Refocusing his attention on the computer, he typed Lindsay’s middle name into the password box.
LEE.
INVALID PASSWORD, PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
He tried her date of birth but got the same response. Mumbling profanities, he returned to the kitchen, got a cup of coffee then went back to the computer with a few new ideas. He typed in her maiden name.
CONWAY.
INVALID PASSWORD, PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
After five fruitless guesses, Daniel became frustrated and sat back in the chair, sipping his coffee and wracking his brain for more possibilities. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, but the nightmare refused to let him go.
Daniel? Daniel, are you there?
His eyes bounced around the room. There wasn’t much in the room besides the computer, the bookcases…and one small framed photograph taken several years ago of Lindsay holding a tiny kitten.
Daniel bolted forward in the chair and typed: SCOOTER.
The messenger program came to life. A long thin box appeared on the right side of the screen with her list of chat friends. His nickname was listed first, followed by several others, most of which he recognized as people from work or other friends of hers. He searched the options until he located the “archive” feature. If Lindsay had not disabled it then all of her conversations had been saved and would be available for him to read.
He clicked on it, and another box appeared.
ARCHIVE NOT ACTIVATED.
With a sigh, he checked to make sure Lindsay’s screen name was listed as “Available,” meaning it could be seen by others on her list or by those who had added her to their list of friends. It was, so he waited to see if anyone took the bait. Odds were, everyone on her list had removed her upon her death, but if she had been on someone else’s he might get lucky. Could she have met someone on here? He wondered. Could she have met someone online and eventually agreed to meet them at that motel the night she was killed? Would she do such a thing?
Daniel’s eyes returned to the photograph. “Would you?” he whispered.
The phone rang, startling him. Though Daniel knew he meant well, he wasn’t sure how much more of Wesley he could handle this morning. He grabbed the phone. “Make it through the tunnel all right?”
“What tunnel would that be?”
A sudden wave of recognition and fear swept through him. “Who is this?”
“You know who it is, Daniel.”
“Who is this?”
“Who is Lindsay, isn’t that the more appropriate question?”
“You listen to me.” Daniel sprung to his feet so angrily he knocked the mug of coffee off the edge of the desk. It bounced along the carpet, the coffee splashing and spilling from it. “I don’t know who you are or what kind of sick shit you’re—”
“You may think it’s over, but it’s not,” the man said.
“Why are you calling me? What do you want?” His grip on the phone was so tight he could feel the hard plastic bowing beneath his fingers. “Why are you hiding behind a phone? If you want to talk to me, why don’t you do it face to face?”
“That time will come. But right now it’s not about us.”
“What is it about then?”
“It’s all about Lindsay,” he said, his voice slurring her name and dragging it out like a sigh, as if he’d been emotionally overcome or wildly turned on by the mere mention of it.
Through his rage he remembered Bryce’s advice about keeping the man on the phone and getting him to talk and share more information if possible. “So you knew her, is that it? You knew my wife?”
“I thought I did. Didn’t you?”
Stay calm, keep the bastard talking. “How did you know her?”
“Very well,” the man said, this time in a whisper, “very well.”
“How did you two meet? Was it online?”
“Fate, I suppose. By accident, some might say. I prefer fate, don’t you, Daniel?”
“You know my name,” he said through a nervous swallow. “Do I get to know yours?”
“Why are you still pretending? You still have no idea the Pandora’s Box you’ve opened, do you?”
His heart hammered his chest so violently it began to affect his breathing. “I don’t have any idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Daniel forced himself to ask the next question. “Are you the one she was meeting the night she was killed?”
The man’s breathing accelerated and he made a barely audible whining sound. “She had the most beautiful tits,” he whispered. “And that pussy, mmm, just thinking about it makes me hard. Tell me, Daniel, do you miss coming all over her as much as I do?”
A feeling the likes of which he’d never before experienced crept through him. Cold and unforgiving, evil, it chilled him to his core and turned his anger from barely contained rage to one more detached, calculated and ultimately disturbing. “Pray I never find you, asshole.”
A few seconds of dead air answered before the man finally did.
“You won’t have to find me, Daniel. I’ll find you.”
“Come within reach of me and I’ll kill you where you stand.”
“Too late.” The man laughed. It was a quiet, twisted sound. “I’m already dead.”
NINE
Small, narrow and segmented patches of park-like area that act as a median of sorts run along the section of Mass Avenue where they’d met, each one interrupted by intersecting streets but followed by another nearly identical plot at the subsequent block. They’d found each other just around the corner from Daniel’s brownstone and only a few blocks from Bryce’s store, and now stood shuffling their feet against the cold as traffic moved on either side of them, going in different directions along Mass Avenue.
The snow had stopped hours before, and since there had been little accumulation to begin with, most of it had already evaporated. Still, the sky was an odd shade of gray, suggesting more snow was probably on the way, and a brutal icy wind had kicked up.
“You need to tell the police,” Bryce said, hands stuffed in the pockets of his brown suede jacket, a heavy scarf wrapped around his neck and his face flushed red from the cold. “This guy’s threatening you now, you have to tell them.”
Daniel offered a noncommittal look. “You think he really knew Lindsay?”
“That’s exactly the problem, Danny, we don’t know. We don’t know anything at this point, which means this guy’s potentially dangerous.”
“It doesn’t add up, how would she have met someone like that?”
“You said you checked the computer and her chat thing out, right?”
“Yeah, I checked out our computer at home, her laptop and even her PDA. There was nothing. I went through a bunch of her old emails, files, everything I could find. If she met this guy online there’s no trace of it on either computer or on her PDA, at least not that I could find.”
“Did Lindsay go to chat rooms a lot?”
“I don’t think she was into that kind of thing.”
“It’s probably not that then, but whatever the hell it is I sure as hell don’t like the sounds of him saying he’d find you. That’s a threat, no other way to see it.”
Daniel shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s easy to be a tough guy on the phone.”
“And what’s he mean by he’s dead already?”
“Obviously he meant that figuratively.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Daniel flashed an annoyed sneer. “I think it’s safe to assume I wasn’t talking to a fucking zombie, Bryce. You need to lay off the Brian Keene novels.”
“Maybe you should try to go ahead and talk to Brad Shaffer.” Though he’d ignored Daniel’s response, the irritation in his tone was evident. “See if you can make some connection to all this through her work.”
“That’s my next move.”
“Your next move should be to call the police. I bet that detective would be—”
“Lindsay’s case is solved, Bryce, a homicide dete
ctive isn’t going to give a shit about harassing phone calls.”
Bryce’s eyes were tearing in the cold, and his breath swirled around him in heavy bursts with each exhalation. “From what you just told me, it’s obvious this guy’s definitely getting off on this shit, OK? Who the hell makes obscene phone calls to a widower about his deceased wife, for Christ’s sake? We’re into sick-fuck territory here, Danny. There’s no telling what this asshole might be capable of, come on, you don’t play around with people like this.”
“He could also be a whole lot of hot air. I don’t know who I’m dealing with yet.”
“That’s right. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. For all we know, this guy could be a legit psycho.”
Daniel looked away, watched the traffic and his own breath-clouds dance about. “If it turns out to be something worth telling them about, I will, OK? Right now I need to figure some things out on my own. I wanted you to know just in case.”
“Just in case what, this dude shows up at your house with a chainsaw?”
“You think this shit’s funny?”
“Am I laughing? No, I think this shit’s serious and should be brought to the attention of the police. That’s what I fucking think.” Bryce shook his head with disgust. “Christ, man, I’m trying to help you and you’re fighting me at every turn.”
“I don’t want to involve the police without first knowing more myself, all right?”
Bryce’s expression transformed from irritation to sudden clarity. “You’re afraid of what they’ll find. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re worried this guy might know or uncover something about Lindsay, and what it could do to her memory. If you get the police more deeply involved they could find things out you don’t know about yet. You’re trying to protect her. Even now, you’re trying to protect her, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Daniel asked. “If she’d been your wife, wouldn’t you?”
Traffic continued to move, the wind continued to whip, shaking the bare branches of nearby trees, and the world trudged on, unaware.
“All right,” Bryce eventually said. “Do what you’ve got to do, but keep me in the loop, all right? I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I’m going to talk to Shaffer, see what he knows. Then maybe try Audrey.”
Bryce pulled a hand out of his jacket pocket long enough to check his wristwatch. “The store was supposed to open fifteen minutes ago, I have to go. I’m working alone this morning.”
“I’ll call you when I get back from Jeannie’s. I’m not staying over so I’ll be home at some point on Thanksgiving.”
“OK, catch up to you later.” Bryce moved to the curb to leave for the store, then seemed to think better of it and turned back. “Danny, maybe this guy’s nothing, but he could just as easily be really dangerous, you hear me? Be careful, and if anything else happens, call me.”
Daniel guiltily watched his friend wait for a break in traffic before jogging toward Boylston Street. When he’d told Bryce about the second phone call, he’d left something out he knew he should’ve mentioned but decided to keep to himself. After the caller’s cryptic response about already being dead, the call had disconnected. As he had the first time, Daniel hit star-sixty-nine and got the number of the phone from which the call had been made. Again, it was an out of state number with an area code he didn’t recognize, but this time the call hadn’t come from Youngstown. When he attempted to call it back, it rang unanswered, which lead him to believe it was more than likely another payphone.
He next retrieved his phone book, checked the area code and learned it was a Pennsylvania number. Daniel hadn’t thought it unusual for the call to have been made from there, however, since Pennsylvania is right next to Ohio.
But then it occurred to him that Pennsylvania was not simply only one state away from Ohio.
It was also one state closer to Massachusetts.
TEN
Quincy, a small city of nearly ninety thousand residents located on the eastern coast of Massachusetts, is less than ten miles southeast of downtown Boston. Often referred to as the “City of Presidents,” it is the birthplace of the second and sixth Presidents of the United States, John Adams and his son, John Quincy Adams. In addition to its storied history, Quincy is also known for both elegant upscale and historically significant neighborhoods and nice, generally low-cost-of-living residential areas fused with numerous commercial and business properties. Though many of the businesses based there are of the financial or insurance variety, Endicott & Reilly, the advertising agency where Lindsay had worked for years was headquartered there as well.
The offices were located in a large office and retail complex near the center of town. A single tower with an attached parking garage, the entire first floor was dominated by retail operations—a food court with courtside seating, a number of restaurants and various retail shops—and the remaining space from the second floor up served as office space for numerous companies, Endicott & Reilly among them.
Daniel arrived just before noon, parked in the garage then rode the elevator up to the main lobby, where he took another elevator to the sixteenth floor.
He’d only been to Lindsay’s office perhaps three or four times in all the years she’d worked there, and always felt strangely out of place whenever he visited. This was her domain, something separate from him in many ways, and though Lindsay never had an issue with him visiting, Daniel often felt like he was intruding here.
Alone in the elevator, he replayed his earlier phone call to Brad Shaffer in his mind and tried to decide exactly how he would approach his coming conversation with him. He wondered now if perhaps he’d made a mistake doing this, coming here, involving Shaffer any further, and seriously considered returning the elevator to the lobby and leaving. But he’d already spoken to the man and told him he’d be there around noon. Shaffer had put time aside for him, he had to show. Besides, even though they really didn’t know each other that well, they had a relatively long history. Brad had worked with Lindsay for years, and while they considered each other close friends, it was a relationship that rarely included Daniel or Brad’s wife Clara. They had socialized over the years, at various company Christmas parties or social get-togethers at each other’s homes, but only occasionally. To Daniel, Brad Shaffer was more an acquaintance than a friend, someone his wife often spoke of while relaying stories about work. Far as he knew, they’d always been on good terms. Why then had Shaffer at first resisted seeing him? Daniel wondered.
“Brad, Daniel Cicero.”
“Hey Danny, how are you?”
“Listen, I’m sorry to call out of the blue like this but—”
“Any time, you know that, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if I could come by and see you today.”
“Sure, is—is something wrong?”
“No, I just wanted to talk with you about a couple things, if you don’t mind. I’d rather not get into it over the phone. I was hoping we could get together and sit down for a few minutes.”
“OK, I—well, let’s see, it’s a bit hectic here with the holiday weekend and all, I—”
“I’d really appreciate a few minutes of your time if you can squeeze me in, Brad.”
“I’ve got meetings later this afternoon, but I’ll have half an hour or so around noon, how’s that sound?”
The elevator came to a halt. As the doors opened, Daniel stepped directly into a carpeted hallway that led to a brightly lit reception area. Several men and women—some dressed casually but the majority in business attire—hustled past him and into the elevator, most talking among themselves or on cell phones as they headed out for lunch. He didn’t recognize any of them.
At the reception desk, a young woman he knew he’d probably spoken to on the phone a few times in the past welcomed him with a smile. A petite and perky blonde woman, she seemed ridiculously small surrounded by the enormous reception desk and wall behind her with the company logo emblazoned in gargantuan bri
ght-red letters. “Good afternoon,” she said with a bright smile. “May I help you?”
“Hi, I’m here to see Brad Shaffer.”
The woman quickly consulted an open book before her. She was about to say something when the electronic pulse of an incoming call sounded. “Excuse me,” she said, holding up a finger, the nail polished a shade of red nearly as bright as the logo behind her. She pressed a button on the phone console next to her then spoke directly into the small headset she was wearing. “Good afternoon, Endicott & Reilly…Yes, I’ll transfer you, one moment, please.” She hit another button then said to Daniel, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any appointments listed for Mr. Shaffer in this timeslot.”
“It’s not a formal meeting. We’re just getting together for a few minutes. I know where his office is, can I just go back and—”
“I’m sorry, no. But if you’d like to tell me what this is regarding, Mister…”
“Cicero. Daniel Cicero.”
The woman flashed another smile then seemed to realize who she was talking to. Her hand hesitated over the phone console a moment. “Mr. Cicero?” Her voice was suddenly void of its effervescence.
“Yes,” Daniel said, and then before she could ask, “Lindsay’s husband.”
“I’m so sorry.” She pursed her lips. “I should’ve remembered you from the Christmas party last year. We met, I don’t know if you remember but, I—I’m so sorry.”
“It’s OK, don’t worry about it.” Daniel wrestled his face into a smile. “Is Brad in?”
She quickly hit a button on the console. “Mr. Shaffer? Daniel Cicero is here to see you.” She disconnected then motioned to the hallway that led to the office area. “You can go ahead to his office, Mr. Cicero, he’s expecting you. Again, I’m very sorry for the confusion. Lindsay—Mrs. Cicero—was a wonderful woman, I liked her very much.”
“Thank you.” Daniel gave an awkward nod then headed down the hallway.
He followed it through a set of double doors that opened into a two-tier series of offices and various meeting rooms encased in glass. The entire area had an open and welcoming feel, albeit a rather sterile one, and reminded Daniel of a gathering of giant fishbowls, with everyone on display in one capacity or another. Few people seemed to notice him as he made his way to a small open staircase and toward Brad Shaffer’s office. He had no sense of Lindsay here, even though she had walked these same floors for years, and a part of him found that particularly sad. There should have been some trace of her here, he thought. Lindsay had left a lot of blood, sweat and tears working for this agency, and that alone should’ve left a mark. But of course all around him people kept on, working and moving forward as if she’d never been there at all. He was thankful, at least, that Shaffer’s office came before the office Lindsay had once occupied. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing it empty, or worse, occupied by someone else. Somehow, he managed to reach his destination without anyone else recognizing him.
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