Free The Killing Game by Iris Johansen Page A

again.”
    “Maybe.”
    “He'll call. And I want you to be ready for him. Can you bug the phone?”
    “Hasn't Joe arranged that yet?”
    “I was a little busy last night,” Joe said dryly. “Besides, getting my department to do the bug will require finesse, because the Atlanta PD is fighting becoming involved.”
    “Then they're fighting a losing battle if those two boys are who you think they are.”
    “Let me find out,” Eve said. “Give me a skull.”
    Spiro was silent.
    “Give it to me.”
    “It could be dangerous to involve you any more.”
    “I couldn't be more involved.”
    “Yes, you could be, if this man who called you is really the murderer of those people at Talladega. Right now he's looking at you as a passive victim and feeling a wonderful sense of power. That might even be enough for him. But the minute you take aggressive action, he could become angry and desperate to reassert himself.”
    “It won't be enough for him.” She stared him in the eye. “And I won't be a passive victim. That son of a bitch has Bonn—that little girl's bones. He killed her.”
    “Possibly.”
    “Probably. He knew about those boys. Can you get enough DNA for an analysis?”
    “We're trying. The bones are pretty shattered and—”
    “And then there will be another delay while the samples are analyzed. Give me a skull.”
    Spiro raised his brows and glanced at Joe. “Obstinate.”
    “You don't know the half of it. Better give her a skull.”
    “Are you going to be responsible, Quinn? I'm not kidding about any initiative raising the ante.”
    “I'm the only one responsible for me,” Eve said. “Give me a skull.”
    He smiled faintly. “I'd be tempted to do it if I didn't know what a—”
    The phone rang.
    Joe started toward the phone by the door.
    “Wait.” Spiro nodded at Eve. “Pick it up. Is there another extension?”
    The phone rang again.
    “Kitchen,” Joe said.
    Spiro ran to the kitchen, and Eve picked up the receiver at his signal. “Hello.”
    “Listen carefully.” The voice was unmistakable. “I know you probably have this phone bugged by now, and I'm not going to stay on the line long. From now on I'll call you on your digital phone.” He chuckled. “Did you enjoy your trip to Talladega? Cold night, wasn't it?”
    He hung up.
    She slowly hung up and turned to Spiro.
    “He's using a mechanical voice distorter,” Spiro said. “Is that how he sounded before?”
    “Yes.”
    “Interesting.”
    “He knew about my trip to Talladega. He must have followed us.”
    “Or he's bluffing.”
    She shivered. “I don't think he's bluffing.”
    “Neither do I.” He shrugged. “I'll give you your skull. It's not going to make any difference. He's going to play out his scenario no matter what we do.”
    “How can you tell?” Joe asked.
    “There are two kinds of serial killers. The disorganized and the organized. A disorganized killer is spontaneous, random, and sloppy. Talladega has some of the marks of an organized killer. Bodies hidden and transported. Weapon and evidence absent. We'll probably find other signs as we go along. Your caller's being very careful not to be recognized. There's nothing sloppy about this man, which fits the usual pattern.”
    “What's the usual pattern?” Eve asked.
    “Average to above-average intelligence, aware of police procedures and may even associate with the police. Owns a car in good condition, travels frequently, usually commits crimes out of his area of residence. He's socially adept, has verbal skills that he uses to—”
    “That's enough.” Eve shook her head. “You argued with me but you believed this man is the Talladega monster all along, didn't you?”
    “My job is to take the supposed truth apart and look at it every way possible.” He headed for the door. “When he calls again, write down everything he says the moment you hang up. Digital calls are tough to trace, but I'll arrange for a bug on the house phone. He might decide to call on