“I know what I’m doing.”
“I think you think you know what you’re doing. But let’s be honest here.”
“If you came all this way to lecture me, you can get back in your car and go home. I told you, I know what I’m doing.”
Jim continued staring at her for another couple of seconds. “Okay, then. So what’s your plan?”
“I need to see Eddie.”
“Right. But what’s your plan to get in there? Now that Mark Webster is”—he hesitated again—“dead, you don’t have many options left.”
“Maybe we can call the prison.”
“And what—ask to be put through directly with Eddie? It’s a maximum security prison, not a hotel.”
“There has to be some way of getting in touch with him.”
She was biting her lip now, tears threatening. Jim saw it and sighed.
“Does this place have Internet?”
“I don’t know. I would think so.”
“What about a computer to use? I don’t remember seeing one in the lobby.”
Elizabeth shrugged.
Jim stared out at the parking lot for a moment, thinking something over, then reached into the pocket of his slacks. He frowned, checked the other pocket.
“What is it?”
“My phone’s not on me.”
“Is it in your jacket?”
His rain slicker was hanging off one of the doorknobs inside.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I might have left it in the car. I’d used the car adapter on the drive down to keep the battery full.”
They went into the room. Todd was sitting on one of the beds, his back again the headboard, flipping from one news station to the next.
Todd said, “Everything okay?”
Jim ignored him as he began searching the pockets of his jacket. After a few seconds he glanced up at Elizabeth and shook his head.
“Want me to come with you?” she asked.
Todd said, “What’s going on?”
Jim ignored him again. “If you want, sure, but I’ll only be a minute.”
Todd swung his feet off the bed. “Goddamn it,” he said, “what’s happening? Is everything all right?”
“Settle down, buddy,” Jim said, holding a hand out to him. “No need to curse around my sister.”
Elizabeth found this whole scene suddenly disturbing. Two grown men facing off against each other, one her brother, the other her lover ... or would-be lover. Jim had always done the big brother thing and scrutinized the men she dated. He had only approved of Eddie, and that was because he and Eddie had been roommates and friends. Now these two barely knew each other, and it didn’t help that tensions were high because of everything else.
“He’s looking for his cell phone,” she told Todd calmingly.
“What does he need his cell phone for?”
Jim said, “Because not all of us can sit around and watch TV. Some of us actually need to try to help my sister out.”
Todd’s face went instantly red. He took a step forward, his mouth opening, and Elizabeth hurried between them.
“Let’s not do this now, okay?”
Todd kept his glare on Jim. Jim kept his glare on Todd.
On the bedside table, the BlackBerry dinged.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, released a slow breath.
“Is that another one?” Jim asked.
She nodded slowly.
“Can I ... see it?”
Elizabeth said, “Just go get your phone.”
She kept her eyes closed until Jim left and only then did she look at the BlackBerry on the bedside table, its notification light blinking an ominous red.
CHAPTER 49
TODD SAID, “I don’t like him.”
Elizabeth turned to face him. He stood with his shoulders squared, his face set.
“I mean”—Todd held up his hands, shaking his head—“what was his deal anyway? All I wanted to know was what you guys were talking about.”
Before she could respond—and what she would say, she didn’t even know—one of the phones rang. She immediately headed for the BlackBerry before realizing the ringing phone was the throwaway in her bag.
“Congratulations,” Foreman said dryly when she answered. “You’ve made the news two days in a row.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Somebody recognized Sarah Walter as you. Now your face is all over the news. Turn on HNL.”
She turned to the TV, which happened to already be on CNN. She grabbed the remote and asked Foreman what channel number and when he told her she punched it in. She expected it to be some quick segment, her face only flashed on the screen for a few seconds, but it was worse. Here now was Nancy Grace talking to two analysts about the recent events regarding Elizabeth Piccioni. She saw it had been a good excuse to bring Eddie back into the limelight, talking about Elizabeth’s disappearance and sudden reappearance and the related deaths.
“The main question on everybody’s minds, of course,” Nancy said to the camera, speaking to her analysts, “is not only why has Elizabeth Piccioni resurfaced after five years, but why is she leaving a trail of bodies in her wake?”
“That’s not all, Nancy,” said one of the analysts. “My question is, where is Clarence Applegate? His Twitter account hasn’t been active for over two days now, and he hasn’t been replying to emails.”
“That’s an excellent point, Henry,” Nancy said. “Our people have tried getting in contact with him all day.” She looked into the camera. “Clarence, if you’re out there, give us a call!”
Elizabeth was standing only a few feet away from the television.
In her ear, Foreman cleared his throat. “This is becoming much too big for you to handle.”
She stepped forward and punched the power button with more force than was necessary. The TV went dark, the room silent.
In her ear, Foreman cleared his throat again. “Liz, I think—”
“I’ll call you back.”
She snapped the phone shut. Stood there a moment, staring into space, before she realized Todd was watching her.
“I ... need to use the restroom,” she said, and turned away. Her legs were shaking. She shut the bathroom door behind her and turned on the lights and fan. She placed the throwaway on the counter and gripped the edges, leaning forward and staring at her reflection. She moved her tongue between her teeth and bit down hard. She tasted blood. It was okay, though, because the pain was there, the only thing keeping her at that moment from screaming.
• • •
FIVE MINUTES LATER, she emerged from the bathroom. Todd was sitting on the bed again. The TV was off. The room was eerily silent, the only sound that of the rain outside.
Todd was watching her. She had washed her face, making sure to clean up any blood that might have trickled out of her mouth. She stared at Todd, not sure what to say. This entire thing had been snowballing from the start, and it needed to stop. Once Jim returned, they would all sit down and talk about their options. They would discuss—
The BlackBerry rang.
Todd jumped, startled, and turned toward the phone. He went to reach for it but Elizabeth said, “Don’t,” and hurried across the room, picked up the phone, and placed it to her ear.
“How did it feel?” Clarence Applegate’s dark robotic voice asked.
She purposely kept her back to Todd. “How did what feel?”
“The first time you killed someone.”
“I’ve never killed anyone.”
“We both know that’s a lie. Why do you keep denying the truth to yourself?”
“Because what you believe is true is not really true.”
“I can see why you like it. The killing. There’s a power to it that’s ... preternatural. It’s like a piece of yourself has been missing since you were born, and then, once you make that first kill, that piece is put in place. You become whole.”
Behind her the bedsprings sighed as Todd rose to his feet.
Clarence
said, “I want my trophies.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’re not working fast enough.”
“I tracked down my husband’s lawyer, the only person who could get me in to see him so I can get you what you want. But then you had to come and kill him. Why? Why do that?”
“He’s not the only one.”
“What?”
“I’ve purposely placed somebody in your path to guide you to what you need. I’m trying to make this simple for you. You’re the one making it difficult.”
She frowned, not at all sure what he meant by this. She thought about everyone she had come in contact with in the past three days. Half of them, she acknowledged with rising trepidation, were dead.
“Do you think it could be a disease?” the dark robotic voice asked. “Murder, I mean. That it’s something you can catch? Something you can pass on? Because I ... I’m starting to like it. I think I’m starting to like it too much. I didn’t mean to be as brutal as I was, but there was something about being in that moment, watching him die, that was quite satisfying. Still, I fear I may have gone too far.”
She turned then, staring back at Todd. He saw the alarm on her face and opened his mouth but said nothing, just watched her.
“Clarence,” she said, trying everything she could to keep her voice steady, “what have you done?”
“I don’t remember the very last thing I said to my wife. I remember we were on the phone. We normally ended our conversations by telling each other we loved one another, but that day we had been having a fight. I don’t think I told her I loved her. I don’t think she told me the same.”
The dark robotic voice had taken on a thoughtful tone.
“That’s always haunted me, you know. That not being able to remember. It’s important to remember the very last words we say to a loved one. So I ask you now, Elizabeth. Think carefully. What were the very last words you said to your brother?”
• • •
THE RAIN HADN’T let up at all in the fifteen or twenty minutes since she had last been outside. If anything, it had increased. She had left the motel room in a blur, racing down the corridor, down the stairs, and then to the exit door, that she hadn’t even bothered to grab her jacket. She just ran without thinking, straight outside, went directly to Jim’s car. It was easy to find his car, because it was the only one parked in the back. A wall of trees was clustered behind the motel, giving excellent cover to anybody wishing to stay concealed from the highway.
Despite the rain and the half-darkness—the only security light hung over the exit door, and even that didn’t give off much light—she could see the pebbles of glass scattered on the asphalt. Enough light from the dim security lamp hit them just right that they twinkled like stars. Those were from the driver’s-side window, which Clarence must have shot out first. It didn’t look like Jim even had a chance to do anything. He had been seated, having rushed out into the rain, into his car in search of his phone. He had shut the door, turned away, turned on the dome light which was still on, making it possible for her to see that Clarence really had lost all control. How many times he had shot Jim (with a suppressor, he must have used a suppressor or else they would have heard the shots), it was impossible to say, but her brother had been shot at least twice in the face, twice in the chest, maybe more elsewhere. She even saw Clarence in her mind, standing just outside the car, having tapped the window with the barrel of his gun to get Jim’s attention, and then firing ... and firing ... and firing.
And Jim having nowhere to go, stuck in his seat like a prisoner, his body jerking violently with every bullet that entered it.
• • •
LATER, SHE WOULD wonder how she had been so calm, turning back to Todd who had followed her outside, who just stood there in the doorway, his face ashen. How she had gone up to him and told him they needed to leave, leave right this instant. How they had then walked around the motel to the front parking lot, not running but not taking their time either, just walking with a clear destination in mind. How they got into the Prius and Todd started it up and drove them out of the parking lot. How once they were at least a mile from the motel, with no cars behind them, did she dig into her pocket for the business card Foreman had given her, the card the FBI agent had taped to his front door. Later, she would understand that she had been so calm because she had had no other choice, none whatsoever. Not if she wanted to get through this. Not if she wanted to save her son.
Having found the business card, she took out the throwaway phone, opened it, and began to dial.
PART III:
WHAT DENNY THE DRAGON KNOWS
CHAPTER 50
DESPITE LAST NIGHT’S heavy rain, some drops of blood spotted the back parking lot of the Green Meadows Motel. There were only a few, barely even noticeable unless you were looking for them. The pebbles of safety glass were easier to find. Not all of them had been swept up by Clarence, who had also presumably moved Jim’s car along with Jim himself. In the early morning light, the pebbles sparkled like diamonds.
Special Agent David Bradford crouched over the area with the spots of blood and pebbles of glass. He had positioned himself so the sun could shine just right and not have any chance of getting his shadow in the way. Standing a few feet away was Special Agent Julia Hogan, who in her smart dark pantsuit also stood back enough so the sun’s rays wouldn’t be distracted.
“What are you thinking?” Julia Hogan asked.
He stayed crouched for another few seconds, staring down at the spots of blood and pebbles of glass, before standing back up. He was in his late forties and one of his knees popped with the effort.
“I’m thinking,” David Bradford said, “that those spots there on the asphalt could be blood. And those pebbles of glass there, they could have come from a shattered car window. And that the supposed victim, James McEvoy, could have been killed here last night.”
“That sounds like a lot of coulds,” Julia Hogan said.
David Bradford nodded, still staring down at the ground. “Yes, there is definitely a pattern forming. Of course, without the actual body, or even the car that was supposedly here, it’s impossible to make a solid conclusion. There are no security cameras back here. In fact, there are no security cameras out front either.”
“So again, what are you thinking?”
“That depends.”
“It does?”
“Yes. It depends all on whether or not I want to believe a woman who disappeared five years ago only to reemerge and become the focal point of a series of unexplained murders. A woman who, in my opinion at least, is not trustworthy at all.” He paused, tilting his head up so his gaze was even with hers. “What do you think about that, Elizabeth?”
She had stood in the same spot for the last ten minutes, not moving, just standing enough distance away that she didn’t feel too close to the FBI agents, but not too far away either. Last night she had told Special Agent David Bradford to meet her here at seven o’clock and had disconnected and turned off the phone before he could say anything else or even call back, and a half hour ago Todd had dropped her off a half mile away and she had walked here with only the BlackBerry Clarence had given her.
She explained everything, or at least almost everything, leaving out one or two details about her time at Van’s place, but besides that she had come clean with these two because right now she didn’t know what other choice she had. And, surprisingly, the two of them had listened to her, Special Agents David Bradford and Julia Hogan, the woman somewhere in her thirties, with a pretty face and short black hair, the man looking exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days.
Now she held up the BlackBerry and said, “The pictures of my son are on here, all of them.”
“Why didn’t your boyfriend come with you?”
“In case this doesn’t work out well.”
“Meaning?”
“I want him to have the least amount of involvement in this as possible on the chance we eventually face c
harges.”
David Bradford glanced at Julia Hogan. “That’s probably for the best.”
Elizabeth said, “What’s for the best?”
“Doesn’t it seem odd to you, Elizabeth?”
“What does?”
“Clarence Applegate—if he really is the person behind all of this—hasn’t seemed to care much about his killings so far. First he killed that child molester back in Kansas, then your friends in Indianapolis, then that lawyer in the middle of Rockefeller fucking Plaza. And then he comes here to kill your brother but he cleans up the scene and takes away the body. Why?”
Elizabeth stared down at the spots of blood on the asphalt. “I don’t know. To push me over the edge, I guess.”
“And why do you think he’d want to push you over the edge?”
“He hates me. He wants to see me suffer.”
“Do you think your son is still alive?”
She didn’t answer, still staring at those spots of blood.
“Elizabeth.”
She blinked and looked up at David Bradford as the agent reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was a BlackBerry, the same model as hers.
“Look familiar?”
She started shaking her head slowly. “I don’t ... I don’t understand.”
“Then understand this. I’ve been trying to contact you for the past two days. Even last night when you called me, I tried to tell you something, but you wouldn’t listen.”
Her gaze narrowed, she looked at Julia Hogan, then back to David Bradford. “What are you saying?”
“This past weekend was supposed to be my weekend with my son. We were going to a ballgame. That night we ordered pizza. Even now I believe the guy who delivered it is the one who’s doing this—and truthfully it may have been Clarence, because he had a hat on and I wasn’t even paying attention—but the next thing I knew I woke up in the morning to a terrible headache and my son had been abducted.”
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