Chapter Four
Danny Finnegan was really a great guy.
Once upon a time, Sarah and he had almost dated. She’d somehow known that it couldn’t be a forever kind of thing between them, so they’d stayed friends.
Danny, she thought, had realized the same thing. They were never going to be friends with benefits, either—it would be just too awkward for them and the entire family. And having the Finnegan family as friends was something special; they’d tacitly known that anything between them—other than great friendship—could destroy it all.
And still she loved him as a friend, as she did Kieran.
If it weren’t for the fact that two people had been murdered in a fashion reminiscent of a decade-old massacre, it might have been just a late evening with friends.
Kieran made hot chocolate and set out cookies; Danny diverted Sarah with weird stories about the city. “Believe it or not, this lady kept her son’s corpse in the house for years—up in Brooklyn. She didn’t kill him—poor guy died young of disease. But she kept him—and the only reason the body was discovered was that she was hospitalized herself. A relative went to get some things for her and...well, the son was down to skeletal remains. I’ve heard stories about other people keeping corpses, but I know this one is true! The papers all covered it. We’re a great state—and so weird. Oh, not in the city, but up in Elmira, John Brown’s widow—she being the widow of the John Brown’s raid John Brown!—received a head. A skull, really. Another man named John Brown died down in Harpers Ferry, a skull was found and everyone said that it was John Brown’s—so they sent it to her.”
“Ugh. What did she do?”
“Sent it back, of course!” Danny said.
Sarah smiled, knowing he knew she’d grown up in the city and would be aware of the history of the state, but maybe not all the most bizarre bits and pieces of fact and lore.
“Hey, Cooper Union had the first elevator shaft—not elevator, actually. Otis hadn’t come along yet, but when building, Cooper had the basic idea, using a round shaft!”
Sarah laughed. “I think I did hear something about that years ago—NYU students often hung out with Cooper Union people.”
Her phone rang. She glanced at the number and was surprised to see that despite a few hardware upgrades over the years, Suzie Cornwall’s number was still in her contacts.
She answered quickly. “Suzie?”
“Hey. You okay? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I mean, it was okay—not okay, Lord! I’m sorry, it was not okay, it was terrible, horrible, when Hannah was killed. But...it didn’t really terrify me. It saddened me, but it didn’t terrify me. Sarah, now he’s killed a Suzie Cornwall. Oh, my God. That poor woman. She was killed for having my name! I’m so scared, Sarah. So scared. Do you think that...Davey could help?”
Stunned, Sarah stared at the phone. “Suzie, hey, hey, yes, of course I know you’re scared. But...Davey is a young man with Down syndrome. He isn’t a medium, he isn’t magical. That night...he saw Archibald Lemming slinking around. He saw him go into the house. My uncle taught him to be wary. How to really notice things, to watch out for people because, sad as it may be, the world is full of bullies who want to hurt those who are at a disadvantage instead of helping them. He didn’t want Davey to fall victim to someone who meant him ill.”
“But...he knew that night!” Suzie whispered. “Oh, I’m sorry. Sean said this wouldn’t make any sense.”
“Congratulations, by the way. I ‘liked’ it when I saw that you two had married, but I figured a zillion other people did, too. You looked beautiful.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you. I think I actually saw your ‘like.’ I should have called or written then, or...you know. Oh, but I’ve bought all your books!”
“Thanks. I didn’t think you were a sci-fi fan.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, then, thank you very much.”
“Oh, but they were good. Oh, Sarah! I’m so scared.”
“You’re home, right? Tyler told you to go home and stay there and lock in, right?”
“But what do we do in the morning? Sean and I both have jobs. He works down on Wall Street. I’m up by the park at the new department store there—I’m a makeup artist. Sean is a stock broker.”
“Maybe, just tomorrow, you shouldn’t go in. Maybe they can arrange police protection.”
“For the rest of our lives? Sarah, they have to find this maniac.”
Both Kieran and Danny could hear Suzie through the phone, she was talking so loudly. Sarah looked at them both, shaking her head.
“No,” she said firmly, gazing at Danny and Kieran. “Until they find the killer.”
“It’s Lemming. It’s Archibald Lemming. He’s back. He’s come back, and he knows we were there. He’s going to kill us all.”
“It’s not Archibald Lemming. We saw him die.”
“He’s come back—somehow.”
“No. It’s someone just as sick, using what happened.”
“But...how? How is this person finding us?”
“He made a mistake—he didn’t find you. Unless this is sheer happenstance and he killed a woman who happened to have the same name, or your maiden name.”
“Lemming must be whispering from the grave. He’ll keep killing, it wasn’t happenstance. He’s after me.”
“He’ll be stopped.”
“But what if—”
“Tyler is back in New York,” Sarah said simply. “And I know he won’t stop.”
* * *
THE BODY OF the woman was seated on a park bench, hands rested easily in her lap. If she just had a head, it would have appeared she had simply decided to relax a minute and enjoy the beauty of the park.
She’d been wearing a red sweater and jeans. All around the neck area, the sweater was darkened; blood had dried into it.
As Tyler arrived, Craig came forward, telling the officer who was keeping the crowd back that Tyler was with him.
“We’re on it now,” Craig told him, referring to the FBI. “This morning, with this second kill and the name of the victim, the police chief decided to bring us in, along with every law enforcement agency in the near vicinity. He’s a good guy. No jurisdictional bull with him. He wants murders solved.”
He’d spoken as they came to the body. Police photographer Alex Morrison was there, snapping pictures quickly. Detective Bob Green was present, too, leaning close to the victim, but not too close. Dr. Lance Layton had been called out; he had already arrived, as well.
Thankfully, none of them looked at Tyler as if he didn’t belong, or as if he were an interloper.
“No defensive wounds,” Layton said. “But the bastard did saw through her neck with a blade—a serrated blade, so it appears. Might have drugged her first. Pray that he did, the poor thing! Had to have—no one could feel that kind of pain and not react.”
“The head?” Craig asked quietly.
“It was left in a kid’s swing,” Green said. “Doc had it moved—it’s in the back of the wagon.”
He was referring to Dr. Layton’s vehicle. The back door to the van was open, an officer in uniform standing guard before it.
“We’ll take a look,” Craig said grimly.
They did; the officer knew Craig and gave way.
The head was in a sterile container.
Her hair had a brown base, but had been multicolored in blues and greens and pinks, just as many women were coloring their hair. Though it was difficult to tell from a severed head—all life and vitality gone—it appeared she had been a bit older than their Suzie. Judging from the headless body, she had probably been about the same height and weight.
“How did he get her here?” Tyler wondered aloud. The FDR was just above them. The park was surrounded by apartment buildings, all of which had storefronts at the bottom. It was a typical New York City neighborhood—the park offering some trees and fake grass, but all around it, the congestion of giant buildings and all the trappings needed to house millions of people on an island.
“She was found after dark by some folks who jumped the fence—a babysitter who’d lost her phone here. I don’t think the killer thought she’d be found until morning,” Craig told Tyler. “The media got hold of it just about the same time as the police, so God knows what pictures are out there. They had her name first—she lived in that building just over there. No ID on her, but our teenage babysitter knew her because they live in the same building. Her name is on the buzzer in the foyer. No night guard or desk clerk in the place. No cameras. The cops are doing a door-to-door now, but...so far, no one saw anything.”
“He killed her elsewhere and got her in here fast.”
Tyler looked out at the crowd watching the scene. The killer could be there—with the others, watching them all, enjoying the fruit of his labors.
“Crime scene techs are going over the place with a fine-tooth comb,” Craig said. “We’re hoping to hell the officers or the techs will find something—anything. And,” he added grimly, “we’re hoping Lance will tell us she was drugged and unconscious before this happened. Press conference first thing, autopsy right after. Until then...”
“I need to be with Sarah,” Tyler said. But he paused, looking around the scene. The park, with the shaded benches for moms and dads and babysitters. The colorful playground created for children, with crawl bars, slides and multileveled platforms.
The park was fenced, but the fence was wood and easily scaled.
“Facts we have will be coming through email,” Bob Green said, walking over to them. He always seemed to be studying Tyler. Tyler just stared back at him. He supposed he was a curiosity to the detective. He had been there when Archibald Lemming had attacked a group of teenagers in a haunted house. When there had been so much fake blood it had been hard to figure out where the real blood began. “We’ll share all information on this immediately, to facilitate working together. This has to be stopped. The mayor called me personally. I have a meeting with my guys and the FBI at the crack of dawn, and we have to be ready for the press conference. We’ll have the park roped off for the next week, at least.” He lowered his head, letting out a sigh of disgust. “Kids. Little kids come here. The babysitter...she’s a student at NYU. All of about twenty. Can you imagine a little one walking in on a sight like that?”
“No one should ever have to walk in on a sight like that,” Tyler said.
“Is there...anything you can think of, anything about Lemming, anything at all that might help?” Green asked him.
“Lemming died that night. We don’t believe, however, that the man with whom he escaped is dead.”
Green frowned. “Ashes and bone fragments and his prison uniform were found. Lemming used Perry Knowlton to escape, then he killed him.”
“He’s the only man who would really know exactly how Archibald Lemming worked,” Tyler said. “And there was no DNA. There sure as hell were no fingerprints. There’s no proof the man is dead.”
“At my office we’re going to work on the concept that he might be alive,” Craig said.
Green nodded slowly. “And he’s out for...revenge?”
“Possibly.”
“Then you’re all in danger. You, Sarah, Sean Avery and the other Suzie Cornwall. And Davey Cray,” he added softly.
“And Davey,” Tyler agreed. “Can you give them protection?”
“I can. And you might be right. Then again, the killer could be anyone. There are sick people out there who fall even more sickly in love with criminals and killers. Especially serial killers. Some of the fan mail those guys get in prison...it’s enough to make your hair stand on end. But we need something to work with. Anything.”
He was still looking at Tyler, apparently wanting an answer.
“As you said, our lives are in danger. If I had any kind of an idea, I guarantee you, I’d share it.”
“There’s nothing, nothing from that night...?”
“I remember Archibald Lemming coming at me with a blade. I was in shock. I was terrified for myself and the others. Sick from what I saw. And then Sarah and Davey were there—and I pushed Lemming off us, and we saw Lemming die. We can’t look to the past. It isn’t him doing these things. But I believe it is someone who knew him.”
“Let’s get out of here—it’s nearly three in the morning,” Craig said. “We can think it all out for hours, talk it all out...but there’s nothing more we can do here.”
There wasn’t. The dead woman’s torso was being loaded for removal to the morgue; they would, at that point, just get in the way of the officers and techs working. She obviously had been killed elsewhere; she’d been displayed. Not thrown in a river. Displayed.
“Interesting,” Tyler said.
“Yep.”
“Yep?”
“You’re wondering how, if the park was locked, one man got the body over the fence. It’s damned unlikely he just waltzed in with the corpse and a head.”
“And yet, could two people working together be quite so sick?”
“I guess we need sleep,” Craig said. “Clear heads are better.”
They had separate cars; they headed to them, both aware they were going back to Kieran’s in the Village over the karaoke sushi bar.
Walking down the street, Tyler was aware of the way his Smith and Wesson sat in the holster at the back of his waistband.
Because he couldn’t help but wonder if someone was watching.
This was Kieran’s neighborhood, not Sarah’s. Sarah lived far down south on the island, on Reed Street.
And the killer didn’t know everything; after all, he’d murdered the wrong Suzie Cornwall.
Tyler wondered how many other people might have the same names in New York City. None of the group had an unusual name.
Craig had parked ahead of him. He caught up and they walked together. “You think he’s had enough for one night?” he asked Tyler.
“Hannah hasn’t been dead more than a week—and from what the ME said, she’s probably only been dead about five days. Water hides a lot of truths. And now...I don’t know. Hard to tell if he’s just getting started—if he’s been locked up for years, or murdering kittens and puppy dogs for practice.”
“I think this person has killed in this manner before,” Craig said. “He knows just how hard it is to decapitate someone with a knife. He enjoys the struggle to manage it all, and he’s proud of himself for doing it.”
“There’s got to be something on this guy somewhere.”
“Somewhere. Thing is, how do you suddenly do things so horrible? Where has this guy been? How do we have a repeat of Archibald Lemming now—out of the blue?”
“There is something, somewhere,” Tyler said with determination. “We just have to find it.”
They had reached the stairs to Kieran’s apartment.
The karaoke club had gone quiet; it would be dawn in another few hours.
Kieran answered the door as soon as she heard Craig’s voice. “Anything?” she asked anxiously. Danny and Sarah had come to stand behind her. They all looked at Craig and Tyler expectantly.
“A corpse, as grisly as you would expect,” Tyler said.
“And her name was...Suzie Cornwall?” Sarah said. “For sure?”
“From everything we understand,” Craig said. “Cops are canvassing the neighborhood and the forensic team is busy,” he added.
“This one was more like...before, right?” Sarah asked.
Tyler hesitated to share the gory details. “She wasn’t tossed. In two pieces. She was in two pieces, but set up for shock value. No haunted house, but an audience of children and young mothers, if she hadn’t been found until morning.”
“We’ll know more then. Kieran, I think we should talk to your fine doctors, Fuller and Miro, tomorrow,” Craig said. “There will be a press conference and then we’ll go to the autopsy, but after that...”
“Of course,” Kieran said.
“Not that you’re not brilliant and haven’t learned just about everything from them,” Craig told her.
“Sure, sure...no charming sweet talk, huh? I was about to pull out our blow-up beds. We all have to get some sleep, even if it’s only a few hours. Danny is going to hang in and we’ve actually got it all covered. I figured I’d take Sarah and we’d pull a girl thing and claim the bedroom, and then one of you on the sofa and two on the floor—”
“I have a hotel room, and it’s under the business name. I don’t need to make it more crowded here,” Tyler said.
“Oh, but it’s so late,” Kieran protested. “Or early.”
“It’s okay. There’s no traffic,” he insisted.
“I’ll go with you,” Sarah said.
“What?” He said the word sharply, though he didn’t mean to be so abrupt.
It didn’t matter. She ignored the tone. “I’ll go with you.”
“We should have gone to Craig’s place—much bigger and nicer,” Kieran admitted.
“It’s all right, the hotel is great. I’m on the twentieth floor. There’s security on at night. And I was in the service. I wake up at just about anything,” Tyler said.
Sarah already had her bag. She was coming with him.
“All right. Let us know you get there okay, huh?” Kieran asked.
“Hey, this guy has hit only vulnerable women so far. I’m not vulnerable,” Tyler assured her. “But yes, we’ll text as soon as we’re there.”
He’d never agreed Sarah should come. Out in the hall, once Kieran had closed and locked the door, he turned to her. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
“You can just stay with your friend—”
“Too crowded.”
“You’d have the bedroom—”
“Look, you’ll be leaving again, after all this, I know that. I don’t really know what I’m doing, either. But this has happened. We’re together now. And I...I know you. Whatever this is, for however long...I’d rather be with you right now. Kieran is great. Craig is great. Neither of them was at Cemetery Mansion.”
“We need to be careful, over everything else.”
“Yes, I know. But right now I want to be with you. Yes, you left me before. I expect you’ll leave again. And that’s all right. That’s—that’s the way it has to be.”
He hesitated, ready to open the door to the street. He looked at her and said softly, “No, don’t even try to tell me you believe it happened in that order. You left me long before I ever decided I had to go.”
He didn’t give her a chance to protest. He opened the door and hurried her out to the car.
He wondered if he should think it was wrong, crazy. He knew where this was going.
And he could only be grateful for the moment.
* * *
“SO, WELCOME TO my temporary castle,” Tyler said, opening the door to his room.
It was a slightly nicer hotel room at a middling upscale chain hotel. There was a small sitting area with a sofa Sarah assumed opened up to an extra bed, a large bath and a very inviting, big bed with some kind of an extra-squishy mattress that promised a great night’s sleep.
It was barely night anymore and she wasn’t really intending to sleep. Not right away.
Tyler locked the door and slid the bolt. Sarah had wandered in and set down the small bag she had packed to head over to Kieran’s.
“My favorite chain. I have one of those ‘frequent stayer’ cards with them.”
“You’re in hotels often?” Sarah asked.
“I travel around some. Business.”
“But not often in New York.”
“I avoid New York,” he said.
“But you’re here now,” she said.
He turned, studying her, his hands on his hips. “And you—you’re here right now.”
She nodded, not sure about her next actions. She had forgotten just how she loved everything about Tyler. Even the way he stood now, curious and confident. Not aggressive—just confident. They’d both had it so easy when they’d been younger. She had known she’d gotten lucky—not just because of his easy laughter, kindness and natural charm. She was lucky because they had found each other. They’d never been the brightest, best or most beautiful; they had just fallen in together when they’d been fifteen and sixteen, when she’d dropped some papers, when they’d both reached down to gather them up and had crashed heads. And then laughed. They were new then—new kids at a new school.
She shrugged off the memory and took a hard look at the man standing before her.
“You said you still loved me.”
“I do.” He didn’t hesitate. “And I believe you love me.”
“And that sometimes, love just isn’t enough.”
“Right. Sometimes love just isn’t enough.”
“But for tonight...”
“Or today,” he said drily, glancing over at the clock on the mantel.
“For now...”
She thought he was going to say something like “Come over here!” Or that he would take the few steps to reach her.
But he didn’t. “For now...I really need a shower. I was...there. Anyway, a shower.”
He turned away, pulling a small holster from the rear waistband of his jeans and setting it on the little table by the bed. He shed his jacket and shoes. She was still just standing there, and he shrugged and headed on into the bathroom.
He didn’t close the door. She wasn’t sure whether that meant she was being given an invitation or not.
Sarah quickly slid out of her sweater and jeans, glad he had gone into the shower. She wasn’t sure she could have disrobed with anything like sensuality anymore—it had been too long.
Awkward! That was her theme emotion with him now. Once, everything had been so easy. And now...
Naked, she tiptoed toward the bathroom door. The shower was very large. Tyler was standing under the spray, just letting the water rush over him. She knew, of course, what he was feeling. He felt that he smelled of death and decay, and the water would never be cleansing enough. She had felt that way after the night at the Cemetery Mansion. And for a long time afterward.
She opened the shower door and slipped in behind him, encircling his waist with her arms and laying her head against his back.
He turned, pulling her to him, gently lifting her chin and her face. His mouth moved down upon hers, soft and wet and steaming. He touched gently at first, so that she barely knew if the steam and heat was him or a whisper of the water beating all around them. Then the pressure of his kiss became hard, his mouth parted hers and she felt his tongue, and with it, wings of fire crept through her memory and more.
The water sluiced over and around them, deliciously hot and sensual. His hands held her tight against him first, and when it seemed her breasts were all but welded to his chest, she felt his palms slide seductively down her back, his fingers teasing along her spine. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, and her collarbone, and then his eyes rose to hers. The way he looked at her...the past and present rolled into one. They had been so young once.
His eyes were no longer young. And yet she loved everything she saw within them, even if that wisdom meant he would leave her again, and this, this thing between them that was so unique, would be nothing but a memory.
He reached behind him to turn off the water. And he grinned suddenly. “I was thinking of some great, cinematic moments of romance. I should sweep you up, press you against the tile, make mad love to you here and now...”
“Except one of us would slip on the soap and we’d end with broken limbs?” she asked, smiling in turn, a little breathless, surprised she’d been able to speak.
“Something like that,” he said. “And we have a dreamy mattress...and, hmm, neither of us has to do the laundry. Let me try this!”
He thrust the shower door open and stepped out, and then surprised her so much she gasped before laughing as he swept her up in his arms. “There’s no staircase for me to carry you up dramatically, but...”
“We’re soaking!”
“The heat is on—no pun intended—and we’ll dry.”
And still she smiled. He walked the few steps needed and let her fall into the softness of the bed, and then he came down in turn. He was immediately by her side, half atop her, finding her lips again with his own, his hands skimming over her, touching her with caresses that made her forget everything but a longing for more. They seemed to meld into a kiss again, rolled with the pile of soft covering, and then his lips found hers, left them, moved down the length of her body, hovering here and there over her breasts, then snaking downward. He caressed her thighs with kisses and erotic finger play, and she writhed, twisting to come back around to him, to touch him, press her lips against his skin, taste the cleanliness of his naked flesh, the warmth of him, the fire, the essence...
She saw his eyes again as he came over her and thrust into her. She met his gaze squarely with her own, reaching for him, pulling him ever closer to her. The bed cradled them as they began to rock and twist and writhe together.
She remembered the way they had been...
And it was nothing compared to now. Memory hadn’t served so well. He could tease so sensually with the lightest brush and then move hard, and the sensation would be almost unbearable. She was achingly and acutely aware of his body...muscle, bone, every movement. He was leaner and harder than ever; his shoulders had grown broader, his abdomen tighter...he moved with a fluid fury and grace that swept her into moments of sweet oblivion, lifted her, eased her down, lifted her again...and then to a climax that seemed to shatter everything, straight down to her soul.
They lay in silence, just breathing. For a few moments, the sound was loud. It began to ease. She felt the slowing of her heartbeat; she thought that she heard his, too.
She tried to think of something to say. Something...that explained her current emotion. Something deep or profound.
She didn’t speak first.
He did.
“Hmm,” he said lightly. “I guess I have missed you!”
“Well,” she murmured, “I’m ever so glad.”
He rolled up then, looking down into her eyes. “You really are beautiful, Sarah. Inside and out, you know.”
She shook her head, confused. “Just decent, I hope, like I want to believe most people in the world are.”
He rolled over again, plumping up a pillow. “Oh, Sarah. So far above decent! I’d definitely rate you an eleven this evening!”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“One to twenty.”
She hit him with a pillow.
And he laughed and moved over her again, smiling. “On a scale of one to five...an eleven. Maybe a twenty or a hundred...”
He kissed her.
It had been a very, very long time.
They made love again. She thought it was dawn when they finally slept. And it was too bad. They really had so very much to do...
A killer to catch.
More murders to stop...
Including their own.