Instead, I was once again swimming in an inky void, the atmosphere thick around me like water. I wanted to do nothing more than relax and allow the calmness of the dark to overtake me, but the echo in my ears was more than enough to indicate that such comfort wasn’t to be.
Stark awareness seeped in to replace the drowsy feeling and poked at my grey matter with an annoying finger. It started by reminding me that I was once again Rowan Linden Gant and that I really needed to wake up.
The sharp noise shot into my left ear once again and rattled around inside my skull without remorse. It sounded for all the world like someone with a speech impediment saying “yo-yo.” It took a moment for me to realize that the words were actually “Yo, Row.”
A dim light in the distance seemed to beckon me, and I aimed myself toward it. Again, darkness began bleeding away, leaving in its wake first indigo, then blue, then charcoal grey. In a psychedelic explosion, color bloomed before me and settled slowly into the proper hues of reality. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with, the ethereal hangover returned and followed me into this plane of existence. Something told me that aspirin wasn’t going to help either.
Heather Burke was seated across from me, quietly sobbing, her face buried deeply into her hands. Her shoulders heaved, and she sucked in a breath before advancing the level of her grief another octave up the scale.
I knew exactly how she felt.
Utter violation permeated my being. I felt disgusted, sickened, and even in a way, filthy. I felt as though something had been taken from me. And worst of all, I still felt fear.
“You okay, Row?” Ben’s voice came from behind as he rested a large hand on my shoulder.
I jumped involuntarily when he touched me. Logically I knew he was my friend and that I was not the victim. But the sudden encroachment upon my space only served to increase the feeling of violation.
“Yeah,” I choked past a rising lump in my throat as I fought to shrug off feelings that didn’t belong to me. “I’m okay, but I think we’d better get someone for Miz Burke here to talk to. We’ve… She’s got a lot to deal with.”
* * * * *
“I’m not one hundred percent positive,” I told Ben and Charlee, “but I think we might be looking for someone with the last name Ash, or Ash-something. It’s also possible that his street number is seventy-five thirty-four.”
We were all back in my friend’s van, me riding shotgun this time. We were on our way to police headquarters after having finally reached someone to look after Heather Burke. I felt terrible just leaving her after dredging up the chemically repressed memories, but we had no choice. I’d obtained information that we needed to go over and decipher. I don’t know why, but something told me that time was a commodity that we simply did not have in abundance.
Still, before we left I gave her my home number and told her to feel free to call me if she wanted to talk about anything at all. I wasn’t exactly qualified to help her in a clinical sense, but for all intents and purposes we had shared the exact same experience. Sometimes that kind of understanding can be worth far more than the highest priced sheepskin.
“How’d you come up with the address?” Detective McLaughlin asked.
“When he was taking her home he had her on the back seat of his car,” I explained. “At some point when he hit the brakes suddenly, she rolled off into the floorboards. He’s a bit of a slob, so she ended up on top of a lot of trash, and it just happened that one of the things that was staring her in the face was an envelope.”
“And she read the address from it?”
“Actually, she more or less tried to. How conscious the effort was, I can’t be sure. It seemed like it was, but she was still under the influence of the drugs. She was at a severe disadvantage. At any rate it ended up as a latent memory that I was able to pick up. Unfortunately due to the darkness and shifting from the motion of the vehicle, she only made out a small part of it.”
“Sheesh, Storm was right,” she exclaimed. “You are spooky.”
“Ya’ get used to ‘im after awhile, Chuck,” Ben offered and then turned his attention to me. “Do ya’ know for a fact that it was his name and address she was lookin’ at?”
“No, not for a fact,” I admitted.
“So the envelope coulda just been some trash that wasn’t even his mail?”
“I suppose, but it’s worth looking into, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll check it out, but ya’ gotta figure there’s gonna be a hell of a lotta Ash’s and Ash-whatever’s in the phone book.”
“Shouldn’t the address help pin it down?” I submitted.
“Maybe,” he answered, “if it really is the address. Bein’ on an envelope it could be a piece of a zip code or somethin’.”
“Plus, we don’t know if he actually lives in Saint Louis,” Charlee added. “We know he gets around, so he could live outside of the metro area in another county, or even in Illinois.”
“I thought I actually had something,” I said in a dejected tone.
“You might,” she returned, “but we can’t chase it as if it were our only clue.”
“Ya’know, eggs, basket, all that shit,” Ben expressed. “So what else did’ya come up with?”
“He’s dressing them up and taking photographs of them.”
“You already said that much before the mumbo-jumbo,” Ben returned.
“I said maybe,” I reminded him. “What I’m telling you now is that it’s not a maybe. He’s definitely dressing them up in order to take the pictures.”
“Like how?” McLaughlin asked.
“Well, I only remember a couple of the outfits, but one was lingerie. A garter belt and stockings is what I saw for certain. The other was a party dress or something of that sort.”
“So the guy’s got a kink for prettyin’ up ‘is victims,” Ben offered.
“It’s more than that.” I shook my head. “He does something with their hair. I’m not sure what, but from the sensation I’m thinking he may put a wig on them.”
“So the asshole really is playing with dolls then,” he harrumphed.
“In a way, yes,” I acknowledged. “He even put something in her eyes, and I’m betting they were contact lenses. Maybe tinted or something. He’s doing all this with a specific purpose in mind…”
“What? Is he trying to make the ‘perfect woman’?” Charlee asked in a disgusted tone.
“Maybe. But it really feels like something more. Helen would be more qualified to judge on this than I would, but he kept flip-flopping. Like a bipolar disorder stuck in overdrive. One minute it would be like he was worshipping her. He’d say things like ‘She’s almost perfect,’ then he would suddenly shift into an abusive mode and scream at her, saying things like ‘You’re not her.’”
“Any idea who ‘her’ is?” Ben asked.
“No clue.” I shook my head again. “Except that she’s probably who he is dressing them up to look like. But I can’t even tell you what that is. I never actually saw how he had Burke made up. Just bits and pieces of the outfits, although he mentioned something about makeup.”
“You mentioned somethin’ about that earlier, right Chuck?”
“Yeah. So far all the victims have had smeared makeup on their faces that they don’t recall putting on in the first place,” she answered then offered thoughtfully, “You know, all of the victims have pretty much resembled one another. More than just their size and hair. I mean, not dead ringers or anything, but close enough that at a distance they could be mistaken for one another…”
“‘Specially if he did a makeover on ‘em?” Ben added the question more as a comment.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “They must fit the profile of the woman he is trying to re-create. Maybe it’s a former girlfriend who dumped him, or even a wife who passed away.”
“Yeah, for starters.” Ben ran down his own huge list, “Or it could be a woman that works in ‘is office, or at the deli down the street, or the star of ‘is favorite TV sh
ow. Could be a model out of a magazine…maybe even his sister or ‘is mother…”
“Maybe the first few, but this is definitely sexual in nature. I’d rule out siblings or matriarchal figures.”
“What rock you been hidin’ under?” he retorted as he hooked the van through a light that was somewhere between yellow and red. “Ever hear of Oedipus? This guy’s a whack job. If he’s really fucked up, this might be ‘is way of doin’ Sis or Mom, or both for that matter.”
“I’d rather not think about that, Ben,” I said.
“Yeah, well it kinda comes with the territory. If it turns out ta’ be a lead, then we hafta look at the big picture, not just what we wanna see. Anyway, this is all fine and wonderful, but it doesn’t really get us any closer ta’ who this asshole is.”
“Sorry,” I told him. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”
“I’m not complainin’. I’m just tellin’ it like it is. I’m sure ya’ woulda said somethin’ already, but I gotta ask—I don’t suppose ya’ saw ‘is face, did’ya?”
“No, just shadows.”
“So that’s a dead end,” Charlee chimed in from the back.
“Is there anything else that could help?” Ben pressed.
I concentrated for a moment but drew a blank. I was still fighting off some severe emotional effects from the entire episode. On top of that, the nagging feeling that I was being watched had returned, and it was starting to occupy my mind to the exclusion of all else.
“Maybe… I don’t know… It kept fading in and out, so I’m not sure I’m remembering everything.”
“Ya’ mean like you were talkin’ earlier about feelin’ the effects of the Roofies?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied with a distracted note in my voice.
I was tilting my head down and to the side, shifting oddly in my seat while trying to get a look in the side view mirror. My concentration on the task must have completely taken over because I suddenly felt something thump my arm and I jumped.
Ben’s voice flooded into my head. “Hey, ground control ta’ Rowan. You wanna answer me?”
“What?”
“I asked ya’ what the hell you’re doin’ with the contortionist act?”
“Are we being followed?” I answered his question with a question—something he absolutely hated.
“Do what?”
“I don’t know, Ben,” I shrugged. “I’ve just got this weird feeling. Like I’m being watched. I had it back at Heather Burke’s apartment too.”
The color drained from my friend’s face. This was only the second time I’d seen him go this pale, and the first had been only a few days ago at the Yule celebration. He quickly looked into the rear view mirror then at both sides, dwelling long enough to get a good scan of the area behind us.
“You see anything, Chuck?” he asked Detective McLaughlin.
She made her own inspection, twisting in her seat to get a better view, then settled back facing front and said, “Nope. Nothing.”
“So, Row…Is this like one of those Twilight Zone things?” Ben finally asked.
“I think it might be,” I acknowledged, disturbed by the way he was suddenly acting. “Why?”
“Do ya’ know who it is that’s watchin’ ya’?” he pressed.
“No. Do you?” I pressed back.
“Exactly what are you two talking about?” McLaughlin interjected.
“No. Why would I?” Ben shot back, ignoring Charlee altogether.
“You’re lying, Ben,” I told him. “I can tell.”
“Hey,” Charlee spoke up again, “is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”
We had arrived at our destination, and Ben pulled the Chevy into a space, then cranked it into park, and twisted the key off.
“Just forget it,” he commanded as he levered his groaning door open. A cool gust of wind made a beeline for the interior of the van and dropped the temperature a few degrees.
“Not this time, Ben,” I returned. “Something’s going on, and it involves me. I can tell.”
“This isn’t the time, Row,” he answered sternly.
“Well then make it the time,” I demanded.
“Rowan…”
“It’s got something to do with the phone call the other night, doesn’t it?”
“Dammit, Rowan…”
“Tell me, Ben.”
With an angry huff he yanked the door shut and turned to face me. “Goddammit, white man, haven’t we argued enough today?”
“I’m not arguing,” I returned. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Just trust me, Row. You don’t need ta’ be hearin’ this right now. I’ll tell ya’ when things settle down.”
“It is about me then,” I retorted.
“Yeah, it’s about you. Now leave it alone.”
“Then tell me what it is!” I demanded again.
“I’m serious, Row.”
“I am too!”
“All right. All fuckin’ right!” His voice rose slightly as he struggled to contain what seemed to be as much fear as anger. “You wanna know what it is so damn bad, then I’ll tell ya’. That call the other night was from Mandalay.”
The name told me that the call couldn’t have been good. Constance Mandalay was a mutual friend, but she was also a special agent attached to the FBI’s Saint Louis field office.
“She was callin’ about a murder in southern Missouri,” Ben continued. “It’s been kept outta the news so far, but everything points to a single suspect, up to and includin’ a partial set of fingerprints found at the scene.”
“Me?” I asked, not fully grasping what he was telling me.
“Hell no, not you, ya’ moron,” he returned. “Eldon Andrew Porter. You were fuckin’ right, okay? The sonofabitch ain’t dead.”
CHAPTER 24
I was stunned, but not by what Ben had just revealed.
I wasn’t at all surprised that Eldon Porter was still alive. I had, of course, been the one person who believed that all along. What caught me completely and utterly unprepared was that Ben would keep this fact from me.
I sat for what seemed a lifetime, silently gathering my thoughts and staring back at my friend. He was correct with his earlier comment. We had already argued more than enough for one day, but at the moment, I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d been grievously betrayed.
The silence was finally broken by Detective McLaughlin clearing her throat and then unlatching the sliding door on the van. “I’ll see you two inside” was all she said before climbing out and yanking the door shut on the rumbling slides.
“There… Are ya’ happy now?” Ben said coldly as we continued to play stare-down with each other.
My jaw worked for a moment before I could get any words to come out. When they finally did, I had to force my voice to remain even and calm, although my query was thickly coated with an angry frost. “You’ve known this since Friday? Exactly when were you planning to tell me?”
“Not known. Suspected. Suspected it since Friday,” he corrected. “I didn’t get a verification from Mandalay ‘till this mornin’ just before you showed up.”
“And?” I pushed hard. “You still didn’t tell me.”
“Yeah, and right now I’m starin’ at why,” he stated flatly.
“What? You don’t think I have the right to be upset?”
“Sure. Ya’ got the right ta’ be just as freakin’ upset as ya’ want, not that it’s gonna do ya’ any good.” He nodded. “But the deal is, you’ve got enough shit goin’ on right now, so I thought it was for the best ta’ keep it under wraps for a bit.”
“That’s insane!” I told him. “You know as well as anyone that I’m probably number one on his hit list. I could tell by the look on your face when I said I felt like someone was following me that this has got you scared too.”
“Yeah, and I ain’t the only one, believe me,” he offered. “But it’s bein’ taken care of.”
“How so?”
>
“You’ve got a lotta people lookin’ out for ya’, white man,” he explained. “There was more than just one call made Friday. The local coppers stepped up patrols in your neighborhood that night as a precaution, and Mandalay called Carl Deckert over at County. They’re keepin’ an eye on ya’ too.”
“I haven’t noticed anything.”
“You aren’t supposed ta’,” he sighed. “Ya’know, Mandalay is all over this too. She’s even been watchin’ over ya’.”
“You still should’ve told me,” I spat. “Especially this morning.”
“You were gonna find out tonight.”
“Is that why you invited us over for Christmas Eve?”
“Actually, we were already plannin’ to invite ya’. It just worked out this way, and I figured it’d be easier ta’ keep ya’ at the house if I already had you two there.”
“Keep us at the house?”
“Yeah, I’m movin’ ya’ in where I can keep an eye on you until we find this fuckhead and lock ‘im up.”
“I suppose you’ve talked to Felicity about this?”
“No. She didn’t need the headache either. Besides, last go ‘round when I tried ta’ do this she wasn’t havin’ any part of it. So I’m guessin’ she’s gonna be just about as reasonable as you are right now.”
“You should be so lucky,” I chided.
“Yeah, I know,” he grunted.
“Dammit, Ben,” I muttered. “Felicity is running around the city unprotected right now.”
“In public, with a group, and at one time or another a freakin’ camera crew from every local TV station has been followin’ ‘em around. They’ve also been gettin’ followed by a copper. She’s as safe as you are. We’ve got it under control, Rowan.”
“I hope so.”
“We do.” He sat for a long moment, allowing the words of reassurance to hang in the air between us before finally speaking again. “Now that ya’ know, ya’ might as well pack bags before comin’ over tonight.”
Perfect Trust: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 29