“Don’t you think I have? Christ, I can’t stop thinking about it, this shit’s in my head every day all day long, and I can’t shut it off no matter what I do or where I go. People saw her—this isn’t just me—the waitress and the trucker at the diner, they saw her.”
“No they didn’t. They saw somebody that—”
“Even Jeannie thought she saw her once with a group of guys getting into a van.”
“Thought, Danny. Jeannie thought she saw her. You just said it yourself.”
“And then on the computer, it was her, and I wasn’t the only one who saw her there either.” He stopped himself, already prepared for the reaction he’d get.
“Who else saw her on the computer?”
“My mother—and yes, I understand she has Alzheimer’s and no one’s going to believe her, but—”
“It’s not about believing or not believing.”
“That’s exactly what it’s about.”
“Danny, whoever this was, it wasn’t Lindsay. She may look like her or sound like her, but it’s not her because it can’t be. This is somebody else.”
“It’s her.”
“Lindsay’s dead.”
“But none of us really know what that means.”
“I know it means she can’t be eating at diners and designing fucking web sites.”
“You believe in an afterlife, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Who’s to say what that entails? Maybe she’s trying to contact me, to warn me about something or to help me in some way.”
“It’s just that sick sonofabitch fucking with you.”
“It’s more than that.”
Bryce shook his head. “You really believe this?”
“When I saw her on the monitor, right before the images vanished, a bunch of photographs came on the screen. They were private photos no one else knew about. Nude pictures of Lindsay, OK? She and I were the only ones that knew they existed or had ever seen them, and there they were.”
When Daniel mentioned the photographs Bryce seemed to wilt with sympathy. “I’m sorry this is happening, I…”
“Maybe it was Lindsay’s way of letting me know it was really her,” Daniel said.
“Don’t you think it’s more likely that the guy on the phone was behind that too? You’re using your heart right now, man. You need to use your head.”
“No one knew about those pictures.”
Bryce pinched the bridge of his nose near his eyes and sighed long and hard. “I think Lindsay met this guy online, probably in a chat room or something, and they had a thing, OK? Maybe they never even met in real life, who knows? But obviously they met online somewhere, and at some point, Lindsay shared those pictures with him. It’s easy enough to copy photos to a disk then email them around or whatever, that’s child’s play. For whatever sick and demented reason, this guy’s fucking with your head, so he gets into your computer somehow and slaps a bunch of shit up there for you to see that looks like her. There are all kinds of programs out there that can alter photos and even video, and this guy probably has some. Then, just to make sure you understand he did know her, he puts the real pictures up.”
“OK,” Daniel said, “but what if he wasn’t behind the things I saw on the computer?”
“Who the hell else would do this?” Bryce let out a fractured, ugly sounding laugh. “Exactly how many psychos could be messing with you at the same time? It’s like the calls. It’s just more taunts and threats. This guy’s clearly got a hard-on for you, and I don’t think there’s any question he’s dangerous. You’ve got to help me out here, if you have some alternate theory, I’m all ears.”
“What about my mother, she—”
“Your mother’s out of her fucking mind!”
Daniel turned away, drifted deeper into the store.
“Look, I—shit—I’m sorry, Danny, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
“You’re right,” he said, his back to him. “She is out of her mind. Maybe I am too. But that doesn’t necessarily make either of us liars.”
“I’m not saying you’re lying.”
“Bedbug told me if Lindsay had conversations online like you’re talking about, he’d be able to find evidence of them.”
“Oh, well thank God Bedbug’s on the job. Jesus, is he kidding with that name?”
“I don’t give a fuck what he’s called, I just want results.”
“Then you better be prepared for what he finds, it may not be pretty.”
Daniel listened to the rain a while, but his best friend’s words continued to play in his mind. When he turned back around he saw Bryce leaning against the counter, arms folded and head down, waiting on him. “Do you really think Lindsay would’ve been in some sex room talking to an asshole like that? Why would she have needed to do that?”
“Go into them day or night,” Bryce said. “They’re all packed. There are always some hardcore freaks, but mostly it’s just regular people hanging out looking for fun.”
“I know you chat online sometimes, but do you go into those rooms a lot?”
“Now and then I do. Shit, why not? If you find the right person it can be a lot of fun.” He fidgeted about self-consciously. “You go into one of those rooms and all bets are off. You just have to watch what you’re doing and who you do it with because there are a lot of crazies out there trolling the rooms, and there’s always some asshole that has to fuck shit up or take things too far. You can be anybody or anything you want, and as long as you’re smart and careful and keep things discreet, it’s safe and anonymous and nobody gets hurt. It’s all just words on a screen, maybe shared pictures that may or may not actually be the person you’re talking to, a video cam now and then or a voice on the speakers, but it’s still all pretend. If you don’t mind not really knowing who you’re talking to, it’s a quick and easy thrill with no strings and a way to connect with somebody, even if it’s only for a couple minutes. Sometimes it’s easier than going out and trying to pick somebody up or meet a real person. Somebody shoots you down, so what? Nobody saw it and you don’t feel bad because it’s all fantasy anyway. You just move on until you find somebody looking for the same thing you are. I haven’t exactly had the best luck finding women to date since the divorce, and shit, I’m fine being single. I actually prefer it these days. But I still get lonely sometimes, and it’s an outlet, you see what I’m saying? And it’s not just me, man. Lots of lonely people out there.”
“Lindsay wasn’t lonely.”
“Everybody’s lonely. It’s just a matter of degrees.”
Daniel let it go. “Have you ever met anyone for real you picked up in a room?”
“No, but plenty do. Some people meet their girlfriends and wives in chat rooms nowadays.”
“Yeah, Cliff Fox was into that shit,” Daniel said. “He used to talk about picking up women online and meeting them for real all the time. He even got serious with one for a while. They dated for months before he broke it off.”
“Man, if I looked like that prick I’d be picking up women left and right too. Can you imagine the copious amounts of pussy that motherfucker must get?”
Daniel walked over to the front window and gazed out at the city, blurred by sluicing rain and ice. Night had fallen. “I know you think I’m in denial, but I just can’t see it, man. I can’t see her needing to do that kind of thing, or even wanting to.”
“You’ve got to start accepting the fact that she was obviously into something she shouldn’t have been. All this can’t just be coincidence totally unrelated to her.” Bryce was still shuffling about nervously, like a little boy in need of a bathroom. “The way I see it, regardless of what she did or who or what she got involved with before her death, it’s all beside the point now. You still need to tell the cops what’s happening. How can you not see that?”
Headlights from vehicles moving along Boylston Street bled through the darkness and blurred glass, specters riding the rain. “I’m going to wait until I
hear from Bedbug,” Daniel said. “Once I see what he comes up with, if anything, then I’ll decide whether involving the police is the way to go or not.”
“New Jersey’s not that far away,” Bryce reminded him. “This nut on the phone could show up on your doorstep before you hear back from him.”
Daniel watched as one vehicle separated from the pack, pulled over in front of the store and parked in the space behind his own. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“And what about the guy following you?” Bryce asked from somewhere behind him. “He could be dangerous, you can’t just ignore him.”
“I couldn’t ignore him even if I wanted to.” Daniel looked back over his shoulder. “He just pulled up out front.”
TWENTY-TWO
Bryce disappeared into the stockroom only to return seconds later, slumped down and slinking through the store like a B-movie commando. “What’s he doing now?” he asked.
“Still sitting behind the wheel,” Daniel said. “He hasn’t moved.”
“We either call the cops or we find out who this guy is ourselves. Pick one.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
Bryce watched the Explorer through the rain. “With only the emergency lights on in here there’s no way he can see us from that distance. You hold your ground here. I’ll slip out the backroom door, cut through the alley, hook around the block and come up behind him. Once you see me come around the corner, go out onto the steps. That’ll distract him. He’ll never see me coming.”
It was then that Daniel saw the 9mm in Bryce’s hand. He remembered he’d gotten it not long after he’d opened the store, and had taken classes on its use. He also knew Bryce had a license to carry, since he often made night cash deposits alone, but Daniel had never seen him holding and prepared to use it if necessary. “Is that loaded?”
“Of course it’s loaded.”
“For all we know this guy could be armed too.”
“Exactly, why the hell you think I took it out of the safe?”
Christ, Daniel thought, the last thing I need is Bryce skulking around Boylston Street with a loaded gun. “Keep that damn thing tucked in your jacket, you hear me? I don’t want things getting out of hand.”
“I won’t pull it unless I have to,” Bryce assured him.
“And stay cool. Don’t go off on this guy. Let me handle him.”
“You’re the salesman.”
“That’s right, so let me do the talking. We don’t know who this guy is or who we’re dealing with, we need to be smart and I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Bryce gave a quick nod and headed for the rear of the store.
How did my life become this, Daniel thought, when did this happen? He moved closer to the front window and peered into the night. The Explorer was dark, the engine shut off. At certain times, when cars passed, headlights illuminated enough of the front seat to reveal someone sitting there, but little else.
After a moment, Bryce appeared at the corner. He’d slipped a coat on before sneaking out the stockroom door, and now strolled quickly along the street as if he’d been caught in the rain and was hurrying to his destination, oblivious to everything around him.
Daniel pulled open the door to the sound of jingling bells and stepped outside onto the stoop. Hands in his coat pockets, he stood watching the Explorer with the most intimidating posture and expression he could muster. A quick side-glance revealed Bryce stepping away from the curb and ducking down behind the SUV’s back window, but before he could make his way around to the driver’s side, the door opened and a man climbed out. Bryce stayed where he was, crouched at the rear of the vehicle.
The driver moved around the front of the Explorer and walked toward the store. In limited light, and with the ice and rain, he was little more than a silhouette wearing a trench-style raincoat, nondescript black shoes and a dark porkpie hat.
Once the man reached the base of the steps, Bryce came out of his hiding place and walked up behind him. The man hesitated, having either heard or sensed him coming, and turned around.
Daniel came down the steps quickly, hoping to draw his attention. “Hey!”
The man remained focused on Bryce. They stood perhaps two feet from each other, their stances ready for confrontation if need be.
“Who are you?” Daniel demanded.
“He asked you a question,” Bryce snarled. “Answer it.”
With deliberate composure, the man turned his back on Bryce and faced Daniel. The man was short and stout, with broad shoulders and a thick body that looked powerful and brutish. “My name’s Wayne Bartkowski.”
“You say that like I should know who you are.”
“Because it’s time you did know.”
“Why have you been following me?”
Bartkowski jerked a thumb back toward Bryce. “I don’t like people standing behind me, makes me nervous.” Even his hands were brawny, the fingers thick and square at the ends. “Can you tell Mr. Callahan to move around here where I can see him, please?”
“How do you know my name?” Bryce said suddenly.
Daniel shot him a look to be quiet then addressed Bartkowski. “What’s this about? Who the hell are you?”
When no answer came, Daniel gave a tilt of his head to signal Bryce to move out from behind the man. Once he had, Bartkowski answered. “We need to talk, that’s who I am.”
“Do I know you?”
The man shook his head in the negative.
“Why have you been following me?” he asked again.
“I needed to check you out, to know what you were up to and what you knew. It was mostly for my own safety, nothing personal. Been doing it for a week or so, but the last couple days I wanted you to see me, wanted to see how you’d react.” Rain slapped the narrow brim of his hat. “I’m not your enemy, Mr. Cicero. I’m a private investigator. I have ID if you want to see it.”
As Bartkowski reached inside his coat, Bryce did the same. “Nice and slow, buddy.”
“Easy Bryce,” Daniel said, hopeful he hadn’t sounded too nervous.
“Yeah,” Bartkowski said, removing his wallet from his inside pocket, “easy Bryce.” He flipped open the wallet and removed a card and a driver’s license.
Daniel looked them over quickly. Rain spattered both, but he was able to make out the particulars. The driver’s license showed Bartkowski to be fifty-two years old and a resident of Peabody, a town approximately twenty miles north of the city. The business card was for a private investigations business which bore Bartkowski’s name and was located in Boston. Daniel handed the license back, put the business card in his pocket then nodded to Bryce.
“Anybody can have cards printed,” Bryce said. “How do we know those are real? Aren’t you supposed to have a badge or something?”
“The Commonwealth doesn’t issue badges to private investigators, only a license.”
“So where’s that?”
“In my desk at my office, I don’t carry it around with me. It’s not like on TV.”
Bartkowski was an odd mixture of restlessness and composure. His lack of overt nervousness signaled he’d been in situations like this before and was comfortable with them, but there was something more lurking in him as well. Though he was obviously the kind of man that rarely felt intimidated—and it showed—there was fear in him on this night. It was controlled and disguised as impatience, but Daniel saw it for what it was. He’d spent his entire professional life as a salesman gauging people’s reactions and real feelings, learning to see beneath the exteriors they presented as he attempted to sell or maneuver them on a deal he’d worked, and those years of experience served him well. “All right,” Daniel said. “I believe you. Now what do you want with me?”
“Like I said, we need to talk, and trust me, there’s not a lot of time.”
“What does that mean?”
A city bus slogged by, spitting enormous clouds of exhaust high into the night air as its interior lights blinked on then
off again. The tall, wide windows, blurred by rain and city grit swept past. The distorted faces of passengers, their eyes rolled back to white as if in a trance, glared out at him, souls trapped and on their way to some darker, distant place, hands pressed flat against the panes and mouths clenched into tight, grim lines like they’d been sewn shut from the inside. The driver, dressed in a standard issue uniform, grinned at him demonically, his eyes covered with large dark goggles.
As Daniel watched, rapt with fear, the freezing rain sprayed his face and dripped from him in a steady trickle, blood falling from wounded skies.
“It’d be better if we talked inside.”
The sound of Bartkowski’s voice snapped Daniel’s concentration. The bus, plodding on, vanished into the rain and darkness near the end of the block. If either Bryce or Bartkowski had seen it they gave no indication. “What did you say?” he asked dully.
“That it’d be better if we talked inside.”
Daniel ran a trembling hand across his face, wiping the rainwater away. “OK.”
“Just so you know,” Bryce added, “I’m packing a gun, and I know how to use it.”
Bartkowski shrugged. “That makes two of us, tough guy.”
The three men silently climbed the steps and made their way into the store.
Once inside, they took up positions near the counter around a display table of used paperbacks. Bartkowski lifted his hat off to reveal wavy salt-and-pepper hair that had receded into a severe widow’s peak. His features matched his rugged frame and general appearance. A pair of deep-set dark eyes looked out from beneath bushy eyebrows, and a five o’clock shadow specked with gray brought out his bulbous nose and accentuated his square jaw and dimpled chin. He unbuttoned his coat and let it hang open, revealing an inexpensive and rumpled suit beneath. “I don’t want anyone getting hot and doing something they’ll regret later,” he said, addressing Daniel. “And your friend’s a little jumpy for my liking. Can we get all weapons on the table, please?”
Bryce swept two stacks of paperbacks onto the floor. “Be my guest.”
Bartkowski reached into his suit jacket, removed a .38 revolver from his shoulder holster, and placed it on the table. “That’s all I carry,” he said, opening his coat wide so they could see. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone, and a silver crucifix dangled from a chain around his neck, hung amidst a forest of gray and black chest hair. He lifted his arms. “Frisk me if it’ll make you feel better.”
Dominion Page 20