Dangerous Games by Michael Prescott Read Free Book Online Page B

speed.”
    “Oh, I see. I suppose that’s understandable, then.” She sounded dubious. “Well, last year, someone was stalking me. He was arrested, sent to prison. Now he’s out.”
    “He was sent to prison on a stalking conviction?”
    “Yes, but it should have been kidnapping.”
    “Kidnapping?”
    “He was planning to kidnap me. They found the evidence. I said all this in my first phone call.”
    “Can you remember when you made this call?”
    “Of course I remember. It was just this morning, after I read the story in the Times . They quoted the text of that message he’d made the second woman write.”
    “And why did you call this morning?”
    “Because the wording of that message was very similar to a message he sent me.”
    Tess was beginning to feel mildly intrigued. “You say this man was only recently released from prison?”
    “That’s right. Last December. He served less than a year. Can you imagine? Ten months for what he did. No wonder this city is falling apart, when they let animals like him—”
    “You said there was a connection to Mobius?”
    “This man was obsessed with Mobius. So when I heard you’d been brought in, right after I’d made my call, naturally I assumed there was something in this case connecting it with Mobius and that’s why you were here.”
    “Ms. Grant, will you be home this evening?”
    “Yes, I will.”
    “Would it be possible for me to come see you?”
    “Absolutely. I can’t believe that no one has followed up on my first call. It’s been hours—and there’s rain in tomorrow’s forecast. What do you people do all day? The police, the FBI—we can’t count on any of them anymore….”
    She went on this way until Tess had a chance to take down her address. She lived in Bel Air, conveniently close to Westwood. Tess promised to be there as soon as possible and hung up before the woman could begin another diatribe.
    She rummaged through the tips until she found the one from Madeleine Grant. She knew she shouldn’t run down the lead herself. That wasn’t her job. She was supposed to pass it on to Michaelson. But if she passed it on, it might not be covered for days. And she had a feeling about this one. Or maybe she just wanted a little drama in her life.
    She reviewed Madeleine’s tip. Only the bare outline of her story had been taken down, and the details remained obscure. There was just one fact in the report that had not been included in their conversation—the name of the man who’d been sent to prison for stalking her, the man obsessed with Mobius.
    His name was William Kolb.
     

 
    4
     
     
    Kolb lay on his futon, staring up at the dark ceiling. Behind the drawn window shade, night had fallen over Los Angeles.
    But even in darkness and solitude, he couldn’t escape the events of the day.
    “Live with your mama, don’t ya, rent-a-cop?”
    “You bet he does. He gives it to his mama every night.”
    “That true, man? You do it with your madre ?”
    Their voices snapped at him like small angry dogs. The kids passed him every day—young pachucos , gangbangers, or would-be gangbangers, anyway—and they always made comments as they went into and out of the store. They would laugh and make gestures and hand signals, and toss off jokes in Spanish that he couldn’t understand, trying to impress their girls, the tattooed, nose-ringed, overly made-up girls who hung with them.
    “Shit, man, don’t ya even speak English?”
    “You must be one sad dude, gettin’ stuck with this job. Guys cleaning toilets got more dignity than you.”
    That had made their girls laugh, showing their white teeth. There had been two girls and three boys, none older than seventeen. Their faces were dark-skinned and broad, like Inca carvings.
    “Don’t you got an answer, jackoff?”
    “Screw it, this guy’s too dumb to say nothin’. Just stands there. He’s a gork, man. Friggin’ brain-dead.”
    “Bet he stands there when it’s a hundred degrees.”
    “Shit,