by Roy Johansen
“Laid how?”Carla asked.
Joe winced again. “Don't know. Kind of hard to think with a scalpel cutting into my chest.”
It took only a few minutes for the doctor to finish cutting and bandaging, but it took another quarter hour for Joe to convince Howe and Carla that he was all right.
“Come on, I'll drive you home,”Carla said.
“I'll rest a little, then take a taxi.”
“But I really don't think you should—”
“Get going. I'll be fine.”
After several more minutes of arguing, they finally left. Good. He needed some time to himself, and therewas something he wanted to do before he left the hospital. His skin throbbed beneath the bandage. How had it happened? How in hell had he gotten the death mark? The same mark that the murder victims had worn. The mark that Monica Gaines had worn before bursting into flames.
The pattern was going to stop here.
Monica Gaines. He needed to check up on her.
If she was still alive.
He took the elevator to the hospital's third floor. He flashed his badge at the nurses'station and walked to Monica Gaines's ICU room. She was alive but still unconscious.
“How are you, Bailey?”
Joe turned to see Tess Wayland standing in the hallway outside Monica's room.
“Shit. I have no comment about what you saw earlier.”
“I'm not asking you for one. I have a reporter and cameraman waiting outside the hospital for that.”
He was surprised she'd told him. “Thanks for the warning. Why are you here?”
“I visit Monica every day. Why are youhere?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
Tess walked to the bed and brushed Monica's hair away from her face. “She hates it when her hair covers her ears.”
“Is that right?”
Tess nodded. “Monica is the only one who has ever really believed in me, you know that?”
“Have you worked for her a long time?”
“From the very beginning. When she started her show, I'd never worked in television in my life. I wasa website designer. I designed her Internet site, and when that took off, she hired me to run it full-time. Then, when she got a shot at her own TV show, she insisted that I produce it. Two syndicators passed on it because they didn't trust me to run things. Hell, I wouldn't have trusted a website designer from Oregon to run a national television show. But Monica wouldn't have it any other way.”
“That kind of loyalty is hard to come by.”
“Damned right.”
Her expression was amazingly soft, Joe saw in surprise.”Is there any way I can talk you out of using the footage of my branded chest?”
She smiled.”Nope.”
“Didn't think so.”
“I have to ask myself, what would Monica do? No question about this one. She'd run the hell out of it.”
“I'm sure you're right.”
“But, as always, you're welcome to come on the show and explain it.”
“Right. Which will be reduced to one weak, out-of-context sound bite followed by ten minutes of commentary explaining why I don't know what I'm talking about. I think I'll pass.”
“Your call. We're having Barry Roth and Alicia Dobal on tomorrow.”
“I've met Roth. So that'swhat brought him to town.”
“We're starting a new series, 'In the Footsteps of Monica Gaines.'“Every day, our guest psychics are going to use articles of Monica's to try to summon up her feelings and impressions in the last days beforeher accident. You worked with her most closely, so it might help if you were there.”
“Help who?”
“The psychics, of course, but you too. It might help you in your investigation.”
“I seriously doubt that, but I'll think about it.”
“Fine, but while you're thinking, be careful.”She lightly patted his chest. “That little mark on your chest isn't exactly a good-luck sign.”
Dylan sat in the dark hotel room, watching the man fumble for the light switch. Finally. Face-to-face with the monster.
The light switched on.
“Rakkan?”He snapped the cartridge firmly into his Beretta.
The man whirled around.
“Be still,”Dylan said. “Do as I say and you'll live. That's a promise. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. Do you understand me, Rakkan?”
“Why do you call me …Rakkan?”
“That's how you think of yourself, isn't it? A modern-day Rakkan, roaming the countryside in search of a worthy man?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Let's not play that game. I've known about you for weeks, and I really don't care that you're a sick fuck. I need some information, and you're in a unique position to give it to me.”
“Who are you?”
“That's none of your concern. Just know that you've been closely observed on an entirely unrelated matter,and that my colleagues discovered your nasty little secret.”Dylan leaned forward. “Tell me what I need to know, and you can continue your sick game. Do we have a deal?”
Early the next morning, Joe woke Nikki to tell her about his fire demonstration and the mark that had appeared on his chest. Better to hear it from him than from a reporter, he thought. He was surprised and relieved to see how calmly she took it.
“Can I see it?”she asked.
He raised his T-shirt, and she ran her fingers over the unbandaged area.”Does it hurt?”
“No. It burned a little at first, but now I don't feel anything. Honey, some people are going to be saying some strange things, but I want you to know—”
Nikki cut in.”It wasn't an evil spirit.”
Joe pulled down his T-shirt. “I'm glad you realize that.”
“And I know that Mommy hasn't really been talking to us, and that she didn't move things around in here.”
He looked at her, puzzled. “What changed your mind?”
“I just know.”
“You don't have to say that to make me feel better, honey. I know that you may still have doubts—”
“No doubts. Somebody out there wants us to think she's been talking to us. Some bad person, maybe the same person who put that mark on you. But how could they do that?”
“I don't know, but I'm working on an answer.”Joesat on the edge of her bed. “Just yesterday, you were convinced that Mommy was trying to warn me of something. What changed your mind?”
“Well, you told me it wasn't true.”
“I've been telling you that for days, but you've never believed me.”
Nikki shrugged.”I feel different now.”
“Why?”
Nikki shrugged again. “Can't I change my mind? I've had time to think about it. I still wish you weren't working on this case. It's scary that somebody came in here.”
“Well, we got Grandpa hanging around to watch over things.”
Nikki nodded. “Yeah, I'm glad. He says he can still kick your butt.”
“He did, huh? Well, he's probably right. He can still kick almost anybody'sbutt.”
Nikki sat up.”I need to get ready for school now. Is there anything else?”
“I guess not.”
“Okay.”She bounded out of her bed and turned on the CD player on her dresser.
He was clearly dismissed. He supposed he should ve been happy about her sudden reversal, but it filled him with uneasiness. Nikki didn't usually change her mind so quickly.
He stood listening as she hummed the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto along with the CD. Everything appeared normal with her.
Too damned normal.
Joe was only a few blocks away from headquarters when he received a call telling him to report to the second-floor conference room. He arrived to find Haddenfield sitting alone at the long table. Half a dozen large white boxes were stacked in front of him.
“Mr. Haddenfield?”
“Finally. Can I go now?”
“Pardon the lapse in c
ommunication, but why are you here?”
Haddenfield gestured toward the boxes. “The Defense Department higher-ups wanted me to bring in all the data from our time here in Atlanta. I told them there wasn't anything here of use, but they insisted.”
“And why did my department want you to turn it over to me?”
Haddenfield shrugged.”I guess you're the contact person for all of us paranormal nutcases.”He stood up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a career to salvage.”
“Wait a minute. Tell me what you thought you could prove by coming here to Atlanta in the first place.”
“I already told you. We've been studying intelligence-gathering abilities of psychics, and when Monica left our study to assist your police department, we thought it would be a rare opportunity to study a psychic in the field.”
“You had the backing of the Defense Department?”
“I was given a lot of freedom to determine the parameters of the study. Instead of the military, it was law enforcement, but it was still relevant to our proj-ect. I pulled together a team, documented the crime scenes, and followed Monica.”
“And broke into my apartment.”
“I'm sorry. Monica spoke of dark forces at work, then we got reports of occurrences at your apartment. I wanted to investigate. When you came home and caught me, I didn't know what to do. I knew that if I got caught, I'd probably lose my job and maybe even get prosecuted. I understand that you're the reason there have been no charges filed.”
“Yet. I'd better not find out that you were the causeof those occurrences at my apartment.”
“If that was the case, why in hell would I go back with a trifield meter?”
“My thought exactly. That's what's kept you out of trouble. What are you going to do now?”
“Don't know. Try to get another teaching job. Write a book, maybe. Hey, maybe you and I can go on some afternoon talk shows together. Kind of a point-counterpoint type of thing.”
“Don't count on it.”
A knock at the door. Joe's father opened it and stuck his head in. “Hi, Joe. I was just up here visiting, and—”He noticed Haddenfield.”Oh, sorry. I'll just—”
“It's okay,”Joe said.”We're finished here. Thanks for bringing this by, Mr. Haddenfield. I'll call if I have any questions.”
Cal stepped aside as Haddenfield hurried past him.”Everything okay, Joe?”
“Yeah. I guess you heard about my new tattoo.”
Cal nodded.”Why didn't you tell me last night?”
“You were asleep on the couch, and when I woke up this morning, you were gone.”
“I wanted to go over to Carla's to give her a little wake-up present, Cal-Bailey style.”
“Jeez, Dad, I don't really need to hear that.”
“Breakfast in bed. Get your mind out of the gutter, will you?”
“You're a fine one to talk. Anyway, Nikki was surprisingly calm about everything this morning. Any idea why?”
“She's a smart kid. After the shock wore off, maybe she just figured things out.”
“Maybe.”
“Plus, I think your friend really helped her work through it.”
“What friend?”
“The pretty one, with the long brown hair. Suzanne.”
“Suzanne talked to Nikki?”
“I thought you knew. She came over late yesterday afternoon. She showed Nikki a lot of different ways that people can make it seem like spirits are visiting. She's a smart woman. She even had this gadget that she put in the telephone handset—”
“I've seen it. I just didn't know she came over. Funny that Nikki didn't tell me.”
“Well, they spent most of the afternoon together. I wasn't around for a lot of it, but I think she did a good job convincing Nikki that those things weren't necessarily spirits. She's a terrific woman, Joe. You could do a lot worse for yourself.”
“Yeah, I know.”He shook his head.”I can tell Nikki this same stuff until I'm blue in the face and she doesn't listen. One afternoon with Suzanne and she's now a die-hard skeptic.”
“What do you expect? She's eleven. When you're that age, everybody knows more than your parents. Just wait till she's fifteen.”
“I can hardly wait.”
Cal motioned toward the boxes. “What's this stuff?”
“Evidence. Probably not much use for me.”
Cal opened one of the boxes and pulled out a pair of polarized glasses. “Sunglasses?”
Joe looked inside and pulled out another pair.”No, actually they're stereoscopic glasses. They must have taken some 3-D pictures.”
“Oh, yeah. I showed a 3-D double feature of House of Waxand Creature from the Black Lagoonat the theater last year. Gave everybody headaches. Next time I do that, I'm selling aspirin at the concession stand. I'll make a fortune.”
Joe put on the glasses and picked up a stack of photographs.”Wow. Next best thing to being there.”
Cal put on the other pair. “The creature never looked thisgood.”He flipped through the photographs. “What am I looking at?”
“I think that's the second Spotlight Killings crime scene. These guys were pretty thorough.”
Cal flipped through a few more pictures, then stopped and stared at one.”I'll be damned. Joe, I think you should look at this.”
Haven't you grandstanded enough this week, Bailey?”Howe grinned as he entered the conference room. Joe, Cal, Carla, and a pretty Latino woman huddled around a TV/VCR combo unit in the conference room.
Carla glanced up from the monitor.”He's got something here, Howe. Let him grandstand all he wants.”
Joe gestured to his father. “Actually, my dad deserves the credit for this one. We got the materials from the Defense Department research project, and there were several high-res 3-D photographs included. He spotted Councilman Talman on a pay phone outside Monica Gaines's room, appearing to be very emotional about something.”Joe handed the photograph and a pair of 3-D glasses to Howe.
Howe put on the specs and studied the picture. “So? What does this prove?”
“By itself, nothing,”Joe said.”But the team was very thorough. They also got video. Although they wereconcentrating on Monica's room, we can see the pay phone in the hallway. I had the A/V guys zoom in on Talman and output it to a new tape. Of course, there's no sound, so that's why I brought in Maria to look at it for us.”
Maria stared at the screen as she typed onto the laptop computer, occasionally pausing the tape. She was a hearing-impaired woman in her mid-twenties and possessed a remarkable ability to read lips from seemingly every angle. She didn't just read lips, she maintained; the movement of cheeks, jawline, chin, body language, and even eyebrows factored into her “reads,”adjusted for the each speaker's cultural background. The department had often tried to hire her full-time, but she refused to give up her teaching post at a local school for the deaf.
Maria printed out a page from the small portable printer. Joe picked it up. “Councilman Talman was talking to someone about what happened to Monica. There's something strange here…. Maria is going to tell us what's going on.”
Maria scanned the video back to the beginning of the call. “Okay, I have it.”She spoke with only the slightest trace of a speech impediment. “Are you ready?”
“I know the zoomed-in picture is kind of fuzzy,”Joe said. “I'm surprised you were able to get it at all.”
Maria smiled. “You should see some of the stuff Narcotics guys have me look at. This is a breeze, Detective. Let's start at the beginning.”She pushed the play button.”Okay, he punches the number and whoever he's calling answers on the first or second ring. He talks a little about Monica's condition. It doesn'tlook good, she's not expected to live. Here's where he starts to get angry. He wants to know if he was a pawn.”
“A pawn in what?”Carla asked.
On the screen, Talman pressed his mouth closer to the receiver as if he were lowering his voice.
“He wants to know if thisis the reason why they wa
nted Monica Gaines to come here, so that they could hurt her.”
Howe glanced at Joe. “What?”
Maria nodded.”He's getting even more angry here. He thinks they used him to help bring Monica Gaines to town. Then, after she arrived, they tried to kill her.”
“Who is they?”Joeasked.
“Whoever he's talking to. It may be only one person. Now he seems to be getting some assurances that this person had nothing to do with Monica's accident. He doesn't look like he believes it though.”
“Assurances from who?”Joe asked. “Does he say a name anywhere in this call?”
Maria shook her head. “No. I watched this three times just to be sure.”She pointed to the screen. “Okay, he ends the call by discussing money. Talman feels he's owed some money.”
“For helping bring Monica Gaines to town?”Cal asked.
Maria nodded.
“Those tapes are documented with date, time, and location,”Howe said. “I'll get someone hopping on the telephone company to print out a list of all incoming and outgoing calls to this pay phone.”
Joe nodded. “And I think I need to have a conversation with our honorable councilman.”
A ten-second call to Edward Talman's office told Joe that the councilman was attending an afternoon rehearsal of the Atlanta Youth Orchestra in Chastain Park. As he descended the concrete stairs toward the music shell Joe thought how Nikki would have loved hearing the orchestra play free of the venue's notoriously rude and talkative audiences.
Talman stood up from his table at the front of the amphitheater. “Welcome, Mr. Bailey. Aren't they glorious?”He gestured toward the teenagers performing on the stage in front of him. “Would you like some chicken? We have plenty.”
“No, thanks,”Joe said.”Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Of course. My office called and told me you'd be coming here. Thanks for keeping me in the loop.”Talman turned and excused himself from the others in his party. Joe didn't recognize any of them, but he assumed they were the local movers and shakers who helped fund the Youth Orchestra.
