Chapter 25
It went against her good girl instincts, leaving a car in a tow zone, but Daddy was on life support, a killer was hunting for her and she’d been running on fumes for miles. It was a miracle she’d arrived at all.
She parked the car outside the sliding glass doors, and bolted. So she’d pay the fee if they hauled it away. Um, yeah. Right. With what?
Ah, what a happy dream, to be capable of dealing with her own parking violations again. She scurried into the bustling lobby, looking for signs for the north wing. Wondering if Daddy was…no. Stop.
One thing at a time. One thought at a time.
She started out walking, but anxiety kicked her into a clumsy lope, and by the time she hit a straight stretch, it was a dead run.
Everyone shrank away from the crazy blonde sprinting down the hall in spike heels and the scanty, sexy red halter dress. She was too anxious to wait for the elevator. She dove for the stairs. Screeched to a halt outside the nurse’s station when she saw Dr. Horst, her family doctor from Seattle. Oh, God. His being here could not be a good sign.
“Dr. Horst?” she called out, gasping for breath.
He frowned, no recognition in his eyes. She yanked off the diva sunglasses. “It’s me. Liv. How’s Daddy? Is he—is he—”
“Liv. My dear.” He walked towards her, giving her a gingerly embrace. The grave look on his face terrified her.
“Tell me quick,” she begged. “Say it, if it’s bad news.”
“Come on in here,” he said. “Try to calm yourself. We have to talk.” He towed her towards the doorway of a small waiting room.
“Please, just tell me if Daddy…” Her voice trailed off.
Her father was standing right there. Fully clothed, looking very much as he always did. No life support, no IV drip, no oxygen mask. He looked fine, but for the nervous, hangdog look on his face.
Her mother stood beside him. Her chest was puffed out, chin high, her face flushed. Blair stood there too. Wearing his pompous face.
“Mother?” Liv looked around at them. “Daddy? What’s going on?”
“Lord,” Amelia said. “You look like a hooker in that silly wig.”
Her father mumbled something inaudible, and stared at his feet.
“I’m sorry it came to this, Livvy, but you left me no alternative,” her mother said.
Hot anger flooded through her. “No alternative but what? To put me in danger for nothing? To put me through hours of hell thinking that Daddy was dying? You think you can actually justify that?”
“Try to calm yourself, Liv,” Dr. Horst soothed. “Your mother truly does have your best interests at heart.”
“As if.” Liv looked around. “I don’t see any policemen here. You didn’t take me seriously. Why am I not surprised?”
“Liv, please,” Dr. Horst said gently. “I promise that you will be absolutely and completely safe where we are taking you.”
“Taking me?” Alarm bells jangled in her head. She backed away. “No way. You’re not taking me anywhere.”
“I know you’ve had a terrible ordeal, Livvy, but it’s over now. And we’re going to see that you get the help you need,” her mother said. She grabbed Liv’s wrist, her long red nails digging in with nervous strength.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying!” Liv wailed. “I was attacked four days ago! A man tried to kill me! Sean saved me!”
“You see?” Her mother fixed Dr. Horst with big, imploring eyes. “It’s something like Stockholm Syndrome. She’s so broken down, she’s actually bonded and identified with her abuser. God, Livvy, just look at you. Bruises on your arms, your face. You’ve been beaten!”
“Mother, I told you—hey! What are you doing?”
“You’re right.” Dr. Horst had grabbed her arm, and was frowning at it. “Rope burns, knife cuts, hematomas. It will be necessary to document all signs of sexual violence for when you press charges.”
“Oh, dear God.” Her mother let out a theatrical sob of anguish.
“Press charges? Against who?” Liv stared wildly around herself.
“Oh, please, honey,” her mother said. “Don’t tell me you really believe these silly stories about an attacker. It’s just a fantasy, to justify your unhealthy obsession with that horrible man.”
Her jaw dropped. “You mean, you still think the bad guy is Sean? But I’m telling you right now that it wasn’t! Mother, listen to me—”
“What is this?” Her mother lifted the blond curls off her neck, and gasped. “Oh! God! Livvy? What has that person done to you?”
“A human bite.” Horst’s mouth tightened with distaste. “You did the right thing, Mrs. Endicott. We probably got her back just in time.”
“No. Wait. That wasn’t Sean. He didn’t do that. You’re all crazy.” Liv backed towards the door. “To hell with this bullshit. I’m leaving.”
She bumped into Blair, who had sidled around behind her. He looped his beefy arms around her waist, pinning her arms.
“Livvy,” Amelia said. “The police searched McCloud’s apartment, and guess what they found? Look at this. Just look, honey.”
“Let go of me!” she shrieked, struggling, but Blair’s arms were strong. Her mother came over with a folder, and opened it up.
“Look,” she said triumphantly. “Hundreds of photos of you, Livvy. They span years! This man has been stalking you for over a decade!”
Liv stared at the folder. Her mother leafed through the photos, displaying them in quick succession. Liv in college. In New York. Outside the library where she’d worked in Baltimore. Outside the apartment where she’d lived in Madison. She stared at them, stunned.
“See?” her mother said. “He’s obsessed, Livvy. Face the facts.”
Not. The pictures were startling, but she was almost immune to shock by now. Sean’s passionate interest in her was intense and unusual, but not criminally violent. Not crazy. Not T-Rex. She knew the difference.
She shook her head. “The man who attacked me was not Sean, Mother. You have to believe me. I’m not crazy. And neither is he.”
Her mother looked sadly up at Dr. Horst. Shook her head.
Blair’s arms tightened. “Sorry, Liv. Remember, I am your friend.”
She struggled, panicked. “Like hell you are. You guys can’t do this to me! It’s not legal!”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that.” Amelia’s voice had a taunting tone. “We can prove you’ve been kidnapped and brainwashed. That you’ve been physically and sexually abused. You are a danger to yourself and to those around you. The paperwork is drawn up. It’s incredibly painful for us, but we have to do what’s best for you, honey. All that remains is to get that person behind bars, where he belongs.”
“You idiots!” she shrieked. “Sean didn’t kidnap me! He saved me! Let go!” She flailed, stomped, tried to knee Blair in the groin.
She felt a sting in her arm. Horst was pushing down the plunger of a hypodermic. The effect was instantaneous, cutting her loose from her frantic desperation. She floated, detached. She couldn’t remember why it was so important to keep her knees locked, so she let them sag.
Blair hoisted her up against his chest, with considerable effort.
“Put her into this wheelchair,” Dr. Horst directed. “We’ll let her rest in the examining room while I go over some details on this paperwork with you. I want to get her settled into Belvedere by evening.”
Belvedere? The mental health clinic for depressed, drug-addicted socialites? The rich bitch looney bin? Part of her wanted to shriek with laughter, but it wasn’t a part of her that had any motor control.
Blair tucked her into the wheelchair, straightening her lolling head. She stared into his eyes, in silent pleading. He lifted her fake blond hair, looked at T-Rex’s bite. He shook his head, and left.
Under the influence, she watched the wall grow wider, until it was as big as the sky.
She floated in the blue, longing for someone whose name she couldn’t remember. She remembered his face, though. How he shone.
The door to the main corridor opened, letting in a slice of light and noise from outside. A large cart with big canvas linen bags creaked in. She saw its bulk approaching. She could barely keep her eyes open, or her mouth shut. Let alone turn her head to look at it.
And then she smelled him—T-Rex. That bitter, awful stench.
Fear bloomed inside her, faraway but terribly real. So was the grief. Sean. The name came to her. She clutched at it, desperately.
So sad. That all of Sean’s heroic efforts should come to nothing, because she’d been so stupid, so credulous. The monster had come, and she’d never even thanked Sean for what he’d done. For his bravery, his passion, his sweetness. The lovely, shining truth of him.
The monster bent over her, dressed in hospital scrubs. His foul breath washed over her face. He bent close, gave her face a sloppy lick with his meaty red tongue. She was paralyzed, unable to flinch away.
“Oh, Olivia. I’m so glad to see you.” His voice was a raspy whisper.
He scooped her out of the wheelchair. Dumped her headfirst into the canvas bin, half full of dirty sheets. Wrenched one over her body.
The sound of the wheels creak-creaking below her head was the last thing she heard as she faded away, buried alive in the airless dark.
Miles’s Specs revealed that Liv’s phone was in the Chamberlain Clinic. Sean was baffled, but glad that it was a public building where she would be relatively safe. At least the icon wasn’t blinking forlornly in a ditch somewhere. “Give me your keys,” he said to Davy.
Davy looked dubious. “If things go the way they usually do, you’ll get hauled off by the cops, and I’ll have to bail your useless ass out before I can retrieve my car keys. Don’t you want to see the tapes?”
“I’ve waited fifteen years to see the tapes. I can wait another half hour. Hand ’em over.” He waggled his fingers imperiously.
Davy sighed, flung the keys at him. Sean caught them, and bolted up the stairs and through Miles’s mom’s kitchen, deftly evading her as she tried to flag him down and stuff a sandwich into his face.
He called Liv’s phone repeatedly, as he speeded through town. His nerves were crawling so bad, he could barely keep from screaming.
Answer it, he willed her. For Christ’s sake. Have mercy on me.
He was so startled when a voice answered, he practically rearended the vehicle ahead of him. He screeched to a stop just in time.
“Liv?” he bellowed. “Where in holy hell are you?”
After a moment, an acid voice replied, “She’s right where she should be, Mr. McCloud. Safe with her family, and away from you.”
“Who is this?” he roared, and then realization hit, like an anvil in his face. “Oh, Christ, no. Don’t tell me. Is this Liv’s mom?”
“I am Olivia’s mother, yes. Please do not try to get anywhere near my daughter, ever again. The police are ready to intercept you.”
“I cannot believe this,” Sean hissed. “What did you do? Lure her in by saying that one of you was sick? Is that why she’s at the clinic?”
“My husband’s frail health is none of your business.”
“Frail health, my ass. I can’t believe she fell for it, but then, she always cared more about you guys than either of you ever deserved. Put Liv on the line. Let me talk to her.”
“No,” the woman said, her voice triumphant. “She is resting. She’s had a terrible experience. I will not let her talk to you. Ever again.”
“How do you intend to stop her?” Sean asked. “She’s thirty-two.”
“Yes, and very fragile. Easily led by a dominating personality.”
An image of Liv charging through the forest topless, screaming bloody murder as she emptied the clip of the Beretta at T-Rex, came to him. “Uh, yeah. Right,” he muttered.
“Wait. Just a moment, Dr. Horst, I’m on the phone with that person, and I’ll be with you in a…what? She’s what?”
Crack. The phone had dropped to the ground.
A hole of fear yawned open in his belly. He listened to the still open line. People were yelling in the distance. Amelia was screaming.
Already. He’d fucked up. He should have stuck to Liv like glue.
“Mr. McCloud?” Amelia shrieked into the phone. “What have you done with my daughter? Where is she?”
Relief made him giddy. T-Rex had nabbed her, had not simply murdered her. There was still a chance. He laid on the gas.
“Nothing,” he said. “Don’t tell me. She’s disappeared, right? Someone abducted her. You mean you’re surprised? Where have you been for the past four weeks? Jesus, lady! Hello! Wake up!”
“It’s not possible! She wasn’t—you’re not—”
“I’m not the one!” Sean yelled. “Bet she tried to tell you, huh? Bet you didn’t listen. You’ve never listened to her in her entire life.”
Her incoherent response suddenly diminished in volume. “Mr. McCloud?” said a gruff male voice. “Where did you take my daughter?”
“Nowhere,” he snarled. “I’m trying to keep her alive, and you and your stupid wife are making it hard. How long ago did she disappear?”
“We saw her just fifteen minutes ago—”
“Tell the cops to block all the roads leading to the clinic. Stop everyone from leaving.” He hung up the phone, and gunned the engine.
The cops would be all over his ass in no time. He had to catch up with T-Rex before they caught up to him. Think, goddamnit. Think.
He pounded the steering wheel. If he were a kidnapper sneaking a drugged woman out of a hospital and into a vehicle…
Basement. Laundry. Back entrance. Definitely.
He slewed the vehicle around just in time to take the lefthand road that looped up and around to the back service entrance and the employee parking garage. He jerked to a stop outside the garage, and left the SVU running as he sidled along the wall towards the entrance.
He definitely couldn’t count on those brain-dead Endicotts to tell the cops to block the exit roads, so he yanked out his phone and dialed 911 as he peered into the entrance, sidling down. A pair of headlights flicked on in there. His heart kicked up a notch, his stomach did a no-hands cartwheel. The lights came slowly towards him.
He pulled out the SIG Con had brought him, held it discreetly behind his thigh. He couldn’t make out who was in the driver’s seat. He was still in the chute that led up to the outside lot. It was a white van, stenciling on the side, hospital supplies or something. His nerve endings prickled. The engine roared. Was it T-Rex? Fuck.
The dispatcher spoke into his ear. “Endicott Falls Police.”
If that was T-Rex, the only solution was to shoot the driver right now, head-on. But he couldn’t see who was driving. Couldn’t risk it.
The van picked up speed, swerved. The door swung open. Sean leaped back, turning so that the spine-snapping lethal blow was downgraded to mere searing white-hot pain. The ground swooped up and slapped his body sidewise, knocking out his wind.
A bulky, familiar body dressed in hospital scrubs leaped out of the van. Sean lifted the gun that was still, miraculously, in his hand.
Pfft, a flash of light, a hard, shocking pressure to his upper arm. That cold, sinking feeling that he knew too well. He’d sprung a leak.
T-Rex scooped up the SIG Sean had dropped into his latex-gloved hand, and slammed his boot into Sean’s kidney. A fireburst of pain.
“I thought you’d be more of a challenge.” The guy crouched, fixing piglike eyes upon Sean. “It’s pussy does it to you, you know? Makes a guy weak. You’ve been at her night and day, right? Made yourself as weak as a limp, floppy dick. Lucky I’m here to take over, huh?”
It would take too much energy to reply. He gathered himself in stillness, waited for his chance.
“I’m supposed to keep your brain in one piece until Chris is done playing with it,” T-Rex went on. “But if there’s anything left, I get to take you home, to play. Olivia, too. Chris promised I could have her for a toy if I brought you in. “He grinned. “I’ve got a meathook in my garage. When I’m bored with fucking her, I’ll slide the point between her ribs, hoist her up. Use her for a punching bag. You can watch.”
T-Rex hauled back, preparing for a spine-crushing kick. Sean’s good arm shot up like a spring, stabbing two fingers into the guy’s balls.
An instant’s shock, a guttural howl as the pain hit the guy. Sean braced one leg against the wall, swept his other leg around to knock the guy off balance. There wasn’t enough time to roll away before TRex landed on him, splat, like a half ton of shit.
Then, a hot burning sting in his thigh. Oh, no. Oh, fuck, no.
T-Rex rolled off him. The hypodermic stuck out of Sean’s thigh.
“Hey! What’s going on? Where have you taken Liv?” bellowed a loud male voice. Sean turned his head. Blair Madden was in the door.
He opened his mouth to yell “Run.” He kept opening it, and opening it. His mouth had become a huge vast space in which his tongue was too small to be found. T-Rex aimed the SIG he’d taken from Sean, in slow motion. The gun blast reverberated endlessly.
Madden’s eyes went wide, his hands went to his throat, clawing at the dark blood welling out. He dropped to his knees, face squished to the side. Wide eyes, looking straight at Sean. Astonished to be dead.
T-Rex grabbed Sean’s bloody hand, slid Sean’s fingers through the trigger, squeezed. His giggle was incongruous, from such a big man. “I love it when shit like this happens. I am a genius. Am I not a genius?”
You are a festering shithead, he wanted to say. A hot pimple on the ass of the universe, but he was too far away, his voice couldn’t make it across the gap. The guy heaved him up, flung him into the van.
He landed on top of a soft, female form. He could smell her scent.
It broke his heart, and yet he was grateful for even that much to hang on to, like a glowing silk thread of light. The thread got thinner as he floated further, until thin became nothing, and it was all distance.
Miles plugged in the dusty dinosaur of a VCR into the outlet. He turned to Davy and Con, both leaning against the table, identical expressions of dread on their faces. “You guys ready for this?” he asked.
They both gave him are-you-kidding grunts. He hit play.
The recorder had been hidden behind a potted plant. The slice of white was the wall, the slanting blades of green were leaves. Minutes passed. Miles gnawed his nails. He’d never known Kev, but he was as invested in this as if the guy were his own long-lost brother. He was about to suggest fast-forwarding when they heard voices. A flash of movement. They leaned forward. Miles turned the volume up.
“…just relax,” said a low, soothing baritone voice.
Another flash, and they saw a face. A dark-haired man in a lab coat. A younger man, acne spots on his face. Shaggy hair. The lens was too low. They could only see the bottom halves of both men’s faces.
“How long is it gonna take?” the younger guy asked.
“Oh, not long at all,” the dark guy said. “A half hour, forty-five minutes at the most. Did you take the pills I gave you?”
“Exactly at ten o’clock AM just like you said.”
“Perfect. Sit down, please. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“Not since last night.” The guy sat down. “I could eat a horse.”
“Hang on a little longer, and I’ll buy you a steak,” Lab Coat said.
Kev had framed the vid to record the face of anyone seated in that chair. Lab Coat leaned over. They got a good look at his close-set dark eyes as he adjusted a helmet on the guy’s head. “Put your wrists here.”
The guy obliged him, and blinked when the man wrapped on the heavy velcro wrist restraints. “Hey,” he said. “What the hell?”
“Just procedure,” Lab Coat soothed. “Don’t turn your head. I have to adjust the sensors.” The kid sat still while Lab Coat, who had to be Osterman, rearranged the helmet. There were several quiet minutes while he hooked up a tangle of cables to a machine. Craig tried to chat, but Osterman brushed his attempts off with vague, absent replies.
Osterman lifted a helmet onto his own head. “I’ll be wearing one too. I’ll feel everything you feel. It won’t be uncomfortable.” He rolled up Craig’s sleeve and yanked over an IV rack.
Craig looked perplexed. “I’ve already taken the drug, right?”
“No, that was just a mild hypnotic, to prepare you. This is the real stuff. X-Cog Three. The drug that creates the interface.” Osterman taped the needle in place, and winked at him. “Down the rabbit hole.”
Craig’s eyes slowly went vacant, but Osterman’s smile remained, stamped on his face as if he’d forgotten he’d left it there. He snapped his fingers in front of Craig’s face some minutes later. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” Craig’s voice was soft and vague.
“Relax, and follow any impulse that comes to you.”
After a moment, Craig fumbled for the pen that lay next to his restrained hand. It slid from his clumsy fingers. Osterman nudged it back into his hand. “Good boy,” he crooned. “Whatever comes to you.”
Craig jerkily began to write. He dropped the pen, whimpering.
“You’re doing well,” Osterman praised. “Let’s try one more thing.”
Craig’s head flopped from side to side. “No, no, no, no.”
“One more thing, Craig,” Osterman insisted. “Look at me.”
Craig lifted his head. His eyes swam with tears. A thick thread of drool hung from his lips. He shook his head helplessly. “No, no, no.”
Osterman adjusted the IV drip, turned several knobs. “Let’s try this again, Craig. Say whatever comes to you. Just follow the impulses.”
Craig’s fingers scrabbled at the armrests. He looked bewildered. “F-fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth from this continent a new nation,” he said, voice slurred.
“Very good, Craig,” Osterman purred. “Very good. Go on.”
“In the beginning was the word.” Craig’s voice was clearer. “And the word was…and darkness was upon the face of the d-d-deep…” His voice stuttered off. “Darkness!” he shrieked. “Darkness! Darkness!”
Osterman made an irritated sound, and adjusted a knob.
Craig began to twitch and wail. Osterman bent over him, soothing him. He began to scream. They couldn’t see Craig’s face, just his hands jerking against the restraints, the chair shaking, Osterman’s elbows in the air, doing something they couldn’t see. He straightened to reach for something. Miles almost screamed himself.
Craig was bleeding from his eyes, his nose. He shrieked, writhed. Osterman jabbed a syringe into Craig’s upper arm, and the boy flopped forward, eyes blank and blood rimmed. Festoons of blood and snot dangled from his mouth and chin. Osterman stripped off his gory coat, and flung it to the floor. The petulant gesture was bizarre, against the backdrop of Craig’s ravaged face.
A voice offscreen asked a question. Osterman shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with the machine,” he replied. “The interface is perfect. He responded to my motor impulses. It’s the drug that’s not right yet.”
The garbled voice said something else.
“He can’t handle the side effects,” Osterman snapped. “None of them can.” He touched the boy’s wrist. “His heart’s stopped. God-damn adrenaline spike. I need a shower. Get this place cleaned up. I’ve got another subject coming in an hour. I want this smell gone.”
Footsteps, a door slamming. Craig’s head dangled at a pathetic angle in the awful helmet. Miles stared, his hand pressed to his mouth.
He was used to TV action that came on fast and furious, afraid their spectators would get bored, change the channel. This video wasn’t afraid of boring them. It was a stern, implacable witness. It stared at the dead boy until the blood dripping off his chin slowed…and stopped.
A shadow moved across the screen. It flickered, and went blank.
Miles hung on to himself. He was not going to cry in front of Con and Davy. Or barf. He was cool, he was fine. When he opened his eyes, Connor’s face was buried in his hands. His shoulders vibrated.
Davy’s broad, motionless back was as eloquent as Con’s tears.
Miles ejected the tape, and laid it on the table. Gently, as if it were a wounded, living thing. He picked up the other one, and cleared his tight, swollen throat. “You guys, uh, ready for this other one?”
Connor made a sound, like a laugh, or a sob. “Oh, Christ.”
“Play it,” Davy said harshly. “Get it the fuck over with.”
Miles pushed it in, hit play and braced himself.
It was a forest. Dappled green, sun. The handheld camera jerked with every step. The camera swung up, showing a curving bridge.
“That’s the Korbett incline. The old Korbett Bridge,” Miles said.
The camera swung left, focusing on a rock formation. It swung around and plunged into the woods, alongside a barbed wire fence.
“He’s fixing the location,” Davy said.
Whoever held the camera got down and wiggled through the grass on his belly. The image came to rest, and the lens zoomed in. A black van in the woods, back doors gaping. A large man was digging a hole, his T-shirt plastered to his big body. His hair was crewcut, high and tight like a marine. He flung the shovel down, and headed to the van. He pulled out a body, trussed in black plastic, dragged it by the feet, head bouncing over rocks. He flung it into the hole. Went back for the next. The camera moved as the guy’s back was turned. Wiggling closer.
“Oh, shit, Kev,” Davy whispered. “You idiot. You had him.”
The next time the image stabilized, the guy was tipping another body into the grave. They heard the thud as it hit. The lens zoomed in, gave them a leisurely look at the lantern jaw, the blue eyes. The guy leaned to grab the shovel. He froze, eyes fixed in the direction of the camera. “Hey!” he yelled. He yanked a gun from the back of his jeans.
The image swirled, spun, jerked. A confusion of green, of sky, of earth, of shouts, thudding feet…and the screen went blank.
They stood there for several minutes, mired in speculation.
“I want to talk to Professor Beck again,” Davy said. “If Sean would ever come back with my damn car.” He grabbed his cell, dialed. “Pick up your phone, punk,” he muttered. “Sean? Where the hell—” His voice broke off, listened. When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
“I see. Yes. My name is Davy McCloud,” he said. “I’m the brother of the man who owns this phone. Is he there? I need to speak to him.”
He listened. His lips went white. “How long ago?”
They all heard the questioning tone of the next burst of words.
“Of course,” Davy said. “I’m aware of that. I’ll come down as soon as I can.” He held the phone away from his ear as the guy reiterated his demand. “As soon as I can,” he repeated. He snapped the phone shut.
“Detective Wallace, from the police department,” he said. “They found Sean’s phone, in a pool of blood. At a murder scene.”
“Murder scene?” Con’s voice sounded strangled. “Whose murder?”
“Blair Madden,” Davy said. “Shot in the throat, in the parking garage. No Sean. No Liv, either. The filthy son of a bitch got them.”
There was a moment of blank disbelief, and Miles spun around to check the monitor. “Wait. Don’t we still have Liv on the Specs?”
Liv’s icon blinked away, its position unchanged. “It’s just her cell,” Davy said. “She doesn’t have it on her.”
“Who do we squeeze?” Con said grimly. “Parrish? Or Beck?”
“Beck’s closer,” Davy said. “Stupider. If he hasn’t skipped town.”
Miles’s mom bustled in, with her usual kick-ass timing. “I have some sandwiches.” She looked around, smile fading. “Is everything OK?”
Miles took the tray, set it down, and gave her an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Mom, I need the keys to your new car.”