Mike rose out of his chair, trying to rouse himself. "Did you say something about the case?"
She beamed. "Sure did." She pointed to the evidence bag on the corner of his desk. "I know what that is. Or what it represents, anyway."
"Don't hold out on me, Baxter. How'd you figure it out?"
"I met someone who was wearing the same image on his lapel."
"His lapel?"
"Right. Told me he used to have the key chain, too, but it broke. Must be a flimsy link. Everyone seems to be losing them."
"And it is..."
"A club card, basically. A pass. Admittance to one of the city's most prestigious corporate dining suites."
"What's a corporate dining suite?"
"Where have you been all your life, Morelli?" In truth, she hadn't known either, until about fifteen minutes ago, but she might as well milk this one precious moment of one-upmanship for all it was worth. "All the biggest corporate headquarters have private dining rooms. Some of them are four-star restaurants, with private chefs and fancy linen and the works. The Williams Companies have a great one, for example."
"But this doesn't look like the Williams Companies logo."
"It isn't. It isn't anyone's public logo. This was created just for the dining room. Only the top administrators and executives got it."
"And you learned this... how?"
All the possible responses ran through Baxter's brain. Vast intelligence. Exhaustive research. Pummeling informants.
Aw, what the hell? He was her partner, after all. "I learned this because the joint was really busy and I happened to get waited on by the district manager."
"What joint?" he asked, grabbing her by the shoulders. "What are you talking about?"
"Haven't you guessed? The two hearts with the flat bottoms are actually
B
s lying sideways. The wispy art style is meant to suggest aroma and the hearts are intended to represent bliss." She paused. "Burger Bliss, to be precise."
Peter Rothko twisted Hayley Bennett's arm behind her back, sending searing blades of pain cascading through her body. The pain was so intense that tears sprang involuntarily from her eyes. He threw her down onto the floor in a corner, banging her head against a sink. He whipped out a pair of handcuffs and attached one end to her wrist, the other to the pipe beneath the basin.
Behind them, Gabriel Aravena stood like the castle sentry, his face emotionless.
"You must be feeling pretty lucky right now," Rothko muttered, tossing back his orange bangs. He was dripping with sweat.
No, Bennett thought, she was definitely not feeling very lucky.
"If that nosy neighbor of yours hadn't wandered into the office at the wrong time, you'd be dead right now. Wasn't very lucky for him, though." A smile curled across Rothko's face-a smile Bennett did not like in the least. "Don't worry. Your time will come."
"I won't tell anyone," she said, trying to catch her breath. She knew it was probably useless, but she had to try. "I never have."
"You never have because you never figured it out, until today." He reared back the palm of his hand and slapped her, right across the face. "As for the rest, I agree. You won't tell anyone."
Bennett couldn't stop her chest from heaving, couldn't prevent her arms from shaking. "Wh-what are you going to do to me?"
"I won't do anything, my dear. But your friend, Mr. Aravena... Well, that is another matter entirely."
"Gabe," she said. "I know you're a good person at heart. I know you
want
to be good. You don't have to do this."
"Oh, but he does," Rothko said, leering. He nudged Aravena. "Don't you, Gabe?"
Aravena obviously would've preferred to remain silent, but forced himself to speak. "I must do as he says, Dr. Bennett."
Tears spilled out of her eyes. "You can take control of your life, Gabe! You can be whoever you want to be."
"Enough of this psychobabble," Rothko said. "Gabriel, perhaps it's best you wait outside. I'll call if I need you again."
Aravena nodded, then slowly trudged out of the tiny room.
Rothko knelt down and squeezed Bennett's face. "I saw what you had in Frank's file. Your little description of me. That could've been very damaging, you know. Very damaging."
"I would never have told anyone."
"I wish I could believe you, my dear. But you appear to have been doing that very thing when I arrived. I can't trust you."
"You can! I promise-"
"Don't insult my intelligence." He shoved her back against the pipe. Bennett felt as if her head had been split open. She could feel blood trickling from her scalp.
"I'll... do... whatever you want me to do..." she gasped.
"A generous offer. But there's not really much you can do for me at this point, is there?" He stood and brushed off the front of his exercise suit. "I'm going back to your office now, Doctor, to make sure there aren't any other incriminating bits of information lingering in your files. Maybe I'll just burn down the whole damn place. I'd rather take care of you first, but there's no telling when another of your nosy neighbors might drop by. Don't worry, dear-I'll be back for you."
"Please don't hurt me!"
"I may need to ask you some questions about what I find-which is the only reason you're still alive. But after that-"
She clenched her eyes shut.
"Don't harbor any illusions about being discovered. I shut this place down weeks ago. No one comes here anymore. No one even comes close. You could scream your head off. No one will know-except Gabriel. And do you really want to attract his attention? When you're so lovely and so... vulnerable?"
Her stomach was in such turmoil she felt she could be sick at any moment. Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably.
He leaned in close, so near that she could smell his hot breath. "But I will return. Very soon. And when I do... it will be time for you to go. Just as it was for Erin. Just as it was for Sheila."
He gave her a kick to the side of the ribs, then left the room, leaving Bennett alone.
Even in her tears, even in the midst of the fear and panic that consumed her, she knew she had to do something. And quickly. Because it was evident Gabriel had not been taking his medication, and she knew him-and his problems-well enough to realize that she was a temptation, an opportunity for vengeance, that he would not be able to resist long.
And even if he did, when Rothko returned, he would kill her. For certain. And with pleasure.
Chapter 29
Baxter and Mike were both still in his office. Since Baxter had made the "Burger Bliss" breakthrough, they hadn't paused for a moment.
"Got it," Mike announced, slamming down the phone. "They're going to fax over a list of top executives and managers-everyone who had access to their private dining room."
"At this time of night?" Baxter was hunched over a short bookcase she had turned into a makeshift desk in the corner. "Nice work. How'd you manage that?"
"No biggie. Just proves what my ex-wife taught me."
"Hard work pays off in the end?"
Mike shook his head. "If you yell loud enough, you usually get what you want."
The fax machine in the hallway began to hum. Mike started toward it.
"Not only compliant, but expeditious. You gotta love it. I'll make a copy of the list and-"
"Mike!"
He stopped just inside the doorway. "Yeah?"
"Isn't Peter Rothko the guy who started Burger Bliss? And now he's like the third richest man on earth?"
"Yeah. So?"
She raised her head out of a mess of papers. "I was just reviewing the list you got from the marina. Out at Grand Lake, where Sheila Knight was killed."
"And?"
"Peter Rothko owns a cabin just a short piece down the lake from her." She paused. "And he owns a boat."
Mike stared at her, his eyes widening.
"He could've motored the boat from his cabin to hers," Mike said quietly. "Approached from the rear. That's why we never saw him."
"Hell, at this distance, he could've rowed it over. We wouldn't have heard a thing. Couldn't've." She stared at Mike intensely. "Of course, that doesn't prove anything. Could be a coincidence."
"Wanna hear another coincidence? I talked to Ben just a while ago. Rothko was in his office today. Volunteering information that incriminated Chris Hubbard."
Baxter's brow creased. "Why would he want to-" She stopped short.
Not another word was necessary. In the space of a breath they both had their coats and were halfway to the elevators.
Gabriel Aravena sat at an empty booth in the dark, trying not to think about what lay just beyond that door, not twenty feet away from him. It was a treasure beyond compare, one that only a few weeks ago he would have consumed with relish. Final vengeance against the woman who had tormented him, had pried into every intimate detail of his personal and private life. His sex life. His dreams and fantasies. The woman who had administered that hideous experimental drug. The satisfaction of taking what he had lusted after for so long. It would be so sweet...
He tried to turn his mind to other things. But nothing worked.
His palms were sweating. He was breathing in deep heavy gulps, like a man fighting nausea. He tried singing songs, reciting verse. No use. All he could think about was how wonderful it would be to take her as she was, chained down on the floor, to rip off her clothes, get what he wanted. She would scream and that would make it all the more delicious. It would be a sweet ecstasy, a rare delight-
He pounded his fists against his forehead.
Stop it!
he told himself. You are not a monster!
What was it Dr. Bennett had said? You can be whoever you want to be. How well she knew him, from all those sessions. How well she understood. She knew exactly how to get to him, to send him into turmoil. How clever she was. How much she deserved to be taken like an animal, to be hurt like-
"Stop!"
he screamed.
He covered his mouth with his hand. He had not meant to speak out loud. Not that anyone could possibly hear him. But talking to himself-screaming to himself, actually-that was the sure sign of a madman, wasn't it? That was proof that he had totally lost what little control he had ever had. That he would not be able to resist-
He could just leave. Rothko was gone and wouldn't return for at least half an hour. But how far could he go? Rothko had found him before; he would simply do it again. And the consequences could be horrible. Rothko had said that if he failed to obey, didn't do every single horrible thing he was told to do-
Then Rothko would reveal all the previous horrible things Aravena had done. He would tell the police, even.
Just as Aravena was finally achieving some measure of freedom, it would be snatched away from him. For something he had done so long ago. For a crime committed when he was sick, when he had all those urges he couldn't control.
But was he any better now? Or did he just like to think so? Here he was, once again, thinking the same old twisted thoughts. Thinking hard. Desperately wanting to open the door and-
And why not? Why the hell not? In this world of sinners, why must he be a saint? Why couldn't he do it? Just do it and do it and do it and-
His head fell, banging against the smooth Formica finish. He was so confused. Tears actually trickled out of his eyes, running down his cheeks and washing his face.
And then, as if the tears had washed away the turmoil, in a moment of brilliant clarity, he knew. He rose to his feet, excited, determined, resolved.
He knew what he was going to do. And he was looking forward to it.
"Are you sure you don't have any idea where he might be?" Mike barked into his cell phone.
"Sorry," Ben answered on the other end. "I don't."
"What about Christina? She's usually more on top of things than you, anyway."
"She's not around to ask. She's disappeared. Told Jones she wanted to talk to the shrink. Dr. Bennett."
"Blast." Mike pounded his steering wheel. He and Baxter had been driving all over town, looking for Peter Rothko, everywhere they could think that he might be. They'd been to the corporate headquarters, his regional office, his palatial home near Philbrook. He was nowhere to be found. "Did he say anything when he was there? Give any indication of his plans?"
"Not that I recall. He left in kind of a hurry, actually."
"He did? Why?"
"I don't know." Ben pondered. "He did ask me a few questions about Dr. Bennett, though, now that I think about it. Where she worked."
"How does he even know the woman?"
Ben considered. "I don't think he did."
"Then why in the hell-" Mike tried not to get agitated, but it was hard. Be it instinct or premonition, he was getting the distinct feeling that something bad was about to happen. Again. "Why did he say he was leaving? What were his exact words?"
"I think..." Ben closed his eyes. "He said he wasn't sure, but he was afraid a problem had just arisen. And he was going to have to eliminate it."
The silence on the phone line was deafening.
"You don't suppose..."
"What if he went to her office? Christina was going there, too."
Mike grabbed the detachable siren from behind his seat, slapped it on top of the Trans Am, and turned it on. "Give me Bennett's address." Ben did. "I'll call you as soon as we get there."
"Don't bother. I'm on my way."
Christina crept up to the darkened restaurant and flattened herself against the side wall. This was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done, and she had a pretty good list of contenders. Certainly Ben would think so, were he here, which unfortunately he was not. She was on her own, and even though she did not understand fully what was going on, she understood enough to know that it was stupid to go in there. When she was by herself.