CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Vic pressed the accelerator harder, pushing the rental car to ninety miles per hour on the empty highway stretching east from Los Angeles.
The speedometer needle climbed past the legal limit, but he did not ease off.
Every second counted. He blasted around two cars ahead of them, the desert opening up around them like a whole new world.
Vic sat in the passenger seat with one hand braced against the dashboard. "This case is so different from the others that I think there might be a ray of hope there…no matter how this case turns out," she said.
“How do you figure that?” Miles asked.
"Well, first of all, Lisa Anderson escaped. And now it looks like we might actually save Vivian Bennett if this is related to our killer. Slip-ups like these haven’t happened with any of Kane's other disciples. They would have made damned sure the victim died."
"Maybe having Kane locked up is affecting them," Miles said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"The other disciples had their leader coordinating everything, guiding their missions.
These newer ones are operating without that direct connection.
They're following his philosophy but they don't have Kane himself telling them exactly what to do. "
"You think they're less confident knowing that he’s been captured?"
"I think they're making mistakes they wouldn't have made if Kane was still free.
" Miles took the exit toward the desert, the car's tires squealing slightly as he took the turn faster than was safe.
"Anderson survived because the sedative wore off early and she took a risk by jumping.
That's a miscalculation. The killer didn't account for someone waking up sooner than expected. "
"That, or Anderson just got lucky." Miles really didn’t like this new pessimistic side of himself that Kane was bringing out, but it was quickly becoming a large part of him. Hopefully bringing in a few more disciples and saving a few lives would help kill it off.
"Maybe,” Vic admitted. “But now we have a second potential survivor in Bennett.
If we can reach her in time, if Lawson's location data is accurate and she's still alive, that's two failures in one week for this killer.
" She paused to let that sink in for a moment before adding: "That's not the kind of success rate Kane would have accepted from his disciples. "
Miles nodded because he knew she was right. Either their helium killer was simply not as well-trained or prepared as the other disciples, or this could be an indication that the disciples as a whole had been knocked down a notch now that their leader was behind bars.
Vic checked her phone for the GPS coordinates Morales had given them. "We're about ten minutes out. The location is off-road, probably a few hundred yards into the desert from the nearest access point."
Miles edged the car a bit faster, the wheels humming.
They sat in silence for a little over five minutes, until Miles spotted the turn-off ahead, a dirt service road that branched away from the highway into the open desert.
He slowed just enough to make the turn without losing control, then pushed the car forward again.
The rental was not built for off-road driving but he didn’t have a choice.
The suspension bounced and protested as the tires hit rough terrain. The car groaned beneath them.
The car kicked up dust as Mies sped ahead, trying to quickly get accustomed to the terrain; the car felt like it wanted to slip now, despite the mostly hard-packed dirt.
"There," Vic said moments later, pointing ahead. "I see vehicles."
Miles saw them, too—at first as just flickers of sunlight bouncing from glass.
But then he could make out a white pickup truck that looked like it had spent a good deal of time out in the desert, its paint faded.
Next to it sat a black cargo van, newer and cleaner.
Both vehicles were parked about two hundred yards off the service road, sitting in the middle of scrub brush and sandy dirt.
And above them, impossible and surreal, a cluster of weather balloons floated in the clear morning sky. They were a strange silvery color, almost like aluminum foil. Miles and Vic not seen them clearly from the paved road because, much to Miles’ relief, they were not yet in the air.
Miles slowed the car as they got closer, his brain trying to process what he was seeing.
The back tires slipped a bit but he managed to keep the car under control.
Miles knew what he was seeing, but his brain seemed to find it hard to process: a man hung suspended from the balloon cluster, his arms wrapped around another figure.
The balloons strained upward but could not lift both of them off the ground completely.
The man's feet dragged in the dirt as the balloons pulled, creating a grotesque tug-of-war between gravity and buoyancy.
"That's got to be Lawson and Bennet," Vic said. "He must have grabbed her before she could fully launch."
“Then where’s the killer?” Miles asked, wondering if Lawson had already killed him.
Miles brought the car to a stop about twenty feet from the vehicles and killed the engine. He and Vic jumped out simultaneously, their hands going to their weapons as they assessed the scene. Immediately, he got a much better sense of what was going on.
Donald Lawson was holding onto a woman Miles assumed was Vivian Bennett.
She was strapped into a harness similar to the ones Lisa Anderson had described as well as the ones found on the remains of the first two victims. There were several weather balloons attached to clips on her shoulders and torso.
Her eyes were open but unfocused, the sedative still affecting her motor control even if she was conscious.
Lawson had his arms locked around her waist, his entire body weight pulling against the balloons' lift.
And standing about twenty feet away from them, watching the whole scene with an expression of fascination as he leaned drunkenly against the black van, was a man in his late twenties. Blood was running down his face from a gash above his left eye and he looked dazed
The killer, Miles assumed. Apparently Lawson had clocked him before going for Bennett.
He looked almost exactly like the partial profile from the climbing gym footage (though there honestly hadn't been much to go on).
His clothes were disheveled and there was dirt on his jeans like he had been knocked to the ground recently.
Through his hazy eyes as he came around from whatever Lawson had done to him, he turned his attention to Miles and Vic.
And then, with speed that defied his wounded state, his hand moved toward his jacket pocket.
"FBI!" Vic shouted, drawing her weapon and moving forward. "Don't move!"
But the killer's hand was already pulling something from his pocket. It was some sort of small remote control device with a single red button visible on its surface.
Vic surged forward, closing the distance between herself and the killer in three long strides.
As she did that, a decision was easily made for Miles as he ran in the opposite direction.
He ran as hard as he could over toward Lawson and Bennett, holstering his weapon so he could use both hands to help Lawson pull her down.
"Just keep pulling!" Lawson's voice was strained with effort. His arms shook from holding Bennett's weight against the constant upward pull. "She's still drugged, and I can't get her out of the harness by myself."
Miles reached them and grabbed onto Bennett's legs, adding his weight to Lawson's. The balloons sagged slightly as the additional mass overcame their lift capacity. Miles could feel the harness straps cutting into Bennett's body as they pulled her toward the ground.
"The clips are on her shoulders and waist," Lawson gasped. "We need to release them or she'll just float away again when we let go."
Miles worked his way up Bennett's body until he could reach the first clip on her left shoulder.
The mechanism was designed to be difficult to release accidentally, which meant it required deliberate pressure in exactly the right spot.
His fingers found the release tab and squeezed.
The clip popped open and one of the balloon clusters separated from the harness.
The remaining balloons pulled harder, trying to compensate for the lost lift. Keeping them down, even with the anchor of Bennett, was much harder than he'd assumed it would be. Lawson adjusted his grip as Bennett's body shifted in his arms.
Over by the black van, Vic had reached the killer. She grabbed his wrist as he tried to press the button on the remote, forcing his arm away from his body. "Drop it!"
The killer twisted in her grip with surprising strength.
His free hand came up and caught Vic in the shoulder, not hard enough to seriously hurt her but enough to throw off her balance.
They struggled for control of the remote, both of them fighting for leverage.
Watching it, it took everything within Miles not to rush over and assist.
Instead, he released the second clip on Bennett's shoulder. More balloons separated from the harness and floated away. The remaining lift decreased significantly and Lawson was able to lower Bennett closer to the ground.
"One more," Miles said, reaching for the clip at her waist. This one was harder to access with Lawson's arms wrapped around that exact spot. "You need to adjust your grip."
Lawson shifted his hold slightly, giving Miles just enough room to work.
Miles found the final clip and pressed the release tab.
The mechanism resisted for a second, then popped open with a satisfying click.
The remaining balloons separated from the harness and immediately shot upward, freed from the weight that had been holding them down.
They rose into the clear desert sky and drifted east on the morning breeze.