“I can’t speak about on-going investigations, Mr. Barrett.” Patrick politely wriggled his wrist from the old man’s grasp.
“Oh, yes. I understand,” Richard said, his voice taking on an ominous tenor. “You have a good day then, detective. And I do hope you find one of those missing girls alive. What a terrible world it is we live in, where bad things happen to good women.”
Patrick felt like he’d just stepped into a hornet’s nest, one motivated by a yearning for revenge, a yearning he started. He needed to get away fast. “Yes, well. Goodbye, Mr. Barrett.”
“Farewell, detective,” Richard said with a humorless grin.
What have I done. He hurried away from the table.
Chapter 48
Hank sat behind his desk in his office flipping through the pages of an automobile magazine and munching on a McDonald’s Big Mac when he received a call.
“We pulled the file on your father from the archives last week,” Joe MacCallum said without prelude. “I’m sure you can imagine why.”
Dropping the half-eaten burger into its greasy box, Hank brushed the breadcrumbs from his bushy beard and said without the least bit of surprise, “I can.”
“Laura Sullivan was found in Citronelle. Same M.O. as whoever did the job on Amber Frey. And the same object was found inside her vagina.”
Hank felt something sour stir in his stomach. With a tight grimace, he pulled out the bottle of Southern Comfort he kept in a desk drawer, splashed a little in the cola, and leaned back in his chair. He took a sip. The booze did nothing to ease the churching. “Still think it’s someone else?”
“Could be a copycat,” Joe suggested.
“No it couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“There are only two people I know of who hate women as much they’d do that.”
Joe sighed and said, “Bubba Ray Busby. Read up on him, too.”
“Figured you would.”
“He and your father were quite a pair. And after what they did… that’s the last thing we need right now, finding out Busby’s still alive after all these years. What a nightmare.”
“Don’t have to tell me that.” Hank took another sip and stared out his office window that looked out on a strip mall and a few small trees across the street. A strong wind rustled their tiny leaves. “I had to live through it,” he said.
“So I understand.”
Hank had blocked those painful memories. He’d become an expert at doing that since the age of fifteen.
But not good enough, apparently, because there were still plenty of ghosts haunting the dark chambers of his mind.
“You and your mother were damn lucky to get away from those monsters. I only wish your sister had the same luck.”
“You get those pictures of her I scanned for you?”
“I did. And you’re right. Frey and Sullivan resemble her to a T.” Joe sighed heavily. “I’ll admit they look a lot like Ellen and Amy as well. Let’s hope we find Jessica Lewis alive.”
“Yeah, let’s hope. All right Joe. I appreciate the update. Guess you don’t need my help anymore with your case.”
“Actually, that’s another reason I called. Patrick wants to have a chat with you.”
Leaning forward in his chair, Hank set his drink down and said, “Tell him he can kiss my ass.”
“Doesn’t have anything to do with Ellen, Hank. He thinks you want to finish what your father started. He thinks you’re the copycat.”
The churning in his stomach seethed like bubbling acid.
“Eventually, Hank, we will have to talk officially. Just to set the record straight. Come by today, get it over with?”
“I’ll sleep on it,” Hank said, and slammed the phone back on its cradle.
Chapter 49
All of Layne’s problems, his worries and fears, dissipated the moment Amy kissed him. After that he was on top of the world; uplifted in every sense of the word.
He couldn’t focus on the work or lectures in his remaining classes. The D he received on a Calculus test no longer fazed him. He was high on romance and sweet, sensual daydreams about Amy. Nothing could bring him down from that high.
He spotted her in the zombie herd filing out of the double doors after the three o’clock bell and slung his arm across her shoulders. She looked at him with a thin smile that disappeared once they stepped outside.
A sleek, black Cadillac was parked alongside the front curb. The windows were tinted so dark Layne couldn’t see inside, but Amy apparently knew who was behind the steering wheel, because she flipped off the driver as they passed, her face twisted in contempt.
“Your grandfather?” Layne asked as he stumbled to meet her quickening pace as they made their way across the parking lot.
“Yes,” Amy said. “But if he thinks I will take any more of his bullshit he has another thing coming. That old man is a creep. A fucking mummy. Even my mom thought he was a jerk.”
Layne waited until they were in the Pathfinder to ask. “Have you read that case file?”
Amy wrung her hands in her lap. “Not yet.”
He started the engine. “What are you waiting for?”
She turned her head to the passenger window and stared at the Cadillac. “My father.”
Layne didn’t like the sound of that. “Is that a good idea?”
“No,” she admitted. “But it’s the only option I have.”
“What about your Uncle Joe? Isn’t he a cop? What about—”
“I’ve made up my mind. I’m confronting my dad about this. So just shut up and drive, okay!”
Cringing as if she raised a hand to slap him, Layne shifted out of park and obeyed her command.
Chapter 50
Richard was gravely disappointed in his granddaughter. She was making a terrible mistake not heeding his warning.
I should’ve expected this. She has her father’s temperament, always has.
He followed the line of cars pulling out of the parking lot, thinking there might still be hope.
Perhaps she had yet to read through the file. Perhaps her emotions were still too high for rational thought. Perhaps I overestimated her ability to deal with this issue.
She is a teenager, after all.
Richard decided he needed to give her time to calm down and process everything. Once that happened, he was certain she would come to her senses. She still had some of her mother in her. She was still a logical little girl.
He would try again tomorrow, if tomorrow was not too late.
Perhaps I needed a contingency plan.
He thought about the boy who had an arm around Amy. Was he a boyfriend? He could get to her through him. He could be Richard’s Plan B.
There was something a little disturbing about him, however. Richard noticed it when the shaggy-haired youth looked his way after passing his car. But what was it?
Richard turned onto Main Street in the direction of the interstate when the harrowing realization dawned on him.
His eyes, they reminded Richard of Hank’s the evening Ellen first brought him home: shifty, predatory, and cold as steel.
Dear God.
Chapter 51
Joe MacCallum looked up when a distressed Patrick Keene barged into his office and collapsed wearily in the chair in front of his desk. Joe frowned. “Something wrong?”
With his head downcast, the fatigued looking detective ran a hand through his short hair and said, “Saw Richard Barrett at Mary Lou’s.”
Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s he doing in town?”
Patrick crossed his arms and leaned back. “Said he was dropping a belated birthday present off for Amy.”
“At the school?”
“That would be my guess. He said he and Hank are working on their relations for her sake, but I’m doubting it.”
Remembering the conversation he had with Hank Saturday, Joe stared at Patrick and asked, “Did he say what the present was?”
“Some family heirlooms. An old hand
mirror and hairbrush.”
“Smells like a load of horseshit to me.”
“I think I might’ve done something stupid, Joe.”
Folding his hands on his desk, Joe leaned forward. “Oh?”
“After digging through the archives, I came across Hank’s file. I might have made a copy of it, and sent it to Richard’s house.”
Thinking about his blood pressure, Joe closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. “Why would you do that?”
Patrick sighed. “Because never finding Ellen’s killer is getting to me. As you know, I’m still confident Hank had some hand in her death, and I just wanted to give Richard a little hope that I wasn’t giving up. I wanted him to know I was still one the case. I wanted to assure him I hadn’t forgotten about his daughter.”
Baffled, Joe said, “Does this have anything to do with why you transferred here last year?”
Patrick shook his head and looked Joe in the eye. “My move had nothing to do with this. As I’ve said before, I got tired of making the commute. It was a pain in the ass drive and working closer to home made more sense. But Joe, I’ve known Ellen since high school. I guess the feelings I had for her never went away. She was the first girl I ever fell for, and the first to break my heart. Hank didn’t deserve her. She was too good for him.”
Joe swallowed back his outrage. “Do you think Richard is trying to expose Hank to his granddaughter? Could that be the real reason he came up here? To continue pouring salt in that little girl’s wound?”
“That’s what I suspect,” Patrick said. “Believe me, Joe, I never intended that to happen.”
Reaching for his BlackBerry, Joe muttered, “Just what the hell did you expect?”
Chapter 52
Richard paid no mind to the vagrant as he pulled into the Shell Station near I-65. Nor did he find it alarming when the man, who was dressed in old U.S. Army clothing, approached the car as he filled his gas tank. But the stranger had his full attention after he followed Richard into his car and pressed a serrated-edged blade into his side. “Drive,” the man ordered, “Or I’ll gut you like a deer.”
Gripped with terror, Richard looked into the fanatical eyes staring at him from beneath the bill of a camouflage cap. They looked like twin barrels of a shotgun, dark and deadly.
“You hard of hearin’ old timer? Put your foot on the gas and get this tank movin’. I’m on a mission to restore mankind to its former glory, and you’re slowing me down!”
Wincing as the blade jabbed into his side, piercing skin, Richard started the engine, shifted into drive, and pulled out of the station. It wasn’t until the initial shock wore off that he noticed the rancid aroma of mildew, rot, and something long deceased. The stench clung to the man like a shroud.
“Now head toward Pine Run and do exactly like I tell ya. I’ve got business to take care of, and you’re gonna help me out. Hear?”
Chapter 53
With the Pathfinder idling in Amy’s shady driveway, Layne watched her stare apprehensively up at her house through the windshield. “I’m worried about you,” he said.
Amy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you are.”
“You don’t want this kind of heat, believe me.”
She clenched and unclenched her hands nervously in her lap. ”I can’t stay quiet anymore, and he’ll be mad no matter how I go about this. It might make matters worse if I don’t confront him first.”
“But aren’t you afraid of how he’ll react. I’ve seen you around him.”
Amy gave him an angry stare. “What are you talking about?”
Layne grew irritated. “Oh come on, don’t deny it. You walk on egg shells to keep him from going off on you. You’re terrified of him.”
Amy lowered her eyes. “You would be, too,” she muttered.
“Come on,” Layne said. “Let’s do what I suggested and talk to a cop or something. I don’t want him hurting you.”
“I said no,” Amy snapped. “You don’t know what all I’ve been through with my father, Layne.” She glared up at him. “No one does.”
Layne looked away, frustrated.
“Whatever happens, I can take it,” Amy said. “I know how to handle him. So don’t worry about me.”
Layne’s stomach tightened, and a blaze of white-hot fury exploded in his chest. Swallowing a searing lump of outrage, he thought about the knife in his glove compartment. He always wanted to be a hero to Amy, to slay her dragons and protect her.
He thought about taking the knife used to butcher Billy Brown and doing something only Zero had the courage to do.
Kill Amy’s father.
It wouldn’t happen, of course. Layne was too weak.
But Zero wasn’t. Only problem, Layne couldn’t conjure his darker half at will. At least, he didn’t think he could.
After a short stretch of silence, Amy heaved her backpack over her shoulder and said, “please trust me, Layne. I’ll be fine. Go on home, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before she could climb out of her seat, Layne grabbed her shoulder. He knew he couldn’t stop her, but he still didn’t want to let her go. “Call me later, and let me know you’re okay. I’ll go crazy if you don’t and might do something we’d both regret.”
Amy’s brow creased. “Like what?”
Layne hesitated. He wasn’t about to mention Zero, especially not to her.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just call me, all right?”
She stared at him, perplexed. “I’ll try.”
“I love you.”
Amy’s gaze dropped.
Layne couldn’t get a sense of what she was feeling because she wore a mask of stone. It worried him.
“Love you, too,” she said, quickly getting out.
Layne hated watching her go.
Chapter 54
When the man told Richard to turn onto a wooded path off the highway, he realized his fate in a flash of panic.
“Please, don’t do this,” he begged the man holding the knife. “I’ll give you money. Anything you want. Please, don’t kill me!”
The man showed no mercy. Instead, he told Richard to drive further into the woods until they could no longer see the road.
“Now stop,” the man said. Richard obediently applied the brakes. The car came to a gradual halt.
Grabbing Richard by the coat collar, he opened the passenger door and said, “follow me.”
With shaky hands raised in submission, Richard nodded his head, slid across the seat and followed his captor.
The chill in the air bit down to the bone. The somber light from the setting sun bled red through cracks in the treetops.
As the man dragged him off the beaten path, Richard plead for his life. “I thought you said you wanted me to help you with your mission. You need me, remember? Please, I can help!”
“But you are helping.” The man stood behind him and forced him on his knees. “You’re giving me your car.”
Before Richard could emit a feeble protest, the man with the knife grabbed a clump of his hair, jerked his head back, and sunk the edge of his blade deep into his throat.
Chapter 55
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Amy stared at the envelope her grandfather had given her. The white label in the center of the envelope read in neat block letters HANK SNOW, CLASSIFIED WITNESS. It was surprisingly thick.
Amy wondered how many dusty bones it contained. The dull ache in her stomach grew as she thought about what her father might do after finding out she had this in her possession. She bit her lower lip and trembled.
Contemplating her punishment chilled her heart. The muscles in her stomach wound tight with anxiety.
Amy feared for her physical well-being, because she knew that her punishment would be more than bad.
Her father would kill her.
But she couldn’t let her fears hold her back anymore. She needed to know the truth. And if her father wouldn’t tell it to her, then his skeletons would do the talkin
g.
Or at least that’s what her grandfather suggested. Wasn’t that why he had gone to the trouble of slipping it to her in the first place? Didn’t it contain all of her father’s dark and dirty secrets? Didn’t it expose him for the monster her grandfather had always made him out to be?
The monster Amy always feared he might be?
Layne was right, she was terrified of him.
With a forlorn resolve, she opened the file .
Chapter 56
Hank gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckled cramped, shooting pain through the tendons in his hands.
They’re coming down everywhere, he seethed. All the walls, they’re crashing down all around me! He cursed God for revealing all he sought to conceal. from those who judged him, from those who hated him, and from those who never forgave him.
My wife.
Amy didn’t answer the phone when he called her. It worried him, especially after talking to Joe.
My daughter.
Hank pressed down on the accelerator and made a wide turn onto Tatum Avenue. Dust and grime flew from beneath his tires as he swerved into his driveway. He nearly crashed through the wall of the shed as he sped to the carport, his tires screeching.
Not gonna have these damn ghosts haunt us no more. Gonna shove ‘em all back in the grave. Bury ‘em but good.
Killing the engine, he stumbled out of his truck, climbed the back steps, and barreled through the kitchen door.
Dust motes drifted lazily in the dim, scarlet stream of sunlight spilling into the dusky room through the window over the cluttered sink.
“Amy!” Hank shouted after slamming the door. “Where you at, girl?” With his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, he stomped across the foot-worn linoleum and into the hallway.
The buckling floorboards groaned beneath his heavy gait like the undead rising ghoulishly from the graveyard of his mind, reaching for him with claws laced in gray brain matter, eager to rip him apart piece by bloody piece.
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