by Blake Banner
Nancy looked at Dehan as though she was crazy. I asked her, “Have you got anybody you can stay with?”
She stared at me a moment, then said, “No…” like now I was crazy too. “I mean, I have a sister, but she has kids… How could I…?”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. I nodded that I understood. “We’ll leave a patrol car outside. You want a policewoman to stay here tonight?” She nodded. “Okay, we’ll arrange that.”
I made the call, and while Dehan sat with Nancy, I went around the house, checking the windows and the access points to see if there was any way he could get in. By the time I was finished, I was satisfied that, unless he was Spider-Man, the only way in for him was past the patrol car and the policewoman who was going to be sitting downstairs with her service .38, watching TV all night.
Sergeant Maria Fernadez, who had identified the shopping mall back at the station, volunteered and turned up within about fifteen minutes. When she and Nancy had settled in, I stepped outside into the drizzle with Dehan. I studied her face a moment. She looked exhausted.
“Stone, pull David in before he kills somebody.”
“The smallest miscalculation now and we could blow the whole thing, and that could cost many more lives, Dehan.”
“He is going to kill, just to show you he can.”
“On what grounds do we arrest him? And on what grounds do we hold him?” She looked away from me. Her jaw muscle was bouncing. “The closest thing we have to actual evidence points to Peter, not to Dave.”
She sighed and rubbed her face. “I know. What do you want me to do?”
“Go home. I want you to go home, disconnect, and rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“What about you?”
“I’m okay for the moment. I’ve got a couple of things I want to look into. Then I’ll get some sleep, too.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “But anything, and I mean anything, you call me. You understand?”
I smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. Come on, I’ll drop you off.”
It was a short drive, and we made it in silence, with only the slow, steady squeak of the windshield wipers and the wet hiss of the traffic outside. Inside the cocoon of the cab, the silence was almost comforting. Almost safe.
I pulled up in front of the big red stone building, and we sat a moment looking at each other.
“Call me, okay?”
I smiled. “I’m never sure how long to leave it. Two days seems a long time, but a day can seem needy.”
“Dork.”
“Hey, that was my nickname at school.”
“Good night, Stone.”
“Good night, Dehan.”
I watched her climb the five steps and let herself in. The door closed behind her, and I sat for five minutes wondering what to do.
I drove first to Revere Avenue and cruised slowly past the Smiths’ house. Then I drove up past Dave’s house. I don’t know what I expected to see, but whatever it was, I didn’t see it. Then I drove back to Nancy Pierce’s house and parked. I was about to get out and ask the patrolmen if there was anything to report when my phone rang. The number was withheld. I answered.
“Stone.”
There was a stifled giggle.
“Who is this?”
Then a voice that was mainly breath said, “Tick… tock… tick… tock…”
There was a moment’s silence, and the line went dead.
I called the precinct and told them to trace the last call to my number, but I knew it would be a disposable cell.
I got out and walked to the squad car. There was a hollow crunch to my steps. The wet road looked like polished bronze. The street was empty and cold. I leaned on the car. The patrolman had the window open and was looking up at me.
“Jones, right?”
“Yes, Detective.”
“He just called me. Stay alert. He could be nearby.”
He nodded.
I walked around the side of the house and into the back garden. It was very dark. The fence and the shed at the end were blacker shapes against the blackness. I took my time exploring every corner. The shed was locked. The garden was empty, and there was nobody on the other side of the fences. I went back around to the front and rang the bell. The sergeant opened up and let me in. I could hear the TV in the next room. I spoke quietly.
“He called.”
“What did he say?”
I shook my head. “Tick tock.”
“You think he’s here?”
“I don’t know. Is she asleep?”
She shook her head.
We went through to the living room. Nancy looked up, questioning me with her eyes. I smiled, though it wasn’t from the heart. “Everything is quiet.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“We are going to catch him.”
I sat on the sofa and pulled out the photograph of the mall. There was something about it that was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Dehan had been smart to see how it had been inverted, the relationship of the tree to the door and the letters. Nine out of ten people would not have spotted it, especially in a rush. That told me this guy was cunning.
The way he had angled and focused the shot so that any identifying marks were outside the frame. All you could really see was the big double glass doors with the light pouring out from inside. Then there was Nancy right in the middle of the doorway, reaching out with what seemed to be her right hand but was really her left. That made sense because she was holding something, a bag, with her right hand.
“You’re right-handed?”
She glanced at me. “Yeah…”
And then everything in the foreground was dark and out of focus. It was as though there was a split, two distinct parts to the picture. The dark blur of the foreground, and the bright clarity of the background.
I felt the hair on my head prickle, and I went cold. I was suddenly aware that I had been extremely stupid. I still wasn’t sure why, or how, but something in my mind was screaming at me that if the background was clear and the foreground was dark and blurry, the foreground was where I needed to be looking.
This was not about Nancy Pierce.
Then things started to slot into place. The hazy, grainy figure getting into or out of the car right in the foreground was wrong. It was what had been troubling me since Dehan spotted that the photograph was inverted. Because the person getting in or out was on the left of the car. You could just make out the steering wheel. But if the picture was inverted it ought to be on the other side.
My brain was scrambling. Had he cut the picture in half and only inverted the top? That didn’t make any sense. What would be the point of doing that? So what other explanation could there be? The only explanation was that the car wasn’t American. The car was English.
“Shit!” I shouted and ran. “Maria! Call Dehan. Tell her to be armed and check her apartment. He’s going after her! I’m on my way!”
I scrambled into my car and hit the gas. I called for backup and burned rubber down Crotona Park North, did sixty the wrong way on Crotona Park East, and skidded onto Southern Boulevard. Then I floored the pedal. It took me less than a minute to cover the mile, and it was a miracle I didn’t kill myself or somebody else. I screamed right into 167th, floored the pedal again, and then screamed left at the junction, going the wrong way again, into Dehan’s street. I skidded to a halt outside her door and jumped out.
My phone was ringing. It was Maria. “She’s not answering.”
I could hear sirens approaching.
“Okay. I’m here.”
I hung up and pressed all the bells at the same time. As they answered, I yelled, “NYPD! Open up!”
The lock buzzed. I slammed through and ran up the stairs. She was on the fifth. By the time I got there I was gasping for air and my legs were shaking, but I didn’t pause. I pulled my piece, shot out the lock and pushed in, screaming, “Dehan! Dehan!”
I checked the kitchen. It was clear. I burst into the living room. The light was on, but the room was empty. I was still screaming her name like a maniac. It was a one-bedroom apartment. I could only have been there a few seconds. I kicked in the bedroom door, holding my gun out in front of me.
The bedroom was dark, but the bathroom door was open and there was light coming out. There was a figure in the bathroom door, in silhouette, staring at me. It took me a full three seconds to register that it was Dehan. She was wearing pajamas, and her hair was wet. “What the fuck, Stone…?”
I was aware that I was shaking. I tried to control it and said, “You’re okay…” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. I’m okay…”
I went to her and put my arms around her, hugging her hard for a couple of seconds, more to reassure myself that she was okay. I let her go and looked into her face. She was smiling uncertainly. I heard voices calling from the door.
“Detective Stone! NYPD!”
“Okay, I’m here.” I holstered my piece and stepped out. “Sorry, guys, another false alarm.”
The patrolman pointed at the blown lock. “What’s this?”
“I thought Detective Dehan was at risk.”
He frowned curiously at me. “You got this?”
“I’ve got it.”
“Okay…”
They left and I went back to Dehan. She was standing in her bedroom door.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I was in the shower. I guess I didn’t hear it. But that’s no reason to shoot out my lock, Stone.”
“Sit down.”
She sat on the sofa, and I sat next to her. I showed her the photograph. “Look at the car in the foreground. Look at the woman who’s about to open the door.”
She stared at it a moment, frowning. Then she gave an involuntary intake of breath, and her hand went to her mouth. She stared at me, and she looked scared.
“Dehan, it was never about Nancy. He called me after I dropped you off. He was laughing. All he said was, ‘tick tock.’ It made me look at the photograph again. He must have taken it when you borrowed my car to go shopping.”
“I’m his fucking target? I’m not even blonde!”
“Pack a bag. You’re coming back to my place, and I am going to stick to you like glue.”
She nodded, and for a moment she looked small and vulnerable. “Thanks, Stone.”
SEVENTEEN
I put her to bed in the spare room, and I sat in the living room watching TV till the sky turned gray over a wet dawn. Then I climbed the stairs and looked in on her. She was sleeping, snoring softly. I sat in the armchair in the corner and closed my eyes. That must have been about six thirty.
It felt like I had just closed my eyes, but I felt her shaking me gently, and when I opened them, she was showered and dressed, and there was a gray light in the room. I looked at the bedside clock. It was seven thirty.
She said, “Get in the bed, Stone. Get a couple of hours’ sleep. I’ll call you at nine thirty for breakfast.
I shook my head. “Make bacon and coffee. I’ll be down in twenty. I’ll get some sleep this afternoon.”
I had a cold shower, which got rid of the grogginess, and then the smell of bacon and coffee did the rest. I sat and she piled my plate with rashers, two eggs, and toast. Then she poured my coffee and sat opposite me.
“Stone, we have to pull Dave in.”
I ate, drank coffee, and thought.
“Okay.” I ate, drank, and thought a bit more. “On what charge?”
“Not arrest him. Interrogate him. Put him under pressure and see what happens to him.”
I looked at her and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
David was at his office and agreed to come with us without any objection. Fischer came out to see what was going on and took me aside.
“Are you arresting him?”
“No, we just want to ask him some questions down at the station.”
“Does he need a lawyer?”
“That’s up to him, Mr. Fischer, but we are not accusing him of anything.”
He looked past me at where David was standing with Dehan, staring at his feet. “David, do you want me to call Sam?”
David didn’t say anything. He just shook his head.
We drove in silence. Dehan sat by his side in the back and stared at him all the way. Even in the mirror I could tell he was nervous. We put him in the interrogation room and asked him if he wanted coffee. He said he didn’t. I took Dehan outside the room and asked her, “You want to sit this one out?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Okay. But I want you cool.”
She said she was cool, and we went back in. We sat. He was sitting with his feet together and his hands in his lap. His eyes were lowered.
I took a moment to think, then said, “David, I was just wondering if you could clarify a few things for me that I don’t understand.”
His jaw was rigid when he answered, like he was trying to talk with his mouth closed.
“If I can…”
“You told your uncle that twice a year, in July and December, you attend computer conventions and conferences so that you can stay abreast of developments in the IT world.”
His eyes shifted around, left and right, like he was mentally measuring the tabletop. I waited, and after a while he said, “That’s not a question. I don’t know how to answer you.”
Dehan looked at me like she wanted to slap him around the head. I ignored her.
“Okay, that’s true. Is it also true that you told your uncle that you attend those IT conferences?”
His cheeks colored and he gave a very small, private smile.
“Yes.”
“Now, here’s the thing. We checked and we found that there are no fixed IT conferences for those dates, every year. So, what I would like to know is, what have you been doing for the last twelve years, when your uncle thought you were attending IT conferences?”
He was silent again, with his eyes darting this way and that and his jaw working. Dehan said, “You going to answer the question, David?”
I glanced at her, but she ignored me.
I sighed. “I know it’s a difficult question to answer, Dave…”
“David.”
“David. I know it’s a difficult question to answer…”
“I have to insist on being called David.”
I paused. Dehan sighed.
I asked him, “Is that a decision you made for yourself, David?”
“Yes.”
“Did somebody help you to make that decision?”
“Yes.”
“Who helped you?”
“Dr. Stephens.”
“Is Dr. Stephens your psychologist?”
“Psychiatrist.”
“How long have you been seeing Dr. Stephens?”
“Thirteen years, th-three months, and four days.”
I gave a small laugh of admiration. “You have quite a memory.”
He smiled and there was clearly pleasure in his face. “I have an ei-eidetic memory. I have almost t-total recall.”
He was stammering on his longer sentences.
“I know a few psychiatrists. They are interesting people. They don’t see things the same way as other people, do they?”
He shook his head and murmured, “They’re smart.”
“They’re smart,” I agreed. “Like, most people would think telling the truth is good, lying is bad, right?”
His eyes were darting again, and his jaw started working. This was his tell, but it was a tell that said he was trying to frame a sentence.
“Dr-Dr. Stephens says, do w-what you need to do… t-to get strong…”
Dehan snapped, “Does that include killing young women?”
His face went crimson, and his eyes locked on to the table like a vice. I glared at Dehan. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright with anger
.
“Will you excuse us a moment, David? Detective Dehan, a word outside, please.” We stepped into the corridor. I closed the door and said, “Are you going to hold it together or not? You just sabotaged my interrogation. I’m going to try and get it back on track, but I don’t know how much damage you’ve done.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll keep it together.”
“He’s not going to talk with you in the room. For now just stay in the observation room.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
I went back in and sat down. “Wooh! Women!”
He smiled, but he looked scared.
“You never know what they are going to do next. So, where were we? We were talking about Dr. Stephens. And if I understand you, he advised you to lie to your uncle and your mother about where you go in July and December. Am I right?” Before he could answer, I went on. “I want you to know that as far as I can see, I don’t need to tell your uncle and your mother that you have been lying to them.”
I gave him a while to think about that.
“So did he advise you to lie to them?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay, a good doctor. So let’s start with the cities you go to. Where do you go in July?”
He stared hard into the right-hand corner of the room. This was a different tell. Now he was deciding if he wanted to tell me or not. Finally, he said, “San Diego.”
“Nice town. How about December?”
“L-Los Angeles.”
“L.A., huh? Okay, David, we are doing really well.” He smiled. “Now what I need to understand is what it is you do in San Diego in July.”
His face flushed and his eyes shone. He stared hard into the corner. I raised my hands and gave a small laugh. “Hey! I’m with Dr. Stephens. Whatever it takes to get you strong.”
He licked his lips, kept pursing them. There were tears in his eyes. “B-bring your… bring your dreams a-a…”
“Alive?”
He nodded. He looked like he thought I was going to start beating him. I thought for a while. After a bit, I said, “That’s all any of us want. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?”
He shook his head. “Mom… Mom and Uncle Howard say that m-my dreams are ch-ch…”
“Childish?”
