Moments later, I caught sight of an elderly man coming out of a drug store across the street. At this distance, it was hard to make out his features, except for a shock of white hair and his slightly wobbly gait.
The old man looked at his watch, then carefully threaded his way through the stream of pedestrians until he reached a free-standing bus stop sign. There he paused, peered expectantly up the street, arms folded. Waiting.
Suddenly, Maddox spoke again. No image this time, just his voice. As the traffic cam continued to stream the video.
“Recognize the old geezer, Danny? Name’s Stephen Langley. Businessman, father of two. At least when you knew him. Now, in case you want to update your records, a grandfather as well.”
“My records—?”
“He’s hacked into your computer,” Barnes said. “Probably how he found out about me.”
“No,” Maddox replied. “I read about you in the paper. How you and Rinaldi worked together on that case, couple years back. But you’re right about my hacking the Doc’s computer. All his patient files. It’s how I found out about poor old Mr. Langley.”
I closed my eyes, remembering him now. At the same time, I registered the sound humming in the background as Maddox spoke. Engine noise. He was in a moving vehicle. Probably driving.
My eyes snapped open, and I stared harder at the laptop screen. At the image of Stephen Langley waiting impatiently at the bus stop.
As if I could prevent what was about to happen.
“Maddox, don’t!” I shouted at the screen. “It’s me you want. I’m the one who—”
He ignored me, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Langley was your very first patient when you went into private practice, Danny. Ironically, suffering from emotional trauma after being run over by a car and barely surviving. It took months before he was able to walk on a sidewalk. Still, the old fart doesn’t realize how lucky he was back then. That other driver didn’t quite get it done. I will.”
We heard the roar of a car engine, almost drowning out his last words. In my mind’s eye I could see Maddox flooring it.
“Good God.” Gloria’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on the table.
It was like watching a nightmare. The silent, remorseless black-and-white video image. Then, suddenly, a nondescript white van appearing on the screen. Soundless as well, yet hurtling at top speed down the street toward where Langley stood on the sidewalk. Right next to the bus stop sign. The only passenger waiting there.
“No!” I jumped up from my seat.
I heard Gloria’s choked cry, but kept my gaze riveted on the laptop screen.
The white van swerved as it approached the bus stop and bumped up onto the sidewalk, hitting Langley with such force that the old man went flying, limbs pinwheeling. He was thrown like a rag doll into the line of horrified pedestrians scrambling to get out of the way.
Barnes’ voice was a rasp. “Jesus Christ.”
The van had turned and jumped back off the curb before Langley had even hit the pavement. Now Maddox was barreling down the street again, instantly disappearing from frame.
“You fucking son of a bitch.” I gaped at the laptop. The crowd gathering, people shouting, crying.
I was still staring at the image when the screen suddenly went blank. Then that voice—his voice—more audible now above the engine noise as he reduced speed. Obviously making sure his van moved easily and inconspicuously into the flow of traffic.
“I know what you three are thinking. All the cops have to do is view the tape, get the van’s license number, blah, blah, blah. Just like on TV. Except this little baby is stolen, and is soon going to be abandoned somewhere out in the boonies.”
He didn’t wait for any of us to respond.
“See, Danny, it’s only going to escalate. Your punishment, I mean. Your friends, colleagues, patients. Until, as I said, I’ll come for you. And finish what I started eleven years ago.”
The laptop power light winked off. Maddox was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
For what must have been at least two or three minutes, I didn’t say anything. After my computer had powered off, I sank back into my chair and put my head in my hands. My palms pressing against my closed eyelids as though to erase from my mind what I’d just seen. As though to make the nightmare stop.
Lyle Barnes and Gloria Reese did what they were supposed to do. Bear silent witness to my pain. My frustration.
Until the retired FBI man broke that silence.
“You didn’t cause this, Doc. You didn’t make Sebastian Maddox the man he is. Hell, you didn’t even know he existed before today. So how can you be responsible for his actions? For anyone’s actions, for that matter?”
I let out a long breath, seemingly exhaling for the first time since watching Langley’s death.
Then I felt Gloria’s small hand on my shoulder, its grip reassuringly strong.
“Barnes is right, Danny. This shit is not on you.”
“I know,” I said at last. “But I also know that there are people in danger, and all because their lives happened to intersect with mine.”
“True enough.” Barnes rubbed his narrow chin. “The question now is, what the hell are we going to do about it?”
Gloria spoke up. “First thing, we have to warn all Danny’s patients. Tell them to be on alert. Make sure they’re never alone if they go out. Or better yet, to stay inside.”
I shook my head. “I’m not so sure about that. Most of my patients are trauma victims. Psychologically fragile. I’m afraid telling them that there’s someone out there who may try to kill them will only re-traumatize them. Reinforce their worst fears about how dangerous the world is.”
“Maybe,” Barnes said. “But they’ll be alive.”
I considered this.
“Then there are your friends, colleagues,” Gloria said. “If we’re going to warn your patients, we should also—”
“Warn nobody!”
The sharp, angry voice was coming from my cell on the kitchen table, where I left it.
It was Maddox.
“You seem to have a short memory, Danny. Remember what I said? See all, hear all.”
Impulsively I grabbed up the cell. Tried shutting it off.
Maddox kept talking. “Listen carefully, Danny, because I’m starting to lose my patience. Don’t warn anyone, anyone, or all will die. This way, most of your patients and friends will live. I’m just choosing the ones I find pertinent to the mission. The mission to cause you as much personal suffering as possible.”
Barnes muttered something unintelligible under his breath. I knew his own sense of powerlessness was eating away at him.
“And though I shouldn’t have to reiterate this, no alerting the cops or Feds, either. Or else some poor bastard, some random victim, dies. And that’ll be on you.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” Maddox continued, “I gotta sign off. Places to go, people to kill. By the way, Gloria, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I’m definitely looking forward to some quality face-time with you. Your face, my cock. Hell, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
“Fuck this!” Gloria snatched the cell from my hand and began furiously pushing buttons. But I knew he’d clicked off.
I took the phone right back. “Don’t bother.”
Then I turned and hurled the damn thing against the kitchen wall. It shattered to pieces.
I went to do the same with my laptop, grabbing it up with both hands, but Barnes stopped me. His lean face close to mine.
“What the hell are you doing, Doc?”
All the horror, frustration, and anguish of the past twenty-four hours seemed to burble up within me.
“I’ve had it with this prick. I swear, I’m starting to lose it. I feel like he’s in my head. Like I can’t escape him.�
��
“That’s what he wants you to think.” He offered a sad smile. “Besides, you’d never lose it, Daniel. I’ve worked with you long enough in therapy to realize that. God knows, you and I have been to hell and back. And thanks to you, hell lost.”
“I appreciate that, Lyle. But I don’t care. I just want him to shut the fuck up!”
“No, you don’t. Sure, smashing that thing to bits will feel good, but that’s about it. My opinion? I think you should hang on to it. I suggest you download everything important onto a flash drive, then wipe the laptop clean.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather be in contact with that grandiose, self-satisfied asshole than go radio-silent. He’s a talker, like most of the obsessed killers I’ve known, and the best way to stay at least on an equal footing with him is to let him talk. He needs you to be afraid, and hanging on his every word.”
“He sure as hell’s succeeding.”
“Good. When I was with the Bureau, I never trusted a colleague who wasn’t afraid. Am I right, Agent Reese? Confidence is good, up to a point, but it can dull the senses.”
Calming myself, I said, “Got it.”
I handed him my laptop, which he put back on the table.
Meanwhile, Gloria was busily typing at the keyboard of her own laptop. I leaned next to her shoulder to watch.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to find the bastard.” She kept her focus on the screen. “Maddox just got out of prison—he was upstate, at Buckville—so he has to have a parole officer. Who’d have a current address and phone.”
“Are you going through Pittsburgh PD?”
“Nope. This guy’s a computer whiz, right? Wouldn’t surprise me if he had the cops’ system hacked. Just in case, I’m routing my enquiry through the Bureau’s interagency network.”
“Another thing,” Barnes offered, “if and when Maddox abandons the white van, and the cops end up finding it, they’ll put a trace on the license plate and VIN number. Impound the car while they’re waiting for the rightful owner to retrieve it.”
“Meanwhile,” Gloria said, “their forensics team will search the van for prints, hair and fiber, the works. Remember, Maddox had to have some equipment loaded into the van to ’bot Danny’s cell and laptop. And to redirect the live feed from the traffic monitor camera. No matter how careful the prick was, he’s sure to have left something usable behind, in terms of forensics.”
“How will we know what the cops are doing? Assuming they find the car, and assuming they then find any good forensics.”
“I’ll keep monitoring their servers, through the Bureau interface.” She smiled. “Just think of it as legal hacking by a dedicated FBI agent. Ends justifying the means, etcetera.”
Barnes scowled. “On the other hand, who the hell knows where Maddox will end up dumping the van? Besides, it could take days, weeks, till someone spots it and reports it in.”
Gloria turned to him. “We have to try every angle, Lyle. Otherwise, what do we do? Just sit around and—”
“And wait till he kills his next victim?” I finished for her. “Isn’t there more we can do?”
Gloria nodded. “I’ll have my tech team keep trying to track him. When I called them before, I told them I wanted to get a bead on a person of interest in a fraud case.”
“Good thinking. We have to take Maddox’s threat seriously about not calling in the cops. Or anyone else.”
Her voice was rueful. “Which leaves us pretty much handcuffed, in terms of manpower and official sanction. Even if we do find out where this guy’s holed up, we can’t go bursting in without an arrest warrant. Not if we don’t want him released two hours later for violating his civil rights.”
Barnes scowled. “Fuck that. Let’s grab the crazy son of a bitch first, then we can let the lawyers fight it out.”
I nodded. “The only thing that matters is finding him. Stopping him before he selects his next target.”
“If he hasn’t already,” Barnes said quietly.
l l l l l
As Barnes and Gloria followed up on her laptop, I went into the bathroom for a quick shower. I figured I needed it to help clear my head. I also wanted to scrub off the events of the past twenty-four hours, and to change into fresh clothes. I felt like burning those I’d been wearing when forced to watch both Joy’s horrific murder and that of Stephen Langley.
I was just buttoning a new shirt in the bedroom when a notion struck me. A thought pricking at the edges of my mind. Something Maddox said when he had me tied in that chair.
Then, just as quickly, it was gone. Whatever it was.
When I returned to the kitchen, Gloria looked excitedly up from her screen.
“I figured I’d keep monitoring the police system, and just now saw a report about the Langley hit-and-run. The uniforms are on-scene, getting witness statements. No license number, but everyone agrees about it being a white van. Late model, no graphics or lettering on the sides. The cops have put out a BOLO for similar vehicles that might have a damaged front grille.”
“We’ll have to assume that Maddox knows this, too,” Barnes said. “Which means he’ll ditch the van as soon as possible.”
I nodded. Meanwhile, Gloria sat back in her chair, rubbed her screen-blurred eyes.
“Oh, and I got the name of Maddox’s parole officer from his prison file. Guy named Stanz. Just got off the phone with him.”
“And?” I leaned in.
“He confirms that Maddox was released from Buckville two months ago. But after one required meeting with the P.O., he never showed up again. Stanz sent someone to check out Maddox’s last known address, some group home for ex-cons till they get a job and permanent residence, but our guy wasn’t there. Nobody’d seen him for weeks. And the cell number Maddox had given Stanz was a phony, too.”
“So Maddox is off the grid. Could be anywhere.”
Gloria gave me a resigned shrug, after which no one spoke for a full minute, Barnes roughly rubbing his beard stubble. Then, absently, he hit the side of the refrigerator with the edge of his fist. The incessant humming stopped.
“Jesus, Doc, this fridge is older than I am. Maybe you need to upgrade some stuff around here.” He nodded toward the end of the counter, on which sat a squat, heavy microwave oven. “And don’t get me started on that thing…”
Gloria smiled. “Yeah. I was thinking you ought to take it on Antiques Roadshow. Could be a collector’s item.”
I looked at their weary, expectant faces, appreciating their attempts to relieve the tension of the situation.
Finally, Gloria spoke again. “I know you’re still thinking about your old patient, Mr. Langley. I’m so sorry, Danny.”
“Yeah. So am I.”
“It’s weird, too. I mean, the poor guy barely survives getting hit by one car, years ago, and now—”
“That’s it!”
Barnes and Gloria stared at me, both startled at the sharpness in my tone.
“It was something Maddox said last night when he made me watch Joy’s rape and murder. How he loved the symmetry.”
Barnes frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“He referred to it when narrating the moment of her death. Unless I’m wrong, trying to create or identify symmetry is one of the ways his mind attempts to order itself. He’s delusional, obsessive. I think arranging things such that they appear to have symmetry aids him in feeling in control.”
I quickly turned to Barnes.
“Look, how did he try to kill you, Lyle? With a revolver, out the window of a car. Similar to what that assassin had tried to do to you last year, when you were his target.”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“Then there’s Stephen Langley. Traumatized years ago after being hit by a car. So how does Maddox kill him today?”
“B
y running him over with a vehicle,” said Gloria.
“But it’s more than that. What else is unique about Langley? As my patient, I mean?”
“Maddox said he was the first one you treated when you went into private practice.”
“Yes. My first. If I’m Maddox, and I’m psychologically self-regulated by adhering to symmetry, who do I pick for my next victim? If Langley was the first, then—”
“Then Maddox would want to target the latest—”
“That’s what I think.” I took a breath. “Which means I know who Maddox is going after next. My most recent patient, whom he’d know about from having hacked into my clinical files. A twelve-year-old kid named Robbie Palermo.”
l l l l l
Though Barnes had unscrewed the receiver and checked for bugs, I still felt uneasy about using my landline phone. Given Maddox’s technical expertise, I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t know how to listen remotely to my calls. In fact, I figured he probably could.
So instead, I borrowed Gloria’s cell and called Mr. and Mrs. Palermo’s home number.
I got their answering machine, Robbie’s mother leaving a falsely cheery outgoing message. I also had my young patient’s cell number, which I tried next.
And got his outgoing message.
“Either it’s turned off or he’s not answering,” Gloria suggested. “He’s a kid, remember.”
“Let’s just hope that’s all it is.” Barnes’ face was grim. “And that Maddox hasn’t got him already.”
With the three of us once more gathered around the kitchen table, I turned the laptop’s screen toward Gloria.
“If he does have Robbie,” I said tersely, “he’ll be sure to let us know. And want us to see it.”
Then I kicked back from the table.
“Where are you going?” Gloria said.
“To do something about it before he does.”
Chapter Sixteen
The late-afternoon sun was glazing the glass-and-steel towers of the city as I barreled across the bridge. In the post-rain clearness, the river sparkled as though bejeweled beneath me, and the distant Allegheny Mountains shrugged their aged, rounded shoulders against the blue of sky.
Head Wounds Page 10
