The Tower

Jade also wanted coverage for all policemen and guards involved with Allander over the years, going back as far as the bust on Vincent Grubbs, Allander's molester. In fielding his request, McGuire had been his usual cantankerous self, pointing out that the FBI had already overextended itself on the case. Initially he had said he couldn't come up with the manpower, but Jade had pushed him on it. He didn't want anything left open, no matter how unlikely a target it was.

Despite the pain in his arms and shoulders, Jade continued to hammer at the bag. Something in the regularity of its sound and motion soothed him. Jab jab jab. Jab jab jab.

He couldn't get the images out of his head. Walking past the red skid on the entranceway floor. The woman's body sprawled out, maroon covering her chin and throat. The sixteen-year-old taped to a chair, his tongue also cut out. Allander had struck the boy on the head first to stun him so he'd be unable to bite.

The forensic pathologist concluded that his tongue had been removed before he received the terminal slit across the windpipe. Jade wondered what that had felt like. To feel someone's fingers prying into your mouth, removing some part of yourself and holding the bloody pulp before your eyes.

Allander's rage was flowering, bringing with it a new flush of sadism. He had started dismembering the sixteen-year-old before death. Up until now, he had mutilated his victims only after he'd killed them.

Jade switched to the power cross and hammered as hard as he could. Jab jab cross. The platform shook and he felt sweat streaming down the sides of his face.

Jade didn't care about the victims, exactly. He cared about them inexactly. They were grains of sand in an hourglass, scars to be tallied like points against him. Sometimes, he even hated them. They were glaring symbols of his imperfection. And right now, he couldn't shake them out of his head. He turned them over in his mind obsessively.

The ache in his shoulders brought Jade back to the speed bag. It was a blur of motion, but he seized it quickly between his hands. He lowered it slowly to a resting position.

Jade had a plan, but he didn't want to set it in motion until he was sure the time was right. Once he started that ball rolling, there would be no stopping it. However, with the way things were going, he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. Most of all, he couldn't stand the waiting. And now that he'd made the promise to Darby, he felt restricted, almost muzzled.

He had taken preemptive measures to try to protect Allander's next potential victims. As far as the lawmakers were concerned, he had covered all the bases. What he had to do now was come up with a situation so compelling that Allander would not be able to resist it, even if it meant he had to alter his plans. Jade's options were fairly limited. There was only one thing that could tempt Allander like that. When it came down to it, there had always been only one thing.

After showering for a half hour, Jade moved into his living room and gazed at the pictures and files that lay scattered on the floor. The TV droned on in the background.

Not a fucking trace. Not one. Allander had just disappeared into the countryside. There were enough woods and mountains to hide an intelligent convict for weeks, and this time they were dealing with a genius. He also had a whole network of roads and old farms to work with.

The cops and the feds had gotten there too late; no one had even responded to the ringing school bells for thirty-five minutes, and then it had taken them another twenty to get the experts in. Fifty-five minutes. No way. Maybe if they'd gotten there within twenty minutes, but even that would have been tough given the rough landscape. There were also enough streams and rivers to greatly reduce the effectiveness of the dogs.

Jade was pacing when a news story on TV caught his interest. He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

A photograph of Royce Tedlow flashed on the screen as the news anchor's soothing voice reported, "Forty-seven-year-old Royce Tedlow confessed to the murder of his wife, Frieda, early this afternoon. He cited her wearing of short skirts out in public as his reason for killing her. According to inside sources, he confessed in the face of overwhelming evidence."

Jade chuckled and shook his head. "Must've found the other glove," he mumbled. He turned back to the crime-scene photos of Allander's latest killings, only half-listening as the report continued. When he recognized Alissa Anvers's voice, he looked up again.

She stood before the front arch of a cemetery, the words "Midland Hills" curved in gold letters on top of the gate.

"-Henry and Janice Weiter, the first victims of Allander Atlasia's latest killing spree, were laid to rest today as their children looked on."