"EJ. Tell me this isn't what I think it is." I typed in Psychic Junkie's e-mail address and hit send. Once again, Buddy's e-mail box chirped at her. Suddenly, my palms were slick with sweat. I stared at the screen, unbelieving. Buddy was Psychic Junkie? Why? Had she just been playing with me?
I thought back to the first time I'd heard her voice when she'd transferred my call to Maggie. That's when I'd told Maggie of my plan to go on-line in search of a chat group to learn more about psychics. And Maggie's phone had made that weird beeping sound that she attributed to Buddy's problem with transferring calls. Buddy had been listening in! Had she decided then and there to play a trick on Maggie's old girlfriend?
Suddenly, I was furious. What else had Buddy been up to? I wondered. I'd have given anything to get a look at her other mail. Had she pretended to be Claire Voyant, too? And Studly? If only I knew her password.
I tried logging on as Psychic Junkie and when the screen asked for my password, I typed in Buddy.
Invalid Password. Please try again.
If only I knew her last name. Or something about her. About all I knew was that she liked to kayak. I typed in kayak and waited.
Invalid Password. Would you like a hint?
Oh, would I! I loved these programs designed for people who forgot their own passwords. I wondered what kind of hint Buddy had left for herself. I hit the Yes box and waited.
What's my favorite letter?
Oh, terrific. That narrows it down, I thought. Most programs only allowed so many invalid tries before shutting down. No way I was going to get twenty-six chances. Suddenly, a thought hit me so unexpectedly that I felt sick to my stomach. Slowly, with trembling fingers, I typed in BuddyZ.
The screen flickered and hummed as Buddy's e-mail appeared before me. My heart was pounding.
There they were — every message I'd sent Psychic Junkie as well as those she'd sent me, though none of that really mattered. I had already reached for the phone and was dialing Martha's number, even as my gaze locked onto an unsent outgoing message.
I got Martha's pager and quickly punched in my cell phone number, remembering too late that Martha had turned her pager off in order to avoid talking to Grimes.
"Damn!" I said aloud, slamming down the receiver. My mind reeled when I spotted the heading on the unsent outgoing message. It was addressed to Cassidy James. I clicked the message twice to open it and read the first few lines with a pounding heart.
"Dearest Cassidy. If indeed you're reading this, then my congratulations. You should know that everything on this hard drive is rigged to crash ten minutes after my e-mail is opened, so you don't have much time. And if my e-mail isn't accessed within ten hours of my writing this, the hard drive will self-destruct anyway. Don't you love what you can do with a good virus these days?"
I scrolled down and realized that she'd written a damned novel! There was no way I was going to waste the time reading it. I needed to reach Maggie before they got to Grants Pass.
I yanked open drawers until I found a disk, then inserted it and downloaded Buddy's letter onto the disk. I ejected the disk and ran for the door. I was halfway there when I changed my mind and ran back into the group therapy room, shouting toward the hidden transmitter. "Grimes, if you're listening, Maggie Carradine is in danger. She's on her way to Grants Pass in a silver BMW with two kayaks on the roof-rack. The person with her is probably armed and dangerous. She's already killed at least two people and Maggie may be next on her list. This is not a joke, Grimes. This is for real!" I turned and raced for the front door, not bothering to lock it behind me.
I pushed the Jeep to the limit, half-hoping a cop would pull me over so I could get some assistance. I pulled my thirty-eight from the glove compartment and set it on the seat next to me, putting my foot to the floor. Think! I commanded. They had a half-hour's head start. But with the kayaks, they'd be taking it slower than usual. With luck, I might be able to catch them before they got to the river. If only I knew exactly where they were going!
Maybe Buddy had told me, I thought, reaching over with one hand to turn my laptop back on. I waited for it to boot up and then slid Buddy's disk into the slot. It didn't take me long to realize that there was no way I'd be able to read the letter and drive at the same time.
I grabbed my cell phone and prayed that I wasn't already too far out of cell range to make a call. Then I tapped in Todd Pal's number. On the seventh ring, he picked up.
"This better be good," he said. "I've got a hangover and I'm still half-asleep."
"Oh, thank God. Todd, this is Cassidy James."
He cut me off. "Look, I did the best I could. I got your message about two this morning, but I haven't had a chance to even think about it and—"
"That's okay. I need something else. This is really, really important. I figured out who the killer is and I'm on my way to meet her right now. I've got a letter from her but I can't read it and drive at the same time. If I e-mail it to you, can you read it to me over the phone?"
"The killer?"
"It's a long story. This will take a second, hold on." I was now on the windy road that led to Riverland and eventually to Grants Pass. I swerved around a motor home going about two miles an hour and started fumbling with the keys of my laptop, keeping one hand on the wheel.
"Todd, you still there?"
"Yeah, you've got my attention. Should you be talking to the police?"
"I already have," I said. Which wasn't entirely true. I'd paged Martha knowing her pager was turned off, and I'd talked into a transmitting device that I only hoped Grimes was monitoring. "Okay, I'm sending it now."
A moment later, Todd let out a low whistle. "Got it!" he said. "Whoa, this is weird shit."
"Aloud, Todd. Okay?"
I'd gotten behind a logging truck and was looking for a safe place to pass. The road was twisty and I was afraid the cell phone would start to break up soon. Todd read the opening and when he got to the part about the virus, he groaned.
"I hope like hell I didn't just download that virus onto my hard drive! Even with virus protectors you never know."
"Todd, could you hurry, please?"
"Okay, okay. 'Anyway, by now you've probably figured out that it wasn't Harold Bone or Donna Lee who beat Roy to a bloody pulp. And it wasn't sweet Stella Cane who took the bat to Hector Pena. And you know Maylene Macintyre never would've had the gumption to push her granddad over the cliff. Just like you don't have the gumption to leave the woman who's obviously been abusing you all this time.' " Todd paused, evidently thinking that one over, before he went on. " 'I was so disappointed, Cass. You seem so strong and sure of yourself. To find out that you'd let her treat you like that, well, it makes my blood boil. As you know, I was quite fond of Dr. Carradine. It hurts me to have to do this, but I made a vow. I'm sure you understand. You probably wonder why I'm telling you all this. Why I'd take the chance. It's not much of a chance, though, is it? The odds are with me. For one thing, you'd have to figure out my password. And why would you do that unless you've also figured out that I'm the one who's been sending you and Dr. Carradine your 'dreams'? Of course, I've left you plenty of clues. But still, the odds are on my side.' "
Todd paused and I could hear him draw a deep breath.
"Go on, Todd. Keep reading."
" 'So why am I bothering to write you if I don't think you'll really ever read this? Because, my dear Cassidy, it comforts me to believe that somewhere, there's someone out there who appreciates and understands what I'm doing. I wanted Dr. Carradine to appreciate it, but that didn't work out. I realized that after a while. That's why I started concentrating on you. I wanted you to understand the significance of my work. The hardest part, for me, has been the loneliness. Not being able to tell anyone of my triumphs. Even the greatest moment of my life has been kept secret. You're the only one I've ever been able to share it with. Mother was glorious, you know. Radiant, really. All lit up like a Christmas angel. It was the only time I really loved her, watching her burn to de
ath. Many times, I've wished I'd had the presence of mind to snap a photo of that moment. But never mind. The memory stays with me, as you well know' "
Todd quit reading and I took the opportunity to pass the logging truck. I didn't know what to say.
"Jesus," he finally muttered. "This is sick. You want me to go on?"
"Yes. And hurry. I'm starting to lose you."
"Okay, okay." He continued in the voice he'd adopted for reading the letter. " 'You never did ask Psychic Junkie the most important question of all, Cass. You should have asked how a person becomes this talented at sending! You think I was born with this gift? Well, perhaps, to some extent. But a gift like mine must be developed! Imagine the hours I spent, day after day, year after year, hiding in all the dark places, willing myself not to breathe, stuffed so far down between old blankets or tucked in such tiny crawlspaces that she wouldn't find me. It was in those places, where no light or sound or smell could reach me, that I began to learn to sense where she was. You see, I didn't start out as a sender. In the beginning, I was a true receiver.
" 'I remember vividly the first time I broke through to the other side, so to speak. I was in the trunk and already too big to really fit there. I remember being curled into the fetal position, my nose crammed against my knees, and I sensed her coming. I felt it as clearly as if I could see her. I knew she was looking for me. I knew she had the plastic bat, the one she liked to hit me with as a warm-up. My eyes were closed tight and, as I had done many times before, I began to wish fervently that she would go in the other direction. I found myself mentally directing her to turn around and go out into the front yard. I pictured it over and over. Just turn around, I told her. It would give me time to scramble out of the trunk and run in the other direction. Stop right where you are and turn around! I commanded her. I willed it, much as I had done hundreds of times before. And then something miraculous happened! She did as I directed!
"'I couldn't actually see her walk outside. I couldn't hear her footsteps, but I knew with every fiber of my being that she had done exactly as I wanted. You've no idea the exhilaration that moment caused! Not just to have escaped discovery. But to have beaten her! To have controlled her! From that moment on, every waking minute of every day, I practiced the fine art of sending.'"
I thought about the innocent child in my dreams and wondered why I hadn't known for sure that she was a girl. Because Buddy hadn't wanted me to, any more than she'd wanted me to know the Bad One was her mother. She was that good at sending, I thought. She wanted me to know how she felt, without giving me enough details to identify her. She had indeed become an expert manipulator. I shivered and forced myself to concentrate on Todd's voice.
"'She used to look at me so oddly sometimes, shaking her head, like she knew something wasn't right. Not that I could keep her from beating me all the time. But I became a master at misdirection. I sent her false images, buying myself time to get out of her way long enough for one of her "fits" to pass. I don't think she ever really got it until that last day, when she saw me standing at the foot of the stairs, smiling at her. With all my might, I directed her to stay where she was and let herself burn to death.
"'So, it's time to move on. By the time you learn of the accident, I'll be long gone. And unless you really do read this, you will think it was an accident. No reason to suspect otherwise, right? I've done a pretty good job of winning you over, haven't I?
"'Alas, I realize that you'll probably never lay eyes on these words, but it gives me a little thrill of fear and also excitement to think you might. I will carry that thrill with me, and think of you often. Sweet dreams. Yours truly, Buddy.' " By now, Todd's voice was breaking up badly.
"That's it?" I asked.
"Well, she typed a row of Zs across the bottom of the page, but other than that, that's all she wrote." The static between us was growing stronger.
"Todd," I yelled into the phone, "you know what I asked you last night about rearranging the data by fields instead of percentage scores? Do you think you can do that for me? I want all the arson victims whose first and last names start with Z." I calculated quickly. If Buddy was really twenty-two like she'd told Maggie, and she was around fifteen when she set her mother's house on fire, then we were looking for something that happened between 1988 and 1992. "That should narrow it down for you," I said.
"I'm having trouble hearing you," he said. "But don't worry. I'll get right on it."
I disconnected, wondering if knowing her real name would make any difference. She no doubt changed her identity at will. If she got away this time, there was no doubt in my mind that she'd start up again somewhere else. The only way to make sure that didn't happen was to catch them before they reached the water and launched their kayaks.
Chapter Sixteen
I tried paging Martha again when I reached Interstate 5 but my cell phone kept flashing the no service message, telling me I wasn't close enough to a transmitter to call out. Every time I came around a bend and saw a car up ahead, my heart lurched, thinking I might have caught up to them. But so far, there was no sign of the silver BMW. I kept a nervous eye on my gas gauge, hoping like hell that I'd reach Grants Pass before hitting empty. As it was, it was going to be close.
Finally, the red light that had been warning me for the past five miles refused to go off and I knew I needed to stop. I pulled into a gas station just outside of town and jumped out, waving at the attendant. It's against the law to pump your own gas in Oregon, but I wasn't going to wait around for him to notice me.
"It's an emergency!" I shouted, reaching for the pump. That did the trick. The man came jogging over and practically ripped it out of my hands.
"Can you tell me where they put in around here for Whitewater kayaking?"
"Depends," he said, irked at my impatience. "There's half a dozen good spots near here. Depends on what you're looking for."
"They said it was one of the best spots on the Rogue for white water."
"That'd be Moosehead Ridge, probably. Good fishing, too. Wouldn't catch me on that stretch of river, though. Starts out tame enough, but from what I hear, it turns nasty right quick."
"Can you tell me how to get there?" I asked, handing him a twenty.
"You don't want me to fill 'er up?"
"No. That'll be fine. Do you know how to get there?"
"Sure. It's not too far from here, in fact. Just go on back to the Interstate and head south for about four miles, then take the Moosehead Junction exit. You'll come to a fork. Take the gravel road that goes off to the right. They put in by the bridge. You can't miss it."
"Keep the change," I said, practically diving into the Jeep. I peeled off, knowing that if it was that close and I hadn't caught up to Maggie and Buddy by now, they may well already be in the water.
Two miles down the road I saw a sign for boat rentals and pulled off, leaping out of the Jeep before I'd even come to a complete stop.
"How much for a kayak?" I asked the startled, bare-chested teenager who was washing down a canoe.
"Thirty bucks an hour. A hundred for the day."
I reached into my wallet and pulled out five twenties, handing them to him. "I'll take this one," I said, heading for a bright red boat that was shorter and wider than the sea kayak I was used to. "Can you give me a hand?"
"Hey, you gotta fill out forms and stuff. You can't just take one. I need to make a copy of your driver's license and stuff like that."
I took out two more twenties. "Come on, this is an emergency. You can keep my PowerBook as collateral."
"As what?"
"Think of it as a deposit. You can keep it till I bring the boat back. Okay?" I bent over to pick up the kayak and was surprised it wasn't heavier. About thirty pounds, I figured. It was more awkward than heavy.
The kid looked around, shrugged and helped me slide the kayak into the back of the Jeep. "You got your own PFD?" he said, handing me a double-bladed paddle.
I looked at him blankly.
"Personal fl
oatation device." He rolled his eyes. "Life vest. Here. Take this. You need a helmet, too, and your spray-skirt. I shouldn't be doing this without getting your information."
"Here," I said. I took out my driver's license and handed it to him. "I'll be back. Honest."
"Okay. But just in case, where you headed? It's one of the questions we're supposed to ask.
"Just up the road," I said. "Moosehead Ridge."
"Great choice!" he said enthusiastically. "You sure you can handle class three?"
"No sweat," I said, lying. "I do it all the time." I smiled reassuringly and pulled back onto the highway, hoping that the boat would be an unnecessary precaution.
I found Moosehead Junction and followed the gas station attendant's directions, feeling a growing sense of dread with each mile that I didn't see Maggie's car. What if they'd gone somewhere else? Buddy had said they were going to the best Whitewater spot, though. And everyone seemed to agree that Moosehead Ridge was it. But maybe with Maggie's limited experience, they'd chosen a tamer route. Which would make sense, I thought, if they were just out for a day of fun. But for what Buddy had in mind, I suspected Moosehead Ridge would be her natural choice.
The gravel road gave way to dirt just as I reached the bridge. A clearing, large enough for half a dozen cars, had been carved out of the hillside, and Maggie's silver BMW glinted in the sunlight. My pulse raced as I scanned the area for them. There was only one other vehicle in sight, a yellow Corvette parked near the water's edge. I spotted a couple necking inside and ran to their door, banging on it.
"Hey!" the kid inside shouted, startled.
"Did you see the people in that car get into the water?" I asked, searching the river for a sign of them. The water appeared fairly calm, I thought.
"Yeah. They left about ten minutes ago."
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