by Catie Rhodes
I slapped my forehead. “I set up a fake email account. I’ve been so busy I forgot to log into it.”
“Do it now.” Hannah got her laptop off the mosaic-topped bar and handed it to me.
I logged into the phony email account and there it was—an email from Jerry Bower. He’d sent it almost a week ago. I barely skimmed through his polite answer and went straight into downloading the pictures. As the first one appeared on my screen, we sat speechless.
The man in the pictures had long-legs, a red face, and a weak-chin. Instead of black hair, his receding reddish-brown hair was curly. He wasn’t the Michael Gage we knew. The woman, though, was definitely Sharon Zeeman Gage. I opened a browser window and showed Hannah the missing person’s page.
After she looked at it, I sent Sharon Zeeman Gage’s sister an email with attachments of the picture and a summary of Jerry Bower’s original letter, explaining that the Michael Gage it came to was the wrong man, but they might help her with her case.
“Things aren’t adding up here.” Hannah tapped at the corner of her mouth. “After that episode in the parking lot, I did some checking on Michael Gage. Before he came to town four years ago, he didn’t exist.”
“I know a place we can check. He went to prep school. He had the picture on the wall of his office. Nightshade Preparatory Academy for Boys. Maybe they have an alumni page.”
“Let’s see about that.” Hannah held out her hands for the laptop.
Hannah’s fingers flew over the keys. Nightshade Preparatory Academy for Boys turned out to be in Vermont. Hannah clicked the link for alumni. The page seemed to take forever to load. Right there on the opening screen was the picture hanging in Michael Gage’s office.
“There’s the picture.” I pointed at the screen.
Hannah scrolled down until the caption underneath the picture became visible. It read:
Nightshade’s first graduating class: 1955
Each member of the class of 1955 was listed. Michael Gage’s name was absent. He was too young to have been anywhere, much less high school, in 1955. Michael Gage lied about going to Nightshade Preparatory Academy for Boys and no telling what else.
Hannah suggested I get Dean to go with me to collect on the hot check. I argued, telling her I could handle myself. Michael Gage was a liar, maybe even a liar with a bad temper. But that was it. I’d handle things my way.
To change the subject, I told her about my carriage ride with Benny. “The louse came up on Rae still alive. Didn’t even call 911. He knew she was dying and didn’t want to get pulled into the stink. He told me Rae said ‘his neck…scar’ before she died. Benny left but decided to come back to steal her cellphone. That’s when he ran into me.”
“Whoever has the scar, that’s Billy Ryder.” Using the laptop, Hannah went into her favorites and pulled up Billy Ryder’s mug shot. “See his tattoo? He must have had it removed sometime in the last thirty years. That’s what the scar is from.”
“I don’t know anybody who has a scar on his neck.” I took the photocopied sketch of Billy Ryder out of my bag, unfolded and set it on Hannah’s lap. She enlarged Billy Ryder’s mug shot and held up Rae’s sketch of the biker dude next to it. “Look at the two pictures together. They look familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
I peered at the two pictures. She was right. It was someone I knew.
“Now, about Billy Ryder.” Hannah pulled up an email. “My college roommate works for the Dallas Morning News. I called her and asked about the Billy Ryder-Veronica Spinelli story. She emailed me these.”
Hannah turned her laptop where I could read it. I clicked through the attachments. One was a BOLO for Billy Ryder with his mug shot. It said he had a spider tattooed on the left side of his neck and listed Billy’s height at five feet, ten inches and his weight at one hundred sixty pounds. “You finished reading?”
I nodded.
“Larissa, my college roommate, has a contact who retired from the Dallas PD. The contact guarded Billy Ryder when they first picked him up. Apparently, Billy was a very entertaining guy. He kept them in stitches telling jokes and funny stories. Billy had a thick Texas accent he turned on and off at will. He could talk convincingly about any subject he chose.
“Larissa’s contact worked the day Billy made his escape. Billy’s lawyer paid for a haircut and Billy shaved off the goatee you see in the mug shot. According to Larissa’s contact, you never would have known him.”
“It doesn’t put us any closer to knowing who he is.”
“I have a feeling—”
My cellphone’s dying buzz cut her off. The stupid thing could barely ring anymore. I picked it up, checked the caller ID. Memaw.
“Yes ma—”
“Come quick. She’s here.” An incredible ruckus rattled and pounded behind Memaw. Glass shattered, and Memaw screamed. Footsteps pounded, and the phone went dead.
***
My cellphone locked up again. I was already on my way out the door. Hannah trotted right behind me, trying to call 911 and got a message asking her to hold. It was a wild night for Gaslight City. Our small town dispatcher was probably swamped.
“You stay here and try to get the cops. I’m going out there.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“You can’t come. If you got hurt, your uncle and aunt would hang me on the old gallows behind the museum. Just keep trying to get someone out there.” By this time, we were already at my car, two blocks down. “Go back and lock yourself in. Keep trying 911.”
The Nova’s tires squalled as I backed out of my parking space, going ninety by the time I got to the end of Houston Street. I blew through a stop sign and headed toward Farm Road 4077. The shadowy pines sped by as the miles passed, but whatever was going to happen to Memaw had already happened. That didn’t slow me down. I blew into the leaf-strewn yard, bailed out of the Nova, and ran toward the house. I bounded up the back steps and into the kitchen. There had been a hell of a fight in the room, but I saw no blood and no Memaw. I ran through the house, flinging doors open, and finally, accepted I was alone.
Dean. I needed to call Dean. Someone had Memaw. I got out my cellphone, but it was still locked up. In a fit of temper, I slung it against the wall. It smashed into several pieces. The house phone was dead. That’s why Memaw’s call had ended so abruptly.
I walked back outside in a daze. Headlights on the farm road sped toward the house and slowed down at the last moment. They turned into the driveway. Expecting Dean or Hannah, I ran toward the lights, realizing only at the last moment it wasn’t either of them.
Michael Gage’s window whirred down. “What’s wrong, Peri? Leticia called me all hysterical a little while go. I tried to call back, but I couldn’t get through.”
Thinking about the things Hannah and I had discussed not half an hour earlier, I stumbled backward. I took a good hard look at Michael Gage’s face and saw Billy Ryder staring out of his eyes. I spun on my heels and ran for the house. A car door chunked open behind me, spurring me to run faster.
I slammed into the broken gate and tried to vault it, but still sore from Benny Longstreet’s punch, I only made it halfway over. The man I knew as Michael Gage but who was really a man with no name dragged me off the fence.
“C’mere, you silly little bitch.” The male version of Rae’s spider ring glinted on Gage’s finger. He curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into my face. Things got very dark.
TWENTY-THREE
I woke up on the floor of a tiny, cigarette scented room. The light seemed impossibly bright, and I rolled onto my side to avoid it. A coat rack stood next to a knobless wooden door. On it hung a leather jacket with a lot of zippers and the Marlon Brando cap I’d seen in Rae’s sketchbook. My mind flitted back to the shadowy face of the cap’s owner. Gage was Ryder, and both names were likely stolen.
The real Michael Gage, the one who’d married Sharon Zeeman and befriended Jerry Bower, was probably rotting in an unmarked grave somewhere while this
clown walked around using his identity. A nameless shadow that traveled the earth and created havoc wherever he went. Who killed Rae.
I rolled to my knees and used the wall as a brace while I got to my feet. My face throbbed and the room swam. The door opened. I backpedaled away from it.
“Well, hello, Peri.” The voice had a thick, flat Texas twang.
My breath caught as my chest tightened. Using every ounce of tough I’d cultivated over my thirty years, I faced the man who’d fooled all of Gaslight City, killed my cousin, killed my best friend, and realized nobody knew where to find me.
***
Michael Gage, or the man who had played him so well, stood at the entrance to the room. For the first time, I saw him without a buttoned collared shirt covering the sides of his neck. A muscle shirt hung on his wiry frame. On the left side of his neck was a circle about an inch in circumference where his tattoo had been.
One thought pulsed in my mind, bright as neon. This shit killed Chase. Because of this killer—this liar—I’d never see my best friend again. Fury, bright and pure, threatened to take over. I held it down and pretended to be whipped.
“Where’s my grandmother?”
“She’s in the next room. You’ll see her once we have us a chat.”
“How did you stay free all these years?” I asked, taking deep breaths to stay calm. When I hit him, I’d have to catch him by surprise to have a chance.
“Stealin’ IDs. Got harder in the age of information, but I managed.” He stepped all the way into the room, blocking the way out. “Michael Gage was supposed to be my last identity...until your grandmother talked me into visiting your cousin in Hilltop Trusty Camp. Veronica spotted me, and I was fucked.
“Veronica insisted I help her get out when her parole came around. Your cousin wanted in on the deal because Veronica would no longer be around to protect her.” Gage’s dashing smile was downright evil. He’d hidden his true self from all of us. “I guess munching on one skanky bitch’s pussy is a lot better than munching several skanky bitches’ pussies.”
I backed against the wall, behind the antique desk, trying to assess my injuries. My head buzzed too loud to concentrate. This time, I probably did have a concussion or worse. I couldn’t fight my way out of here without a weapon. My eyes skittered over the glass-topped desk. Nothing. If I went for one of the drawers, Gage would be on me.
“I found this room right off, or, at least, the guys I hired to do the restoration did.” Gage took slow steps toward me. “I read up on the Mace Treasure and thought it was in here. Still do, tell you the truth.”
In a flash, Gage got in my face. He spun me around, grabbed me, and forced me to my knees. His fingers found a nerve in the back of my neck and pressed down on it. I stifled a cry. I wouldn’t let him see weakness. Gage pushed my nose against the wall. Carefully hidden amid a carving of cavorting, Victorian cupids was a keyhole.
“See that, you snotty bitch?” He shoved my face into the wall. My nose pressed hard against the wall, and the nerve endings woke up screaming.
“That there is how your cousin talked her way into Veronica’s plot to get out of jail. Know what your cousin told me?”
I shook my head no. Gage popped my head against the wall. I turned at the last second to protect my nose, but my cheekbone slammed against the wood, and I bit my tongue. I tasted blood.
“Answer me, snobby bitch.”
“N-n-no.” I barely said the word. It earned my head another pop on the wall.
“No, sir. I’m sir to you from here on out. Understand me?”
“N-n-no, s-s-ir.” Fear pushed my anger down. I figured I’d die tonight. And that would be after some horrible stuff happened. A swell of emotion climbed up my throat. The first tear tracked down my face.
“Your cousin said you’d help her find the treasure. Then, she wouldn’t ask you.” Gage leaned close, his breath hot and humid on my ear. I shuddered. He knocked my head into the wall again. “She ended up deciding to die instead of making you get your hands dirty. Thought it would protect you. Guess it didn’t, though, did it? Answer!”
“No, sir.” My words sounded slurred through my tears, but Gage nodded as though they were just what he wanted to hear.
“In case you ain’t figured it out from that hot check I wrote you, I need that money.”
“I can’t help you.”
“You’d better help me.” Gage giggled, a sickening high-pitched whinny. “I’ve watched you bumble around trying to figure it out, but now it’s time to get the job done.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I listened for Memaw. Surely, I’d hear her yelling or arguing by now. She’d go down fighting.
“Ain’t you got nothing to say, girl? Maybe it’s time we go see your Memaw.” He exaggerated the word, making a mockery of the way I said it. “Maybe she can talk you into helping me.”
Gage yanked me toward the open door and into his study. We’d been behind his study the whole time. Memaw lay on a leather couch, her eyes closed. I jerked away from Gage and ran to her. When I touched Memaw’s arm, her eyes opened. They had her gagged.
“Take off her gag.”
“Suck my dick.” Gage laughed at my expression. “I’m serious, Peri. If you want to talk to her, start bobbing.”
I scooted away from him, shaking my head. Gage’s face contorted in anger. He stalked toward me and yanked me upright.
“If you don’t find the treasure for me—right now—I’m going to kill your bitchy old grandma right in front of you.”
No. I struggled against Gage and bit back a cry as he tightened his grip. Footsteps rang on the hardwood floors in the hallway. Someone else was here. They’d help us. I screamed for help.
Veronica Spinelli strolled into the room. “Shut up, you dumb bitch.” She dismissed me and turned her attention on Gage. “She about ready? We ain’t got much time to get the money and get outta here. The po-lice is out at their house right now. Pretty soon, that pretty boy cop’ll start looking for her.”
They each grabbed an arm and dragged me back into the secret room.
Veronica whispered in my ear the whole way, her humid, stinking breath filling my senses. “Your cousin liked licking my clit. That’s what you’re gonna do for me. Anytime I say so.”
Gage giggled. “And I’m gonna watch.”
I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Memaw looking at me, the most fright I’d ever seen widening her eyes. Gage and Veronica yanked me into the secret room and shut the door.
***
“Now who’s the boss?” Veronica gazed upon me like a cat looking at mouse whose back she just broke. She bared her blocky yellow teeth at me.
I hung my head and didn’t answer. Fear stung every part of my body and wormed its way into my brain. I had to think fast because, soon, the fear would paralyze me. After that, my ass was theirs—literally and figuratively.
“I’ve got the key.” The words came out in a whisper, but neither Gage nor Veronica responded, so I repeated them.
“The key?” Veronica looked puzzled. She dismissed me and set a syringe filled with blue liquid on the desk.
“The key’s around my neck,” I told Gage. “See the trinity symbol beside the keyhole? The top of the key matches the symbol.”
“You better be right, little bit. I’ll make you real damn sorry if you ain’t.” Gage untied the ribbon around my neck.
“Make her sorry anyway.” Veronica shoved me at Gage. “I want to see her beg.”
“You will before the night ends. She’ll beg. I guarantee that.”
Everything below my waist tightened. I tried not to think about what he meant but couldn’t help myself.
Gage stuck the key in the keyhole and laughed in his horrible whinny when it fit. Instead of turning it, he spoke to me. “Isn’t tonight exciting? Just think. We’re going to do this again and again.”
I stared at him. Terror had stolen my witty repartee from me.
“Think I ought to tell her our plan?�
�� Gage spoke to Veronica. She shrugged. She didn’t care about anything other than seeing me hurt.
“I’m going to use you in our best caper ever. There’s all kinds of lost treasure around this country and in others. A fortune.” Gage smiled his dangerous, scary smile. “We’re going to use you to sniff it out. Rae told me all about how you see ghosts, you crazy bitch. Just think. You’ll be a psychic bloodhound. And, of course, you and me are gonna fall in love.”
He kissed me, ramming his tongue down my throat. I gagged and spat. Gage backpedaled.
“Kick her.”
Veronica rushed forward and delivered a kick to my ribs. I rolled into the fetal position, expecting more. Instead, Gage got back in my face, this time nearly crawling to do it.
“Every time you don’t do what I say, she’s going to do that. Understand? Say yes, sir, dear.”
I nodded, unable to breathe, much less speak.
Gage nodded at Veronica and she delivered a kick to my back.
“Yes, sir.” My words came out in a hoarse sob. “Sir…” I rolled my eyes up to see if Gage was paying attention. He was. The look of pleasure on his face stole my breath.
“Please let my grandmother go…sir.” I drew in a shuddering breath and bit back the urge to scream. Taking a breath caused a blast of pain in my right side. Veronica must have cracked a rib.
“Tell you what.” Gage knelt down next to me and ran his fingers over my cheek. “I’ll let her go as soon as we get out of state. When I see you’re going to cooperate with us, that’s when I’ll let her go.”
Icy tendrils of horror caressed my spine. No telling what these two would consider cooperation. And no doubt, they were lying about letting Memaw go. I had to do something to get out of this, or at least get Memaw out of it. I couldn’t live with myself if she was hurt because of me.
Gage, still kneeling next to me, asked, “You understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I squeezed my eyes shut as Gage continued caressing me. After a few moments of torturing me and getting no reaction, he stood.