Chapter Five
Tyler was amazed that he hadn’t had to drag himself out, almost crying from exhaustion. But he wasn’t tired; he felt that he was wide-awake and sharp—as if some kind of new adrenaline was running through his system, something that changed the world.
Sex.
With Sarah. Different as could be...and sweet and explosive as any memory that he could begin to recall.
Biology, like breathing. Should have been. It just wasn’t. Something made people come to other people and, whatever it was, it was strong. Sometimes, it became more. Sometimes it lasted forever. Sometimes it didn’t.
He stood in the situation room at the precinct while the facts of the murders were laid out for the dozens of officers, agents and marshals crammed into it. All they really had were the facts that had to do with the murders—they had nothing on suspects, clues or anything at all. Dr. Layton was there, and he explained the cutting off of the heads; even some men Tyler knew to be long-timers looked a little pasty and green as they listened. Lance would be starting the second autopsy today and would soon know more. Bob Green asked Tyler to talk about their theory that Perry Knowlton might still be alive, as they knew for a fact that Archibald Lemming was dead.
Someone asked how the man could have been hiding for years and suddenly come out to commit such heinous acts. At this point, Craig asked Kieran to come forward and offer what insight she could. Tyler saw that Kieran must speak to various groups of law enforcement often; she was prepared and calm.
“As you all know, serial killers only stop when they’re forced to stop. A trigger of some kind—death of a loved one, work failure, financial loss, or other traumatic losses usually start a killer off. Sometimes it’s just an escalation, and it’s sad but true, children who torture animals often grow up to be the next generation’s serial killers. Perry Knowlton had been incarcerated for the murders of eight women in upstate New York. He and Archibald Lemming met in prison. For all intents and purposes, it appeared that Archibald killed Perry—it wouldn’t have been against his nature, and he killed men and women alike. But the two might have had some kind of honor among killers—Perry Knowlton started the fight that got both men into the medical complex from which they managed to escape.”
“But that doesn’t answer where he’s been all these years,” an officer said.
“Possibly locked up.”
“Fingerprints!” another agent reminded her.
“He might have been in a hospital or mental facility, or had a physical issue causing him to lie low. Or he might have been killing other places.”
“Did you forget the killings at that haunted house years ago?” another officer asked, his tone derisive.
Tyler started to move forward again. He was surprised to see that Sarah had moved up to the front of the crowd, and she looked to Kieran and said, “May I?”
On Kieran’s nod, Sarah took a deep breath and spoke. “I’ll never forget that. I was there. With my friends. And we survived because my cousin had been taught to watch people—because people, in general, can be cruel. My uncle taught my cousin to carefully observe his surroundings and the individuals nearby. That night, he saw Archibald Lemming at the theme park before he went into the Cemetery Mansion. Lemming was alone when Davey saw him then—of course, that scenario fits if Knowlton is alive or dead.
“After Hannah Levine was murdered, I started researching everything that happened surrounding the escape. Nothing proves beyond a doubt that Perry Knowlton is dead. Also...there are over two hundred thousand unsolved homicides on the books right now in the US alone. Hannah was found in the water, so he might have been disposing of his victims in a way in which they weren’t found.”
There was silence around the room. Tyler was pretty sure everyone there was thinking about the one who had gotten away—their one case they couldn’t crack. And it wasn’t something that made them feel good.
“Thank you!” Detective Green said, moving in. “Now, get out there, officers. This killer is not going to become an ‘unknown’ statistic!”
“One of the police spokesmen has been briefed on what we do and don’t want out for public knowledge,” Craig said quietly to Tyler. “He’ll handle the press conference. We can get on to the autopsy—and then over to Suzie Cornwall’s building. She wasn’t working. She was a patient in a clinical trial, quite seriously ill, or so her landlord told the police. The odd thing is...”
“What?” Tyler asked.
“We have a picture of her—when she was living. She really did resemble the photos we’ve seen of Suzie Cornwall Avery—at first glance, they might have been the same person.”
Tyler was quiet for a minute. He hadn’t seen Suzie in a very long time, but human nature didn’t change. Suzie had always been a good, sweet soul, with a high sense of social responsibility. It wasn’t going to make her feel any better, knowing that while a woman had been killed because she happened to have been given the same name at birth, that poor woman had been ill.
The stakes were high; Sarah was right. The killer was out to find those who had been there that fateful night a decade ago at the Cemetery Mansion. The night Archibald Lemming had been killed.
Revenge?
Just a sick mind?
Whichever didn’t really matter. They were in danger.
“Sarah...do we bring her?”
“No, I figured she’d be comfortable with Kieran, and I have an agent staying with them at Finnegan’s. They’ll be fine. Trust me—if this bastard is after Sarah, he’ll know by now she’s with Kieran. But in my line, if there’s a threat, we shoot to kill.”
“I’m getting more and more worried about the others. Especially Davey.”
Craig looked at him while Sarah and Kieran walked across the room to join them.
“What about this,” Craig suggested. “I can have Davey and Renee brought into the city. We have an amazing safe house—easy to guard. It also has escape routes in the event the officers on duty should be killed, automatic alarms in case of a perceived danger... And my boss, Director Egan, is huge on preventing bad things. He’ll want them there.”
“Really?” Sarah whispered. “That leaves only Sean and Suzie, and Suzie is so terrified by what happened that she’s about ready to be institutionalized!”
“They can be brought there, too. It’s big. I think there are actually three separate bedrooms.”
“How long can we keep them there—or keep guards on them?” Tyler asked.
“This isn’t going to take long,” Sarah said softly. “You will catch him soon, or...” She paused and looked at them unhappily. “Or we’ll all be dead. All of us who were in the Cemetery Mansion.”
* * *
IN TYLER’S MIND, Dr. Lance Layton looked more like a mad scientist than ever. His white hair was going everywhere, half of it standing straight up on his head. He was thoughtful and energetic. “I have all kinds of tests going on. Here’s the thing—poor lady was not long for the world. Poor thing! She was undergoing a new kind of cancer treatment—meant she didn’t lose her hair to chemo. She had liver cancer that had spread just about through her body. Death might have been a mercy, if it hadn’t been so...”
He stopped speaking. “Well, small mercy. She wouldn’t have been terrified or in pain long, but would have bled out within a matter of seconds. That’s something that we can truthfully tell her loved ones.”
The woman had been going to die, anyway, a slow, painful death. He hoped that would help Suzie live with herself.
The police photographer, Alex Morrison, was standing by quietly. Layton looked over at him. “You’re—you’re getting enough?”
“I am. But the head, yes, we need a few more angles on the head.”
“Right,” Layton said. “Thankfully, the powers that be are concerned enough on this case to keep everyone on it working together—it’s harder when you have different techs and photographers and detectives. Well, I mean, not really for me. Other than that I have to repeat my findings, though some just prefer written reports, anyway, and a written report...”
“I’m not in your way?” Morrison asked.
“No, not at all,” Craig assured him.
Morrison nodded to them both and began his work.
“Thank you, Morrison. All right, down to it.”
He began to drone on. Tyler listened, mentally discarding the findings that meant nothing to their investigation.
But then Dr. Layton got to the stomach contents. “Here’s what’s interesting. Now our first victim, Hannah Levine, had eaten hours before her death. Miss Cornwall had eaten far more recently. Both had enjoyed some prime steaks. I don’t know how much that helps you, but they may have dined at the same restaurant. I know that the city is laden with steak houses.”
“Interesting—a possible lead,” Tyler said. “And then again, maybe they just both enjoyed steak.”
Morrison, working over by the stainless steel tray that held Suzie Cornwall’s head, cleared his throat. “I think I have everything we might possibly need,” he said.
He looked a little flushed. Tyler certainly understood. The head no longer really resembled anything human. It hadn’t been on display long, but the sun, the elements and bugs—and the violence of being chopped off—had done their share of damage. The flesh was white, red, bruised and swollen.
“Thank you, Morrison,” Layton said.
“I’m sure you’ve been thorough,” Craig said, nodding to the photographer. “I know they want to have a decent sketch out by tomorrow. The photos we found of her on social media just aren’t very good. If we use them along with the images you have, an artist can come up with something that will work well in the newspapers.”
“Right,” Morrison said grimly. “They’re going to put an image out, correct? Ask for help?”
“That’s been the decision, yes,” Craig told him.
The photographer nodded at them all and left quickly.
Layton continued his analysis.
They listened awhile longer, looking at the body the whole time. To his credit, even Layton, long accustomed to being the voice of the dead, seemed deeply disturbed by the remains of the murdered woman.
Then it was time to try to find out how, when and where this Suzie had met her killer.
* * *
“OH, LORD!” SARAH SAID.
Kieran, who had been busy with her computer, looked up.
Sarah was at her own laptop, working in Kieran’s office at the psychiatric offices of Fuller and Miro. She’d intended to be busy with her current novel, Revenge of the Martian Waspmen, but just hadn’t been able to concentrate on her distant world.
“What is it?” Kieran asked.
“I finally keyed in the right words that led me to the right sites that led me to more sites. I’ve found so many unsolved and bizarre murders...”
“Show me!”
Kieran walked around her desk to stand behind Sarah.
Sarah pointed and spoke softly. “This one—up in Sleepy Hollow, and chalked up to it being Sleepy Hollow. ‘Headless corpse found in ravine.’ Then, here. ‘Hudson Valley—help needed in the murder of local bank teller,’ and, when you read further, you discover that she was found in two pieces—head on a tree branch, torso in the river. Then here’s another in southern Connecticut—‘Skull discovered off I-95, no sign of the body.’”
“There are probably more. I’m sure Craig has his tech guy working on it,” Kieran mused. She sat again. “The guy’s got to be living here somewhere. Somehow. But how? He’d need a credit check to rent an apartment. He’d need to make money somehow. And he’d have to pull all this off—and manage to look like one of the crowd.”
“Is that so hard in New York City?” Sarah asked. “I mean, think about it. In New York, whatever you do, don’t make eye contact. We walk by dozens of down-and-outers on the streets and in the subway. A few years back, a newspaper writer did an experiment and gave one dollar to each person with a cup or a hat just on the streets. Within a mile radius, she’d given away two hundred dollars. He could have begged on the street. He could have done a dozen things. He could have robbed people—without actually killing them. No lost wallets are ever found. We’re a city of tremendous wealth and the American dream, but when that fails...”
“It’s a good theory,” Kieran said. “We’ll talk to Craig. Give me a minute!”
She disappeared and then returned to her office with Drs. Fuller and Miro in tow.
Fuller was maybe fifty, tall and extremely good-looking.
Miro was tiny, older and still attractive, with dark curly hair, a pert little gamine’s face and an incredible energy that seemed to emit from her.
“Show them what you just showed me,” Kieran said.
And so Sarah did. And when she was done, Fuller said, “I think you’ve found something. Sad to say, but in history, many people have gotten away with crimes for years. And if these killings are associated, he was careful to commit his murders in different places.”
“But all close to the central point—New York City,” Miro put in.
“I believe my esteemed partner and I are in agreement on this,” Fuller said. “This could all be the work of one man. And,” he said, pointing at Sarah’s computer screen, “this is old. Dates back almost ten years. This could have been Perry Knowlton’s first kill after the massacre in Cemetery Mansion.”
Sarah felt a sense of panic welling in her; she wasn’t afraid for herself—well, she was, of course—but she was terrified for Davey.
She looked at Kieran. “Can you make sure that my aunt and Davey are safe?”
“Absolutely,” Kieran promised. “And I’ll tell Craig that my good doctors have weighed in. We need to follow up on your theory. I’m not sure how, but we need to move in that direction.”
* * *
EVERYONE WAS SAFE, and Sarah was extremely grateful.
“We had a cop at the house, or just outside the house, and of course I brought out coffee,” Aunt Renee told Sarah. “I have to admit, I’ve been trying not to panic. This is...this isn’t coincidence. This is terrible. If Hannah was a target, and then...seems they killed the wrong Suzie, but she was a target, and if I was to lose you and Davey, oh, my God, I’d just want to be dead myself. I can’t believe this. It isn’t fair. Of course, I do know,” she added drily, “that life isn’t fair, but still, you all survived such terror...”
Sarah gave her a big hug. Then Suzie and Sean hugged Renee, and then Davey, as their FBI guards stood back silently, letting the reunion go on.
A young woman with the leanest body Sarah had ever seen—she wondered if she even had 1 percent body fat!—came forward then. “Pizza is on its way,” she said cheerfully. “We don’t have any delivery here. An agent always acquires food. The Bureau has control of the entire building, with sham businesses and residences—used as office space, we’re careful with taxpayer dollars!—but we want you to be relaxed enough to...well, to exist as normally as possible under the circumstances. I’m Special Agent Lawrence.”
She indicated a tall man nearer the door. “That’s Special Agent Parton. We’re your inside crew for the moment and we work twelve-hour shifts. Our apartments are in this building—we’re always on call. Tonight, however, you’ll have fresh agents—nice and wide-awake, that is. The doorman and the registrar downstairs are agents, and there are two agents in the hall at all times. If you will all get together and draw up a grocery list, we’ll see to getting what you need. The kitchen is there—” she pointed to the left of the front door “—and the central bath is there.” She pointed to the right. “One of us will always be at that table by the door, while the other might be with you. In the very unlikely event that every agent between the entry and you is brought down, there is a dumbwaiter in the back that is really an elevator. Naturally, our engineers have worked with it—nothing manual, no pulleys or cranks. You hit a button, the door closes and it takes you down. It can’t be opened on the ground level from the outside—it can only be opened from the inside once you’re down there. Same button, huge and red. You can’t miss it.”
“This is wonderful. Thank you!” Sarah said softly.
“Catching the bad guys is our job—along with keeping the good guys alive!” Special Agent Lawrence said. “Let me show you to your rooms,” she added.
The living room or parlor boasted a dual area—a TV and chair grouping to the right and a little conclave of chairs to the left. They were led down a hallway.
The bedrooms were sparse, offering just beds and dressers and small closets.
“The best place I’ve ever seen!” Aunt Renee said.
“This one? Can I have this one?” Davey asked, looking into one of the rooms.
They were really all the same. There had to be something slightly different for Davey to want it.
There were no windows. No way for a sniper to have a chance; no way for an outsider to see who was inside.
“Davey, whatever room you want!” Suzie said.
Davey grinned.
“What’s special about it?” Sarah asked him.
“The closet is painted blue. ‘Haint’ blue, like they told us when my dad took me on a ghost tour in Key West. Haint blue keeps bad things away.”
“Excellent,” Sarah told him.
“I’ll go next to Davey,” Aunt Renee said.
“And we’ll be across the hall,” Sean agreed. “And Sarah—”
“I won’t be staying. I’m going with Tyler.”
Renee protested, “Oh, Sarah! The two of you should both be here—”
“Try telling a military man he needs extra protection!” Sarah said lightly. “I swear, we’ll be fine.”
“You’re staying with Tyler?” Sean asked her. “Have you been seeing each other again? Last I heard, he was out of the military and living in Boston.”
“He came because of Hannah. We’ll see this through,” she said.
She heard Tyler’s voice; he had arrived at the safe house. It had, she realized, gotten late. She knew he and Craig had been going to the autopsy and then to interview the building owner and whatever friends—or even acquaintances—they could find of Suzie Cornwall’s, to try to trace her steps before she was taken by her killer.
“Excuse me,” Sarah murmured and hurried out. He and Craig had arrived together.
She gazed at him anxiously. She didn’t ask any questions; they were all in her eyes.
Tyler nodded, looking over her head, and she realized that Special Agent Lawrence, Renee, Davey, Suzie and Sean had all followed her out.
“Suzie,” he said softly, “this can’t make it better, I know, but the Suzie who was killed was already dying a horrible death.”
“What?” she asked.
“Cancer—it had riddled her body.”
“Anything else?” Sarah asked.
“We went to her building and to the hospital. No one could tell us anything. She was likable, she kept to herself. She was polite and courteous, and I’m sure we would have all liked her very much. But even her doctor said that the experimental drugs weren’t having the desired effect. She was going to die a slow and horrible death.”
“Poor woman, to suffer all that, and then...”
“Dr. Layton, the medical examiner, said she died quickly,” Tyler said.
They were all silent. It was impossible not to wonder which would be worse—a slow and horrible death as her body decayed around her, or the horror of having her throat slit, her head sawed from her body.
“It’s my fault,” Suzie whispered.
“No. It’s the fault of a sick and wretched killer, and don’t think anything else,” Tyler said firmly. Again there was silence. Not even the agents in the room seemed to breathe.
“So,” Tyler said. “We think that Perry Knowlton might still be alive. We’re going to try to relive that night—together, all of us except for Hannah, of course. Try to remember what we saw in that haunted house—and if any of us might have seen Perry Knowlton.”
“Might have seen him?” Sean said, confusion in his voice. “We didn’t know what he looked like. Not then. I mean, later, there were pictures of him in the papers and on TV and all, but...I sure as hell didn’t see him in Cemetery Mansion.”
“Let’s go through it. We came through at different times. Let’s see what we all remember.”
“It will actually be good for you all—from everything I understand from my police shrink friends, including the shrinks Kieran works with,” Craig said. “And where is she, by the way?”
“She’s with your partner, Mike, at Finnegan’s,” Special Agent Lawrence said.
“She’s not a target, and Mike would die before anyone touched a hair on her head,” Craig said. “Shall we?” He indicated the sitting area.
Sean and Suzie, holding hands, chose the little settee. Renee sat on one of the wingback chairs, and Tyler and Craig sat across from them. One chair was left, though there was room on the settee. “Sarah, sit,” Davey said. “Sit, please.”
She smiled and sat. Davey settled by her side on the floor, curling his legs beneath him.
“Davey,” Tyler said, “let’s start with you. You knew there was something bad going on. And I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through this before.”
“I saw him. The bad man. Archibald Lemming,” Davey said. “But I didn’t know his name. My dad warned me about men like him.”
“But your dad wasn’t with you, whispering in your ear or anything?” Craig asked.
Davey gave him a weary look. “My dad is dead.”
“Of course,” Craig said, “and I’m so sorry.”
“He said he would always be with me in all the good things he taught me,” Davey said. “So I watch for bad people. He was bad. I saw him go in Cemetery Mansion.”
“And that’s why you didn’t want to go in,” Tyler said. He smiled at Davey. “And you warned us, but we were foolish, and we didn’t listen.”
“I was okay once I had my Martian Gamma Sword!” Davey said, perking up. He leaned back and looked up at Sarah. “And it was good, right?”
“It was excellent. You were a hero.”
“Which is why the bad guy wants to kill me now,” Davey said pragmatically.
Sarah set her hand on his shoulder.
Tyler told him, “Don’t worry. We will never let that happen. So, Davey and Sarah stayed out, while Suzie, Sean, Hannah and I went in. There were people ahead of us, but the theme park was letting only a few go in at a time, so while there were people ahead and people behind, we were still more or less on our own.”
“There were motion-activated animatronic characters everywhere,” Suzie said. “I remember that.”
“I remember when we were going in, the ‘hostess’ character stationed there—a French maid, I think—was acting strangely.” Tyler went on. “I don’t think she knew anything then, but I’m sure she felt as if something was odd. Maybe she was bright enough to have a premonition of some kind—maybe someone was late or early or had gone in or hadn’t gone in. She seemed strange. Which, of course, would have been normal, since it was a haunted house.”
“I remember that, too,” Sean said. “As a high school senior I couldn’t admit it, but...yeah, I was scared. But you know, we were part of the football team back then. We couldn’t be cowards.”
Suzie was nodding. “Honestly? I think—even though we were assholes about Davey not wanting to go in—I think we were a little unnerved from the get-go. Then there was the massive character in the music room. Very tall, and blond. That automaton, or whatever. Scared the hell out of me.”
“What?” Sarah asked. “An automaton?”
“You couldn’t have missed it,” Suzie said. “Seriously, it was tall. Over six feet. It was creepy. Really freaked me out.”
Sarah frowned. “You know, we talked to the cops, we talked to each other...and still, sometimes, it’s like I remember new things. Maybe even my nightmares, I’m not sure. Honestly, I know we were almost running from the start, but when Davey and I came through, there was no character. There were no figures in the music room. Who could have moved an automaton in that kind of time? Especially a big one?”
Tyler leaned forward. “I remember it clearly—I remember how it scared Suzie horribly. It was definitely there.”
“And when Davey and I came through, there was definitely not a character there,” Sarah said.
“He was sitting at the piano,” Suzie insisted.
“Not when we came through,” Sarah said.
“Maybe it...”
“What? Just disappeared?” Sean asked her.
“But—I was so sure it was an automaton! It—it talked to me!” Suzie said. “Oh, my God! He saw me that night. He saw my face clearly. And yet...he killed another woman.” Suzie stared at Tyler and Craig hopefully. “Was it possibly accidental? Was she old, was she...different...was she...not like me?”
“I’m sorry, Suzie. She wasn’t your twin, but...”
“But he saw me over a decade ago. People change,” Suzie said harshly. She sighed. “Okay, fine, so much for that theory. He meant to kill me. To behead me. To saw my head off!”
She started to sob. Sean pulled her close.
“Don’t cry, Suzie,” Davey said. “He wants to kill all of us. And he’s a terrible person. None of it is your fault.”
“Poor Hannah...but could it be? Could it really be?” Suzie whispered.
“Him,” Davey said somberly.
They all looked at him. He had propped his elbows on his knees, folded his hands and rested his chin upon his knuckles. He looked like an all-seeing wise man.
“Him, the other killer, the bad guy,” Davey said. He shook his head. “Yes, I think he was the other bad guy. If you saw him. He was gone when Sarah and I came through. He was gone, because he knew. The one guy—Archibald Lemming. He was meant to die. But his friend, the one everyone thought was dead—he meant to live. He was there that night, but he got away. It would have been easy. Everyone was screaming and running. Yes. It is him, right? He killed Hannah. And he’s still out there, right? He’s the one who is trying to kill all of us.”
There was silence.
Then Tyler told Davey, “But you knew, Davey. You saved us then. And you know now, and so you’re going to help us all save ourselves now.” He smiled. “Because your dad taught you to be smart. He taught you to know people, which is something we who don’t have Down syndrome don’t always do.”
Davey smiled back at him.
“Mom is good, too. Dad taught her to be a little bit Down syndrome.”
Renee smiled and nodded. “Yep. I’m a little bit Down syndrome, thanks to your dad. He was a very good man.”
Davey straightened proudly.
Tyler turned and looked at Craig. “I think that must be it—the character who was there, and then wasn’t. Archibald Lemming didn’t kill Perry Knowlton. I think maybe Lemming had a death wish—but he wanted to go out with a bang. Lemming had some kind of insider info about escaping through the infirmary. They killed personnel to escape, but even then they had to have timing information and all. So, say that Knowlton was the brains behind the escape. And then they found Haunted Hysteria. What a heaven on earth for someone who wanted blood and terror!”
“And all these years,” Suzie said, “he’s been just watching? Waiting? Is that possible?”
Sarah said softly, “We think he has been busy. Yes, he’s been in New York City. This is theory, of course. But we’ve done some research. We think he’s still been murdering people. He just takes little jaunts out of the city to kill.”
“Oh, my God!” Suzie said.
“But now,” Tyler said, “he’s killing here. Right in the city.”
“Revenge,” Sarah said.
“But...he lived!” Suzie protested.
“Yes, but he might have idolized Lemming. And while he’s a killer, and he’s been killing, this is different. He’s been imitating Lemming, but not making a huge display out of his crimes. But now...who knows? Maybe he was careful, but then saw Hannah on the street or something. Maybe he was just biding his time. But the thing is, now...”
“Now?” Suzie breathed.
Sarah looked at Tyler. “And now we have to have our justice—before he gets his revenge!”