F Paul Wilson - Novel 04

by Deep as the Marrow (v2. 1)

  Somehow he couldn’t see Emilio Rojas welcoming him with open arms. He might have to find a new home. He’d worry about where later.

  He looked up the number to the airport. Best to call and make sure his jet was fueled and ready to go.

  15

  “Whoops, there’s some news,” Poppy said. “Leave it there for a minute.”

  “I don’t like news,” Katie said.

  She had the remote pointed at the motel TV, her thumb poised over the button. She’d been in the middle of channel surfing when Poppy spotted the word HEADLINES on one of the D.C. stations.

  “It’s only for like a minute, honey bunch. I just want to hear something.” Poppy leaned forward, listening. The big story seemed to be President Winston’s sudden admission to Bethesda Naval Hospital—“for a check-up before leaving for Europe next week.”

  “Look, it’s Uncle Tom,” Katie said.

  “Right, honey bunch. Just let me listen a sec, okay.” This super-straight-looking babe—Heather Something—who looked like she’d never had a beer, let alone a joint, came on and started plugging legalized drugs.

  “Look what we’ve done by educating people about the perils of smoking. In the 1950s the average American consumed thirteen pounds of tobacco per year. The per capita consumption is now down to seven pounds a year and falling. Yet tobacco is legally available. The exact opposite trend has occurred with illegal narcotics. The conclusion is obvious: We can address the problems and focus public education on a legal addictive substance far more effectively than on an illegal one. Using antismoking campaigns as a model, there’s no reason we can’t cut U.S. consumption of legalised drugs by an equal percentage.”

  Great, Poppy thought. Just when I’m like getting off the stuff.

  The newswoman went on to read stories about protests against the President’s drug decriminalization proposal and closed with a tape of the Reverend Bobby Whitcomb calling down Holy Fire upon the head of President Winston.

  Damn. Not a word about a double murder in Falls Church.

  Maybe she’d been wrong—maybe no one had called the cops. That meant Paulie could still be lying there, and would keep on lying there until the landlord came looking for his rent check or somebody reported the stink.

  Poppy couldn’t bear the thought of that. If she didn’t hear something by tomorrow, she’d phone in a “tip” to the Falls Church fuzz. Of course, maybe the murder of two nobodies couldn’t like compete with all the stuff the President was doing.

  “Okay,” she said. “Hit that button to your heart’s content.”

  But the channel didn’t switch. Poppy looked over and saw big tears rolling down Katie’s cheeks. She moved closer and put her arms around her.

  “Whatsamatter, little Katie?”

  “I want to go ho-home,” she said.

  Poppy held her tighter. “I know you do, honey.” But I don’t want to let you go, she thought. Paulie’s gone and you’re all I’ve got now.

  But she knew she had to. She just had to figure out a way to get her back where she belonged without like landing herself in a jail cell.

  Poppy gave Katie another squeeze. But maybe she could keep her a little while longer. Just until— She stiffened as a terrifying thought struck her. The cops wouldn’t be the only ones looking for Katie. As soon as the people Mac had been working for found out he was dead and his precious “package” missing, they’d be out looking for Katie too.

  And me.

  No choice. For Katie’s sake. Poppy was going to have to get her back home tonight. Suddenly, Poppy wanted to cry.

  She couldn’t believe how attached she’d become to this little girl. Like she’d filled an empty place within her, an emptiness she never even knew she had. And when Katie was gone, Poppy knew she’d leave an even bigger empty place, so big it might swallow her up.

  Dammit, she thought, stop thinking of yourself for once. Katie doesn’t belong with you, and she’ll only get hurt or killed if she stays. Whoever’s after us will be looking for this pierced-up gal towing a little girl. We’ll both be better off if we split up.

  “You know what?” she said as brightly as she could. “We’re gonna make your wish come true. We’re gonna figure out a way to get you back to your Daddy.” Katie straightened and looked at her.

  “Really? I’m going home?”

  “Yes, baby. You’re going home.”

  Katie threw her arms around her and squeezed. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

  Poppy felt the tears start. “I’ll miss you, little Katie,” she said, sniffing.

  “Don’t cry,” Katie said. “You can come visit me. We’ll play Chutes and Ladders and I’ll show you all my dolls.”

  “Right,” she said dully. “That’ll be great.” I’ll never see you again, little Katie…

  Poppy pulled free and stood up. She wiped her eyes and said, “Okay. First step is to get in touch with your dad. You wouldn’t just happen to like know your phone number, would you?”

  Katie rattled it off.

  “You’re one smart girl,” Poppy told her.

  “My Daddy made me memorize it, in case I got lost.”

  All right. But what next? She wondered if she was smart enough to figure out how to work this without getting caught. What would Paulie do… ?

  16

  John picked up on the first ring, almost knocking the receiver off the kitchen wall in his mad rush to get to it. He didn’t want it waking Mom.

  “Mr. Vanduyne?” A male voice, low-pitched, official sounding.

  “Yes? Who’s this?”

  “This is Sergeant James Waltham, Falls Church Police Department. Sir, do you have a daughter named Katie?” Oh, no. Oh, please, God, no!

  He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. He reached out blindly with his free hand, found the back of a chair, and dropped into it.

  Finally… “Yes?”

  “We found a bottle of pills that seem to belong to her.”

  “Pills? What about Katie? Do you have Katie?”

  “No, sir. Just her pills. Do you know where your daughter is?”

  “She’s been—” No. Don’t tell him. “She’s been on a trip. Where did you find them?”

  “At a murder scene.”

  “A murder—? My God! She’s not—?”

  “No, sir. No child victim there. But we did find some children’s clothing—a Holy Family school uniform and—”

  “Oh, God!”

  “Sir, just where is your daughter?”

  “Look. I’ll be right down. Just tell me where you’re located and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Sgt. Waltham spelled his name and gave John the police department’s address. John hung up and called Decker’s private number. He repeated to Decker almost word for word what he’d been told.

  “What’s it mean, Bob?”

  “I wouldn’t even hazard a guess right now. But this might be a major break for us. You stay put. I’ll go down there and see what—”

  “Not on your life! I know her clothes! I can identify them!” Didn’t Decker realize that he had to see that blazer and jumper with his own eyes, touch them, bunch them in his hands?

  “No. Stay there. You might get e-mail—”

  “I gave you my password—you monitor my e-mail. I’m going to Falls Church. See you there!” And he hung up.

  As John stepped toward the hall closet to grab a jacket, his cellular phone began to trill. He snatched it off the counter.

  “Is this Mr. Vanduyne?” A woman’s voice this time— young but husky.

  Two calls in a row with the same question. But who had his cellular number?

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Got someone who wants to talk to you.” A rustle, a rattle, and then a child’s voice.

  “Daddy?” John knew that voice, but for an instant his mind refused to identify it. Wasn’t possible, couldn’t be… some sort of cruel trick…

  “Daddy, it’s me—Katie.” And then the kitchen s
wam around him.

  “Katie! Dear God, Katie, is that you?” He realized he was shouting but he couldn’t help it. He thought he’d burst with joy.

  “Is this really you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Where are you—how are you?”

  “Fine.” Fine… she always said fine. The bastards had cut off her toe and she was fine. “I’m coming home.” John sagged against the wall and tried to keep from sobbing. “Oh, Katie, I’ve missed you so! Where are you? I’ll come and get you right now!”

  “Now’s not a good time.” The woman was back on the line. “You can get her tonight.” John’s mind whirled in confusion. What was going on? Where was the catch?

  “But how… why?”

  “Let’s just say the real kidnapper is dead and I’ve got Katie and I wanna give her back. But I don’t like wanna get locked up, know what I’m saying?”

  The real kidnapper is dead… ? She has to mean that murder scene in Falls Church where they found Katie’s pills… what has that poor child gone through?

  “You want money? I’ll give you whatever I have. I’ll—”

  “Don’t want your money, guy. I got a sweet little girl here who can’t wait to get back to her daddy and I’m gonna like see to it she gets there. Come to the Maryland House on Ninety-five. Wait upstairs by the phones around nine o’clock. I’ll meet you there with Katie. And no cops, okay? Let’s do this so’s we both walk away happy. See you at nine.”

  “Wait!”

  Another rattle and then Katie’s voice. “Bye, Daddy!” A click and she was gone.

  He stood there, pressing the receiver against his ear, listening to the electric silence, searching for an echo of her voice, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

  Finally he turned to hang up and saw his mother standing in the doorway.

  “Katie?” she said, digging at her neck. “That was Katie?”

  He could only nod. He threw his arms around her.

  “I heard you shouting,” she said. “It sounded like you were talking to—”

  “She’s alive. Mom! That was her! She’s alive and she’s okay and I’m getting her back. Mom. Katie’s coming home tonight!”

  17

  Agent Samson caught him in the White House parking lot. Bob Decker was just unlocking his car door when he spotted him running across the pavement, waving a sheet of paper.

  “What is it, Rick?”

  “The Vanduyne taps!” he said, puffing as he reached the car. “I thought you should see this.” Bob scanned the sheet and couldn’t resist a tight smile.

  The whole plot was crumbling. Looked like there’d been a falling out among the kidnappers and someone wanted to cover her ass.

  “Where was she calling from?”

  “The place she mentions for the switch—the Maryland House?”

  “What’s that?”

  “A traveler’s stop on the median on Ninety-five. You know, tourist info, burgers, yogurt.” He cleared his throat. “This sounds like a kidnapping. How come we’re involved in—?”

  “Friend of Razor’s,” Bob said.

  Samson nodded. That was all Samson needed to know, all he’d ever know. He was monitoring a line tap and was to transcribe all conversations. Beyond that, he was in the dark.

  “She called on his cell phone,” Samson said. “Probably thought no one would be listening on that. Nobody seems to realize how unsecure they are.”

  Bob nodded, half listening. No use sending anyone out to the Maryland House now. The woman would be long gone by the time anyone got there. Better to wait for her tonight.

  He wondered if Vanduyne would tell him about this call. He decided not to hold his breath. The woman had said no cops and the doc wanted his kid back.

  All right. He’d get his kid back. And Bob would get the woman. Put her together with whatever went down in that Palls Church house where the child’s pills were found, and he’d probably have this thing sewn up before the weekend was over.

  He imagined how it would feel to stroll into Bethesda Naval Hospital tomorrow night and tell Razor his godchild is safe and the assassination conspirators are either locked up or on the run.

  Sweet. Very sweet.

  18

  Poppy finally heard it on the six o’clock news.

  “… And in Falls Church today, a murder mystery. Neighbors on this quiet suburban street called police when they heard shots fired. Inside the house, a dead man. But the as-yet-unidentified victim died of stab wounds. Nearby, in Alexandria…” Somehow, hearing it on the news made it official. Paulie was dead. Poppy started to cry, then caught herself.

  “… the as-yet-unidentified man… ?” What about men? She’d left two bodies in that house. Paulie had been stabbed to death, and Mac had a bullet in his brain. How come they were only talking about Paulie?

  Unless…

  A stab of fear, as sharp as the blade that had killed Paulie, knifed through her.

  “Oh, Jesus!” she said aloud and leapt to her feet.

  “Can I change the channel now?” Katie said.

  “Sure,” Poppy said without looking at her.

  She went to the window and peeked around the edge of the curtain. The light drizzle outside made the parking lot shine. The Holiday Inn sign reflected from the wet surface.

  A minute ago she’d felt so safe. She’d had everything planned. Tonight she and Katie would get back on Ninety-five, but they would not stop at the Maryland House. She’d copied down the numbers from a couple of the phones there when they’d called Katie’s dad this afternoon.

  At nine o’clock sharp she’d place a call to one of those phones, tell her father that he’d find his daughter waiting in the Roy Rogers at the next rest stop up the freeway from the Maryland House. Then she’d leave Katie in a booth with a burger and fries.

  If Katie’s dad was like the rest of Mac’s victims, he probably hadn’t said word one about the snatch to the cops. And even if they were involved, they’d all be at the Maryland House. Poppy would be long gone by the time they reached Katie.

  Poppy’s heart would be broken but Katie would be safe and at home with her family, where she belonged.

  But she wouldn’t be safe if Mac was alive.

  Poppy could still see his eyes as he came out of the kitchen with that knife, saying “She saw me!” Only two people could connect Mac with the kidnapping—and Paulie’s murder—and both were in this room.

  Even the slightest chance that Mac was still alive changed everything. A whole new game, a completely different world if Mac had survived. But how could he be alive? She’d like shot him in the head. She had to know. Before she made another move, she had to be sure.

  She turned to Katie. “I’m gonna run down the hall for like a soda. You want anything?”

  “Can I have a Yoo-Hoo?”

  “Sure.”

  “My daddy never lets me have Yoo-Hoo.”

  Her daddy, her daddy. Never her mommy. Poppy forced a smile. “Well, I’m not your daddy. Be right back.”

  This was risky, she knew, maybe even stupid, but it couldn’t wait. She dashed through the drizzle to the Shell station on the far side of the parking lot and found the pay phone. A call to information got her the Falls Church Police Department, and pretty soon she was talking to a homicide detective. He kept trying to get her name and she suspected he was trying to like keep her on the phone.

  “Look,” she said, “I’ll just say this once: I know the names of the dead guys in the house on Sylmar Street. The stabbed guy was Paulie Dicastro. The shot guy was—”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” said the cop. “Nobody was shot. We’ve only got one victim.” Oh, no. Oh, sweet Jesus, no! He’s gotta be lying!

  “No. You know damn well there were two! All I can tell you about the shot guy is that his name was like Mac and he drove that blue Jeep out front.”

  “What blue Jeep? Do you know the tag number?” Poppy hung up. The drizzle had suddenly become freezing and the night much darker. She
shivered and looked around, feeling as if someone was watching her.

  Mac was alive! But how? She’d seen him lying there on the floor with like a bullet in his head. Somehow he’d survived.

  She dashed back across the parking lot, ducked back into the motel room, and locked the door behind her. She saw Katie sitting there on the bed, eyes glued to the TV. How could she send that little girl back to her father with Mac alive and on the prowl? Her father wouldn’t know how to protect her. Mac had known enough about Katie to kidnap her. How much would it take to get a rifle and put a bullet in her the next time she stepped out her front door?

  Poppy shuddered. No way Katie could go home tonight. She hoped the information she’d given the Falls Church cops would set them hunting for Mac. But until they caught him, Katie would be safer with her.

  Katie looked up. “Didn’t they have any Yoo-Hoo?” Damn! She’d forgotten all about the drinks.

  “I didn’t see any. Want me to get you something else?”

  “That’s okay. I’ll take my pill with water.” Pill? Oh, Jesus! Do I have her pills?

  Poppy ran over to the night stand where she’d left her pocket book and dumped it out on the bed. She had some Valium, her driver’s license, some bills and change—but not Katie’s medicine.

  She ran to the closet and yanked Mac’s jacket off the hanger. Maybe she’d stuffed the pill bottle in one of the pockets as she was leaving. She didn’t believe that for a minute but she had to check. She emptied the pockets; Paulie’s wallet, some loose change, and a cassette tape fell out. But no little amber bottle of pills for Katie.

  Poppy slumped on the edge of the bed and wrung her hands. In the horror and confusion and panic back at the house, she’d forgot all about the pills.

  Jesus, what else could go wrong?

  She stood and paced the tiny room. Decision time. She had to get some medicine for Katie. She remembered the name on the bottle: Tegretol 100 mg. If she couldn’t get hold of any, she’d have no choice: Katie would have to go back home. A possible threat from Mac was not as bad as the totally certain threat of fits if she missed a dose or two of those pills.