“No, thanks,” Sam said, as Alyssa countered with, “Adam, you smell like a distillery.”
“I had a few drinks on the flight,” he admitted. “I spilled one of them.” He started to reach into his jacket pocket for the photos, but Sam bristled, tightening his grip on Adam’s right arm. Adam laughed. “You seriously think I’m reaching for a weapon? I just got off a plane.” He reached again, and this time Sam let him. “I’m not here to sabotage the wedding, despite what you think.” He handed Sam the photos. “I’m here because my stalker got himself a new toy.”
Sam was silent as he looked at both photos. He didn’t say a thing. He just handed them over to his wife.
Alyssa looked at them. Looked at Sam.
“You get any more e-mail from this Jessop guy?” Sam broke the silence to ask Adam.
“I haven’t had Internet access,” he said, holding his breath. Please God, let them believe him…“Not since yesterday morning.”
Sam and Alyssa seemed to reach some kind of consensus, with Sam nodding and Alyssa saying, “We’re going to find the nearest Kinkos. You’re going to get online and check your e-mail. And then we’re going to figure out what to do.”
As Robin always used to say—score.
“You’re not serious,” Robin said.
“I’ll be back in forty minutes,” Jules said, as Dolphina heard the front closet open.
“This is what Adam wants,” Robin pointed out.
Dolphina could tell, even from here in the office, that he was trying very hard not to lose his temper.
“He wants you to jump when he says jump,” Robin continued. “And here you go, jumping.”
“Sam and Alyssa have some concerns,” Jules said. “They asked me to look at the photos. I’m going to meet them at the coffee place, because I don’t want Adam here.”
“And I can’t go with you because…?”
“You can get started with Will,” Jules said, as if that were his real reason for wanting Robin to stay behind. “You know he’s going to want photos of you by yourself—you’re the movie star.”
Robin laughed. “Why don’t you just admit that you don’t want me to go with you because you’re jealous of Adam, because you’re afraid I’m going to…what, Jules? Take one look at him and go Gee, how could I have been so foolish to agree to marry a man whom I deeply love, because hey now, if I didn’t, I could still be having a cheap sexual relationship with some loser I used to fuck when I got drunk enough not to care who I was with. I’m sorry, Jules, the wedding is off. I’m running away with Adam.”
There was silence then.
“I don’t want you to go with me,” Jules finally spoke, his voice so quiet Dolphina almost didn’t hear him, “because, yes, I’m jealous of Adam. Because I hate seeing you with him. Because I really hate picturing you with him.”
More silence, then, Robin: “Thank you for being honest with me. Call me if you’re going to be more than forty minutes, okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Jules said. “I hate that I—”
“Shhh,” Robin cut him off. “Just go, baby, and come back as quickly as you can.”
“Yeah,” Jules said.
Dolphina heard him come farther into the foyer. He let himself out the front door without saying anything to her at all.
Robin, however, came into the office. “I’m going upstairs,” he said. “I’ve got a headache—I gotta lie down, take a combat nap. We woke up way too early this morning, then never got back to sleep so…”
“Okay,” she said, turning from her computer to face him. “Can I get you anything?”
He did look tired. “No. Just…wake me up when Will gets here, all right?”
“All right,” she said.
“Seriously, Dolph,” Robin told her. “Wake me. Don’t wait until Jules gets back. I don’t want you to have to sit here with Will all that time. And you know he’s going to get here early, so…”
“Thank you,” she said.
He turned to go, but then he turned back. “You heard all that, huh?”
“Kinda hard not to,” she said.
“I get jealous of Adam, too,” Robin said. “And when I do, Jules goes what I had with him was a…a…puddle, what I have with you is an ocean, and…I believe him. I do. He said it, he meant it, and I believe him. So why doesn’t he believe me when I tell him the same thing? Why do we have to rehash this, over and over? What does he want me to do?”
“Reassure him?” Dolphina suggested.
Robin sat down on the sofa. “I know I should just be grateful that he trusts me at all. God knows I made some huge mistakes. That YouTube thing. I watch it sometimes, just to remind myself how incredibly magnanimous Jules is.” He met Dolphina’s eyes. “How much do you want to bet that all of the cable news stations play a ten second clip from my drunken YouTube-memorialized binge when they announce our wedding on Saturday?”
“They’ll play at least ten seconds,” Dolphina agreed.
“Somehow,” Robin said, “Jules found it in himself to forgive me after that. It had to take—it still has to take—an incredible amount of courage to put your heart on the line for someone you know is capable of hurting you.”
Dolphina narrowed her eyes at him. “Are we still talking about you and Jules?” she asked.
“I’m just saying,” Robin said.
“Go take a nap, Boy Wonder.”
Robin laughed as he stood up. “What did I do to deserve that nickname?”
“You met Jules,” Dolphina pointed out. “He’s kind of like Batman. But gay and much cuter.”
“Batman,” Robin repeated as he went up the stairs. And light dawned. “Holy shit, I finally get it. As in, I’m Robin, the Boy Wonder, and Jules is Batman. But with a sexy new twist. Jeez, it took me long enough. Don’t forget to wake me when you need me, Dolph.”
Will sat on the steps of Robin and Jules’s front porch for such a long time that his butt was starting to freeze.
He was early. What else was new?
When it finally came time to ring the bell, he was afraid that Jules and Robin would answer the door, dressed and shined in their tuxedos. They’d let him inside and casually drop the news that Dolphina had stayed home today.
On the other hand, Will had pretty much said all there was to say last night. Except maybe, Please, please, give me a second chance…
He may well have just sat there forever, if a man hadn’t come walking down the street and turned up the front path.
He stopped at the bottom of the steps, just gazing at Will.
He was one of those bald men who could’ve been anywhere from in his thirties to late fifties, with the kind of round face that wasn’t particularly distinctive. His mouth seemed thin and lipless—and his lack of smile certainly helped with that illusion. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of glasses, and his nose was…noselike. Kind of bulbish but not overly so. Not like, Hot damn, would you look at that guy with his W. C. Fields monstrosity in the middle of his face…
On the stocky side, he wore an overcoat that made him look like a large rectangle. Odder still than his choice of fashion was the fact that the coat was so new it had all of its tags still on it.
“Can I help you?” Will finally said, wondering what this man saw as he looked back at Will. A too-skinny, angular-faced, redheaded loser in a shabby coat with a frozen butt and a broken heart of his own foolish making.
“Do you live here?” the man asked. “Are you Jules Cassidy?”
“No,” Will said. “I’m not. I…don’t live here. No.”
“That’s good,” the man said. “Because Jules Cassidy may be one of them. That’s how you find the nest. You frighten them and see where they go. They always head for the safety of the nest.”
Wow. Will was tired. He hadn’t slept much in the past week, but even allowing for his potentially fatigue-induced lack of understanding, that sounded to him like some ultra-crazy lunatic ravings.
“No one’s home,” Will said. “That’s why I’m sitting out
side. I’m sorry, what’s your name? I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t give it.”
“Ah,” Will said. “That would explain…why I didn’t catch it.” He stood up. “They should all be home by four-thirty,” he lied. Damn, he was good at doing that, but there were lies and then there were lies. “We should both probably come back later.”
But the man sat down on the steps. “I’ll wait.”
Will took out his phone. “Maybe I’ll, uh, call Jules and, uh—”
“That’s not a good idea.”
Holy. Fuck.
Mr. Nameless Newcoat had a gun. It was little, easily concealable, and deadly looking. He didn’t try to hide it from any of the neighbors—who were nowhere in sight, damn it. He just pointed it at Will as he held out his hand for his cell phone.
Will’s mouth was dry as he handed it over. Please God, let Dolphina have stayed home today. Please God, let Jules look out the window and see this lunatic and his weapon and realize they were in danger. Please God…
“They call them cop killer bullets,” the man informed him, “because they want to make them hard to obtain. But the truth is, they’re the only ones that will pierce the metal exoskeleton. And they’re really not that hard to find.”
“Metal exoskeleton,” Will repeated.
“Of the robot.”
Will tried to think, tried to calm his pounding heart, tried to figure out his options. He could run for the street, try to get to a phone where he could call the police or Jules or both. But his doing that could get him shot. Or someone else might be hit when the crazy man fired his weapon.
On the other hand, firing that weapon would certainly get some- one’s attention. But on the other other hand, if Dolphina was inside, she might come out to see what was going on, which would put her in peril.
Will could stand here. And talk to the guy. Stall, and hope someone would see them, see that gun and call for help.
“So you, uh, really think Jules is one of them?” Will asked, hoping he’d gotten the right amount of conspirator into his tone.
But the man didn’t answer, because someone—No!—was opening the front door.
“It’s freezing out here.” It was Dolphina. “Are you intending to just…” She saw the gun, but damnit, she didn’t slam the door shut and run for the phone. She just stood there breathing. “Oh, my God.”
“You said no one was home,” the man accused Will.
And he shot him.
Robin awoke with a start, his heart pounding. Jesus, what was that?
He’d been dreaming—a good dream. Extremely simple. No dog-headed people dancing the Macarena, or wipe-cuts to little Billy with a moustache, speaking Romanian.
Just Jules. And Robin. They’d been in a club, dancing. Holy DJ, Jules was an amazing dancer, but they rarely went clubbing because of the alcohol factor. Because of Robin. Occasionally alcohol-free party nights would line up with one of their free evenings and they’d go, but those were few and far between.
Robin was looking forward to tomorrow. They’d hired a live band for the reception—a local Boston group called Firefly who specialized in what he thought of as “Jules Music”—a mix of swing, old standards and plenty of pop rock from the 60s and 70s. “Come and Get Your Love,” heavy on the cowbell. “Funky but Chic.” And, of course, “Hooked on a Feeling.” It was going to be great.
So he’d been dreaming, they’d been dancing, Jules had been smiling at him and…There’d been the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
Had he dreamed it? Or…?
Robin now sat up as he heard what sounded like Dolphina’s voice coming up from downstairs. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Will! What have you done?”
What the hell?
Robin got out of bed and went out into the hallway, onto the second floor landing.
Will wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, not yet anyway. Think. She had to stop shaking and crying and think, and somewhere, from deep inside, Dolphina grabbed hold of a strength she hadn’t known she possessed.
“There’s no one else home,” Dolphina told the man with the gun, the man who’d—dear God—shot Will in the leg. She spoke as loudly and as clearly as she could with her quavering voice, praying that Robin would hear her and call for help.
“Bring him inside,” the man ordered, and she hesitated.
Will was bleeding, blood seeping through his fingers as he clasped his thigh. His pupils were already dilated as he gazed up at her from where he’d fallen on the steps—he was going into shock. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve tried to grab his gun…”
“Shhh,” she told him, then turned back to the gunman. “Let’s leave him out here. That way I can call an ambulance and—”
“You’ll call no one.” He pointed the weapon again at Will. “Bring him inside or I’ll shoot him again.”
Oh, God. She grabbed Will beneath the arms and pulled him into the foyer.
Moving him like that had to have hurt him badly, but he gritted his teeth and tried to swallow his pain, obviously for her sake—which made her start to cry again.
“Don’t die,” she begged him. “Don’t you dare die.”
Sam watched Adam, who was watching Jules as he looked at those two Polaroid photos, and then the latest e-mail from Jim Jessop.
It wasn’t much of an e-mail—just ten short words. Run. Run to your nest and I’ll kill you all.
It had made the hair on the back of Sam’s neck stand up, and it was clear it was doing the same now, to Jules.
Adam looked like hell, slumped the way he was at the coffee shop table with his unwashed hair and his three days in the same grimy clothes. “I know this is not the right time for this, but I didn’t know where else to go,” he said quietly.
“What does he mean by nest?” Jules asked.
“It’s the same old robot-alien shit,” Adam said. “According to the gospel of Jim, we robots come here from outer space and take over people’s lives. But we don’t show up here all alone. Apparently, I’ve got some kind of alien posse. We all stay in touch and we all regularly check in at some place Jessop calls our nest. It’s fricking crazy and I’m sick of it and I want it to stop.”
Jules got very still as he looked again at the e-mail. Alyssa noticed the sudden change in him, too. She was always hyper in-tune with Jules, and she sat forward.
Jules looked at Adam then, as if something he’d just said was horrific. More horrific even than the whine in Adam’s tone. “How many people do you know in Boston?” he asked.
“Besides you and Robin?” Adam responded. He shrugged. “No one.”
“Who do you use for cell service?” Jules asked, taking out his phone and dialing.
Adam blinked. “What? Why?”
“Just fucking answer my question!”
“Globe-net,” Adam said. “God.”
Sam looked at Alyssa. Did she know who Jules was calling? She shook her head, no.
“Yeah, Yashi,” Jules said into his phone. “I need some information and I need it right away. I got a suspect named Jim Jessop. I need to know if he works for Globe-net. As any kind of employee, but we should probably check customer service first. And find out if he’s recently been on the passenger list for any airline flights from the West Coast into Boston. No, make the destination anywhere on the East Coast. I need this now. Call me right back.” He stood up. “I gotta get home. To my fucking nest.”
Sam stood, too. “You really think…” He followed Jules out the door.
“I think that I left Robin and Dolphina home alone, with a madman on the loose.”
Adam and Alyssa were right behind them.
“I don’t get it,” Adam said. “You actually think Jessop works for Globe-net?”
“He knows where you are,” Jules said sharply as he broke into a jog, “because he works for your cell phone company, yes, that’s what I think. You always take your cell phone, you always make local calls, he has access to your records, so he always know
s where you are.” Jules laughed, but it was clear to Sam that he didn’t find any of this funny. “And he knows that you’ve been keeping in touch with Robin and with me. And thanks to the Internet and websites like Celebrity Stalker dot-com, he also knows exactly where we live.”
“Run to your nest,” Alyssa echoed the e-mail.
“You ran straight to us,” Jules told Adam. He still had his phone out, and he used it now, no doubt to call Robin.
Alyssa took out her cell phone, too. “I’m calling Tom,” she told Sam. “See if Troubleshooters are back from New Hampshire yet. We can set up a perimeter around the townhouse, watch for this guy.”
Sam nodded. Good plan. He himself dialed Cosmo Richter, who picked up on the first ring. “Cos, it’s Starrett. We need you over at Jules’s place, ASAP. Got a potential situation with a stalker.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Covert approach,” Sam said, silently thanking God for enlisted men like Chief Richter. The SEAL didn’t waste time with so much as the smallest what-the-fuck. “And do me a favor, Chief, ask Jane to call all the civilians—like Jules’s mom. Anyone who might drop by. We need to keep everyone away from the house for a while.”
“Will do.”
“Robin’s not answering,” Jules grimly announced.
Robin’s cell phone rang, the theme from Buffy the Vampire Slayer wailing throughout the house.
He’d had his phone out and open, and was just about to dial Jules when it exploded in a deafening burst of electric guitar power chords.
“What is that?”
Robin held his breath and didn’t move as the gunman came toward the stairs. It took every ounce of his self-control to stay still—to not slam his phone shut and end the music. To not push the silence button. To not answer.
Jules was on the other end. Jules, who was probably calling to tell him he was on his way home. Jules, who unless Robin warned him, was going to walk blindly into a hostage situation in his very own home—a situation in which this stranger with a gun had already shot Will Schroeder.
But if Robin didn’t just let the phone ring, the gunman would know he was up here.
All Through the Night: A Troubleshooter Christmas Page 22
