Quinn could feel all eyes on him. It seemed like the other reporters, for one moment, wanted to give him some measure of respect. Quinn kept his voice calm, his tone steady.
“Do you believe it was the person claiming to be Lord Halloween that killed him?” Quinn asked.
“Yes, we do,” Brown said. “I’m sorry, Quinn.”
And with that, Brown was gone. The other reporters threw questions at Brown as he left, some even trying to get out the door with him. Quinn sat down and stared at the floor.
(Quinn, I’m so sorry.)
(We didn’t always get along, but… he was a damn fine reporter. I…)
His thoughts broke away. Somehow he became aware that a video camera was focusing on him. For a second, he forgot why. And then he knew. Because they wanted the visual to go along with the story. They had the ridiculous announcement, clearly authorized by Lord Halloween himself, but that wasn’t enough. The cameras had to have a picture of grief. And Quinn was the closest thing.
(Just walk away.) Kate advised.
(I hate these guys,) he thought back. (Where are they when anything good happens in Loudoun, or when it’s just the local board meeting to cover? We’re down in the trenches every day and they just show up when the bodies surface.)
(Just walk away.) Kate said again. And if she felt his anger, he also felt her calm. Someone who understood grief better than he did and who might have had more cause to be angry at the vultures around them.
Quinn stood up slowly, did not face the cameras and walked out. Only Summer followed him out the door.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Quinn,” she said.
Quinn was uncertain how to proceed. He was so used to disliking her, it was almost difficult to see her express some sincere emotion.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
(Is she hitting on me?) he asked.
(No. Look at the recorder in her hand, genius.) Kate replied.
And there it was. It felt good to know that he could still dislike her.
“You want a comment?” he asked.
Summer raised the recorder up expectantly.
(Don’t do anything stupid.) Kate warned.
“Write this down. Now that the best Post reporter, Summer Mandaville, is on the story, I’m sure Lord Halloween is quaking in his boots.”
Summer switched the recorder off.
“You know I can’t use that,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s a pity,” Quinn replied, and walked off in the direction of the Chronicle office. He had other things to think about. Some part of his brain that was still dispassionate was already thinking of how to structure the story. Methodically, he started to think about what he would say, how to tell the story of his colleague’s death.
Friday, Oct. 27
Kate watched the leaves blow down East Market Street, which now looked less like the historic town of Leesburg and more like a ghost town out west. Signs hung on the doors of most of the shops declaring, “Closed until further notice.” Many people had simply left town.
The ones who hadn’t left remained paranoid. Kate had taken notes at the local middle schools where parents had shown up to take their kids home personally, not trusting a bus to drop them off. People were afraid to leave their kids, or themselves, alone for even one second.
Not that it would help. Kate knew that Lord Halloween had wanted this to happen. He thrived on the attention, the panic and the knowledge that he could still pick people off one by one. Unless everyone simply moved out of the county, they would not be 100% safe.
She was least of all, she knew. It must still be part of his plan to kill her and more than likely Quinn too. So it was with some trepidation that she had pursued her assignments alone today. But the Chronicle was short-staffed.
Half of the staff had elected not to come to work Thursday. For some, it was genuine grief over Kyle. For most, it was fear for themselves. After all, if a serial killer decides to kill one reporter, maybe he will just keep going. Helen, who fancied herself the star reporter of the paper, called in sick. Buzz did not use an excuse. He had e-mailed Monday to say he would be out for the foreseeable future. Bill also did not bother to pretend. He had told Josh flatly that he was “not fucking coming in until the psycho stops picking us off.”
Laurence had tried to persuade a few to come in. Alexis and Josh were in the office. And Quinn and Kate figured they were safer in a public place anyway, both from Lord Halloween and the Headless Horseman. Kate laughed to herself. It felt ridiculous even to think of it that way. But it didn’t change what was happening.
So they were all being sent on solo assignments, at least to try and cover everything. Quinn was nominally following a tip, but really back at Janus’ apartment—which the three of them had turned into a fortress—looking again at the hotel security tapes. It was comforting to Kate to sense him there. She had a gun for her own protection, but knew that back-up was just a quick thought away. She could even see the video when she concentrated.
She could see him in her mind going slowly through the tape, pausing every few minutes. He was bored and she laughed to herself. It was so strange and wonderful to have this other person in her head this way. She might have imagined it could be terrible, but… she felt no downside. To really know a person, to know what they think and feel, was a gift. There was no doubting his fidelity, love or commitment to her. Quinn belonged to her and she to him. She wasn’t even sure they were really two separate people anymore. That should frighten her, but it didn’t. The two had become one.
But it was a gift that came along with the price of the Horseman. She wondered if it would be worth it. For now, it was the only bright spot. After she finished her assignment, she would go see him. Even with him in her head, she wanted to be with him again. And maybe they could go somewhere for a while… forget about all this for a bit.
(Stop.) Quinn thought at her.
(Sorry.) she said immediately. (I thought you weren’t paying attention.)
(You were starting to think about sex. It got my attention.)
(Typical.)
(Hey, you were the one thinking it. Some of us are trying to work.)
(Okay, okay.)
She smiled to herself and let it drop. If they were still alive at the end of the month, they would go away somewhere, together. She knew that whatever their connection was would probably be at its weakest—her research had said it could drop out altogether—but they needed a chance to get away.
(It’s a deal.) Quinn thought at her. (But for right now, please let me work.)
Kate continued walking down the street and taking notes along the way. It was easier to record the shops that were open rather than the ones that were closed. Occasionally, she would stop in to interview a shopkeeper or one of the few patrons she saw.
Suddenly she heard a voice behind her.
“So how’s my favorite part of the Wonder Twins?” Janus said, and Kate wheeled around, her hand already reaching into her purse for the gun.
She took a breath when she saw Janus and eased her hand away.
“Easy there,” Janus said, holding up his hands. “I thought you heard me walk up behind you.”
“Janus, these days, you should really call first before walking up to someone,” she replied.
“I know, sorry. I was on the way to my car,” he said.
“Why is it parked out here? Why didn’t you park out behind the paper?”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “And dream about how that maniac will hide in the back seat of my car and at precisely the wrong moment, turn up and stab me in the neck? I don’t fucking think so.”
“Right, right,” she said. “Of course, you could just check your car before you leave.”
“It’s better out here,” he said.
“Where are you off to?” she asked.
“Laurence is pulling his hair out in there,” Janus replied. “He keeps trying to get reporters back in the office. He told me to go see Buzz
and try to persuade him to come back.”
“You want company?” she asked.
“Nah,” Janus said. “Buzz doesn’t know you that well. He sees you coming, he could come up with some paranoid fantasy that we’re an assassination squad.”
She nodded.
“Besides,” he continued. “I’m wondering if he’s skipped town or something. Laurence said he heard from him once yesterday, but that the connection was bad. Old Buzz could have hit the road.”
“Just be careful,” Kate said.
“Hey, my middle name is careful,” Janus replied. “But enough about that—are you guys any closer to figuring out the Horseman? For that matter, are we any closer to Lord Halloween?”
“Just theories spinning in our head,” she responded.
“I noticed you said ‘our head,’” Janus said. “I guess you meant that literally. So what happens if you beat the Horseman? Can you control him?”
“I don’t know,” Kate said.
“And do you control him or does Quinn?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or can you do other stuff, like read minds, or summon spirits from the underworld, or stuff like that?”
“No, but we can shoot laser beams out of our eyes.”
“Really?” Janus asked.
“No, don’t be stupid,” Kate said. “I told you, I don’t know. Nothing in the research is conclusive. There is some trial, you either pass or you fail, and that’s it. There’s a Prince of Sanheim or a dead person. And what happens after that, I don’t know.”
“Other than to know you turn back into a pumpkin at midnight on Halloween,” Janus said.
“Yes,” she said. “Whatever power we get, it ends after Halloween is over. At least for a while.”
“How long?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Nov. 1 is All Saint’s Day, a holy day, so I’m sure we get nothing then. But maybe it returns gradually over time.”
“Let’s just hope you have enough time,” Janus said.
“For what? We aren’t really planning to face this thing down, you know,” Kate said. “I don’t know that we can defeat the Horseman and we’re a little busy trying to avoid someone else who wants to kill us.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Janus asked. “It’s the only way, right? Lord Halloween is smarter than you.”
“Hey.”
“Face it, he’s smarter than everybody,” Janus said. “He’s one step ahead of the police, he’s one step ahead of us. We have all these details on him, we know his pattern, and we have nothing. It could be anybody.”
“I don’t think so,” Kate said. “I think it is someone connected with the paper.”
“Then who?” Janus asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Exactly,” he said. “But if you beat the Horseman, you have powers, right? Who is to say you don’t know who the killer is then? Who’s to say you don’t know where he is hiding? You get the upper hand, for once. He thinks you are harmless Kate and Quinn, but no, you’re the fucking Prince of Sanheim. You’re a legend.”
Kate thought about what he was saying. When they had initially heard about the trial, Quinn had been confident they could win it, but she hadn’t been so sure. She had convinced him they had to wait. Deal with Lord Halloween, then wait until next year to face this trial. If they could even delay it. But they were no closer to figuring that out. But Janus had a good point, the one that Quinn had made himself. It was an all or nothing bet. If they couldn’t beat the Horseman, they were dead anyway. But if they could…
But Kate thought of the man in Quinn’s dream. That was what the man wanted. Something told her that whatever he wanted, it wasn’t good. What if it really had been the Devil?
(He’s not the devil.) Quinn thought.
(You don’t know that)
“I can see you are hearing voices again,” Janus said. “Tell Quinn I said hi. Look, just think about what I said, okay? I’ve got to run.”
Janus turned and walked up the street toward his car.
“Be careful,” she called after him.
Janus stuck his arm in the air and flashed the V-sign.
(I think he is flicking you off.) Quinn said.
Kate laughed and turned to walk back toward the paper.
Lord Halloween could not believe what he was hearing. He had been so close, so close to dealing with Kate. He had been watching her for over an hour go into various shops, being a reporter. He had liked watching her move. She was very good looking. And he was enjoying the hunt. There were two more bodies the police hadn’t found and he was already moving on to body number three.
And then that little fucker had gotten in the way. He had been close enough to hear them—there was an abandoned shop nearby—but he hadn’t understood a word. Instead of being afraid of him, Kate was talking about the Horseman. Who the fuck was the Horseman? He briefly considered that there was some rival serial killer, but if there were, it was news to him. And what was this about the Prince of Sanheim?
I must have driven her insane, he thought.
It was the only explanation and it did nothing to soothe his spirit. If she were crazy, it seemed Janus and Quinn were too. They should be worried about him. In fact, Kate and Quinn should be dead already. But Lord Halloween knew he could not have gotten through Quinn’s door without waking them up. He had decided to wait.
Now it appeared something else was going on and he didn’t like that one bit.
He was keenly aware every minute he stood there was a risk. What bothered him more than anything was that whatever they were talking about seemed to be connected to Halloween. And Halloween was his day—his day. Look at this place, he thought. Shops are closed, people have fled. Because of one man. Because of him. Halloween was all about fear—dressing up as the thing you are afraid of—and he ruled it.
But Kate and Quinn didn’t seem afraid. He had almost been close enough to kill them both and they were worried about people on fucking horses. Kate was meant to be his great comeback story—one that would have even brought CNN to town. Not only had that failed, but she didn’t even seem worried about him.
Kate and Quinn would regret their distractions, he thought as he watched Janus walk down the street. If they had forgotten about him, then he would just have to remind them.
There were just a few days to Halloween and he planned to use them well. Long enough to do what he wanted. Long enough to make Kate and Quinn pay.
22
Friday, Oct. 27
Quinn was considering turning off the video when he saw it. He had concluded the entire process was a waste of time. Lord Halloween was too careful to simply walk past a security camera. But for some reason he kept coming back to it. In the hospital room, he had been out of it, but he had felt sure he had seen something.
Now he was sure he saw it again. It had been quick, just out of the corner of his eye, something like a flash of metal. It could have been a watch, but Quinn didn’t think so. He rewound the tape and paused. It was the arm of a jacket—nothing more. He couldn’t see the man or woman it was attached to. The jacket was olive green and Quinn thought the shade looked familiar. Like he had seen it before. Like he knew who the jacket belonged to.
It felt like a song that he couldn’t place. He knew who that jacket belonged to, but he couldn’t place it. It was just on the tip of his tongue. Work backward, he thought. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was mentally flipping through the people he knew like old photographs when it came to him.
The piece of metal he was looking at was a medal—from the Vietnam War. He only knew one person who wore such a thing. He pictured it sitting on the chair at the Loudoun Chronicle. How many days had he seen it just lying there? And yet he didn’t recognize it when it was out of place.
Dear God, he thought, the jacket. It belongs to Buzz. He had been in the hotel just before Kate’s room was ransacked.
“Jesus,” Quinn said.
(Where was
Janus headed?) he asked Kate.
Kate had stopped in mid-interview when he had figured out who the jacket belonged to.
(Buzz. He was going to see Buzz.)
(We have to get there. Now. He’s in trouble.)
Janus drove to the end of the cul-de-sac in Ashburn, parked the car on the curb and got out. He sighed. Every time Janus saw Buzz’s house, it looked like a run-down mess. Buzz had inherited it from his mother, who had died only about four years ago. But he did not seem to inherit the ability to keep it up.
The grass was long, at least three of the shutters hung at slightly crooked angles. If he didn’t know better, Janus might think a crazy person lived there. Only he supposed one did. Buzz was the most paranoid person he had ever met—he had been worried about Lord Halloween way before it was fashionable.
How long had Buzz worked for the paper? As long as Janus knew about, that was for sure. And all that time, Buzz talked about sinister conspiracies concerning county supervisors or the police and when Laurence had transferred him to the business beat, Buzz had relentlessly pursued some bank in Waterford, claiming there was some check kiting scheme.
Holden and Buzz had never gotten along. Rebecca tolerated Buzz’s eccentricities because he produced good copy. He showed up at odd hours, but he did consistently deliver good stories for the paper.
Janus glanced at the house. For a second, he felt a twinge of anxiety, but he brushed it away. The killings, the telepathic twins back at the office and Laurence’s general attitude of panic had put Janus on edge.
He walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. It sounded deep through the house and Janus jumped a little.
Jesus, he thought, I’m way too skittish. He rang the bell again and listened to it echo through the house. But he did not hear anything else.
Dead and Gone Page 173
