“Who?”
The old man coughed, bringing up a bubble of blood. “Henry. My brother, Henry.” He didn’t speak for a moment, disappearing into a memory. Then he looked at Blackburn and said, “Can you keep a secret?”
Blackburn knew the old man was dying. Nobody could survive this kind of punishment. “Yes.”
“I’ve been lying to myself all these years. We do that a lot, don’t we? Lie to ourselves.”
Blackburn nodded, his feelings for Carmody immediately coming to mind.
“We keep lying and lying and when you mix that in with all the booze, after a while the truth don’t matter much anymore. The lie is what we remember. The stories we make up to keep us from going crazy for what we’ve done.”
He faltered again, coughing up more blood. Then he said, “I loved my little brother. I don’t know why I pushed him in front of that police car . . . but . . . but my instincts just told me to. It was The Rhythm. The Rhythm makin’ me do it. Keepin’ the world synchronized.”
He paused, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t know why Henry went after that drunk-ass cop instead of me. I deserved it more. But there musta been a reason for it. Somethin’ he had to do to restore the balance. And he musta known this day was comin’.”
The old man looked up at the sky again. “You knew, didn’t you, Henry? You knew it all along.”
As if in answer—and Blackburn wouldn’t have believed this if he hadn’t witnessed it himself—thunder rumbled and rolled, shaking the earth beneath them.
The old man closed his eyes, listening to some inner voice, then said, “Forgive me, little brother. Please forgive me . . .”
Then his body weight shifted in Blackburn’s hands and he slumped forward.
Dead.
Blackburn stared at him a long moment, listening to the thunder recede, to the sound of the chaos around him, feeling the rain soak through to his skin, still not sure what the old man had been talking about.
But his confession—if that’s what it was—his expression of regret for deeds long past, cut Blackburn right to the bone.
Carefully laying the old man on the grass, he turned toward the trees and ran.
55
TOLAN KNEW THERE was a pathway in here, but he couldn’t find it.
He didn’t have a flashlight, so his vision was limited. Yet despite the rain, there was enough moonlight filtering through the trees to keep him from being completely blind.
The moment he’d heard the fire alarm, he had headed straight for the forest, Lisa calling out for him to stop. But he’d ignored her, still reeling from the revelations of what he’d done, what they’d both done, and of her willingness to go so far to protect him.
A day that had started with a simple but terrifying threat—imagined or otherwise—had now spiraled so far out of control that Tolan didn’t think he would ever regain his balance. The things he’d learned about himself—the horrible atrocities he had committed—made him believe that if he were to look into a mirror he’d see a demon staring back at him.
But if what Lisa had said was true, if The Rhythm or the heartbeat or whatever it was had worked its magic and there was even a chance that Abby had returned, then he’d do everything he could to keep her from harm.
He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
He thought about that night in Abby’s studio, what Lisa had witnessed, the fury that had overcome him, made him do the unthinkable, and he didn’t care about her warnings. He didn’t care whether Abby was dangerous or why she’d come here.
Or what she might do to him.
Because, in truth, he deserved whatever punishment he got. And this one small act of redemption could well be the key to his personal salvation.
Running through the trees, he thought he saw the trail ahead, a narrow unpaved path that snaked through the forest. But as he drew closer he realized he had somehow gotten turned around and the trail was no longer in sight.
Had he doubled back without realizing it?
He couldn’t be sure.
What he did realize was that he was suddenly lost, unable to determine which direction he needed to go.
A vision of Bobby Fremont looming over Abby filled his head, and he came to an abrupt stop, squeezing his eyes shut, willing it to go away.
As he stood there, the rain filtering down on him through the trees, he was struck by a new notion:
If what Lisa said was true, that the things he’d seen in seclusion room three were real, that Abby was back, was it also possible that he hadn’t imagined Vincent after all? Could those phone calls have been as real as he’d thought they were?
And if so, was Vincent out here somewhere, watching him squirm like a bug under a pin?
A cell phone bleeped, startling Tolan.
Faint, but unmistakable. Somewhere nearby.
Opening his eyes, he looked around, did a full three-sixty, and saw nothing but the forest and the darkness.
It bleeped again and he turned toward the sound, pinpointing its location. Focusing his gaze, he saw a dim light shining in the distance. Dark shapes.
Moving through a tight cluster of trees, he stepped over a pocket of fallen branches and came to a small clearing that was littered with the bones of abandoned cars. He knew now that he had doubled back, was close to the access road that he and Lisa had taken to the old hospital.
Among those old bones was a shiny new carcass.
A Crown Victoria.
Frank Blackburn’s unmarked squad car.
The rear passenger door hung wide, the overhead light burning, the sound of the bleeping telephone coming from inside.
His stomach clutching up, Tolan approached. He could see that the backseat was soaked with blood, and there was no doubt in his mind that a killing had taken place in there. A butchering.
Sue Carmody?
No matter how hard he tried to remember it, he could not put that knife in his own hand.
Had it been Vincent after all? Was this one killing Tolan wouldn’t have to take credit for?
He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about this. None of it mattered anymore. He was wasting time. He had to find his bearings and get to the hospital, get to Abby. But that one small kernel of hope buoyed him, and he wasn’t sure why.
Turning in his tracks, he studied the slope of the earth, trying to determine which way to go now, listening as the cell phone bleeped one last time, then went silent.
And just as he’d made his decision, had chosen what path to take, a bright white beam of light assaulted him, and a familiar voice said, “Don’t move or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“LOCK YOUR FINGERS behind your neck,” the voice said.
Its owner was standing near the tight cluster of trees, a flashlight in one hand, a gun in the other, his hair plastered down by the rain, his clothing soaked, a butterfly bandage adorning his forehead.
Blackburn.
Tolan had to squint to see him. Raising his hands, he locked them behind his head.
“Where’s Carmody?”
Tolan hesitated, not knowing what to tell him. If he told him the truth—however vague that might be—Blackburn would surely pull the trigger, and Tolan needed to stay alive long enough to find Abby.
“Please,” he said. “I have to get to the hospital.”
The flashlight beam didn’t waver. “You don’t look hurt to me. Down on your knees.”
Tolan did as he was told, twigs crackling beneath him. Overhead, the wind continued to howl through the tree-tops.
“Where is she?” Blackburn said. “What did you do with her?”
“Please, I don’t have time for this. I have to find Abby.”
“Abby?”
Realizing his slip, Tolan quickly corrected himself. “Jane. Jane Doe. I have to get to her.”
“I’m afraid you’re too late for that.”
Tolan’s heartbeat quickened. “What?”
“It’s a mess down there. She escaped. Along with a bunch of o
ther nut jobs.”
“How do you know that?”
“One of the patients told me. An old man.”
The old man again.
“He had a run-in with her and he wasn’t in too good of shape. Said she came this way.”
Tolan’s gaze shifted to the dark silhouettes of the trees. Did this mean that Bobby Fremont had failed? That Abby was safe?
Was she in here somewhere? Hiding?
“I don’t know what kind of weapon she’s carrying, but she ripped the shit out of him. And frankly, I don’t give a damn right now. I just wanna know what you did with . . .”
He stopped talking then, aiming the flashlight beam at the Crown Victoria behind Tolan.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered, moving a step closer. “What did you do to her?”
There was a sudden rustling sound nearby, a flash of movement through the trees—
—and it wasn’t the wind.
Blackburn stopped and swept the flashlight around, illuminating the darkness. “What was that?”
Tolan turned. Abby?
Another rustling sound, this time coming from the opposite side of the clearing. Higher in the trees, like the flutter of bat wings.
Blackburn pointed the flashlight toward it, but caught nothing in its beam. It was an unguarded moment and Tolan wondered if he should jump to his feet and run—
—but Blackburn quickly brought the light down again and shone it in his face.
“You can try,” he said. “But you won’t get very—”
Another sound abruptly cut him off.
A thudding sound.
Blackburn exhaled sharply and went down, the flashlight tumbling to the ground in front of him.
Tolan watched him fall, then looked up to see Lisa standing over him, a thick tree branch in hand. She tossed it aside and crouched over Blackburn, prying the gun out of his fingers. He was either out cold or dead.
“Get up,” Lisa told Tolan. “You heard what he said. Your precious Abby is loose, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let her hurt you. We need to finish what we came here to do.”
Blackburn stirred and Lisa pointed the gun at his head, about to pull the trigger.
Tolan sprang to his feet. “Lisa, no!”
“I have to,” she said. “He saw you. He knows.”
“No, it’s one thing to want to help me, to clean up after me, but you’re not a murderer. Don’t do it.”
“What difference does it make?”
“More than you can know,” Tolan said. “Trust me on this. I’d give anything to take back the things I’ve done.”
There was a flutter of movement again.
In the trees behind Lisa. A flash of white.
Abby?
Crossing to Blackburn, Tolan picked up the flashlight and pointed it, seeing nothing.
Then, another flutter, off to his right. A faint whisper:
“A lie stands on one leg, the truth on two . . .”
He and Lisa exchanged quick looks as he swept the beam toward it.
Again nothing.
“A lie stands on one leg, the truth on two . . .”
“Oh, my God,” Lisa said, panic filling her eyes.
Another flutter, off to the left now.
“A lie stands on one leg, the truth on two . . .”
Tolan swept the light in that direction—
—and there she was, crouched at the base of a pepper tree, looking out at them with dark, feral eyes. Not the product of a deluded mind, but real. Very real.
“Abby,” he said, feeling a sudden, overwhelming ache, accompanied by an unbridled sense of relief.
She was alive. She was alive and she was back and she didn’t look dangerous at all. She was the same woman he’d met five years ago, the same woman who had taken him into her bed, into her heart.
His lost soul.
“Oh, my God,” Lisa said again in a trembling voice, and brought the gun up to fire.
“No!” Tolan shouted, hitting her arm with the flashlight. The gun cracked, the shot went astray, and when Tolan returned his gaze to Abby—
—she was gone.
56
“JESUS,” A voice said. “What the hell happened to you?”
Blackburn had a mouthful of twigs.
He opened his eyes and spit, then realized he was lying on the ground. His head felt as if it had ballooned to twice its size.
Turning on his side, he looked upward toward the source of the voice. All he could see were two overlapping circles of a light.
Double vision.
Shit.
“Somebody sure did a number on you,” the voice said.
Then hands grabbed him, pulling him upright.
Clayton Simm crouched next to him, aiming a flashlight toward his head, fingers immediately going to the butterfly bandage, then moving to a spot just above Blackburn’s temple.
There was something wet there and Blackburn winced, pain shooting through him.
“This is bad,” Simm said. “You don’t want to be moving around too much.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Fire alarm. Some of our patients got loose. I thought I heard a gunshot. Did one of them attack you?”
“No,” Blackburn said, fighting confusion. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He squinted at Simm. “You picked the perfect time to finally show up.”
“Yeah, thanks for dragging me out of bed, then disappearing on me. I figured if I’m awake, I might as well be doing something useful.”
“Good, then help me to my feet.”
“I don’t think you should be—”
“Just do it.”
Simm stood up, then reached a hand out and pulled Blackburn to his feet. The world started spinning and Blackburn grabbed ahold of Simm’s arm to steady himself.
“I told you. You might want to sit back down. I’ll go get you some help.”
Blackburn said nothing, thinking he might toss his cookies. He tried searching the ground, but the double vision persisted. “Where’s my Glock?”
Simm swept his flashlight beam around the area, but came up empty. “Don’t see it.” Then he spotted something and stooped to pick it up.
Blackburn swayed again and Simm quickly caught him. “You drop this?”
It was a scrap of newspaper. The article on Anna Marie Colson that Kat had found in Tolan’s house. It must’ve slipped out of his coat pocket when he fell.
It was wet, but not soaked through. Simm shone his light on it, staring at the photograph of the college roommates. Blackburn looked too, trying to get his vision to clear, the image swimming before him, then finally coming into focus.
He stared at the fresh young faces, surprised by what he saw. Something he hadn’t noticed before. One of the roommates looking away from the camera, not at it, wearing an odd expression.
“Is that Michael?” Simm asked.
Blackburn shifted his gaze to Tolan’s smiling face, then snatched the article away from Simm and stuck it back in his pocket.
“I need to get up to the old hospital.”
“What the hell for?”
“Just help me get back to the trail. I’ll be fine after that.”
“Not likely,” Simm said. “I let go, you’ll fall flat on your face.”
Blackburn brushed a wet leaf off his cheek. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
TOLAN WEAVED IN and out of the trees, finally clearing the last of them, then stepped onto the grounds of the old hospital, where the rain came down hard, turning the battered driveway to mud.
After the shot, he thought he’d seen Abby again, several yards in the distance, and had taken off after her without looking back, leaving Lisa in his wake.
“No, Michael! You can’t trust her! She’s not what you think she is!”
But Tolan didn’t listen. Nothing she could say could stop him. Not after he’d seen that face. That beautiful face with its striking brown eyes.
All he wanted was to make things right. To pu
t his arms around Abby, to hold her, to tell her how sorry he was for what he’d done.
But now, as he stood at the edge of the forest, rain battering his face, he saw no sign of her, and the glimmer of excitement he’d felt only moments ago began to morph into the first seeds of despair.
From across the drive, the wide black mouth of the hospital’s main doorway seemed to call to him, beckoning him to enter.
He shone Blackburn’s flashlight toward it.
Was she inside?
A sudden feeling of déjà vu washed over him. A memory of Abby standing in the darkness of that doorway. Like something from a dream.
This is where it happens, Michael. Where it all comes together and balance is restored.
Steeling himself, Tolan crossed the drive and went inside.
“MICHAEL!”
AS Lisa watched him disappear through the doorway, she felt heartsick.
After all she’d done for him, all the sacrifices she’d made, all these years she had put her own interests aside to love him and protect him and what does he do?
He ignores her. Leaves her behind. Humiliated.
And all because of that thing.
Because of Abby.
Always Abby.
Lisa had spent the last year—the last fifteen years—coddling him, nurturing his wounded heart, promising to always be there, even during the darkest moments of grief.
And what had it gotten her?
She was always second string in his eyes.
The consolation prize.
When they made love, she knew he was thinking of Abby. He’d even said her name once, not realizing it. But Lisa had never mentioned it to him, had never complained.
Was there nothing she could do to make him see her?
She was a beautiful woman. A lot of men had told her so. She’d felt their stares, their unchecked desire, but she’d never responded, never led them on.
Because her heart was Michael’s. Always had been. Always would be. No matter how he treated her.
No matter who he chased after.
And she’d thought it was finally working this time, this year together, only to see it destroyed by that woman. That aberration.
But Lisa was an optimist. She knew this night would soon pass, this terrible day would be over, and when she was done cleaning up—a chore she had been born to perform—everything would be on track again, and she’d have another chance to make Michael’s heart hers.
Whisper in the Dark (A Thriller) Page 24
