Snake Skin

by CJ Lyons

  "I'm late." She jogged down the stairs, her footsteps crescendoing behind her, knowing that he watched her back every step of the way.

  "Want me to try to follow them?" Cindy's cameraman, Felix, asked as Guardino ran out of the hospital entrance and hopped into a black Chevy Blazer.

  Cindy watched the SUV drive away. "No. Wait here. I'm going to go meet the family."

  He outfitted her with a button camera hidden inside a broach. She grabbed a discarded visitor's pass from the garbage can in front of the entrance. Security was always a joke around hospitals. She smiled, thinking of the scoop she'd been handed—thanks to her instincts.

  She headed into the hospital and within minutes was on the fourth floor at Megan Callahan's room.

  The door was open. Inside, a young girl lay against several pillows, sleeping. A video game stood at the foot of the bed, whirling colors of a screen saver spinning across it. Beside the girl lay a man, his eyes closed, but his hand moving, patting the girl's arm in a soothing rhythm. He had the lean build of an athlete, wiry without being muscle bound, red-gold hair with an enticing hint of a curl, and appeared to be younger than the thirty-nine years she knew he was.

  Cindy had done her homework, had learned everything she could about Nick Callahan and his wife. Always paid to know the enemy.

  She unbuttoned her suit jacket, made sure the camera lens was clear of any obstacles, and nudged the door so that it creaked a bit.

  Callahan's eyes sprung open and he sat up, untangling his arm from his daughter's. "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Callahan, I can come back later if you like," she said in a demur voice even as she stepped into the room. "I ran into your wife downstairs, she didn't mention you were asleep."

  He slid from the bed and walked around it. He was only an inch or so taller than her own five-ten, but he seemed taller, the way he moved, so confident and graceful. Could men be graceful? Elegant, that was the word. She had a sudden image of an eighteenth century nobleman and knew instinctively how to proceed. For once, sex wasn't the way to get what she needed from a man.

  "I'm afraid I didn't make a very good impression on Mrs. Callahan," she said, conjuring a blush. "She doesn't hold the counseling profession in very high regard."

  She edged her glance up to see how he took the implied insult to his own profession. He merely smiled, his eyes gleaming, and she knew he was thinking of his wife and some shared intimate joke. A pang of jealousy hit her. No man ever looked that way when they thought about her.

  Burroughs came close, though. When they were together, he'd stare at her with an intensity that made her skin glow like it had been targeted by a laser. She could never tell if his stare was fueled by love or hate—doubted he knew, either.

  Callahan's head bobbed with a soundless laugh. "Lucy firmly believes in the benefits of therapy, just doesn't have the patience to sit still long enough to experience it herself."

  He led her outside, keeping his voice low. Silently, he closed the door and gestured to two chairs at the end of the hallway. "Are you one of the hospital counselors?"

  She strolled with him, enjoying the way his gaze lingered as he examined her. Bingo. Half the battle won.

  "It must be quite frustrating for a psychologist of your caliber," she said, crossing her leg so that her ankle almost but not quite brushed his, "giving up a NIMH grant when you left Virginia to come here?"

  His lips tightened even as his face retained its bland geniality. Ahh, a sore spot.

  "Is that where your wife was going? Back to work?" She injected a hint of concern into her tone. "How does that make you feel? Her leaving you when Megan is so ill."

  His stare hardened, he leaned back a bit. She'd pushed too hard.

  "You look very familiar, Miss—" The silence lengthened. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. And you don't seem to be wearing an ID badge."

  "I'm Cindy." She shoved her hand out fast, before he could think more about the missing ID, and gave him her mother's maiden name. "Cindy Janluski."

  He took her hand with a strong grip, surprised her when he stood and gently tugged her back up to her feet as well. "Cindy. So nice to make your acquaintance."

  As they began walking back to the nurses' station, he tucked her arm in his like a gentleman caller from the old days.

  "I appreciate your interest in my daughter's well being," he continued in that same melodious lilt perfumed with magnolias and mint. "But, please tell your boss that if I ever see you or another reporter come anywhere near my child again, I will press charges. I believe it's a felony offense to interfere with a federal agent's family."

  Before Cindy could pull away, he leaned over the counter and addressed the ward clerk. "Would you please have hospital security come and remove this meddlesome journalist before she has the chance to invade someone else's privacy?"

  "Really," Cindy said, yanking her arm away from him with a force that rocked her on her heels. "I can see myself out. Although you may want to explain to your wife that if she wants to get along here in Pittsburgh, she'd do best to cooperate with me."

  "You're lucky it was me here to meet you and not my wife," he said as a hulking, acne-pocked security guard arrived. "She'd shoot first and worry about the paperwork later."

  He gave her a quirky half smile as if he were imaging just how a confrontation between her and Guardino might end. From the pitying expression he bestowed on her, she had the feeling he had no doubt that Guardino would win.

  She couldn't wait to prove them both wrong.

  Chapter 25

  Sunday, 11:53 am

  Jimmy climbed down from the ladder leading from the hayloft to the outside of the barn, sweat dripping from his face. It wasn't just the sweltering temperatures in the barn or the exertion of carrying the buckets filled with squirming reptiles that had hijacked his heart rate and made his breath heave from his chest.

  Ashley's cries haunted him. When she'd called out for her father, he had almost broken.

  He glanced at his watch. The books said it would take hours, maybe even days to shatter her will. But it had only been six minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

  He wiped tears and sweat from his cheeks. Glanced at the closed barn doors behind him. He couldn't take it, couldn't bear the thought of her in pain for any longer.

  "I'm coming sweetheart," he sang out as he sprinted for the farmhouse, even though he knew she couldn't hear. "I'm coming."

  It only took him a few minutes to finish his preparations. The last thing he did before leaving the house was to take one last look at the monitor. Ashley lay absolutely still, the black forms of the snakes slithering over her body. Her eyes were open, not blinking, her face blank.

  "It's all right." She'd been so strong, so brave. She was worthy of his love, had earned it. "It's all over now."

  His phone rang. Damn. Work.

  He frowned, considering, staring at her image on the screen.

  Just a little while longer.

  "I promise." Jimmy kissed his fingers, placed them on the screen. He grabbed his car keys and ran.

  Lucy called Bobby Fegley while they were en route and filled him in on her theory. He seemed excited by the prospect of being able to help. When they arrived at his house, his father met them at the door and led them to Bobby's room where he was feverishly working already.

  "Nice set up," Taylor whistled in appreciation as he opened up his laptop and joined Bobby. "Bet I've got some toys you'll like."

  They started talking cyber-gibberish, interrupting each other at a fever-pitch. Lucy let them go at it a few minutes, watching the large monitor flow from one website to another, trying to track the creator of Shadow World.

  "Why is he so hard to find? I thought these guys thrived on attention," she said, standing behind the two. Bobby's neck muscles bulged with tension and she hoped she hadn't made a mistake in involving him. But no one knew the game or Ashley as well. "Isn't creating a successful game their idea of fame?"

  "For most," Tay
lor answered her. Bobby remained silent, jaws gritted together, sweat beading his forehead. "But some prefer the idea of becoming cult figures. Like super heroes, they shield themselves in secret identities."

  "Is that what this guy has done? This Maestro?"

  "No." Bobby scratched out the single, terse syllable. "No. He's hiding."

  "Don't worry, Draco," Taylor said, already finding a nickname for Bobby as he did for everyone. Except Walden, Lucy had noticed. Walden was Walden to everyone, even the over-eager Taylor. "He can't hide from me. Not for long."

  "Could you tell me if it's Tardiff?" she asked, anxious for some shred of evidence to lead them to Ashley.

  "No. It doesn't work that way," Taylor said. He paused as if searching for words to explain the realm of cyberspace to a luddite. She waved him back to work and resumed her pacing, calling Walden as she did.

  "Any sign of Tardiff?"

  "No. PBP talked their way into his room and it was cleared out. He'd only rented it for the week, so today would have been check out. Maybe he's gone home."

  Maybe. Or maybe he'd gone to wherever Ashley was. "Tell the New York office to put some eyes on his place. I'm gonna talk to Melissa, see what's really going on."

  She'd rather go in person but she didn't want to leave Taylor and Bobby. It felt like if she was going to catch a break in this case it would be through the same route the Maestro used to catch Ashley. Shadow World.

  She called the sheriff's detail, asked them to put her on a private line with Melissa. "I need the truth about Jon Tardiff."

  Melissa coughed and Lucy could almost see the former model's hand going to her throat. "I already told—"

  "Melissa, I know he's been in town all week."

  "It's not what you think. He had nothing to do with Ashley."

  "So she never saw him?"

  Melissa's sob whined through the phone. "Of course she saw him. He was here to ask me to marry him."

  Hell, that could change everything—if Ashley stood in the way of Tardiff getting the woman he'd wanted for years…."What happened?"

  "What do you think happened? Ashley threw a fit, said she wasn't leaving Pittsburgh, that she'd go live with her father."

  "But she couldn't, could she?"

  "No. Gerald refused to have her. Said he has his own life to live." Bitterness flooded her words. "And Jon can't leave his work, move here."

  "What did you decide, Melissa? Who did you pick?"

  A long pause, the only sound the other woman's breathing. "I told Jon we'd have to wait. Until Ashley was grown and on her own. I chose my daughter."

  Shit, shit, shit. "Why the hell didn't you tell me before?"

  "I couldn't let you think—Jon didn't have anything to do with this. He couldn't."

  "Give me his number. The one you use. The private one."

  "How'd you know?"

  Because they weren't stupid and Tardiff's registered cell hadn't been used recently. Lucy didn't bother to explain. Instead she took the number Melissa gave her. Then she told the deputy with Melissa to keep Melissa away from the phones until further notice.

  She turned to Taylor. "Looks like we might have our man."

  He pivoted away from his computer. "No shit? That's great. What 'cha gonna do?"

  "First let's see where he is—can you ask the guys to track this cell?" Taylor interfaced with the H-Tech guys better than she could, spoke the same language.

  He got on his phone, gibbering away eagerly.

  Bobby kept pounding the keys on his computer. His body was shaking, covered with sweat. Lucy crouched down until she was at eye level and lay her hand over his. It fluttered like a firefly trapped in a Mason jar. He wrenched his gaze away from the computer and stared at her.

  "Do you need a break? Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

  His jaw clenched with determination. "No. I'm fine. Sometimes when I get a strong feeling about something, my body over-reacts." He grimaced in embarrassment. "Part of the nerves and reflexes being all tangled up."

  "I know how that feels and I don't have any excuses. Can I show you something my husband taught me? He's a psychologist, deals with soldiers and other people with a lot of stress."

  "You mean like guys who've been blown up, lost their legs and stuff?"

  "Right. Now close your eyes for a second and focus on your breathing." She kept her voice calm and steady, a close approximation to Nick's and led him through a quick deep breathing exercise. Cube breathing Nick called it. It worked when you could take a moment and concentrate on it—only problem was that Lucy seemed never to be able to find the time to do that when she felt most stressed.

  Like before she blew up at her husband outside their daughter's hospital room.

  As Bobby took deep, soothing breaths, she massaged his hand between both of hers, stroking the pressure points Nick had showed her. She felt her own tension retreat as she guided Bobby. Hmmm, it felt good to drop the weight from her shoulders, to unclamp her jaws.

  He opened his eyes, now clear, his face relaxed, the sweat and trembling gone. "Thanks."

  "No problem." She rotated her neck, producing some loud cracks, and stood again. "We really appreciate your help finding Ashley. She's very lucky to have you as a friend."

  "Got him," Taylor exclaimed, snapping his phone shut. "He's on I-80 headed east. The State Police just pulled him over."

  "Is Ashley with him?"

  He shook his head. "No. The car was empty except for Tardiff. They're bringing him back here for questioning."

  Lucy blew her breath out. The tympani in her ears had returned. "Okay, back to work on tracking her through the game."

  "You do know that we may never get a link to a physical location?" he asked. "This is virtual reality."

  "Right now it's the only thing I've got." The only thing Ashley had. She closed her eyes as the men turned their backs to her. Had she fucked up again, lost Ashley because she hadn't twigged to Tardiff sooner?

  "Hey, Draco," Taylor said, totally lost in cyber-land once more. "Look at this. What if we tracked back from here." Both men began working their machines as if they were racing for a prize. Lucy had no choice but to wait.

  Twenty minutes later Taylor's phone rang and he jerked back, shaking his head as if surprised to find himself in the real world. He grabbed it. "Yeah. No shit. Okay, keep working." He hung up and turned to Lucy. "The H-Tech guys discovered the origin of the program that wiped Ashley's computer. It's one of ours."

  "Ours as in government?"

  "Ours as in Homeland Security. Specifically ATF, FBI, and ICE."

  An electrical shock tingled along Lucy's nerve endings. She began to pace the room, her hands bunching into fists then opening again in time with her steps.

  "Does Tardiff have any government connections?"

  Taylor shook his head. "No and I ran his life under the microscope. No way he could have gotten that program on his own."

  "So either he's not our guy or he had an accomplice." She thought hard. "If Tardiff's motive was to marry Melissa, why would he create Shadow World, use it to trap Ashley? Surely there's easier ways to take care of a surly teenager." The easiest involving a shallow grave, but she didn't want to think about that. "The whole thing doesn't make sense."

  "How could Tardiff have predicted that Ashley would even want to play Shadow World?" Taylor asked.

  "Maybe it's a chicken and egg thing," Bobby chimed in.

  Lucy stopped. Considered. Bobby's words tickled her, an itch that couldn't be scratched. He was on the right track, she was certain.

  "So our guy isn't Tardiff?" Taylor's disappointment colored his voice, as if he'd been personally insulted by their lack of progress. "We're back to ground zero?"

  "No. Not quite. We know a helluva lot more than we did yesterday. Our guy has to be local to have planned out the Tastee Treet meet," she said, thinking out loud. "Computer skills, enough to build Shadow World and cover his tracks. He's a white male, mid-twenties to late thirties, never married, p
robably no long term relationship except with his mother—might even still live with his mother. He's not a pedophile."

  "He's not?" Taylor asked, his gaze never leaving his screen. "I thought these guys were all pedophiles."

  "Not this one. He's looking for someone he can control easily, a woman he can mold to his needs. That means a younger woman, emotionally immature. He wants a long term relationship. He's not driven by a sexual obsession with youth, he's more like Frankenstein, trying to create the perfect mate."

  "So the game, Shadow World, was his hunting ground?" Bobby put in.

  She hesitated. It was total speculation—far fetched speculation at that. She should call Nick, get his professional opinion, facts rather than fantasy. But she didn't want to distract him from Megan. Guilt stabbed through her at the thought of Megan alone in the hospital. What if Nick was right? She was just transferring her fears about keeping Megan safe onto her job?

  If so, she might be condemning Ashley, wasting time chasing a shadow.

  No. This felt too right, she felt close to this actor. She knew him. What he wanted. How he thought.

  "Bobby's right. He created Shadow World to test his subjects. It's his honey trap," she continued, waiting for the men to contradict her theory. But instead they both nodded, even though their eyes never left the computer screens. "Probably invited them into private discussions, learned as much as he could about them. Then he'd groom them—see how far he could manipulate them, how pliable they were."

  "Like seeing if they'd sacrifice their best friend if he asked them to?" Bobby asked.

  "Even that. I think you were a real obstacle to him. Ashley thought it was you she was meeting on Friday, not him."

  "Me? But we haven't talked in like a month."

  "How hard would it be for him to monitor your conversations, learn everything he needed to know about you?"