Riley laughed. “Give it a rest, Vincent. I know you’re not going to kill an unarmed man. We both know that. You can talk all you want, but as long as I’m unarmed and sitting here like this—you’re not gonna do shit.” Riley spat blood onto the floor.
Vincent took a breath. Riley was more than right. Vincent stood from the chair, approached Riley, and struck him in the face with the butt of the gun. Riley cursed up a storm as he touched the cut on his head. “What the hell was that for?”
“You’re right about one thing,” Vincent said. “I won’t kill you.” He leaned in close. “But I never said anything about not beating you half to death.”
“You’re a dead man, Vincent,” Riley said. “You stuck your nose in all the wrong places.”
“You set me up.”
“Prove it. Once I get out here, we’re just going to catch up to you and kill you. We were going to just send you away for life, but that’s all over now.” Riley took a look at the clock in the corner. “You better start running, dead man. I should’ve checked in five minutes ago, and my people are going to be here in a hurry to find out why I didn’t.”
Vincent heard the words and believed every one. He grabbed his wallet, fished the keys for Riley’s car out of his pocket, and made his way toward the door. “Next time,” he said, shooting a look at Riley, “come armed. Please.”
Vincent slammed the door and ran out. If Riley’s compadres were arriving as promised, he didn’t plan to be there to greet them.
31
Vincent arrived at a pay phone about twenty miles from the motel and dialed Brandt’s number.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ve been waiting.”
“Riley just tried to take me out.”
“Son a bitch…” Brandt said. “So that’s why he left. He’s been gone for a few hours.”
“Did he take anyone with him?”
“No. Why?”
“He’s got people looking for me. People involved in this.” Vincent looked around the barren landscape. “I don’t think I can hide out much longer. We need to meet up. Discuss options.”
“Okay. I’ve got some updates for you, too. Where should we meet?”
Vincent scoured his brain for a location. “Mimi’s Diner,” he said. “It’s about twelve miles from my current location. If you leave now, you can be there in a little under an hour.”
“I’m out the door now.”
Riley ditched the truck and moved on foot, passing through barns and backyards spread out amongst the landscape before emerging unscathed at the diner.
And he was hungry as hell.
Vincent arrived at the diner after Brandt, taking nervous glances over his shoulder every few moments as he walked inside.
Brandt was seated in the back, in the booth closest to the back exit. There were only seven people inside the diner, including the waitress and the cook.
“We need to move fast,” Vincent said as he sat. “We’re running short on time. I don’t know who Riley has out there looking for me.”
“I managed to get all the information I could about that mask that you saw at the store,” Brandt said. “I found eight people that purchased it, two with cash. I rallied all the employees in the store, sat them down, and went through each person they saw. You were right about the small-town mentality—these people remembered everyone.”
“So what did you find?”
“I hit up everyone who bought a mask. Two of them were purchased by a woman named Kathy Meyer for her kids to wear on Halloween, but she returned the masks to the store two days later because the kids didn’t like them. They might have even been the ones you saw in the bargain bin.”
“Possible. Next?”
“One mask was purchased by an adult named Ronald Hauser,” Brandt said. “He was going to wear it to a Halloween party, but apparently he got drunk and passed out at his house early. The mask was still sitting there on his coffee table when I talked to him.”
“And the other three?” Vincent asked.
Brandt leaned forward. “The last three were purchased by one woman. And her last name is Klein.”
Klein?
How do I know that name?
“As in Delores Klein is the waitress at the diner,” Brandt said before Vincent could connect the dots. “The same diner we’ve been going to for a while.”
If anyplace has a ton of my fingerprints, Vincent thought, it’s that damn diner…
He held his head in his hands, focusing on the empty coffee cup in front of him and realizing how simple it would be for someone to lift his prints off a cup.
“But why?” Vincent said. “Why Delores? Why would she be involved?”
“I’m not sure,” Brandt said. “She’s a widow. No children. At least, no grown children. She has a daughter and a son, both of whom died in an airplane crash about two years ago. The grandchildren were fostered out to different relatives after that. That’s as much as I know, or at least as much as I could dig up. I asked Brackett to make a few phone calls for me on Delores to see if he could find anything of value. She didn’t have much of a record.”
Vincent nodded. “Well, she’s the key to something,” he said. “What that is, I’m not sure. But you need to go talk to her, see what she knows. She might know something that could get me out of this mess.”
“You holding up okay?” Brandt asked.
Vincent shrugged. “As good as I can be. I haven’t had a chance to talk to my daughter yet. She’s worried sick.”
“I went to your place. She was there. I told her what was going on. I figured keeping her in the dark wasn’t going to do her any much good. I hope that’s oaky.”
“Thanks. You did the right thing. But I don’t want her staying in Hollow Green… Not anymore.”
“I told her the same. But she was insistent on sticking around until you got back.”
Vincent felt comforted that his daughter was sticking around throughout the whole ordeal. It was smarter if she were farther away, yes, but he couldn’t deny that her sticking by his side made him feel some kind a little less stressed.
“She also told me to tell me she loves you and this will all be over soon,” Brandt said.
Vincent smiled. “She’s a good kid, but I need you to keep an eye on her for me. It’s important.”
“I will.”
“And we shouldn’t meet up in person anymore, at least not until this is over. I need you to get in contact with Miranda Stone. Tell her what’s going on.”
“What about you?”
Vincent shook his head. “I need to stay hidden. I’m not sure what I can do from a distance. It all depends on what you and Stone find. Start with Delores Klein. See what you dig up. Until then”—he shrugged—“I’ll hole up somewhere and keep my head low.”
It was a shit plan. But it was the only one they had.
After going over the details a few more times, Vincent ordered a huge plate of pancakes and eggs, paid for his meal with cash, and bade Brandt goodbye. He was now rolling toward an uncertain future with the odds stacked against him, and he prayed for Brandt and Stone to pull him out of the fire.
32
Brandt arrived back in Hollow Green more than an hour later after sitting in traffic. She entered the diner and spotted Delores right away, then approached her by moving to the counter as if she would order.
“Hey, Delores,” Brandt said.
“Where’s your friend?” Delores asked. “The old chief?”
“Dunno,” Brandt said, pretending to be oblivious. “We got put on separate assignments. Not quite sure what he’s up to.”
“Just the coffee?” Delores said with a roll of her eyes as she moved to fetch a pot.
“I think I’ll eat something, actually. I feel bad. I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but drinking your coffee the past couple of days.”
“You and the old chief. I feel like I’ve had to put in an order for fresh grounds already!”
“Like I said: my apologies
. I’ll be sure to leave a generous tip on my way out.”
“You’re too kind, hon.”
Delores filled Brandt’s cup, took her order, gave it to the cook in the back, and then returned to the counter.
“How’s business been?” Brandt asked.
“Consistent,” Delores said. “Lord knows I’m no millionaire, though.”
Brandt sipped her coffee. “You’d be surprised. Stranger things can happen in the later years of your life.”
Delores chuckled. “Are you calling me old?”
“Heavens, no. Nothing like that. I just mean, especially in a town like Hollow Green, that you never quite know what to expect.”
“I hear you there,” Delores said. “Seems like all kinds of madness has happened in these parts. I thought all of that had died down years ago, until these two kids just got killed.”
“Tragic,” Brandt said, still putting on the act. “Absolutely tragic.”
“Have you caught them killers just yet?” Delores asked.
Brandt shook her head. “We’re far from a lead. All this is confidential, mind you.”
Delores ran her fingers across her lips to zip them shut. “I just hope the police catch whoever’s doing this. It’s not right, what’s happening to these kids.”
“It’s not. And the only lead we really have is a trio of Halloween masks.”
Delores paused. She didn’t twitch, but her silence said everything to Brandt. “Halloween masks, you say?”
“Yeah,” Brandt said. “Silly, I know. We’re working on finding out who bought a specific type of mask that we found on the scene.” Brandt studied Delores’s reactions carefully. Every single movement. “And we found a print. Again, this is all confidential…”
Delores stepped back, a little tense and trying to play it off as she cleaned the counters. “Must be hard,” she said, “being a detective. Having to deal with all those grisly crimes and whatnot.”
Brandt shrugged. “You would think it’d be easier,” she said. “But, again, Hollow Green is a very, very special place. Kind of place where kids are taking Lance Armstrong-level drugs…”
Brandt did not bother to look at Delores this time. She sipped her coffee with her eyes in her cup, but she could practically smell Delores sweating.
“What’s that now?” Delores asked. “You said something about drugs?”
“Mhmm. Turns out two of our victims were a part of a circle of friends that liked to shoot drugs and play sports. Called themselves the A-Listers. Two of those kids were the ones who were just murdered, and two more members of the group just confessed to me a half-hour ago over the phone that they are using drugs as well.”
Delores said nothing.
Brandt looked up.
Delores smirked. “You got something to ask me, pretty lady?”
Brandt made sure her free hand hovered near the gun at her hip. “Hmm,” she said. “I like what I did there.”
Delores squinted. “And what’s that?”
“Seeing that I managed to elicit a response from you that was so full of guilt you practically confessed to me with your eyes.” Brandt then sat forward. “I want to know what you’re involved in, Delores. I want to know how you pulled Vincent’s prints and why you’re planting them on suspects.”
“Oh, dear,” Delores said, shaking her head. “I didn’t need to plant them.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I have him for that.”
Brandt spun around to look at where Delores’ head was pointing—and was swiftly knocked out by the burly and grease-stained cook.
Brandt didn’t even know what hit her.
Delores hovered over Brandt. “Close the blinds and call my brother. Tell him we have a problem.”
Vincent spent another fifty bucks at a yet another seedy motel about four miles from the diner, having hitched a ride with a weathered old man offering a small bit of kindness in midst of the chaos.
It had been a while since Vincent saw Brandt, and his mind ran in circles with his current predicament.
What do I do? I’m a damn fugitive now.
He paced the room, his thoughts running from Brandt to Claire to the case, shaking his head and trying to remind himself that the more distracted he was, the worse off he was going to be.
“Okay,” he said, taking a big breath. “Two bodies. Both of them were athletes. Both of them were using drugs. Someone is clearly targeting the A-Listers, and somehow Delores is responsible for purchasing the masks that were used.”
He kept pacing, repeating the facts over and over.
What connects all of this?
He knew it all depended upon what Brandt found after she talked to Delores. Vincent checked his watch and saw that it had been several hours since Brandt had checked in.
She might still be talking to Delores.
But if she knew something, she would have called.
Vincent was growing impatient. He picked up his phone, dialed Brandt’s number, and waited.
Delores heard the buzzing from inside Brandt’s pocket and fished out her phone.
“What is that?” the cook asked.
Brandt was tied to a chair in the freezer, and the closed sign was now in the window in the front of the diner.
“It’s her phone,” Delores said, producing it from Brandt’s pocket and holding it up for the cook to see.
“Who is it?” he asked.
Delores looked at the caller ID—Vincent.
“It’s that detective,” Delores said. “The one she’s been hanging out here with.”
Delores took a moment to weigh her options, her brother having updated her a half-hour ago on the situation as he went about, as he phrased it, “Coming up with a solution.”
“What should we do?” the cook asked, the phone continuing to ring.
Delores answered the call. “Hello, Detective Vincent,” she said. “Detective Brandt is a little…indisposed at the moment. Would you like to leave a message? I could relay it.”
33
Vincent paused when he heard Delores on the line, shutting his eyes and piecing together what had happened immediately. “Delores,” he said. “What happened to her? What did you do?”
“You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, Vincent,” Delores said. “And now you and Detective Brandt are going to suffer the consequences.”
“I swear to God,” Vincent said, “if you do anything—”
“Cut it with schoolyard threats, Vincent. Last I heard, you were a wanted fugitive. You have no help. You have little to no choices. All you can do now is cooperate, otherwise you’re going to be responsible for the slow murder of your friend I have tied up next to me.”
Vincent gripped the phone so tight that he nearly broke it.
“Call back in fifteen minutes,” Delores said. “You will be given instructions on what to do next.”
Vincent clenched a fist and once more reminded himself that he needed to stay in control.
Delores’ brother entered the diner, casting glances around the room as he came into the light with cuts on his face and an obviously broken nose.
“What’s going on?” Hoyt asked his sister.
“That detective just called in,” she said. “Vincent.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I just told him to call back here in fifteen minutes. Maybe we can trace the call?”
Hoyt shook his head. “No. No, it’s too risky. It’s been hard enough keeping that idiot Riley on board through all this. He’s starting to get antsy. Plus, we’re getting calls from some FBI agent named Stone now about this whole thing.” He sighed. “We’re running out of time. Brandt and Vincent got too close to uncovering this thing.”
The cook forked a thumb over his shoulder toward the freezer. “That other one is in there,” he said. “The other cop.”
Hoyt stepped around him and moved into the freezer, Brandt still tethered to the chair in the corner and slowly coming out of her stupor.
“She le
ft me no choice,” Delores said as she came up behind Hoyt. “She mentioned the masks. The drugs. All of it. I didn’t know what she was going to do next…”
Hoyt examined Brandt and nodded. “You did the right thing. She was getting too close. She was even in the midst of figuring out that we were related.”
“How?”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters now is tying this off. We need to find Vincent. We need to draw him in.” He pointed to Brandt. “And this is our bargaining chip.”
Delores checked her watch. “What should we do? He’s going to call back soon.”
Hoyt smirked, moved over to Brandt, and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We do like I said,” he said. “We tie it off.”
Fifteen minutes passed, and Vincent dialed Brandt’s number. Hoyt answered the call on the second ring and launched right into his spiel: “Here’s the deal. We just want to know what you know. Brandt is still alive, but it’s not going to stay that way unless you cooperate fully.”
Vincent attempted to keep his surprise close to the vest, but he reeling inside at the sound of Hoyt’s voice. “I understand.”
Why in the hell didn’t I figure this out?
“I’m going to give you a series of coordinates. You will meet us there at seven p.m. Come alone. Come unarmed.”
“I’m listening.”
Hoyt gave Vincent the coordinates. Then line went dead right after that.
Vincent moved to the nightstand, retrieved the Beretta with the fifteen rounds still in it, checked it over, and promised himself, “I’m going to kill every goddamned one of them.”
Vincent had gotten the directions after snagging a map from the cashier at the motel. He waited out in the motel room, double-checked the Beretta, and then set out on the three-mile walk to the destination, where he was wait in the middle of a long stretch of road just off the highway adjacent to an abandoned house.
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