The Tower

Jade pointed at the corpse between them. "The answer is always in the body. Multiple wounds this time. A full battering with an iron. At the first house, the killings were very neat. One awl through the eye, two swift swings of a hammer. His rage this time is less controlled. There's more anger here. The fewer the wounds, the more controlled the rage."

Travers looked at him. "Don't you only shoot once, Jade?" she asked.

He matched her smile, then his eyes narrowed and a serious expression spread across his face. Travers would have been scared if she hadn't recognized that expression. She left him alone with the body.

Jade finally left the house as night filtered in through the windows. On his way out, he went to the earthquake room and yanked on the rope. The deafening clang of the bell startled the agents still on the scene, and they glared at Jade as he walked to his car.

He didn't notice though. He just wanted to have the sounds of the bell in his ears as he left the scene.

Chapter 41

A L L A N D E R placed his toe in the hole of the faucet as he settled back among the bubbles in the steaming bath. He whistled a lighthearted tune, filling it with baroque trills, his notes resonating off the bathroom walls.

It was astounding how easy it had been. He had hot-wired an old truck he'd found in a neighboring barn and had sped off before anyone had even noticed the chiming bells, let alone phoned the police so they could set up roadblocks. It was doubtful that anyone would notice that the old truck was gone before tomorrow, and even more doubtful that it would be noticed and reported before then. The owners would probably consider it a blessing that the decrepit thing had been removed from their property.

As he had driven slowly through the streets of Palo Alto, Allander had noticed a Land Rover with suitcases and surfboards on the roof, and inside a smiling family. He watched as the car pulled out of the driveway of a somewhat secluded, colonial-style home.

After circling the block, Allander returned. He was about to break a window to get into the garage when he noticed a thermometer on the wall. Even though night was drawing near, it still showed eighty-seven degrees. He tapped it, holding a hand underneath; a plastic hatch opened on the bottom and a spare key fell out.

It fit the garage door, so Allander opened it and moved the truck inside, parking it next to a beautiful red Jeep. Getting into the main house was not a problem given that he had access to a full set of tools in the garage, and he smashed the alarm unit out of the wall and clipped the appropriate wires before it fully activated. The things you learn growing up in and out of prison, Allander thought. A practical education.

The large calendar on the refrigerator indicated that the family was gone for the week. He would steal nothing and leave everything precisely as he had found it, ditching the old truck when he got a chance. The only thing he couldn't fix was the alarm unit down-stairs, but he doubted that would attract much police attention if everything else was in order. It pleased him immensely to realize he was brilliant and uncatchable, daringly irresponsible and wildly imaginative. And he was relaxing in a warm bath.

He pulled himself out of the tub and walked around the upstairs without toweling off. Glancing at the cut in his fingertip, he noticed that it was healing well. He stopped in the hallway underneath a ceiling fan. The coolness of the air on his moist skin felt wonderful. He walked into the study, admiring the dark wood bookcases and the shelves of hardbacked books.

On an antique wooden chest in the corner sat two matching cell phones. How cute, Allander thought. His and hers. He walked over and checked the numbers, written neatly in the slots on the back. They were different. He picked up one phone in each hand, bouncing them lightly to feel their weight. They might come in handy.

Crossing the room to lean over the imposing oak desk, Allander turned on the computer. An Internet icon came up on the desktop, and he double-clicked it. He bit his lip and concentrated, casting his mind back to the computer magazines he'd read in prison. It made him sad to realize how much of the world he had missed during his years locked in a cell. There was so much he'd never seen.

The Internet screen came up, complete with a search box. Allander carefully moved the cursor to the box, then typed in a name. Jade Marlow.

After searching through a few dead ends, Allander came upon several entries from the San Francisco Daily. He was not surprised to see his own picture in the most recent newspaper article featuring Jade. The headline, "Marlow in Hot Pursuit of Serial Killer," stretched above an extremely unflattering photograph of Allander taken at one of his many court appearances. Allander read the caption aloud in a deep, booming voice, then chuckled. "Serial killer," he repeated disdainfully. "Don't these people have a sense of humor?"