Lily gives up on looking for a pen and puts the bag of heroin down on the table. She wants to focus.
“Lady, shit is going down all over the place, and I didn’t do fuck. I don’t trust nobody right now. It’s like somebody’s out to get me. You gotta help me.”
Lily looks over at the computer. She knows the answers are there. She knows backup cannot find her. She decides to stall so she can figure out her next move.
“Listen, if what you’re saying is true, here’s my card,” she says, reaching into her shirt pocket. “Give me a call on Monday and we can talk about this at my office, maybe work something out. We’ll help you, Mr. Morrell. We’ll help you.”
He takes the card, looks at it, and laughs. As he watches her move toward the door, he notices the framed photo of his son out of place.
Lily reaches for the door knob and feels a sharp pain in her right hand as the door slams shut. She looks down to see a large knife embedded through her hand and into the door. She cannot move it. She reaches for her gun with her left hand, but feels cold fingers already wrapped around her holster.
“I can’t let you go,” Ghost says.
He grabs her other hand and forces it against the thick wooden door, thrusting another knife through her hand deep into the wood. She lets out a grisly scream. Ghost grabs her radio and presses his body against hers. “I’m gonna press this button, and I need you to say these words as calmly as possible. ‘Unit 7-28. 10-80, repeat, 10-80.’”
“What?” She knows what he’s asking. To cancel her backup.
“Don’t fuck with me. I know they can’t find you.” He jostles the knife in her left hand. She wails. “Now let me hear it.”
“Unit 7…” She can’t say the rest.
“Take a deep breath.” His mouth is warm against her ear.
She puckers her lips and lets out a shaky breath, followed by two involuntary inhales. She tries to calm herself down. She thinks it’s the only way to save her own life. Through sheer will, she soothes her breathing.
“Okay.”
“There you go. I’m pressing the button now.”
“Unit 7-28. 10-80. Repeat. 10-80.”
He lets go of the button. “Good girl.” He places the radio back in her belt and rushes to the kitchen. He grabs the dishrag, opens a drawer, pulls out duct tape, then places them both on the table next to the computer. He heads to the bedroom, changes into his blue LES overalls, then pulls out what is left of his cash from the bottom drawer of his dresser. There’s no time to pack. Only one more loose end and I can leave this wretched place.
He shoves two small stacks of $100 bills in his overalls and heads back down the hall, opens the drawer that holds his plane ticket, tucks it in his pocket, grabs the rag and tape, and heads toward Lily.
“Mr. Morrell, I don’t think you killed Lenny.”
“Of course I didn’t.”
“But this, this is something else. There’s no coming back from this. I can help you. Please.”
He grabs the rag. “No one can help me.”
“Sir, please don’t. Think about your son.”
Her comment only adds fire to his rage. He shoves the rag in her mouth, overcoming her struggling. He wraps duct tape over her mouth and all the way around her head three times, making sure each round of tape lines up with the previous one. His precision is unsuccessful.
“This is gonna hurt.” He opens the door on which both of her bloody hands are impaled. Lily lets out a muffled scream, shuffling her legs to ease the pain to make sure she doesn’t fall to the floor and rip her hands in two. Then he closes the door, causing Lily to whimper in agony. She lays her head against the door, shoulders shrugging. He locks the deadbolt.
C h a p t e r 5 3
The white door reads 228 in aluminum sans-serif numbers. Freckled hands unlock the front door with a key. They are careful to use the key only, leaving no fingerprints on the handle.
“Hello?” he says in a loud voice. No answer.
He’s been here before.
Dressed in his navy coveralls, Ghost begins to ransack the apartment, desperate for the letter. He enters the room where he’d made the laptop exchange in the closet. Everything is just as it was months earlier. He runs back into the living room. He sees photos on a table behind the sofa and begins tearing into them one by one: Jenna with Josh, Jenna with Lennox and Micah, Jenna with James West. He doesn’t find the letter.
He rushes to the bedroom on the other side of the apartment, just past the kitchen. He opens the closet and rifles through the designer blouses, pants, and gowns. Nothing. He opens each drawer of the dresser. T-shirts, panties, socks. Nothing.
He stops at the third drawer. He sees a black-and-white carved box. It looks familiar, only much larger. He opens the box. A cell phone rests on the left. Tucked beside it is the letter he’s gone to great lengths to find, the one with his signature logo on the front of the envelope, the one his friend Lenny wrote years ago implicating him as the murderer. To the right of the letter is a small note on folded yellow paper, with the words “GHOSTS DON’T EXIST” written in block letters. The yellow note sits atop a homemade bomb, complete with a timer.
((5-4-3-2-1… BOOM!))
As the explosion fills the room, the letter shoots across the room, tossing and turning with each heaving flame. Plumes of fire, smoke, and ash push past the letter and through the windows, littering debris onto the street below. The unopened letter is engulfed by the flames and reduces to ash.
Ghost’s broken and charred body lies paralyzed in the corner of Jenna’s room. He opens his eyes. He cannot move. He can barely see. Partially aflame, the folded yellow note, the only evidence that can potentially prove that someone is framing Ghost for the murder, continues to glide through Jenna’s bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, Ghost spots the flittering object floating through the air, a yellow butterfly soaring with majestic beauty, dancing and flapping in a beautiful display of unfettered joy. Everything within him cheers for the creature as it flies out the window to freedom only to float back inside the room, landing beside him just outside his view. He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. The flame on the yellow note reduces to a flicker, eventually dying next to Bastien Morrell himself, the words “GHOSTS DON’T EXIST” still visible.
Pedestrians at the corner of Henry and Rutgers gather to watch the blaze shooting out of the second-floor apartment at 10 Rutgers, the six-story building just north of the church with the bell tower. The tai chi class in the park across the street pauses their peaceful meditation and watches through the iron fence.
Other windows begin to buckle and burst as the flames begin to engulf the building. Small sections of brick continue to drop to the pavement as onlookers begin to scream and run, fearful their peaceful neighborhood is under attack.
Minutes later, firemen arrive and burst into Jenna’s apartment, number 228. They go room by room until they reach the fire’s point of origination. Opening Jenna’s bedroom door blows a small ember onto the yellow note, sparking new life in the charred edges, consuming the note in a rapid flash of hungry fire. The black lacy remains fly out the window and disintegrate into nothingness.
C h a p t e r 5 4
“We found what was left of Bastien Morrell, the man we refer to as Ghost, identified by the tattoo you see here.”
Detective Bronson Penance shows Astrid Lerner a gruesome photo of a bloody and burned torso lying face down, arms missing to the elbow. His remaining clothes are burned away, scorched, or melted into what is left of his body. A partial shoulder tattoo of the Ghost logo is blackened and barely visible.
They are sitting in the work area just outside of Astrid’s office, surrounded by paralegals, police officers and detective teams, all brought in from their weekends to ascertain what has happened.
“Was he wearing coveralls?” Astrid asks Detective Penance, trying to make out the bits and pieces of the scene. “And it’s burned to a crisp, but does that part right there have an iron-o
n that says ‘LES’?”
“Maybe, I can’t really tell,” says the detective.
“We thought about this guy early on,” she says. “Couldn’t find him.”
“We also found some tiny fragments of what we think is a wooden box strewn around the room,” Detective Penance continues. “Some fragments were unburnt and had black-and-white markings similar to the African box that housed the camera. We think it’s the box that held the bomb.”
“Christ,” Astrid says, putting it all together. “He was pinning it on Jenna. How could we have been so wrong?”
“We think he came there to kill her, plant a bomb,” Detective Penance reasons out loud. “It was a homemade device, but it was powerful. We think his plan blew up, so to speak.”
“Jesus, Bron,” Astrid says.
“Jenna’s safe. She’s with Josh, has been since around noon.”
“That’s good. Have you heard from Lily?”
“The police are still searching the apartment complex where she was last seen, somewhere in Alphabet City,” Detective Penance answers. “She canceled her backup request, so hopefully she’s okay, maybe took the rest of the day off. I was supposed to be off today, too, but look what you made me do.”
Astrid laughs. A policeman holding a laptop and a plastic bag comes toward her.
Officer Mateo Palino enters the room.
“We didn’t find much left of Jenna’s condo,” offers Palino. “But there was a closet on the opposite side of the apartment, and the contents were mostly safe. We found this plastic bag and a laptop. Melted a bit outside, as you can see, but it powers on. Wanted to get these to you immediately.”
“Let’s check it,” says Astrid. “Copy the drive and get some people on it.”
She takes the plastic bag and looks inside.
“My God.” She reels backward from the smell.
“One more thing,” Palino says. “The kitchen was mostly destroyed, but we did find a set of Jenna’s knives that match the exact same knives that belonged to Micah and Lennox. We are testing to see if any DNA can be recovered from any of them.”
“Well, test these bloody clothes as well.” Astrid hands the black plastic bag to Officer Palino.
C h a p t e r 5 5
Astrid, Detective Penance, and Offer Palino watch with their eyes and mouths wide open. The screen they are viewing is filled with hours of silent movie images that pass by in a dreamlike succession. All are from the same view: the corner of Micah and Lennox’s apartment. Each are triggered by movement in front of the camera:
Ghost setting up the camera, his face distorted in the middle of the scene. He taps the lens as if to make sure it’s working.
Lennox and Micah setting up dinner in front of the television, eating and laughing at an episode of Will & Grace.
Micah walking across the room and looking out the window.
Lennox straightening his tie, getting ready for work, checking the weather outside.
Lennox drinking coffee on the couch, Micah hugging him from behind.
Micah and Lennox pulling the shades. Night vision comes on. The couple begins making out on the couch.
Lennox grabbing the remote from the coffee table.
A naked body being dumped on the floor into view of the camera.
“Hold on, here’s something,” Astrid says, pausing the video. “I knew it! He was dumped outta that chair like a bag of trash.”
“And you can’t see who dumped him. Ever.” Detective Penance is noting the details. “That’s interesting, like the killer’s avoiding the camera.”
“But why? We’ve already seen Ghost’s face at the beginning of these videos,” Astrid says.
“Dunno,” Detective Penance responds, then looks at Officer Palino. “Look, though. The camera’s night vision is triggered. That means the lights are off. Palino, let’s watch and see when it switches back to normal.”
“Will do,” he replies.
“We’re sure that’s Lenny on the floor now, right?” Astrid asks.
“From the skinny build and the lack of clothes, probably. That’s approximately where we found him,” says Officer Palino.
Astrid hits play. Every time the body moves or heaves, the camera comes on for a few seconds. The body convulses in a series of twelve different scenes with time stamps covering a period of almost three hours.
In the final scene, another figure runs to the body and begins to pound on Lennox. Over and over. Over and over.
“Jesus,” Astrid says. “This is amazing.”
“That’s one word for it,” says Detective Penance. “Night vision is still triggered. The lights are definitely off, so we were wrong on that.”
“I concur,” says Officer Palino.
“So much for our Perry Mason moment about the light switches,” says Astrid.
“And that’s Micah pounding on Lennox’s body, I can tell by the hair and the build,” adds Detective Penance.
In the continuation of the final video, Micah stops pounding on Lennox and sits beside the limp body. He tries to get up and slips onto his husband. He pulls his husband’s arm around him.
“That’s all the video, there are no more files.” Astrid pauses the video.
A hush covers the entire room. Everyone is frozen, soaking in the enormity of seeing the videos that had evaded them for so long.
“I don’t know about you, but I see a distraught husband trying to save the love of his life.” Detective Penance breaks the silence.
Astrid contemplates. “I think I agree. And given all of the absolute shit that happened today, I might be up all night making amends to these people.”
“You’re not going to believe this,” says a twenty-one-year-old intern who’s been hacking into the emails of the computer’s owner. “I combed the drive for email addresses, accounts, passwords, and unlocked everything. Looks like some things are missing forever, but I recovered what I could.
“First of all,” she continues. “I know our initial thought was that this laptop was planted in Jenna’s closet by the Ghost man person thingie. But it actually belongs to Jenna. Jenna Ancelet. It’s Jenna’s old laptop from her Élan days. I cross-referenced the serial numbers with an equipment list we had from the company. This email address also belongs to Jenna Ancelet, a Frenchy228 from hotmail. I printed this email exchange, so you could see them. I think she’s talking with Ghost.”
“Frenchy228,” Astrid repeats aloud.
“228 is the number of Jenna’s apartment,” says Officer Palino.
“Jenna’s parents are French, and she lived in France until she was 15 before they moved to the States,” Detective Penance adds.
The intern lays out twelve emails and their responses in order of date. Each are short and succinct.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Job
Date: December 14, 2017
To: [email protected]
I’m a friend of Lenny’s, and I have a quick job for you. $10,000 upon completion. Interested?
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Job
Date: January 6, 2018
To: [email protected]
Sorry, I don’t check this email often.
Depends.
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Job
Date: January 8, 2018
To: [email protected]
Need a camera set up in a condo on the LES. No breaking and entering, I have the key. I will give a phone number to send further instructions.
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Job
Date: January 10, 2018
To: [email protected]
Gimme the number.
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Job
Date: January 10, 2018
&n
bsp; To: [email protected]
555.921.5569
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Job
Date: March 9, 2018
To: [email protected]
IT’S DONE
*************
“What’s done? Setting up the camera?” Astrid asks.
“Yes, look at the date,” replies Detective Penance. “Must be Ghost taking a job to set up a camera for Jenna. It’s about five months before the murder.”
“That phone number looks like a burner,” says Officer Palino. “Might be the phone we found in pieces at Jenna’s apartment. We’ll check it out, find out what we can.”
“Okay, look at these next emails.” Astrid shuffles a small pile. “They start about six weeks before the murder.”
From: [email protected]
Subject: One more
Date: July 5, 2018
To: [email protected]
Got one more small job. $5K upon completion. Lemme know.
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: One more
Date: July 11, 2018
To: [email protected]
I’ll do it.
*************
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: One more
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