She managed to stagger to her feet, fear swamping her. Tammy Tuttle, it had to be her, but how? How had she gotten past the agents and into the house? Why hadn’t Sherlock seen her?
She threw back her head and yelled, “Dillon! Oh God, Dillon, come quickly!”
Savich and Simon appeared at the top of the stairs at the same time, both wearing only boxer shorts. A light went on.
“Sherlock!”
Savich was beside her, holding her tightly against him, then gently pushing her down, afraid that he was hurting her.
Sherlock came back up, grabbed his arms. “No, no, Dillon, I’m okay. Tammy—she was here; she shoved me down the stairs. The alarm was off and I was just coming downstairs to check. I heard a woman’s moan. It wasn’t me. Where’s Lily? Dear God, check Lily.”
Simon was back up the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. They heard him yell, “She’s gone!”
Dillon grabbed his cell phone to call the agents outside.
Simon turned on all the lights as Dillon spoke to the agents. The front door was open and there was no sign of Lily. Somehow, Tammy had taken her out without Sherlock seeing anything.
Savich stood on his front porch in his boxer shorts, straining to see through the snow falling like a thin, white curtain in front of him, into the darkness beyond.
JIMMY Maitland said as he sipped his coffee, so blessedly hot it nearly burned his tongue, “What do the folk in Behavioral Sciences have to say?”
Savich said, “Jane Bitt is guessing, she freely admits it, but as far as she knows, no one has ever before encountered anything like Tammy Tuttle. She may have some sort of genetic gift, be able to project what she wants you to see. What’s amazing is the scope. She had everyone in that airport in Antigua believing she was a man, and this is what makes her so unique. Jane said even given that, we shouldn’t focus exclusively on it—there’s no percentage to it. She says there’s no beating her that way. We should focus on a woman with one arm who’s twenty-three years old. What would she do? If we can predict that, she’s vulnerable.”
“But we don’t know what she’ll do, where she’d take Lily,” Sherlock said.
“She was supposed to come after me here, not Lily—to tear my head off,” Savich said slowly, staring at his hands, which were clasped tightly together around Sherlock’s waist.
Simon was on his feet, pacing in front of the two of them. He was wearing only wrinkled black wool slacks, no shirt, even his feet were bare.
“Listen, Savich, you know she took Lily because she figured it was better revenge than killing you. Now, think. Where would Tammy Tuttle take Lily?”
It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, snow still falling lightly. No one said a word. Savich sat in his favorite chair, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He felt Sherlock leaning against him.
Then Sherlock said very softly, “I think I know where she might have taken Lily.”
TWENTY-NINE
Lily was colder than when she’d been lying on that naked mattress in Gothenburg. Her wrists and ankles were bound together loosely, with duct tape. She was lying on her side in a dark room, and it smelled funny. It wasn’t unpleasant, but she didn’t recognize it.
She was all right. She felt a dull throb on the side of her head, but it wasn’t bad, and her side hurt, but that wouldn’t kill her. No, it was the insane woman who had brought her here who could kill her.
Did she hear someone laugh? She couldn’t be sure.
She gritted her teeth and tried working at her wrists. There was a little bit of movement; the tape wasn’t all that tight. She kept pulling and twisting, working the duct tape.
Where was she? Where had Tammy Tuttle taken her? She knew Tammy was utterly mad and smart, since up to now she’d managed to evade Lily’s brother. She’d taken Lily because she was Dillon’s sister. She thought it was better revenge against Dillon than killing him. She wanted to make him suffer.
Lily knew she was right about that. Dillon was probably driving himself mad with guilt. She kept working the duct tape.
What was that smell that permeated the air? Then she knew. She was in some sort of barn. She smelled old hay, linseed oil, yes, that was it, at least it was some kind of oil, and the very faint odor of ancient dried manure.
A barn somewhere. She remembered Simon asking Dillon where they’d first caught up with the Tuttle brother and sister, and he’d said it was at a barn on Marilyn Warluski’s property near the Plum River in Maryland.
Maybe that was where she was. At least Dillon and Sherlock knew about this place. Was this Marilyn Warluski here with her as well? Was she still alive?
Dull, gray light was coming through the filthy glass behind her. It was dawn. Soon it would be morning.
Lily kept working the duct tape. She didn’t want to think about how in all the years she’d used duct tape it had never broken or slipped off. But it was looser than before, she knew it.
Lily needed to go to the bathroom. She was hungry. Her side and shoulder were thudding with pain. Just surface pain, that damned doctor had assured her. She wished now she had slugged him. Let him feel some surface pain for a while, the jerk.
There was more light, dull, flat light, and she could see now that she was in a small tack room. There was an ancient desk shoved against the opposite wall, two old chairs near it. A torn bridle with only one rein was dangling from a nail on the wooden-slatted wall.
It was cold. She couldn’t stop shivering. Now that she could see around her, see the cracks in the wooden walls that gave directly to the outside, she was even colder. She was wearing only her nightgown. At least it was a long-sleeve flannel number that came to her neck and down to her ankles.
But it wasn’t enough.
She turned her head when she heard the door slowly open.
She saw a woman standing in the dim light. “Hello, little sister. How are you doing with the duct tape? Loosen it up a bit yet?”
Lily said, “I’m not your little sister.”
“No, you’re Dillon Savich’s little sister and that’s more than close enough. That’s just dandy.” Tammy walked into the small room, sniffed the air, frowned for just a moment, then pulled one of the rickety chairs away from the desk and sat down. She crossed her legs. She was wearing huge-heeled black boots.
“I’m very cold,” Lily said.
“Yeah, I figured.”
“I also have to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay, I don’t care if you’re cold, but I wouldn’t make you lie there on your side and pee on yourself. That would be gross. I’m going to unfasten your feet so you can walk. You can go out in the barn and pick your corner. Here, I’ll put the duct tape around your wrists in front of you. I wouldn’t want you to pee on yourself.” Lily didn’t have a chance to fight her. Her ankles were bound. She could do nothing, just wait for the duct tape to go around her wrists again. At least they were in front of her now, even for a short time.
“Here’s a couple of Kleenex.”
Lily walked ahead of Tammy into the large barn. It was a mess—overflowing rotting hay, random pieces of rusted equipment, boards hanging loose, letting in snow and frigid air. She quickly saw the big, black-painted circle. It was starkly clean. That was where Tammy and her brother had forced the two boys to stay while Tammy called her Ghouls.
“How about the corner over there? Hurry up now, you and I have lots to do. I don’t trust you not to be stupid but it won’t matter if you are. Move, little sister.”
Lily relieved herself, then turned to face Tammy, who’d been watching her.
“How did you get into the house? The alarm system is one of the best made.”
Tammy smiled at her. Lily saw her very clearly now in the shaft of strong morning light that speared through a wide slash in the wall. She was wearing black jeans over those black boots, and a long-sleeve black turtleneck sweater. One sleeve dangled where her arm should have been. She wasn’t ugly or beautiful. She looked normal, average even.
She didn’t look particularly scary, even with her moussed, spiked-up dark hair. Her eyes were very dark, darker than her hair, in sharp contrast to her face, which was very pale, probably made more pale with white powder, and her mouth was painted a deep plum color. She was thin, and her single hand was long and narrow, the fingernails capped with the same plum color that was on her mouth. Even thin, she gave the overwhelming impression she was as strong as a bull.
“I’ll bet your brother and that little redheaded wife of his were chewing off their fingernails waiting for me. But I didn’t come when they wanted me to. That announcement the FBI character made on TV, I didn’t believe it, not for an instant. I knew it was a trap, and that was okay. I took my time, found out all about the alarm, how to disarm it. It wasn’t hard. Sit down, little sister.”
Lily sat on a bale of hay so old it cracked beneath her. “I don’t think you could have done that alarm yourself, alone. It would require quite some expertise.”
“You’re right. People always underestimate me because they think I’m a hick.” Tammy grinned down at her, then began pacing in front of her, every once in a while looking down at her empty sleeve, where her other hand should have been. Lily watched her and saw the look of panic, then bone-deep hatred, cross her face.
“What are you going to do with me?”
Tammy laughed. “Why, I’m going to put you in the circle and I’m going to call the Ghouls. They’ll come and tear you apart, and that’s what I’ll deliver back to your brother—a body he’d rather not see.” Tammy paused for a moment, cocked her head to one side. “They’re close now, I can hear them.”
Lily listened. She could hear the faint rustling of tree branches, probably from the constant fall of snow, the movement of the wind. But nothing else, not even early-morning birds, no animal sounds at all. “I don’t hear anything.”
“You will,” said Tammy. “You will. We’re going to walk over to that black circle. You’re going to sit down in the middle of it. I won’t even tie your hands behind you. Now, move it, little sister.” Tammy pulled out a gun and aimed it at Lily.
“No, I’m not going anywhere,” Lily said. “Will the Ghouls still want me if I’m not in the circle? What if you’ve already killed me with that gun of yours? Will they still want me then?”
“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” Tammy raised the gun and aimed it at Lily’s face.
SIMON wished he were on his motorcycle, weaving in and out of the heavy, early-morning traffic. Why didn’t Savich have a siren? Why were there so many people at this hour?
When there was finally a break in the traffic, Savich pressed his foot hard on the accelerator. Simon looked out the back window, saw six black FBI cars, one after the other, coming fast, keeping pace with them.
“Tell me, Sherlock,” he said, his heart thudding fast, hard beats. “We’ll be there soon. Tell me about Tammy.”
SLOWLY, Tammy lowered the gun. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you?”
Lily slowly shook her head, so relieved she was nearly sick. She’d been ready to feel a bullet go right through her heart, to be gone, and that was it. Sudden and final and she was dead. But she was still here, still alive, with Tammy, who was still holding that ugly gun.
The circle—it appeared Tammy wanted her in that circle, still alive. “Where is Marilyn? She’s your cousin, isn’t she?”
“You want to know about my sweet little cousin? I’m not real happy with her right now. See, she told your brother everything about me. Then he used her for bait. That was ruthless of him. I like that in a guy. She was waiting for me right there in the open, in that airport, standing next to that stupid agent who was supposed to be guarding her. From me. What a joke that was. I cut the agent’s throat, and everyone saw a crazy young man do it. Everyone believed it, but it was really me.
“You want to know why I hate your brother? It’s not hard. He killed my brother, shot my arm off, just left it dangling by a few strips of muscle, and I saw it hanging there and I thought I was going to die. And they strapped me down to this bed because your brother told them I was bad trouble, and then they cut the rest of it right off in the hospital and I nearly died. All because of your damned brother.”
Then Tammy let loose, screamed to the rafters, “One damned arm! Look at me—my sleeve is empty! I nearly died from the infection, damn him to hell. He shot my arm off! After I set the Ghouls on you, after they’ve gnawed you to a bloody mess, I’m going to get him, get him, GET HIM!”
Lily kept her mouth shut, tried to pull herself together enough to work on the duct tape. She wished she could raise her hands and use her teeth, but Tammy would notice that for sure. At least her hands were still bound in front of her; that might give her some chance.
Tammy drew a deep breath as she slowly lowered the gun. Her eyes focused again, on Lily. “You’re like him—stubborn.”
“How did you get past all the agents guarding the house?”
“Stupid buggers, all of them. It was easy. There’s hardly any challenge anymore. I didn’t let them see me.”
Lily didn’t want to believe anything that outrageous, but she said, “And they couldn’t see me either?”
“Oh yes. Nothing to it. I dragged you out, wearing that cute little nightgown—sorry I didn’t get you a coat. But I figured after you realized what was going to happen to you, you’d want to feel the cold, better than being dead and not feeling anything at all. Now, little sister, move into the circle.”
“No.”
Tammy raised the gun and fired. Lily cried out, unable to help herself. She threw herself to the right, off the bale of hay, felt the hot whoosh of the bullet not an inch from her cheek, and rolled and kept rolling, pulling and twisting at the tape on her wrists. Another bullet hit a pile of moldering hay and spewed it upward.
Then Tammy stopped shooting. She walked over to Lily and stood still, staring down at her, the gun pointed at her chest. Lily looked up, frozen, afraid to move, afraid even to breathe.
Lily said, finally, “You have a problem, don’t you, Tammy? The Ghouls won’t come if I’m not staked like a tethered goat in that black circle, right? So get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tammy didn’t say a thing to that, just turned and walked away, her strides in those heavy, black boots long and solid. Lily watched her disappear into the tack room and close the door behind her, hard.
It was so silent Lily could hear the barn groan as the rising wind hit it. Then Lily heard a scream, a woman’s scream, Tammy’s scream and two gunshots, loud, sharp.
Dillon ran out of the tack room toward her, his SIG in his hand, yelling, “Lily! Are you all right, sweetheart? Everything’s okay. I got into the tack room, shot her before she saw me. Are you hit?”
She felt such relief she thought she’d choke on it. She yelled, “Dillon, you came! I kept her talking, knew I had to keep her talking. She’s so scary. Then she started shooting at me and I thought it was all over—”
Lily stopped cold. Dillon was nearly to her, not more than six feet away, when suddenly Lily didn’t see her brother anymore. She saw Tammy. She wasn’t holding Dillon’s SIG; she was holding that same little ugly gun that was hers. Her brain froze. Simply froze. She couldn’t accept what she was seeing, what was right in front of her, she simply couldn’t.
“Honey, are you okay?”
It was Tammy’s voice, no longer Dillon’s.
Then Lily realized it really was Tammy. She thought she’d seen Dillon because she wanted to so much, and Tammy wanted her to. And Tammy thought it was working.
Lily said, “I’m okay. I’m so glad you’re here, Dillon, so glad.”
Tammy dropped to her knees beside Lily and turned her onto her side. “Let me get that tape off you, sweetheart. There, let me slip the knife under the tape. Good, you’ve already loosened it. You could have gotten yourself free and away, couldn’t you?” Then Tammy Tuttle pulled Lily against her and hugged her, kissed her hair. Stroked her single hand down
her back. Lily felt Tammy’s slight breasts against hers.
Tammy had laid the gun on the ground, a hand’s length away from her, not more than six inches. “Hold me, Dillon. I was so scared. I’m so glad you came so quickly.”
She cried, sobbed her heart out, felt Tammy squeeze her and kiss her hair again. Lily’s hand moved slowly toward the gun, slowly, until her fingers touched the butt.
Tammy swept up the gun, tucked it into her waistband, and said, “Let me help you up, honey. That’s right. You’re okay now. Sherlock is outside with the other agents. Let’s go see them.”
Tammy was holding her tightly against her side, walking toward the barn doors. No, not really toward the doors. She was swerving to the left now, toward that big black circle.
Just as Tammy flung her onto her back and into the circle, Lily grabbed the gun from Tammy’s waistband, raising it at her.
Tammy didn’t seem to notice that Lily had her gun, that she was pointing it at her. She’d turned toward the barn doors, raised her head, and yelled, “Ghouls! No young bloods for you this time, but a soft, sweet morsel, a female. Bring your axes, bring your knives, and hack her apart! Come here, Ghouls!”
The barn doors blew inward. Lily saw whirling snow blowing in, and something else in that snow. A dust devil, that was it. That was what Dillon had seen as well, wasn’t it?
The snow seemed to coalesce into two distinct formations, like tornadoes, whirling and dipping, coming toward her. But they were white, twisting this way and that, in constant motion, coming closer and closer. Lily felt frozen in place, just stared at those white cones coming closer, not more than a dozen feet away now, nearly to the black circle now. She had to move, had to.
Tammy saw that something was wrong. She pulled a knife out of her boot leg, a long, vicious knife. She raised that knife and ran toward Lily.
Lily didn’t think, just raised the gun and yelled, “No, Tammy, it’s over. Yes, I see you. The minute you got close, I saw you, not my brother. The Ghouls won’t help you.”
Twice Dead Page 63
