Face of Murder

Now that they were both among the eerily tranquil atmosphere of the grave sites, Zoe knew that her timing was going to be the most important thing. The road path curved slightly ahead, and Matthias was running straight down the path. It was as though, even though he had so far proven himself to be an able and ruthless killer, he still felt squeamish about running over the homes of the dead.

Zoe had no such problem. The dead were dead and gone. They couldn’t feel her shoes disturbing their peace.

She waited, waited, wanting to time it perfectly. The window of opportunity was closing. He had to turn, had to turn now and—

Yes! There! He turned to check that she was following, and then looked ahead again. She had time now, maybe thirty seconds that she could guarantee before he would look for her. She darted to the left, just managing to make it down a crooked path that followed the side of the old church building, yanking off her jacket and throwing it over a slanted gravestone by the path as she went.

It was a small enough church, and that was the good news. If it had been some kind of gothic monster, sprawling and gigantic, she would have never made it in time. But it must have been built in a time when the church was short on funding, or else the community itself was still much smaller, and there was no need for a grand building.

She forced her feet to move faster along the twisted paving slabs, right along the side of the church and then a sharp right turn to cross the back of it. She was counting the seconds in her head, imagining him. Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five—now she pictured him, swinging his head around to look. Not seeing her. Stumbling, faltering. Scanning the horizon, the paths off to the side. Confused. Seeing the jacket. Wondering if she had fallen. Squinting his eyes to try to make out if that was a body, or just a jacket.

Slow.

Zoe put all her faith and her belief into this one moment. It was a bitter irony to call on faith in a churchyard when she had never believed in God—not the kind of God that could abandon a small child with a mother like hers—but it was not that kind of faith she drew on.

This faith was in herself.

The final push had to be as she came around this next corner, swung around to the right again to bring herself back into full view of the graveyard. The meandering path that Matthias had chosen swung close to the church right at the exact moment that her path emerged from it, and this was her only chance. If she missed him now, it was over. She knew it. The burning in her lungs knew it. The strain in her calves knew it.

Zoe turned the corner, and he was gone.

She had been right in her calculations, both in the distance required and the pattern of his behavior. The speed he put on when he saw her had been matched by the speed that he lost when he could no longer see her. Out in the middle of the path, back there, the church would not have seemed like a threat. It was far away. Disconnected from the red herring clue she had left behind for him.

So where was he?

Zoe stopped dead, her momentum dissipating. She knew she had been right. From here, she could see across the graveyard and the paths they had followed. He was not there. He hadn’t gone back.

So, where?

She scanned the headstones, trying to think. There was only a certain radius of distance where he could be, where he could have gone while she was out of sight. Narrow the field down to that. Focus.

He was hiding—he had to be. He had worked out her gambit and tried to use it against her. He was moving slower, must have come almost to a stop when he realized. That narrowed it down more. Think, Zoe. Where?

Some of the grave markers were thin—crosses or single slabs of stone. Nothing to hide behind. There were three larger structures within the field of her view. Could he be lying down directly behind them?

None of this made sense. Not really. Why stop like that…?

Unless he was expecting her to run past and carry on, bypassing him completely. If he wanted to use the time to get away, he would have run back the way they came, leaving her scrambling to catch up again. He wasn’t on the path or in the distance. He must have thought he would have an advantage of some kind.

There was a rectangular structure not far from the path, coming up on the side. Long but low, an approximation of a coffin in stone. A carving of an angel sat on top of it at the head.

If she was him, if she was determined to fight and end the chase, she would hide there. She would crouch behind the tallest part, the angel, and wait. She could see it playing out in her head. Zoe would run by, somewhat startled, her momentum cut, looking for him. He would wait for her to pass and spring up, perhaps hit her over the head. Knock her out against the stone. Perhaps not stop until she wasn’t going to be chasing anyone, ever again.

He meant to kill her.

Zoe’s breath caught in her chest, but this was no time to hesitate. No one else was coming—not in enough time that she could rely on their help. If she waited, he might decide to run and get away from her again. She wouldn’t be fast enough. They were both still, not yet moving. He would have the advantage from a dead start.

There was only one thing she could do. One path that gave her the potential for a successful outcome.

Zoe didn’t think anymore. She crossed the path at a run, rounded the grave marker from the opposite side to where he was expecting her.

He was there! She had no time to think—no time to do anything but react. He was coming for her, a snarl on his face as soon as he saw her. His hands were fists. He meant to do her harm. If she let him, he would knock her down. Only one thing to do—one way to use his momentum against him. Too close to duck or dive—she would have to move—

They connected as she threw herself headlong at him, tackling him to the ground in a mess of limbs and spent breath and hard ground.

Matthias tried to struggle, but Zoe had the advantage of being on top. He managed to get a knee up and aim for her stomach, but she shifted her weight and it slammed into her hip instead. Painful, yes. Not as winding as the stomach would have been.

His leg was between them, enough to give him leverage. If he used it, he could push her, fling her against the stone grave marker. Follow up with a smash to her head. His eyes flicked to the side and she knew he was going to do it.

She rolled.

He yelped in surprise as her momentum drew him over too, first on top and then over again, Zoe’s legs grappling for purchase, pushing his down. She flung him to the side with all of her weight so that he was lying on his stomach. She had only a split second before he might get his legs under him. She threw her body forward, covering his, knocking him flat to the ground.

She pulled the handcuffs out from her belt and groped for one of his wrists, fitting them on as he kicked and swore. The second one was even easier.

Just like that, he was done.

He knew it, too. He stopped fighting and lay still. The wind was knocked out of him, and he pressed his face down against the cold floor.

“Matthias Kranz,” Zoe panted, feeling the pain as acid flooded her muscles. “I am… arresting you… for the murder of… Ralph Henderson, Cole Davidson… and Dr. Edwin North.”

The rest of the Miranda warning could wait until they had him in for questioning. For now, Zoe needed every last drop of oxygen in her lungs to call her partner and request backup.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Zoe hung back awkwardly. She was not sure what she should do, now that the moment was here. Inside, she was ecstatic, but that happiness was tempered by the still-guilty knowledge that she had caused all of this in the first place.

Dr. Applewhite stepped out into the reception area, where family members and friends would wait to pick up their loved ones upon their release from custody. Zoe wasn’t sure exactly which category she fit into at that moment, but relief flooded her heart when Dr. Applewhite saw her and broke into a smile.

“Zoe! You did it!”

Zoe wasn’t often one to give in to physical shows of affection, but for this once, she couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward and allowed herself to be embraced by Dr. Applewhite, craving the forgiveness and warmth that came from her arms. As she rested her head over Dr. Applewhite’s shoulder, if there were tears that sprang to her eyes, she told herself that it was a result of extreme fatigue and nothing else.

“They told me you caught the actual killer. That’s why I’m being released,” Dr. Applewhite said, pulling back altogether too early for Zoe’s tastes and looking into her face.

Zoe hastily wiped a hand over her eyes. “Early this morning. I came straight to see you as soon as we had him booked. Shelley is preparing to interview hm now.”

Dr. Applewhite frowned. “Is it a good idea for you to take part in that? You look exhausted. If your partner has been up all night as well, I’m sure she’s feeling the same way.”

Zoe gave her a wan smile. “We are FBI agents. If we cannot deal with one night without sleep, we are not worthy of the badge. Besides, this is our case. Handing it off to someone else now would be excruciating.”

Dr. Applewhite smiled back ruefully. “Well, I suppose that’s the way you do things around here.”

“Oh, not at all. If our superior knew, we would be in trouble. Probably sent home to rest.”

Dr. Applewhite laughed, and though there was certainly some tiredness in it, at least she could still laugh. “I’d better call my husband, get him to come and get me.”

“I already called. I had your home number saved.” Zoe nodded toward the parking lot. “I imagine he will be along very soon.”