“This is probably the last private place I’m going to have for a good long while. And even this is going to get ruined, with people coming around, and gawking, and wanting to know what really happened here.
“It’s kind of depressing. I mean, just because everyone knows what happened, it doesn’t mean they know why. Which of course is the whole point.
“All my new little friends at the FBI and Metro Police think I’m just some sadistic bastard who got away with the crime of the century. Well, I’ve got a news flash for them. As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t get away with anything. We’re all just right back where we started. And I know what I’ll do next. I will kill Alex Cross.”
Stop.
He looked down from the ridge at the old farm. The police and FBI had packed out by now, but you could see how the place had been picked over. There were still some shreds of yellow tape on a few trees, and a few stray pink flags in the dirt.
It was tempting to go down there and have a look around, but not yet. It was still too fresh.
Not that they could arrest him for being curious, but this was close enough for now. In fact, it was getting late. He took one last look, then turned and headed back into the woods.
Record.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should have just killed them while I had the chance. At least if Ethan and Zoe had died, it could have stood for something.
“But instead, all this did was prove my whole point. We live in this world where some kids are more valua
ble than others, I guess, and the average Joe on the street is just fine with that, so long as it’s not his kid getting screwed over or dying.
“Well, guess what? I’m no average Joe. I’m no kook, either. I’ve got a valid story to tell. People need to hear this, and I’m not going to stop until it’s done.
“You will not be forgotten, Zach. That’s a promise, my man. I’m going to make you proud if it’s the last thing I do. Your death will mean something by the time I’m finished.”
Stop.
He pocketed the recorder and kept the bow in hand as he walked the rest of the way, but even the rabbits seemed to be keeping their distance these days.
Whatever. He was too distracted to do any real hunting, anyway.
It was just getting dark by the time he came out of the woods and onto the old fire road, where he usually parked. His head was so full of angry thoughts, he didn’t even see the other car until he was practically on top of it.
That’s when he saw the cops, too. There were two of them standing there. One, he recognized by sheer size — the guy was closer to seven feet than six.
The other had a face that Rodney Glass would never forget. Not since they’d been nose to nose in that interview room in copland. He was a detective with the Washington police, and his name was Alex Cross, and he would be defeated too.
“PUT DOWN THE bow, Glass,” I said. “Put it down right now!”
He had a recurve on his arm, with the arrow pointed down at a forty-five-degree angle. It’s a weapon I’ve never fired before, never gone up against. I wasn’t sure what it would take to get a shot off. That’s why my Glock was out and pointed at his chest.
One reason, anyway.
Glass froze, but only for a split second. Then his face broke into a wide grin. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. This guy was cocky all the way to the final buzzer. It was impossible not to hate the man, no matter what had happened to his son. He was a kidnapper, with the heart of a murderer.
“Well, look who it is,” he said. “Are you going to shoot me out here in the woods? So nobody will know?”
“Is that what you think?”
“You heard the man,” Sampson said. “Put the bow on the ground and step back away from it. Do it now.”
Something flashed in Glass’s eyes. I’m guessing it was the memory of Sampson’s right hook on the car ride. In any case, he crouched down slowly, still watching us, and set the bow next to his car. Then he carefully slid the quiver of arrows off his shoulder.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked. “Seems like a strange choice, all things considered.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. People have been telling a lot of lies about me. I figured I might as well come out here and see what all the fuss is about.”
“Jesus,” Sampson muttered next to me.