Liam, with the fleece pressed against his bloody and throbbing nose, looked at Kyle through tears of pain. “Why didn’t you help me?” he asked. “That was our chance.”
“We don’t need a chance,” Kyle said as he looked at Eddie. “Eddie knows what he has to do. Don’t you, Eddie?”
“It’s not that easy, Ky,” Eddie said, pacing around the room. “This is my daughter we’re talking about. This man can get her to walk again. Do you understand that? For Christ’s sake, she’s eleven years old. She has her whole life ahead of her and this guy’s going to be able to let her live it as a normal girl. He can make her walk again. Fucking walk again.”
“But at what price?”
Eddie shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was hoping it wouldn’t turn out this way,” he explained. “I didn’t want to have to rely on him. I thought maybe he could just teach me, or her, to do whatever the hell it is that he does and then we’d eventually turn him in. That maybe she could, you know, just borrow someone’s energy, just a little bit of it. But he says he can’t do that. He said it’s something only he can do. So I asked if he could get her to walk again, like how gets himself healthy. He said he can.”
“First of all,” Kyle said, “how do you know he’s telling the truth? How do you know he’s not just lying so that you’ll let him go?”
Eddie shrugged. “I don’t. But it’s a chance I have to take.”
“C’mon, Eddie,” Kyle said. “Get someone to walk again? You really think he can do that? He isn’t a miracle worker. He can give energy to help someone focus. That’s it. He can’t repair severed spinal cords.”
“You don’t know that. Look at how he gets himself healthy. And look at what that John of God guy does down in Brazil. And we don’t even know if that guy has half the ability of Terry Hillier. Hillier can literally kill people by siphoning their energy. You don’t think he’ll be able to do whatever the guy down in Brazil can do, and more?”
“But all he does with that energy is help Evan focus,” Kyle said. “Even a good hypnotist can do that. It’s not like Evan’s any different physically. He doesn’t throw 110 miles per hour.”
“But what about himself?”
“His health issues are probably due to the physical drain of taking in the energy. The brain isn’t equipped to handle it. If it was, we’d all be doing it. All he’s probably doing is getting a temporary high and masking the damage. Like an adrenaline rush. It’s probably just a Band-Aid. What you’re asking him to do is completely different.”
“What about John of God?”
“Eddie, it hasn’t even been proven that his treatments are anything more than a placebo.”
“Says who? Oprah?”
“C’mon, Eddie.”
“Look, you don’t know what he can do. You can’t know what he can do. Not until he tries. And hell, you didn’t even know it was him until today.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kyle said, letting out a sigh. “Say you’re right. Say he can do what you’re saying. He’s still going to have to keep killing. Are you really willing to let that happen?”
“I’m not saying it’s easy, but think about it—isn’t it the same price you were willing to pay when you thought Bree’s life was at stake?”
“But it isn’t the same,” Kyle said. “I was being forced to choose between my daughter’s death and someone I didn’t know.”
“It’s close enough,” Eddie said, “you were willing to let someone else die so your daughter could live.”
Kyle rubbed the back of his head. “Maybe,” he said. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I was going to do. But it doesn’t even matter what I would have done or not, there was only so much I could’ve done. I didn’t know who the man was. I had no clue it was Hillier’s father. So I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to do. It’s not the same thing.”
“But that’s only because you intentionally shut Liam out,” Eddie fired back. “Liam told you he knew who it was, but you wouldn’t listen. You turned him away. Isn’t that right, Liam?”
Liam lowered the blanket from his face. “It doesn’t matter. He thought his daughter was going to be killed. Your daughter is still alive. And she’ll stay alive. She just can’t walk.”
“Do you have any fucking idea what it’s like not to be able to walk?” Eddie asked, drawing closer to Liam. “Do you have any clue what it’s like not being able to run, to feel anything below your goddam waist? This is my fucking daughter, you jackass. You have no idea. You have no fucking clue.”
But Liam wouldn’t back off. “My niece is in a coma. She’s going to die,” Liam countered. “So don’t tell me I don’t know. But taking another innocent life is not the answer.”
“She may be your niece, but she isn’t your child. You can think you love her just the same, but you can’t, Liam. You can’t know the pain of seeing your own child like that, especially when you know there’s something you can do about it.”
“So tell me this, Mr. Father of the Year,” Liam said. “How many innocent lives is her walking worth? Even if it could work, you think his transferring energy just this one time will keep her walking? It won’t. If it did, Hillier would be pitching like Cy Young every start, not just the ones at home when he’s giving him that extra pop. And Terry Hillier wouldn’t be walking around looking like a ninety-year-old in between surges.”
“Maybe you’re right. And, if so, I’ll deal with that then. But we don’t know that,” Eddie said. “And neither does Hillier. But what’s the harm in trying? He’s doing it anyway. It’s not like I’m asking him to do anything he’s not already doing.”
“But we can stop him, Eddie,” Kyle jumped in. “That’s the point. That’s been the whole point. We can stop anyone else from dying. We know who he is, we know what he does, and now we can stop it. Think of all the young people who’ve died, and who’ll continue to die. Think of their fathers and mothers. Think of what they’re going through, what they will go through. No one else should have to deal with another death at this man’s hands. We can end it.”
“Shit, Ky,” Eddie said, his eyes starting to well, “you don’t think I know that? You think I want someone else to die?” He paused and tightened his lips. “But if Liam never started looking for him, no one would have ever found him. No one would have ever even realized these people were being murdered.”
“But we do know. And we can’t pretend that we don’t.” He bore his gaze into Eddie’s, searching for the man he knew, begging for his best friend to emerge from the shadows. “You won’t be able to live with yourself if you let this happen. You won’t. I know you. I don’t care what you think right now, you won’t. And God forbid if Celia ever found out what was letting her walk. She’d never want to walk again.”
Eddie wiped away the tears. “I fucking know, okay? I hear you. I know. But I just want her to walk again. I just want her to be like the other kids. She’s my fucking daughter.”
“She’s strong, Eddie. You know that. She’s able to deal with it.”
“You don’t see her like I do. You know what she told Dana last month? Out of the blue, she said no one’s ever going to ask her on a date and no one’s ever going to want to marry her because she’s in a wheelchair. Do you know how much that fucking killed me to hear that?”
“She’s wrong,” Kyle said, standing up. “You know that. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy for her, but it’s part of life. It’s part of growing up. And yes, it’ll be tougher for her. But she has the constitution to get past it. I know Celia. I’ve never met a girl with a sunnier disposition. And you know you can’t cheat life. This quick fix isn’t going to work. Maybe she’ll walk for a little while. Maybe. But Liam’s right. For how long? And what’s it going to do to her? Will it debilitate her like what’s happening to Terry Hillier? Will it make her condition even worse when she doesn’t receive the new energy? I mean, seriously Eddie, think of the logistics and the unanswered questions. What happens when this guy
dies? Or doesn’t want to be part of your deal anymore?”
Eddie stayed silent for a few seconds, wiping a few tears away. “I know. I know,” he quietly repeated. “I just want her to have what everyone else has.”
“She has more. She’s got a great family, a wonderful life, and such a bright future. Don’t screw that up, Eddie. Don’t do this. It’s not going to work out the way you think it will. You know that. I know you do.”
Eddie looked up, his gaze softening. But he didn’t say anything.
No one did. They didn’t get a chance to before the distant sound of shattering glass sliced through the still air.
Eddie’s eyes froze as he yelled down the hall.
“Celia!”
But there was no answer. He kept shouting for her as he sprinted toward where the noise had come from in the kitchen. Kyle and Liam trailed not far behind.
“Hillier,” Liam whispered to Kyle as they ran down the hall. “Has to be him.”
Kyle didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His heart was racing, his skin clammy, mouth dry.
As he ran into the kitchen, he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.
Celia. Spread out on the floor, a thin black chord dangling from the headphones still on her ears, a broken glass of soda next to her empty wheelchair. Eddie was already on his knees at her side.
Kyle stopped and scanned the room, looking for the person who did it.
Looking for Terry Hillier.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
He felt better. Much better. The aches and pains were gone, chased away by the surge of new energy. But he hadn’t taken everything, so he only felt okay, not great. He felt close to normal, but his body still craved more. But he couldn’t take in any more than he already had. Whoever was on the other side of the door had either been too far away for a strong connection or not strong enough for the surge he’d needed to completely replenish his weakened body. He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell.
But it didn’t matter. It’d been enough to get him right.
And now he had to get ready for his captor, who was bound to come after him, probably having heard the crash of broken glass.
He initially thought about breaking down the door and taking the initiative, but decided against it. Besides the fact that his hands were still bound behind his back, his captor had a gun. He also wasn’t a match. The advantage would clearly be in his favor not Terry’s, so he went back downstairs instead and looked to even the odds by finding a hiding spot, and a weapon.
There were two closet doors in the basement, one off the stairs and another at the very back of the room. He tried the one by the stairs first, turning around and opening it with his bound hands. It was small and packed with clothes and boxes. Not only wouldn’t he fit, but it was too obvious, and too close. So he walked across the room to the opposite end and opened the other door. He was surprised by what he saw. It wasn’t a closet at all. It was a utility room. Perfect, he thought as he backed up against the wall and turned on the light switch. As the bulb flickered to life, he saw a boiler, gauges, piping and a small workbench with a smattering of tools in the corner, including a razor blade. He turned and picked up the blade, then opened it and sliced through the twine binding his wrists. He glanced back at the table and grabbed the hammer, then went back into the main room and smashed both the ceiling light and the lamp on the table.
And then he heard what he expected.
The door at the top of the stairwell opening.
He hurried back into the utility room and shut off the light dangling from the ceiling. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he pressed his back against the adjacent wall, clutching the hammer tight with his right hand and doing what he could to minimize the advantages of his gun-wielding captor.
And then he waited, confident his patience would win out, that his ability to kill without care would ensure only he would be leaving the basement alive.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
She was breathing and conscious, talking to them. She told them she hadn’t seen anyone, that there was no one else in the kitchen when she suddenly began to feel weird, as if everything inside her had turned on at the same time and then shut down just as quickly right before she fell to the ground. She seemed slightly disoriented, and definitely woozy. A little off. A little confused.
They all had the same fear.
That she’d had a stroke. That Hillier had gotten to her and caused an aneurysm, then caused it to burst. But her consciousness and awareness, beyond the mere fact that she was alive, gave them hope her blood vessels were still intact.
But since there was still the very real danger that there was something going on restricting her blood flow, Eddie knew he had to get her to the hospital. And he had to do it quickly, if it was a stroke, she’d need medical attention within the first sixty minutes to clear up any clots and get a steady blood flow going to her brain again. Every second was crucial.
He scooped his still dazed daughter into his arms and said to Kyle, “He’s still down there. The door’s locked. The one leading to the garage should be locked as well. And it’s a steel door. He’s not getting out.”
“Okay,” Kyle said. “So go and we’ll stay up here and wait for the police.”
“I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I fucking brought him here,” Eddie cursed as he hurried with Celia to the front door. “What the hell was I thinking?”
Kyle opened the door and told Eddie to calm down and just concentrate on getting Celia to the hospital. Told him that he’d call the police and they’d take care of Hillier, that everything would be all right. Then he watched Eddie hurriedly place a confused Celia into the car.
As Eddie went around to the driver’s seat, he called out to Kyle. “Make sure you get the gun when you go back in,” he said. “It’s still in the den. And don’t be afraid to use it.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Just concentrate on getting Celia to the hospital.”
Kyle went back into the house as Eddie pulled away and headed straight for the den. But the gun wasn’t there. Kyle cursed.
Liam had to have taken it. Kyle ran back to the kitchen, praying he’d catch Liam before he did something incredibly stupid by taking matters into his own hands. But he was too late. The door to the basement was already open and Liam was nowhere to be seen.
Kyle cursed again at Liam’s impulsiveness, unsure what to do. He couldn’t yell down and tell Liam to come back up. It would alert Hillier, assuming Hillier didn’t already know Liam was down there.
“Damn it,” Kyle muttered as he grabbed a large steak knife from one of the drawers. “Damn it, damn it,” he softly repeated to himself as he reluctantly started down the basement steps. A creak echoed with each deliberate step as he neared the silent, small, dark confines below, his stomach a jumbled mess as he felt like he was entering the lair of some wild animal.
The shadows of the darkness grew denser as he neared the bottom of the stairs, adding to his already nearly paralyzing anxiety. He knew he needed some light. He needed to see what the hell was going on, even if he wasn’t sure he was going to like what he saw. Stumbling around in the dark wasn’t going to help, so he carefully felt around for the light switch and did his best to quell his fears over who, and what, he was about to see as he readied to turn it on.
But when he flipped the switch, nothing happened.
The queasiness in his stomach began to grow as he wondered what was happening, wondered if the silence meant Liam was already dead and Hillier was waiting for him in the shadows.
Kyle wanted to turn around, wanted to run back up the stairs and get the hell out of there. But he couldn’t abandon Liam. He couldn’t leave him down there while there was still a chance he might be alive.
So he slowly crept deeper into the room, moving by memory to where the theater chairs sat, his eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness blanketing the entire basement.
He clung to the knife with sweaty palms, knowing Hillier could be anywhere. His
mind urged him to turn around, pleaded with him to realize he was on a suicide mission with nothing to gain—Liam was already dead. But Kyle couldn’t turn back.
But he had to do something, he couldn’t just continue to stand there waiting for an attack he’d never see coming. He had to take the initiative. If he was going to die, at least he had to take a shot.
So he cleared his throat and asked into the silent, pitch-black room, “Don’t you care about what you’re doing?”
There was no answer.
“You’re robbing innocent young people of their chance at life,” he said into the darkness. “And why? Just so your son can pitch better? Have you thought about that? I’ve met your son. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need to be the next Roger Clemens. He’ll do fine in life without this.”
“I agree.”
A chill ran down Kyle’s spine at the cold response.
He had the man’s attention.
“So how can you justify any of this?” Kyle asked, focusing on the direction the voice was coming from.
“I accept that I can’t.”
The words were spoken with a definitive strength. This wasn’t a fragile man he was dealing with. This wasn’t the man Eddie had easily subdued. He was stronger now, much stronger. And Kyle was certain it wasn’t just Celia’s energy that had gotten him there. It was likely Liam’s as well, which meant his chubby friend was probably lying on the ground somewhere. Dead.
But Kyle had to block that out and keep the conversation going if he wanted any chance at staying alive. He had to try to talk some sense into Hillier, talk him out of killing him. “But this is destroying you, isn’t it?” he asked, clinging to Liam’s theories. “It’s stripping you raw. It’s killing you. You’re taking in too much.”
There was no answer.
Kyle listened for footsteps, or breathing, or anything.
But he heard nothing. Nothing but the slight whirring of the home’s central air conditioning. He’d hoped his eyes would have adjusted to the darkness by now, but they hadn’t. He still saw nothing. The basement had no windows so there was absolutely no natural light getting in, nothing for his cornea to bend into his pupil.
TPG Page 22
