“Hey!” she called, her voice booming in the quiet surroundings. “You need something?”
The figure remained.
“You need help? I’m state police. Can I help you with something?”
The figure turned and walked farther into the darkness, back through an alley that she knew would lead him to a twenty-four-hour gas station. As quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone. Like the snowflakes in the light.
She climbed into her car and started it up, flipping her wipers on to get rid of the snow that had accumulated on the windshield.
At this time of night, and with the light flurries falling, Buchanan was desolate. It only took her about ten minutes to drive across town, through Peekskill, and reach the base of Route 9, which would eventually wind her up a mountain road and into Fishkill. She took the curves carefully in case the snow had made the roads slick, but so far the pavement was just wet and too warm for any kind of buildup. She activated her Bluetooth and listened as her cell phone connected to the house.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Ma. I’m on my way. Just left.”
“Okay, honey. You eat?”
Susan’s stomach immediately rumbled. It wasn’t until the suggestion of food was made that she realized she’d been starving. “No. You want me to stop and get something?”
“No need. I have leftover beef stew for you on the stove.”
“Beef stew on a snowy night? You’re the best.”
“Casey and Tim just went to bed.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“You want me to try and see if they’re asleep yet? You can say good night.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll see them in the morning. I don’t want you to wake them if they already dozed off.”
A set of headlights emerged from a curve in the distance. Susan noticed them and flipped her rearview mirror up to cut down on the glare. They were the only cars on the road.
“Is it snowing down there?” Beatrice asked.
“Just flurries. How about at the house?”
“Same here, but I heard it might pick up overnight.”
The headlights were quickly coming up behind her. Each time they disappeared behind a curve in the road, they would reemerge faster than the previous time. Susan kept an eye on them as she drove.
“I want you to sleep at my house tonight. No sense risking it if it’s icy.”
“I already have the bed made for me. Way ahead of you.”
The headlights were coming now. Susan eased her foot off the accelerator and pulled halfway off to the shoulder, allowing the car to pass. Her tires thumped along the indentations of pavement that were designed to alert a sleepy driver that they were veering from their lane. She watched as the headlights screamed up behind her, only inches from her bumper. The interior of her car flooded with light.
“Honey, you there?”
Susan rolled down her window and motioned for the driver to go around, but the car remained behind her.
“Honey?”
“Mom, I’ll see you in a few.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just some jackass tailgating me. I’ll see you soon.”
She disconnected the call and placed both hands on the wheel, gripping it tighter as she accelerated. The headlights kept pace, speeding up as she did. The mountain road twisted and turned every few feet, the blacktop growing slicker as her altitude climbed.
What is this guy’s problem?
The headlights were on her, the driver unrelenting. Susan let go of the wheel with one hand and dug into her pocket, coming away with her shield. She held it up so the driver behind her would know she was a cop. The chrome of the badge glistened in the headlights, but the car remained only inches from hers. Its horn began to blare.
What the hell?
Susan placed both hands back on the steering wheel and peered into the rearview mirror. She pressed on her brakes and used a combination of her brake lights and the other car’s headlights to try and get a look at the driver. She couldn’t see a face, but she could see the one distinguishing feature that brought her back to the figure in the parking lot who’d been standing in the darkness, watching her.
The driver was wearing a large hood.
Susan yanked the Taurus farther onto the shoulder and turned her head around to see if the car was following. It was too difficult with the headlights on her, but it appeared as though the car had slowed a bit.
Who is this guy?
The right front tire suddenly exploded, sending Susan lurching forward as she temporarily lost control. She skidded to a stop and could see the tire pressure warning light on the dashboard come on. The shoulder was filled with jagged rocks and small boulders protruding from the edge of the mountain. She must’ve swerved when she was looking behind her and hit one of the sharp edges of the rock. She pulled all the way over and placed the car in park, looking in her rearview mirror, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.
The car was stopped about fifty yards away, headlights aimed directly at her, half on the shoulder and half on the road. Susan reached for her Beretta as she slowly opened the car door and stepped out, gun down by her waist but ready if need be. She didn’t know what this was, so she had to proceed cautiously. The only two people on the dark mountain road were her and the hooded figure behind the wheel of the other car.
The horn started blowing again, the noise exploding in the otherwise peaceful surroundings. Susan raised her weapon into a shooting position and waited. When the horn finally ceased, she took a breath and steadied herself.
“New York State Police!” she cried. “Turn off your headlights and your engine! Now!”
The car remained as it was.
“Turn off your lights and engine!”
She took a single step forward, and as she did, the car suddenly backed away, tires squealing, smoke rising from the burning rubber. It flew about thirty yards, then spun around in one single motion, taking off back down the mountain, its taillights giving the dark surroundings an ominous red glow. As it turned, she could see the hooded figure behind the wheel. Without the headlights blinding her, she was also able to see the make and model of the car. It was a maroon Subaru Legacy.
Hooper Landsky.
The Subaru disappeared, and Susan dove back into her car, grabbing her phone and hitting her emergency button.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“This is State Police Investigator Susan Adler, badge ID number four-four-two-seven, Troop K. I need a unit to track a BOLO on Route Nine South, near mile marker forty-three. Late model Subaru Legacy, maroon in color. I just spotted him but cannot pursue. I have a blown tire. I need this ASAP. Suspect is Hooper Landsky, wanted in connection with a homicide. Proceed with caution.”
“Ten-four. We’re dispatching backup, and I’ll route roadside assistance for you.”
Susan hung up and turned on the flashlight app on her phone. She walked around to the front of the Taurus and examined the flat front tire; the rim was actually bent a little. She shined the light against the base of the mountain and could see the rocks protruding at different angles and edges. She stared back in the direction in which the Subaru had fled, waiting for it to return, its headlights bearing down on her, its horn screaming. It was only at that moment that she realized she was still holding her weapon and placed it back in its holster. But she kept the snap disengaged. Just in case.
33
Randall sat in a chair facing Peter, who was behind his desk. It was early. The sun hadn’t cleared the horizon yet. The campus remained deserted for the holiday break, the halls quiet, the building itself otherwise dormant. Peter sat, one leg perched atop the other, his hands folded in front of his face as if he were praying. Perhaps he was praying, Randall thought. Praying that all of their sacrifices and dedication and time spent working on one of the most critical scientific breakthroughs in decades didn’t come down to the question of whether Randall could really have killed his wife. Wher
e would they be then? The headlines and the crime itself would be too much to overcome.
It was Peter who finally broke through the uneasy silence.
“The police came to see me. The same investigator who was at Amanda’s wake.”
“Adler.”
“Yes. And her partner.”
“I know. She told me she went to see you. She also told me you mentioned Sam.”
Peter nodded, looking away from his friend. “I didn’t tell them anything else.”
“Why did you tell them about Sam?”
“Because if this guy knows something about what happened to Amanda, he needs to be brought in and questioned. He’s probably the one who hurt her.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t believe Sam exists. You think it’s all in my head. Maybe you told the investigator to look into Sam hoping she’d find holes in my story.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Peter snapped. He spun his chair around so he was facing out the window; his back was to Randall. “I believe you about Sam. I told the police about him so they could find him.”
“But we can’t say anything. Not yet. You know that. If the police bring him in and he talks about William, all of this goes away. The study ends because of what I did in my past.” Randall leaned forward in his seat. “We’re trying to change the world with what we’re uncovering here, Peter. We’re trying to upend the face of psychiatry and give people a new shot at being cured. Do you really want to risk all that?”
“No. Of course not. But that’s not the only issue. These setbacks scare me. What if we don’t know enough about what we’re doing in these studies? What if Lienhart is right? What if we’re making things worse?”
“We’re not.”
Peter spun back around. “You’ve been brought in for questioning. That means the police suspect you. They think you killed Amanda, and they didn’t even know this Sam guy existed.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“I know that. I believe you. It’s the police who need convincing. We have to tell them about Sam so they can put their energy into finding out who this person is. Forget the study. Forget the work we put in. None of that matters when it comes to you and Amanda. There are consequences to our actions, good and bad. I can’t risk the bad any longer. I won’t.”
“No,” Randall replied. “We’re seeing this through. You and me. I’m not going to let this study die because of what happened to Amanda. There’s too much at stake. I’ll handle the police and Sam, but I need you to promise me you won’t mention him again.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m not. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Peter rubbed his tired eyes. “Fine.”
Randall got up and walked toward the chairs that were set up across the room. “We have Jerry today, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll start prepping the video equipment.”
The room was dark, shades drawn, building quiet. A floor lamp was turned on in the corner, offering enough light for the video while remaining dim enough to make the subject feel comfortable.
“Said she already got enough friends.”
“What did you do then?”
“I went home and had a few beers. Watched the game. Then there’s a knock at the door. I had no idea who it could be because it was late. Real late. I answer it and this guy is standing there with this smile on his face, but that smile ain’t right, you know? And his eyes. I can tell he’s crazy, but at the same time there’s this vibe about him that makes me calm. He holds up a picture of the girl from the dentist’s office. She’s in her bedroom, lying in bed, under the covers.”
“Who was this man, Jerry?”
“That’s what I asked, but he ignores me. Tells me to come down to his car. Says he has a surprise waiting for me. So I went. We get out to his car, and he opens the trunk. Guess what’s inside?”
“What?”
“Guess.”
“You need to tell me. I can’t guess. That’s not how this works.”
“The snobby bitch from the dentist’s office is hog tied in the trunk. She’s still in the same nightgown as in the picture. I could tell from the shoulder straps that were sticking out from the covers. She’s shivering because she got nothing else on. It’s cold, but this guy didn’t care. He tells me he grabbed her and brought her to me as a present.”
“What did this man look like?”
“Hard to tell. Kind of tall, I guess. He had this long coat he wore that made him look bigger than he was. And his eyes were, like . . . black.”
“Who is this man?”
“I kept asking, but all he kept saying was he’s a friend. I felt like that was the truth. I felt safe with him. Like I knew he had everything under control and I didn’t have to worry about anything. I trusted him, but I ain’t never seen him before in my life.”
“What happened next?”
“We carried her into the woods. She’s screaming and thrashing, but this guy was strong, and it didn’t faze him. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, but this guy was relaxed, which made me relax. Normally I would’ve put a gag on her or taped her mouth shut, but if he didn’t care, I didn’t care. We walked about a mile until we came to a small clearing. The man dropped her onto the ground, and I got real close. I told her that this is what happens to uppity bitches who think they’re better than everyone else. She was crying, but the screaming stopped. She knew what was going to happen.”
“Did you have any sense of wanting to walk away or stop what you’d started?”
“No way. Plus, now I’m good because it’s not my decision to stop or keep going. It’s this other guy. I leaned against a tree and watched while he dumped the can of gasoline all over her. She started screaming again, begging for her life. She tried to get up and run, but he just kicked her back down. Man, I could smell the fumes. She’s trying to get herself untied, but she has no leverage. I shouted out to her and said she could’ve lived if she’d been nice to me. Our eyes meet for a second; then the man lights a match and drops it on her.”
“You could’ve stopped him.”
“Didn’t want to. Not my sin. Not this time. And whoosh, her entire body went up. Flames everywhere. She was screaming, trying to get away from the fire, but I could smell her flesh burning. And there was my friend, standing where I used to stand, taking it all in. We watched until she was dead, then turned and walked back out of the woods to the road. The man explained that I don’t have to be the one to commit the sins anymore. He said he would come and take care of it for me. I feel like I’m free now. There’s no other way to put it. He’s sacrificed his soul to save mine.”
Jerry looked toward the camera. “I think I might be cured.”
Jerry was gone. Randall sat across from Peter. The shades in the office were still drawn, the building itself still asleep.
Peter closed his notebook and tossed it on the table beside him. “We can’t show Lienhart this. He’ll scrap the entire study. This is further regression.”
“Maybe not. Maybe this is Jerry’s first step toward distancing himself from the murder. Maybe the man eventually disappears and he has no more fantasy.”
“Who is this other guy in Jerry’s fantasy?”
“I have no idea.”
Peter sighed, and for the first time, Randall thought he could see real fear in his friend’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on. But it’s not good.”
34
As soon as she crested the small hill leading up to the house, Susan could see Randall Brock wasn’t home. Two of the three garage doors were open, each bay empty but for a small, sporty convertible parked and covered in the middle one. She pulled up and parked at the edge of the flagstone path that led to the front door. When she shut off the engine, she noticed the complete silence that enveloped her and thought, for the first time, about how alone she was up there.
T
he night had gone by in a blur. By the time she got her tire fixed, filed her report with the responding officers, and got home, it was pushing midnight. She decided not to tell her mother about the hooded man who had essentially forced her off the road and instead explained about the tire and went to bed. The responding units spent the rest of their shifts searching for the car, but the Subaru had all but disappeared by the time anyone began looking for it.
There were no heels that clicked on the path as Susan made her way up to the door. Not this time. She was wearing boots with rubber soles, and they were quiet for a reason. But she’d forgotten a hat and gloves when she’d left the house, so she stuffed her hands in her pockets until she reached the porch.
Tommy was back at the barracks running down CCTV footage and traffic-cam data from both the NYPD and the Westchester County Police to see if he could pick up Hooper’s Subaru coming out of the city or in the general vicinity of the barracks and her neighborhood the night before. Tommy had volunteered to make the calls for footage and start going over them, and she was more than happy to let him grunt his way through it. She had other things in mind.
Susan knocked on the front door. When there was no answer, she rang the doorbell and then made her way up and down the length of the porch, strolling casually in case any of the neighbors were watching. She glanced inside the two windows she knew looked in on the formal living room. The house was empty. She rang the bell one last time, then hopped back down the steps and walked around the side of the house, opposite from where her car sat in front of the garage.
Tommy had been right. The property was immaculate. Shrubs had been covered with burlap to protect them from the snow and unforgiving winds that whipped at this elevation. Gates had been tied down so they didn’t swing against the horse fencing. Despite the fact that three-quarters of the property was surrounded by forest, not a single leaf was on the grass or in the flower beds. She could still see the lines the mower had made cutting the lawn. A stone firepit had been constructed next to an oversized deck that looked out in both directions, toward the woods and out over the valley and farmland below. It was breathtaking.
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