“Tell me what?” she demanded as soon as the phone returned to the hook.
“That they’ve still got the signal loud and strong. It’s coming from the Old Hundred Mine, which is exactly where O’Neil said he was. The police will be there in less than five minutes.”
“Five minutes.” She resumed pacing. “What if he’s not there?”
“Not possible. While you were talking to him the FBI was able to run a locator trace, which went right to Leather Ed’s cell phone. He’s there, Cammie. The entire cavalry is descending on the Old Hundred Mine right now. Oh, and the sheriff also told me to tell you that even though it’s hard, you need to relax. Everything is under control.”
“Relax.” She snorted, then made another round through the ten-foot-square floor space, her hiking boots thudding against the worn wood. She’d changed out of her pajamas in the bathroom instead of her bedroom since there were so many strangers crowded around her desk. Her choice had been simple: the jeans she wore to school a few times a week, worn and faded at the knees, her hiking boots, a pair of cotton socks, a blue tee shirt. It was her top, plucked from a closet shelf, that had been out of character. For the first time she’d chosen her Mahoney clan sweater, the twin of her father’s, the one her mammaw had made. It had never been Cameryn’s style before that exact moment. But today, with so much of her life unraveling around her she wanted to wear the symbol for luck, the emblem of survival knitted into the Aran wool. It itched where it touched her bare skin, and the muslin-colored yarn had a faint, unique odor, as though it contained the barest trace of wet sand. She looked at the double row of knitted cables, fingering them as her father had on his own. Today she needed all the luck she could get. All of them did.
She heard Justin’s chair squeak as he set his feet firmly on the floor. “Cammie, you need to calm down.”
Glaring at him, she snapped, “I already told you I hate it when people tell me that!”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” Justin had the grace to look sheepish.
“There is so much adrenaline pouring through me right now I feel like I need to move. What I don’t understand is how you can just sit there. I mean, I just did something crazy.”
“Could you be a little more specific?”
She shot him a look.
Justin rolled his eyes. “That was meant to be funny, by the way, and you didn’t even crack a grin. I must be losing my touch.”
“No, I’m just losing my mind.” She looked at the phone and bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. “Why don’t they call?”
“They will. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“How much longer?”
Justin looked at his watch and sighed. “Sixty seconds closer since the last time you asked, so . . . four minutes. More or less.”
The office was too small to get in more than six good strides, so it took her only moments to complete a circle.
“Don’t let him get into your head,” he told her softly.
“That’s just the thing—I can’t get him out!” She shook herself as though she could dislodge the thoughts, but there was no way to loosen them because they were inside her. Kyle’s wrenching sobs reverberated through her mind like the echo from a bell.
In the end, Kyle had agreed to turn himself in because of her.
“Are you sure I should do this, Cammie? Give myself up?” he’d pleaded.
“Yes,” she’d said, reading Andrew’s hastily written notes. “It’s for the best. You’ll get all the help you need. And I promise, no one will hurt you. Trust me.”
That had been the point where Kyle had finally relented. He’d said yes to her while Andrew, pumping his fist in triumph, mouthed the words We’ve got him!
“I’ll turn myself in,” Kyle finally told her. His voice was thick, and she heard him pause to catch his breath. “But you have to be there. Promise me, my anam cara.”
Tell him yes,Andrew had written. Tell him anything he wants. We’ve located the ping. Keep him talking.
And so she’d promised as though her life depended on it. She had wondered, listening to him weep, if there was still a spark of a soul inside him as he claimed. Had she really caused the flame of humanity to grow, or were those the soulless words of a madman? How would he feel when he learned she had lied to him? Did it even matter? From that thought she turned away.
“Cammie, don’t think about it anymore.”
Whirling around, she could feel her eyes go wide. “Like I’ve got some switch inside that I can turn on or off! You’re not the one who talked to him. You didn’t have to actually hear Kyle cry over the phone. I had to pretend I actually cared. I’m not an actress, Justin. I had to lie when he told me that I was his anam cara. That’s what Andrew told me to do and I did it. Lie and lie and lie.” She felt her stomach heave with her emotions, as if she were walking on the deck of a ship caught in roiling waves. “I feel horrible!”
Justin sat up, and faster than she would have thought possible he was on his feet, pulling her close. “Shhh,” he said into her hair. “You’re right, this whole thing has been hardest on you.” She felt a light kiss on the crown of her head. Inside she felt as tight as wire, the panic pulling her so thin she was afraid she would snap into pieces that would curl away like ribbons.
“Cammie, it’s going to be okay. I told you before. We’ll get him.”
“But I want you to promise,” she whispered. Her breathing was ragged as she swallowed back panic. “Promise me they’ll get him and I can forget about all of this death?”
“Yes, Cammie, I promise.” She could feel how strong Justin’s arms were. Stronger than she’d known.
His voice was husky as he said, “You did good getting him to use the phone of Leather Ed’s. That was the key. You need to stay tough and get through this last little bit.”
“I did everything Andrew said and I’m not sure it was right.”
“Of course it was right. Andrew is with the FBI. He knew exactly what to do and you did it and it worked. Quit trying to second-guess yourself, Cammie. Let someone else carry the load now, okay?”
Cameryn looked at the office door’s small pane of glass. SHERIFF’S OFFICE was stenciled in black, along with a gold star. Shadow figures moved past the rippled glass, and she thought how strange it was that life for them went on, that it went on for everyone, even though hers had been placed on pause. The shadow people in the hallway were there on business, tying up the threads of their everyday lives in a courthouse that was the heartbeat of the town, oblivious to the drama playing inside this small room. She wished for their blissful ignorance.
But she was finding strength inside herself, too, siphoning it off Justin and pulling it up from the depths of her own soul. As she stood, her body pressed into his, she could feel it. She felt herself coming back together as her breathing slowed. Of course Justin was right. She had to take the step to trust someone else, to let the police do their job.
He’d been so good to her through this, a rock. In her mind’s eye she tried to see her path with him but it was as cloudy as the images behind the glass. There was no way to guess where they would end up, but for once she didn’t require herself to scientifically solve the equation, to have the answer neatly filled out on the page in the certainty of black and white. Here, listening to his heart thud beneath his jersey, encircled by his protecting arms, she could just be.
“Are you okay now?” he asked. He pulled his head back so he could look into Cameryn’s face.
“Better.”
“Good.” He smiled, but it was cautious, like someone sticking a toe in the water to check out the temperature. “You’re sure?”
“Did you know there are people out there? In the hallway. Why are they here on a Saturday?”
Relief sparked in his eyes and she figured her outburst must have really scared him. “Because the Silverton County Courthouse is a happening place,” he said with forced cheer.
“Yeah.” Cameryn managed a small smile. “It holds the sh
eriff’s office—”
“—which is right next to the Motor Vehicle Registration Office, which is next to the Clerk Recorder. We are big-time city now, open for a half day on Saturday.” He stepped away from her, holding her elbow to make sure she was steady on her feet. “Look, I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier on you. How about I call the sheriff again and get an update?”
“That would be great. Don’t tell him I’m freaking out, though. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Freaking out is a secret held between you and me. And go ahead and start pacing again if it will help. Just don’t wear the shine off the floor. Have mercy on this old building. It’s an antique.”
Cameryn knew how true that was. The sheriff’s office was nestled in the center of the county courthouse, a gray stone building built in tiers with a gray slate roof. The cement stairs leading up to the building were guarded by pillars that supported a widow’s walk. A large clock tower was topped by a golden dome, a Victorian touch, of which many Silverton residents seemed inordinately proud. Inside the building was a small lobby protected by a wall of glass honeycombed with wire, and beyond that ran a wide wooden hallway Cameryn knew well. Various governmental departments were accessible from either side of the corridor, their names stenciled in the same block letters on identical glass panes. The sheriff’s office, halfway down the hallway on the left, consisted of a small outer office with two desks. Behind the office was an another chamber that contained a single jail cell. The cell that would hold Kyle.
She began to pace, slower this time, as he dialed. They heard a sharp rap on the glass that made them both jump. The doorknob jiggled but didn’t open since Justin had locked it. Still holding the cordless phone, Justin made his way cautiously to the door and peered through the glass.
“FedEx,” he said as he tossed her the phone, which she caught easily in her hand. “Cammie, you talk to Jacobs while I get this—”
He didn’t say any more.
Cameryn saw the blade before Justin did, his head turned ninety degrees toward her as the sentence died in his throat. Was that what had cost him, the looking at her? In that second she saw the slash of silver and the spurt of blood. She stood frozen. What she saw could not be happening. It was impossible. And yet it was.
Time did indeed slow to a crawl right before death.
She had read about the phenomenon of the near-dead, the way seconds stretched into minutes when the end of life flashed before a victim. What she hadn’t known was the same rule applied when you watched someone else in the throes of dying. Each millisecond became a second, each second an eternity.
The blade was long, curved at the end, and the thrust was instantaneous and hard. It took only a moment for the weapon to pierce Justin’s ribs, and a moment more for the sick sound of steel cutting flesh as the blade jerked up. She’d heard Justin’s sharp intake of breath and a hiss of air escaping. Wide-eyed, he’d looked at Cameryn as though he didn’t understand what had happened, his mind too slow to comprehend. The man used the thrust of his knife to push Justin back into the office, where he collapsed onto the floor, a disjointed bundle of legs and arms, as though someone had cut a marionette’s strings. Justin’s eyes rolled back into his head. Blood, black against his jersey, spread scarlet onto the floor. With a chortle, the man stepped inside and looked at her with a smile just discernible beneath the bill of his FedEx cap.
“Hello, Cammie,” he said, flipping off the cap.
In a dream, in a nightmare, she saw the aquiline nose, the glittering, controlled anger that appeared in Kyle O’Neil’s hazel eyes. Quickly, he shut the door behind him.
“You promised you’d be there for me when I turned myself in. But you lied.” His voice, cool as winter wind, was just above a whisper. “Don’t worry, I knew you would. I’m an Eagle Scout, remember? I’m always prepared. Which is more than I can say for your boyfriend here.” He kicked Justin’s body with the toe of his boot. “Don’t make a sound or I’ll cut him again.”
Could he tell she was going to scream? She could feel it surge inside her, a bubble of horror rising up, ready to burst out of her throat. Staring at the knife, she registered the blade, scarlet with Justin’s blood as he lay twitching on the ground.
“You look surprised to see me. Aren’t you going to say hello? I thought I meant something to you and you don’t even extend me a common courtesy.”
Justin, stabbed. Justin, dying.
And then her body unlocked itself and she screamed, flailing toward Justin, but Kyle grabbed her arm so hard she thought for a moment he’d cut her, too.
“Not him,” he hissed. “Me. Come on, Cammie. Our own little adventure is about to begin.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE COUPLE COMING toward her in the county courthouse hallway might save her! Their footsteps reverberating thunderously along the honeyed wood, the woman, her hair cut short and spiked, leaned her head against the man, whose own hair hung in a dark braid. Cameryn’s heart beat so loud in her ears it almost drowned out any other sound, and she wondered if someone outside her body could actually hear the panic she felt. But the couple, too engrossed in each other, took no notice as they approached.
“Shhh,” Kyle breathed into her ear in a sickening mimicry of Justin’s soothing whisper. And then, as though he and Cammie were involved in a conversation, he said loud enough for the couple to hear, “FedEx delivers on Saturdays but we charge a heck of a lot more for the service.” He kept his voice light, conversational, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the man. Beneath Cameryn’s coat, Kyle’s arm encircled her in an iron band, the blade of the knife perpendicular to her kidney.
The woman laughed and shoved her hip against the man, also laughing. They were only yards away now—the woman wore a perfume that smelled like cloves.
Once again Kyle dropped his voice so low that Cameryn could barely register his words. “If you draw attention to us in any way I will go to Gertrude Gorman’s house with this knife. I know your mammaw’s there.”
With his FedEx cap once again on his head, he tilted the bill down as the couple closed the gap. Cameryn could feel its stiff rim against her cheekbone. “Two old ladies won’t be much of a challenge for someone like me. So try to look normal and keep walking. You’re shaking. Put a smile on that pretty face.”
Step, step, step, Cameryn kept moving forward, which seemed impossible when her mind was frozen on what was left behind in the sheriff’s office. Justin, dying. Justin, already dead. Her grandmother. The blade pressed against the wool sweater, slicing yarn. Nodding at the couple as they passed them, Cameryn looked at their faces, but they didn’t even register her face, too intent on their own conversation.
“Perfect,” Kyle crooned when they were past. He propelled Cameryn down the county courthouse back stairway that led to a plowed parking lot. The building’s door had not quite closed shut when Cameryn heard the woman scream, “Oh my God, is that blood?” and the man’s cry, “It looks like footprints. Coming from there. . . .”
“Keep moving,” Kyle hissed.
She stumbled as he pushed her toward a black Jeep; Kyle righted her and lifted her so that for a moment her feet dangled inches above the ground. He set her down next to the Jeep and opened the door.
“Get in.”
Her muscles felt like wood. “No,” she croaked. “If you’re going to stab me, do it here.” She knew the statistics; once a victim got into a car his or her life was basically over. It was better to take your chances on the outside. But Kyle, pushing the blade in so hard she cried out in pain, whispered, “Do what I tell you and your grandmother lives. Give me any trouble and I swear I will go to that house and slit her throat.”
“Mammaw?” she gasped.
“Don’t you get it? It’s you I want. And now you’ve got a choice.” His hazel eyes blazed. “Do you seriously want me to hurt anyone else? I killed Justin because of you. Do you want another soul on your conscience?”
She could barely get her mout
h to move. “No.”
“Good girl. Good Catholic girl. All the police are at the Old Hundred Mine and there is no one in this stupid town to help you. So get into the Jeep, Cammie, or more people will die. Final warning.”
Fear stabbed her as her mind worked through the decision that was now not a choice. Kyle, who had once told her he killed because it gave him a thrill to have power over life and death, held every card. There was no doubt he could kill Mammaw. Or anyone else he chose. Slowly, she folded herself into the bucket seat. He grabbed her right hand and placed her wrist on top of the metal grab bar installed over the glove compartment. From a pocket he produced a thin piece of plastic. The zip tie was threaded around the bar and her wrist so fast she barely registered his motion as he pulled one end of the plastic so tight it cut into her wrist. She cried out in pain but he ignored her.
“That should do it. Now you won’t be going anywhere. That first time I used duct tape on you, but I’m proud to say I’ve improved my style. There’s no way out of a zip tie.” He walked toward the driver’s side, his movements sinuous, like a large cat. Tall and well muscled, Kyle was far too big for her to overpower. In the seconds it took for him to make his way around the car she jerked against the zip tie with all her strength, but it did not give.
“When are you going to learn to stop fighting?” Kyle asked as he slid into the driver’s seat. He was talking fast, his movements disjointed. Pulling off his FedEx cap he tossed it into the backseat. He set the knife on the dashboard and the Jeep’s engine roared to life. Blood glazed the knife blade, and she thought of the red stained glass in St. Patrick’s, the red frosting on her grandmother’s Valentine cookies, and the red of her father’s once fiery hair. Strange, disconnected thoughts, confetti memories whirling behind her eyes, useless memories of the ones she loved.
“Kyle, please,” she whispered. “Please!”
“Please what?” He ran a hand through his hair then clasped the wheel. His posture was military, so straight the small of his back did not touch the upholstery. Blond hair stood from his head like an areola, longer than it had been when she’d last seen him. The features on his face seemed coarser, more hardened, his skin darkened by days lived in the open. With a lazy flick of his finger he turned on the blinker and coasted slowly out of the parking lot, stopping properly, checking the traffic in both directions before moving on at the proper speed. There was nothing about the two of them that would draw anyone’s attention as he turned onto Greene Street.
The Dying Breath Page 14
