Two men in suits entered her cubicle. They looked like twins—square shoulders, square jaws, flattop haircuts that elongated their heads.
“Miss Goodman? I’m Detective Johnston, and this is Detective Milan.” He dragged a chair to her bedside and sat. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
As if he were family. As if he were someone she should know. “Where did you get my name?”
“Your housekeeper,” Milan said. “She gave us a description of your daughter.”
“We’ve put out an amber alert,” Johnston told her. “And we have an APB on Joey Mastrianni.”
“You know about Joey?”
“We have your report of an intruder in your home yesterday morning.”
But there was no intruder, Emily realized. It was the Mirror opening, making things move. Just as April said. Why hadn’t she believed her? “I have to find him,” she murmured. Joey was the only one who could help her now.
“Why would Mr. Mastrianni kidnap your daughter?”
Kidnap? Who told them April was kidnapped? Emily put her hands to her head and felt a band of gauze. The room spun, but she knew it was actually her life spinning out of control.
“Can you tell us what happened tonight?”
“My daughter screamed,” Emily said. “I ran to her bedroom. The light flickered and sparked. But it couldn’t have, could it? The lamp was broken.” She frowned, trying to make sense of the impossible. “Things flew through the air. A photo frame hit me in the head.”
“Did you see who threw the objects?”
Threw it? She looked at him. Wasn’t this man listening? “April climbed out of bed, trying to get away. But then something, someone,” she amended, remembering the response she got from the police after Dan disappeared. “Someone grabbed her.”
“And you know of no reason why?”
Yes. Because I pissed off the devil. She drew up her knees and hid her face. A keening wail escaped her, a sound she’d never heard before. Stop it! If she started crying now, she would never stop.
“I’m sorry, Miss Goodman, but we have more questions. We understand you are divorced. Could your ex-husband be involved in the disappearance of your daughter?”
“What? No.”
“No custody battle? No hard feelings?”
On the tail of that, the other man said, “Can you give us a description of Mr. Mastrianni?”
“Just leave,” she managed to say.
The chair squealed as the detective pushed it back. “We’ll be in touch.”
Voices came from beyond the curtain. Emily buried her fists in the sheets. What was she going to do?
Then she heard a voice she recognized.
“Is she sedated?” asked Ross Devine.
“Not at all,” a woman answered. “We’re keeping a close eye on her.”
“May I see her?”
“I think she’d like that.”
Emily stiffened as Ross peered at her. “What are you doing here?” She glanced at a large clock on the wall. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, for chrissake.”
He stepped forward. “Esmeralda called me. She couldn’t come herself. The police asked her to stay at home in case of a ransom demand. But she sent this.” He set Emily’s backpack on the foot of her bed. “There’s a change of clothes and shoes, a hairbrush and stuff, you know. And it feels like your laptop is in there. She gave me Dan’s camera and disks. I hope you don’t mind.”
She stared at him.
He winced. “Em, I’m so sorry. I feel responsible.”
“You are responsible,” she hissed. “You and your secret assignment.”
“I wish I’d never sent you to Florida. You would never have met the guy and—”
“Joey?”
Ross nodded. “Esmeralda told me about him, how he followed you back and broke into your house. Now he’s taken little April.”
“It wasn’t him. It was the Mirror. Satan took her.”
His jaw dropped. “What?”
“I saw her on the other side. The devil held her up like a prize. He laughed, Ross. He laughed at me.” She threw off the sheets and scooted past the railing. “Damn it to hell.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t get out of bed.”
“Watch me.” She held her bruised ribs as she slid to her feet.
“I’m getting the doctor.” Ross rushed away.
Emily opened the bag and pulled out jeans and a T-shirt, her favorite hiking boots, and her wallet. Bless you, Esmeralda. Gingerly, Emily tugged her soiled clothing over her head.
“What’s going on here?” asked Dr. Gordon.
Ross peeked around him like a little boy being a tattletale.
She tossed down the stinking nightgown and put on the T-shirt. “I’m leaving.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” the doctor said.
“I’m a grown woman,” she said in a growl. “I’m a citizen of the United States. You cannot keep me against my will.”
He paused. “I wish you’d reconsider.”
In answer, she put on her boots. The doctor sighed. “There are forms you need to sign. And I’ll give you a prescription for pain. Stop at the nurse’s desk.” He went out, leaving Ross standing dazed in his wake.
“This is crazy,” Ross said.
Emily put her wallet and her cell phone into her pants. “Did you drive here?”
“Why? You want to make me your accomplice by driving you home?”
“I’m not going home. I’m going to Saint Augustine.”
“What? Now I know you’re insane.” He shook his head. “All right. I’ll authorize a small expense account. Do what you have to do. But bring back the story.”
She stepped close to him, staring eye-to-eye. “My daughter is not a story.”
“Em, I know you’re upset, but—”
“Are you going to take me to the airport or not?”
He stepped away. “Let’s go.”
As instructed, Emily stopped at the desk before leaving. She pocketed the prescription without any intention of having it filled. The pain she felt might double tomorrow, but she didn’t care. Pain was nothing compared to the terror her daughter felt at that moment.
They walked into the chilly night and located Ross’ dark blue Lexus. He had parked on the opposite side of the lot in the apparent hope that no one would park next to him.
Emily got into the car and leaned the seat back. She wished she could sleep.
“Do you really think you can get a flight to Saint Augustine at this hour?”
“I’ll get as close as I can, drive the rest of the way.” She scowled as he slowly pulled down a driveway and eased into the empty street. “You can go a little faster, you know. What are you afraid of, traffic?”
“Actually, I’m afraid of hurting you. I don’t suppose there is any chance of talking you out of this.”
“None,” she said, still frowning, although her anger at him diffused a bit. “I want to know everything you know about the Mirror.”
“Not much to tell. I was looking for a story that no one could say we invented. I was on the subway, and I saw a kid reading a comic book with a devil in it. You know—horns, red skin. And I thought about how almost every society, regardless of religion, had some form of devil. All those devils looked remarkably similar to the caricature in that kid’s comic book. There had to be a reason. So I researched the origins of Hell and Satan, and that’s how I learned about Satan’s Mirror. It crops up throughout history. They used to sacrifice people to it in medieval Scotland.”
“Cut the crap. This isn’t about medieval Scotland. You’re holding out on me.”
Ross fell silent. He entered the freeway. The tinted windows of the car turned streetlights into halos. “Remember the ten-day Caribbean cruise I went on at the beginning of the year?”
“The one for males only?” She shrugged. “I remember.”
“I was making friends and schmoozing. You know me, the life of the party.
One night at dinner, I mentioned Satan’s Mirror. To my surprise, one of the guys knew all about it. He said the last time he’d been on the cruise he met a woman in the Bahamas. Not Grand Bahama, one of the smaller islands. I can’t remember which. Anyway, she showed him the Mirror. He said it was a hoot, and he’d put me in touch with her if I wanted to.”
“And of course you wanted to.”
“I couldn’t wait. I looked her up as soon as we got into port. She was an interesting person. Affable with a lovely accent. She offered to show me the Mirror right then, but I was like you, I suspected a parlor trick. So I told her I was having a luncheon at a local hotel, and she would be the guest of honor. I hoped getting her out of her element would cramp her style.”
“But it didn’t, did it? She opened the Mirror.”
“Made it appear right in the middle of a conference table we were sitting around.”
“Did the devil take anyone?”
“No. Didn’t even try to, just stared at us in turn. I felt odd when it looked at me, like it was memorizing me, judging me. Gave me a chill. Later, the woman told us that we were all marked, and Satan would know us when our time came. We had a laugh about that after she left.”
He exited the freeway and started the winding route that led to the airport. Emily watched him. The way his throat worked, she knew he had more to tell her. The story didn’t end in that room. But he didn’t speak again until they pulled into the drop-off zone of the airport.
“I became close to one of the people I met on that cruise,” Ross said, putting the car in park and turning to face her. “He lived in Maryland. Last month, he disappeared. Vanished.”
“You never suspected the Mirror?”
His face twisted. “This is the twenty-first century. No one believes in the devil anymore.”
“But you do, don’t you. That’s why you sent me on that assignment.”
“You’re the best investigative reporter I know. And I’m marked.”
She stared at him, incredulous. Bile rose in her throat. “April—”
“Em, you’ve got to understand. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I thought you’d uncover a hoax, or at the least, get me more information. I’d never wish harm to come to you or Dan. Or little April.”
“But you did harm her, Ross. And I hope you burn for it.” She opened the door and set a foot outside.
“I hate to say this out loud, but isn’t Satan the Lord of the Afterlife? April must be dead.”
“She’s alive. I saw her. And I’m going to get her back.”
He grabbed her arm, sputtering. “This is hell we’re talking about. People don’t come back.”
She wrenched away. To hell and back, she thought, remembering Joey’s waxy face. “I know someone who did.”
SIXTEEN
Vanessa sat smoking a cigarette at the top of a rickety wooden staircase that connected the back door of her Psychic Parlor to what appeared to be a second floor apartment.
From behind a bush in the alley, Emily scowled. She hated everything about the woman, from her wild tangle of gray hair to her overlong magenta toenails. She wanted to hurt her, destroy her life as Emily’s had been destroyed. But Vanessa could give her what she wanted—and right now she wanted to find Joey.
She considered the staircase. That was how Vanessa appeared from nowhere the first day they met—she heard bells ring at the front door and slipped in through the back. Maybe Emily could work that in her favor.
Leaving her backpack with the bush, Emily stole around to the front of the building. She opened the door to the Psychic Parlor, letting the bells announce her presence. She shook the door once more for good measure, and then rushed back to the alley. Vanessa flicked the cigarette butt over the railing and descended the stairs. Her sandals made clip-clop sounds.
Emily pulled a ballpoint pen from her pocket and crept behind her, stepping through the screened door to the darkness within. In a single movement, she slammed Vanessa face-first against the wall of a small vestibule and jammed the pen hard into her side.
“Feel that?” Emily asked. “It’s a knife.”
“What? What do you want?”
“I want to talk to your boyfriend.”
“You again,” she growled. “You won’t kill me. You haven’t got the nerve.”
Emily dug the pen deeper, edging it up beneath her ribcage. Vanessa gave a quick intake of breath.
“You’d be surprised what I could do right now,” Emily said.
“Joey isn’t here.”
“Then you’re going to help me find him.”
Vanessa laughed. “He travels in circles I can’t reach.”
The import of the words crashed over her. Crestfallen, she asked, “He went back?”
“I knew you wanted him. I saw it in your eyes. But you will never come between us. Even hell couldn’t keep us apart.”
“How do you get in?”
“Is that what you want—to follow him?” Vanessa squirmed, turning to face her. “Believe me, I would like nothing better than to see you tormented for eternity. But even if I call forth the Mirror, I cannot force my Lord to take you if you are not worthy.”
“Joey goes in, and he comes out again. Apparently at will. Does that make him more worthy than you?”
Her eyes flickered. “I know nothing of the bargain he struck.”
“He hasn’t confided in you? Perhaps you aren’t the soul mates you imagine yourselves to be. Perhaps he came back not to be with you but to do the devil’s bidding.”
“Stop it!”
“I’m sorry. Is that a touchy subject? I don’t blame you for being upset. It’s not your fault you got old.” As she said it, she realized it was true—Joey appeared to be the age he was when he disappeared twenty years ago, while Vanessa had aged normally.
The woman gave an inarticulate wail. Emily leaned toward her ear. “He’s probably in hell right now, sitting at the devil’s right hand with some little cutie—”
“Shut your mouth! You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s not the chosen one. I am.”
“Then how come he’s the one with the get-out-of-hell-free card?”
“It’s not impossible to escape, and he knew it,” Vanessa said. “He was with me when that woman came through.”
“Woman?”
“The Mirror disgorged her as if she were being born. She was bloody, and mewing, and blind. I thought she was the second coming, but she ended up being just some bitch who found her way out.”
“How?” Emily asked. “How did she escape?”
“She never said. She turned all pious and holier-than-thou on me until I couldn’t stand to be around her. Last I heard she was starting her own church in Mississippi or Louisiana.”
Emily stepped away. She made a show of retracting the ballpoint pen and putting it in her pocket. Once out of the door, she moved quickly down the alley.
Vanessa’s screeching laughter followed her. “By the way, was it my Joey who dotted your eye? Better get used to it if you hope to be his girl.”
“Let Joey know I’m looking for him.” Emily retrieved her backpack and walked toward the street.
She shook to the bone with rage and disbelief. Joey wasn’t here. Everything, everything depended upon her finding him and somehow forcing him to smuggle her into hell and out again.
How could she get to April now?
Vanessa was right—she couldn’t force the devil to take her. She’d seen the Mirror twice and hadn’t been taken yet.
What was she going to do?
She threaded her arms into the straps of her pack as she walked down the sidewalk. She didn’t have a car. She’d flown into Jacksonville, and then took a commuter flight to St. John’s County Airport. The rental center at the airport was closed when she got to it at eight in the morning. Luckily, the girl who sat next to her in the plane offered a ride into town.
Emily continued walking. After two blocks, sweat collected in the bandage about her hea
d. She had to slacken her pace; the Florida morning was already hot. Emily wondered if it was even hotter in hell. What was her daughter going through?
Doubts invaded her thoughts. Ross said April must be dead. She couldn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe. Her daughter was alive.
A police car pulled alongside and stopped. Officer Harris opened the passenger door. “Hop in.”
She stifled a moan as she slipped into the chilled interior.
“I’m sorry to hear about your daughter,” he said.
“Ah, they contacted you already.”
He nodded. “I got a call from Detective Johnston. He wasn’t too pleased you skipped on him.”
“I couldn’t stay in that hospital doing nothing. All I could think about was finding Joey.”
“You’re certain he’s the kidnapper?”
Emily hesitated. “In the confusion, I didn’t exactly see who took April. But I’m certain he knows where she is. And before you start to argue with me—”
“I’m not arguing,” Harris said. “Where were you headed?”
“The Internet café. I would have had a car, but your backwoods rental shop wasn’t open yet.”
“They open late on weekends.”
Weekend. The word struck her heart, and she looked away, tears filling her eyes. She and April planned to be at Grandfather’s farm.
“I was hoping you’d come to the station with me and give our composite artist a description of Joey. You’re the only one who’s seen him up close.”
“Except Vanessa.”
“She hasn’t been forthcoming.”
“I’m not surprised,” Emily said. “All right. Yes, that’s a good idea.”
He pulled the car from the curb.
Emily settled back, intending to close her eyes for a moment, but less than a moment later, they were at the police station. She blinked in the strong sunlight as Harris guided her into the building.
He left her with Officer Serra, a stern-looking woman with close-cropped hair, who turned out to be a capable artist. She used both paper and computer to elicit details from Emily she thought she’d forgotten. In the end, they had a good likeness of Joey’s face as well as the tattooed symbols running up his shoulders and neck.
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