it was a wooden box, about six feet long, twenty inches wide and with KEEP OUT! and DANGER DO NOT ENTER! written on it in child-like cursive.

  What’s in there?

  She ran closer. She was coughing, her eyes started streaming.

  ‘Ren!’ roared Robbie. ‘Get back!’

  She stopped. It looked like the box was moving.

  It’s my eyes watering.

  She blinked.

  That box is definitely rocking.

  The flames were moving closer to it.

  The box rocked again.

  What the fuck is in there?

  ‘Shit!’ she roared, glancing back at Robbie. ‘There’s somebody in there!’

  She held her arm in front of her face, and ran into the barn. The flames were intense, the smoke rising.

  Even if I can reach that, I won’t be able to move it.

  It’s too hot. I can’t …

  She ran back out of the barn, and over to the Jeep.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Robbie, panicked and wild-eyed. ‘Are you insane? Get in the Jeep, and we’re driving out of here.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said Ren. ‘Ther
e’s someone in there. There’s a box in there, and I saw it move.’ She got into the back of the Jeep and grabbed Kurt Vine by the throat. She slammed his head up against the window. ‘What the fuck is in that box?’ she said. ‘Is there someone in that box?’

  Vine was white-faced. ‘What box? I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ he said.

  ‘There’s a box in there – about the size of a coffin, and—’ She released her grip for a moment. ‘Oh my God! It’s Amanda Petrie. Is Amanda Petrie in there?’ She tightened her grip and struck Vine’s head off the glass again.

  She didn’t even hear Robbie shouting her name.

  ‘Get the fuck out of this Jeep, Vine, and we’re going to go in there before that thing goes up in flames, and—’

  ‘Ren!’ roared Robbie. ‘We’re not going in anywhere! The fire department will be here in minutes. Whatever is happening in there, there is nothing we can safely do until they arrive.’

  ‘There’s a woman in there who could be about to be burned alive!’ said Ren.

  ‘That structure could collapse at any moment!’ said Robbie. ‘Ren – don’t make me cuff you to this Jeep.’

  ‘Are you nuts?’ said Ren.

  They heard a loud bang as a section of the roof of the barn collapsed. As Robbie was distracted, Ren jumped out of the Jeep and ran for it.

  Jesus Christ. The smell. The heat.

  She heard the Jeep door open behind her. ‘Ren!’ Robbie called. ‘Ren, get back here now.’

  The flames were rising, crackling, sparks were shooting into the sky. Ren turned back to Robbie, and heard another crack as a bullet exploded into the glass beside his head.

  Oh my God! No!

  Robbie crouched down, withdrew his sidearm, fired in the direction of the shooter.

  Ren did the same.

  What the FUCK?

  She veered right, diving for cover in the trees.

  Shots rang out again, coming from the trees opposite her. Crouching down, she made her way back toward Robbie.

  The Jeep was standing between him and the shooter.

  ‘What the fuck?’ said Ren.

  Robbie turned to Kurt Vine. ‘Get out,’ he shouted. ‘We need to take cov—’

  The back window shattered with the next round of shots. Ren and Robbie returned fire. For a brief moment, it went quiet. The only sound was the growing fire, the crackle of burning timber.

  Nothing from Kurt Vine.

  Ren pulled open the back door of the Jeep.

  Oh, Jesus.

  Kurt Vine was slumped, lifeless, on the floor, a bullet through the back of his head. More shots rang out, striking the trees behind Robbie.

  Motherfucker!

  The shooter fired, again peppering the trees at either side of Robbie and Ren, sending up an explosion of splinters. Ren and Robbie returned fire.

  Oh, fuck. This guy is good. This guy is good. Fuck.

  ‘We need to get out of here now,’ said Robbie. ‘Get in.’

  I’m a better, faster driver. A vehicle is a bullet trap. ‘Only if you’re fucking fast,’ said Ren.

  ‘Get in,’ said Robbie, his eyes bright with fury. He crawled into the driver’s seat of the Jeep, crouching low. Ren slid in beside him.

  Robbie started the engine.

  The Jeep exploded with gunfire again.

  ‘Go, go, go,’ said Ren. ‘Right for him!’

  The windscreen shattered as more shots were fired. The front of the Jeep was hit, over and over.

  Keep going, keep going. Drive on. We have to get this guy.

  But Robbie swung a sharp left, and the Jeep rocked back and forth along the bumpy ground to where they came from.

  ‘Robbie!’ said Ren. ‘For fuck’s sake!’

  ‘Are you nuts?’

  The next shots hit the two back tires, and the Jeep lurched.

  Nooo!

  Then, from ahead of them in the trees, came the sound of sirens.

  Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God.

  The gunman fired one more time.

  Ren went to get out of the Jeep.

  Robbie reached over and grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the Jeep hard. ‘Don’t even think about it. Don’t.’

  34

  It was two days before Ren and Robbie could return to work – two days of the Shooting Incident Review team poring over the scene of the shooting, analyzing the trajectory of the bullets, the results of Kurt Vine’s autopsy, interviewing Ren and Robbie to determine whether or not they followed procedure. The report would come back describing events from the moment they arrived at Kurt Vine’s house to when emergency services arrived at the scene.

  The body in the box was that of Amanda Petrie. Whether she had been alive when Ren arrived was impossible to tell, but she had certainly been alive when she was cuffed inside it at the wrists and ankles. The box had been rescued by firefighters before the flames had reached it, preserving the cold facts of the brutality Amanda Petrie had suffered before she died. She had been beaten, raped, and stabbed, then locked away in a box that had been tailor-made to take a captive, a box that appeared to be a much-used, years-old prison.

  Ren walked down the hallway into Safe Streets.

  ‘My girl is back!’ said Everett, coming toward her. He hugged her.

  Ren pulled away, grabbing his arm. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you—’

  ‘Ooh – nice perfume,’ said Everett at the same time. ‘Very nice. Fresh like laundry and—’

  Ren was shaking her head. ‘Are you serious? This is not about the perfume. It’s what the perfume is covering up. The shower in the filthy man-gym was broken. I boxed for one hour before I knew that. And the water is cold here. Some fuck-up with the heating.’

  Everett rolled his eyes. ‘You’re hardly a sweaty lumberjack.’

  She released his arm. ‘Do I not absolutely stink? I won’t go as far as to smell my armpit. I can barely even say the word.’

  ‘So, seriously – you were taking me aside to tell me about the shower …’

  Ren nodded. ‘I didn’t want you to think this was a new direction I was going in.’

  ‘In your absence, I’ve been going through a list I compiled of all the other freaks who play Hufuki. Three thousand, nine hundred and seventy-seven of them across the country. Forty-nine of them were twelve years old. Can you believe that?’

  ‘I think the world is too much for me,’ said Ren. I need comfort. I want to hide away.

  She left him and went into the bullpen. There were boxes and books and other random objects stacked on top of Everett’s desk. She glanced across the room, where Everett’s laptop was now on a perpendicular desk by the window, facing away from her.

  Oh my God. Everett has requested to be moved away from me.

  He hates me.

  Be cool.

  Everett came back from the kitchen with coffee for both of them.

  Ren gestured to his new desk. ‘What’s all this?’

  ‘Gary told me to move.’

  ‘For good?’ Panic. Panic.

  ‘I hope not – I won’t be able to see your purty face.’

  ‘Nor I yours. Farewell, sweet prince.’

  Ren went to the kitchen to make coffee. Robbie was sitting at the table drinking hot chocolate.

  You’re like a little boy sometimes.

  He glanced up at her.

  No smile. No warmth.

  Shit.

  She sat down with her coffee beside him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I really am.’

  He still looked livid. ‘That was officially the most terrifying thing I’ve ever gone through.’

  ‘I know that—’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I really don’t think you do. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t have done what you did if you had a clue what the reality of that situation was.’

  ‘What? I didn’t—’

  ‘Ren, I covered your ass in that interview with the Shooting Review team. I watered down some of your actions. And I’m sitti
ng here thinking, was that the right thing to do? Like, was that actually a dangerous thing to do? What if I had thrown caution to the wind too and I had run after you into that burning building, and we were both out in the open? We could have gotten killed. You’re my friend, Ren. If you had gone in there for any longer, or made it back in there the second time, I think I might have gone in after you. I would have taken that risk. And I shouldn’t have to. It was so unpredictable, and you made it more so.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘But … we’re fine. We made it. It’s OK.’

  He just looked at her, stood up, shook his head, and walked out.

  Gary came in as she was still sitting there.

  ‘Hi,’ said Gary.

  ‘Hi,’ said Ren. ‘I was wondering why you moved Everett …’

  ‘Is it bothering you?’ said Gary.

  You and your penetrating gaze. You know it’s fucking bothering me. ‘No – I just thought he fit in so well where he was. I think we work well together. I just don’t get why you moved him. I’d just like to understand the thinking behind it.’ Because I feel like you are testing me, that you’re rearranging the pieces on the board to see how I’ll react. Because I don’t feel like I can handle change right now. And I think you know that. And you’re manipulating it. You’re screwing with me to see if I’ll break.

  ‘There’s a problem with the wiring at his desk,’ said Gary. ‘There’s an electrician coming in to look at the sockets. I’d rather he was not electrocuted before then.’

  Oh. ‘When is the electrician coming?’

  Gary’s tone was patient. ‘Next week. Don’t look so traumatized.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Leave me alone. Are you trying to provoke me? A whole week, though?

  ‘And at least your buddy, Rodney Viezel, will have his concerns addressed.’

  ‘No more calls to me!’ said Ren.

  Everett knocked on the open door.

  ‘Can I have a word?’ he said.

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Gary.

  ‘So, I’ve been looking into Kurt Vine’s financials,’ said Everett, ‘and eleven months ago, someone wired ten thousand dollars into his bank account, via his website donation facility. I haven’t been able to trace where it came from.’

  ‘A one-off payment?’ said Gary.

  ‘Yes,’ said Everett.

  ‘What’s on this guy’s web pages?’ said Gary.