Taggart stood and turned to look out his window. For the first time in his life, Taggart knew things weren’t as they appeared. “Her report matches what Peyton told us, almost to the letter. What in the hell is going on here, Jack?”
“I don’t know, buddy, I really don’t,” Mauger said, picking up the report and mechanically thumbing through it. “I’ll tell you what, though. I have this weird desire to follow my wife to church next Sunday. Hopefully I won’t burst into flames.”
“I hear you.” Taggart had let his faith slip years ago, but now he was reconsidering. He was reconsidering a lot of things.
“What do we do next?” Mauger asked, tossing the report back on his partner’s desk.
Taggart held his hands up. “Any ideas? I, for one, don’t have a clue.”
“You were going to call Peyton, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure what to do after that. We could tell her Regan went under hypnosis and recounted her story to us, almost exactly as she described it . . . and then what? She’ll want to come back to Omaha and meet him, but he doesn’t know a thing about her, right?”
“Not as far as we can tell. Trish said Regan remembers parts of the session, like the fact he didn’t kill Rakel, but there was a clear divide between Regan and Bannock. The kid doesn’t understand what’s going on inside of him.”
“How do you think he’ll take it when he finds out?”
Mauger shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? If it were me, I’d probably get a massive case of the willies and crap myself.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Peyton to meet him,” Taggart said, “at least not until he’s had a chance to deal with what’s going on. To digest it a little.”
“Makes sense,” Mauger agreed.
Taggart began to pace back and forth. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I was convinced Regan killed Rakel Anders, and now I’m worried about him?” He plopped back down in his chair, and leaned back until he was staring at the ceiling. “How in the living hell are we supposed to take this hypnotist’s report and sell it as the truth, Jack? How do I tell the DA ‘Zach Regan is completely innocent because some demon possessed Rakel Anders, forced her to strangle herself, then cut herself up with Regan’s box knife’? I might as well retire right now.”
“You don’t want to retire.”
“I don’t?”
“Nah.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you care too damned much about this, that’s why. And anyway, if you retire, I’ll have to retire, and we’ll both go crazy bugging the living shit out of each other on the golf course.”
“I hate golf.”
“Okay, fishing then.”
“I hate fishing.”
“See? If you don’t like golf or fishing, you can’t retire.”
“I see what you mean,” Taggart said, smiling at his partner. “You know, Jack, you—”
“I’m an ass. I know,” Mauger said, satisfied with himself. “So, are you going to call Peyton, or just sit there and keep calling me names?”
“I’ll tell her to stay where she is, at least until we figure out what to do about Regan.”
Mauger had to ask the obvious question. “What are we going to do about Regan?”
Taggart gave his partner an annoyed stare. “One step at a time, okay? Now get out of here and let me use my phone in peace for once.”
Mauger stood to leave, but paused in the doorway. “Hey, Jim? Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you believe in the Devil?”
Taggart had seen evil up close and personal many times. He’d seen the incredible things one person could do to another, sometimes without a single regret or second thought. He’d always figured some people were just born bad, but now, he wasn’t so sure. What he’d seen and heard the last week or so had changed his perspective, not to mention all the crap on the news lately. The world seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Maybe all the nut cases on street corners with cardboard signs saying Repent! The end is near! weren’t so nutty after all. “You know, Jack,” Taggart said, “I do believe. I really do.”
“Me too,” Mauger said, shutting the door behind him as he left.
Taggart flipped through his pile of yellow sticky notes until he found Peyton’s number.
A phone began to ring in Twin Creek.
41
Zach had been driving around town for an hour, trying to make sense of it all.
He remembered a good deal of the session, just as Trish Holloway said he might, and was relieved that he had not, in fact, killed Rakel. There was more, though, that he couldn’t recall, and he felt as if there was a puzzle piece that remained tantalizingly out of reach.
During the session, he’d felt the sense of impending doom in the hotel room, but it didn’t make sense! Why should he feel Rakel wasn’t really Rakel? She’d spoken to him as if she were someone else, a hateful, evil person, not the girl who’d visited him at the hospital or who’d laughed with him in his house, endearing herself to his family. She wasn’t the same girl he’d fallen in love with. That person, Zach realized, had been a falsehood, nothing more than a terrible, hurtful lie.
He felt vindicated, in a way, because he wasn’t a murderer. But Rakel was dead, and from what he could remember from the session, he hadn’t been able to provide any answers as to who had carried out such a horrific crime. Or why.
The whole session had exhausted him. He pulled into his driveway, glad to see that his parents’ car was gone. He could be alone for a while.
He stepped inside and went upstairs to his room. It didn’t take long for sleep to come.
Or the dream.
*
Zach found himself in a strangely familiar house . . . the same as the vision he had experienced at the party so many months ago. He was drawn to the coffee table, where a framed picture of a man, woman, and small boy sat. He was startled by a voice from behind.
“That’s my family.”
He turned and saw a man standing by the hallway at the edge of the living room. He was a little taller than Zach, dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt. His brown hair was cut close, and his eyes were a dark shade of blue.
“Hello, Zach,” the man said.
Zach was taken aback by the sound of the man’s voice. He’d heard it before. “Do I know you?”
“My name is Mitch.”
That voice.
It came to him slowly. Zach remembered three little words, spoken to him as he lay in bed, at first thinking his father had been speaking, and then realizing he was alone.
Listen to me.
And then, he remembered something else.
Another piece of his life’s puzzle fell into place, as if he’d just found the missing piece under a table after searching for it for years. This man spoke to him on the night he’d tried to kill himself, standing nearby as his vision failed.
. . . don’t go. You have to live. I need you. We need you . . .
This man—Mitch—had been there as Zach lay dying on the bathroom floor, imploring him to live. He’d been there at the party, when Zach heard a voice telling him to fight back against Greg Robinson. And as more of the hypnosis session tumbled forward into his dream, Zach knew Mitch had been in the hotel room. Not only didn’t he kill Rakel, but Zach realized Mitch had broken him free of whatever spell Rakel had him under. Zach remembered holding the razor to Rakel’s neck, and then it had been almost as if someone else took control of his body. Complete control.
“You—you kept me from killing Rakel, didn’t you.”
“It was inside of her, Zach. It wanted you to kill her.”
“It?”
“Look at your wrists,” Mitch said. “Those scars are its doing. It’s been trying to rid itself of you for years.”
“I don’t—I don’t understand . . .”
“You do understand,” the man said. “It’s evil, Zach. A shadow with many names. The beast from your d
reams. You’ve seen it.”
Zach set the picture back on the coffee table. “Why does it want me dead?”
“The same reason it wanted me dead, and my wife. It was afraid of us, of what we were going to become.” Mitch pointed to the picture. “We were all murdered by it. All of us, even the little one. We were going to have a girl.”
The little one. Zach knew he’d seen the child before, as a small figure in the mist. “I’ve seen the baby, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” Mitch said, smiling as Zach began to comprehend more of what he’d been shown in his dreams. “She was meant to be, Zach. She will be. There’s so little time.”
“This house,” Zach said, “I’ve been here before.”
Mitch nodded. “This is my past, where I lived with Jenna and Timmy. It’s where the girl is living now.”
The girl.
Suddenly, a torrent of visions swirled through Zach’s mind. He’d seen a girl in his dreams, crying. He’d seen her in the Van Pelts’ kitchen, before she was dragged away by her friend. He’d felt an overpowering urge to follow her, to help her.
Zach had forgotten about her until this very moment. The girl with the beautiful eyes, the girl he’d seen at the party! And he remembered her name. “Peyton Sayre.”
“That’s right, the girl,” Mitch said. “Jenna is guiding her, just as I’ve tried to guide you.”
“But why are you—?”
“The baby, Zach. Jenna and I were chosen to fulfill a special purpose, to give birth to the child. It’s your purpose now. Yours, and Peyton’s. But she’s in danger.”
Zach’s heart skipped a beat. “In danger? How?”
“It knows who she is, Zach. It knows who you are, too. It wants to keep you from seeing her. At all costs. But we can’t let it win. It’s getting stronger. We need to find Peyton soon, before it’s too late.”
The overwhelming sense of urgency in Zach’s chest was growing stronger by the second, but there was still so much he didn’t know. “How do we find her?” he asked. “I don’t even know where she lives.”
“We go to this place,” Mitch said, his meaning clear to Zach. They had to go to this house.
Suddenly, the scene around him began to fade, as did the figure of Mitch standing before him. “Wait! Don’t go!” Zach yelled, reaching out to his companion as the vision began to disappear. “I need to ask you more questions!”
As he faded away, Mitch whispered, “Go to Twin Creek, Zach. I’ll be with you. I’ve always been with you.”
And then, all was as it had been.
Zach was in his bedroom, clutching his pillow.
For the first time, Zach’s life was in focus. He knew his reason for living. He also knew with absolute clarity what he had to do next.
And more important, he knew he wouldn’t be doing it alone.
*
A knock on the door.
“Open up!”
The voice startled Vic Davol from a nap. “Yeah?”
“Open the fucking door.”
Vic had been staying in the upstairs room of this run-down house in Omaha for the past week. He felt like an animal in a pen, fed two, sometimes three times a day by the people living here, a man and a woman in their late fifties who, Vic thought, looked like they’d spent most of their lives living on the streets. They’d been expecting him when he arrived from Lincoln and had instructed him to stay put in the upstairs room and await further directions.
That was it. He’d been told nothing more.
Vic was beginning to go stir-crazy, wondering if he’d ever get the chance to serve his new Master, the Evil One who’d drafted him into his army that day in Lincoln. Maybe today was the day.
Vic unlocked the dead bolt and swung the door open. The man tossed some folded clothes at him, which Vic dropped in surprise.
“It’s time. Put these on and meet me downstairs.” The man glared at him as Vic picked the clothes up off the floor. “We’ll be going out the back door.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out on the way there.”
The man turned and stomped down the stairs. Vic quickly slipped on the clothes—black cargo pants and a dark hooded sweatshirt. They’d also given him black leather gloves and a dark knit ski mask. He closed the door behind him, and started down the stairs.
At the apartment in Lincoln, his new Lord had explained the task required of him. He was to be a soldier in an army of bad-ass motherfuckers who were going to change the course of mankind. Forever. And now, finally, he was marching off to war.
He’d never felt so important—so needed—in his entire life.
Vic wished his brother could see him now. Surely, he’d be proud.
42
“Hello?”
Taggart immediately recognized Peyton’s voice. He silently cursed, wishing the girl’s aunt had answered the phone instead, since he’d hoped to convince Justine to keep Peyton there until he had a chance to talk to Zach and explain to the boy what was going on. Reluctantly, he said, “Peyton, this is Detective Taggart.”
Peyton knew why he was calling—there was no other possible reason—and she wasted no time. “You know Zach is innocent now, don’t you?”
“Peyton, is your aunt there? I’d like to speak to her first.”
“No, she’s not here right now.” It wasn’t really a lie, being that her aunt was out in the backyard at the moment. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
Taggart paused, unsure of what he should tell her. He wanted to make sure Peyton didn’t hit the road as soon as he hung up the phone, but his delay inadvertently told her all she needed to know. “Look, I want you to promise me something, Peyton,” he said sternly. “Promise me you won’t come to Omaha right away.”
Peyton’s heart began to race, and she couldn’t hide her excitement. “You know it’s all true, don’t you, Detective? You know Zach didn’t kill Rakel!”
Taggart decided he could at least tell Peyton what they’d done to verify her story. “Zach underwent hypnosis yesterday, Peyton. The story he provided matches what you told us. Exactly.”
Peyton felt vindicated, in a way. Not only did her aunt believe her, but Taggart did, too. “My aunt’s out back,” she admitted, feeling a little guilty for not telling him the entire truth. “Hold on and I’ll get her. We can be there in—”
“Wait,” Taggart interrupted. “Zach can remember the events in the hotel room, but he doesn’t know the entire story. That’s why I want you to stay put, Peyton. I’m not sure how he’ll react when he hears . . . when he becomes aware of Mitch Bannock. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he’s had a history of mental problems, and I’m afraid he might—”
“Flip out, Detective?” Peyton said, finishing the statement for him. “He won’t. He’ll understand everything, just like I do.”
“You don’t know that.” Taggart barely knew Peyton yet felt a need to protect her, to keep her safe. Deep in his gut, he felt she was in some kind of danger, a feeling he’d been unable to shake since the night of her parents’ deaths. “Let us help Zach through this first. We have psychiatrists who can help him understand what’s going on, help him deal with it. We need to take this one step at a time.”
Suddenly, Peyton was overcome by a sense of urgency so strong, and so palpable, she could barely speak. She’d tell her aunt the news herself. They had to get moving. “Thank you for calling, Detective.”
Before he could say another word, the line went dead. Taggart knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep Peyton away from Omaha. She’d already made up her mind.
Taggart’s finger hovered over the phone as he tried to decide whether to call back and demand to speak to Justine, but the phone rang again before he could start dialing.
“Taggart here.”
“Detective, this is Tom Regan.”
“Hello, Mr. Regan,” Taggart said, surprised at the coincidence that Zach’s father would call him at that particular moment. But then again, he didn’t
really believe in coincidences. “What can I do for you?”
“Zach’s gone.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before they sunk in. “He’s gone?”
“When we got home, his car was missing and we found a note.”
“Did he give you any indication of where he was headed?” Taggart knew what the answer would be even before Tom spoke.
“Yes. His note said he was headed to Twin Creek. We don’t know anyone up that way, so I’m not sure why—”
Taggart glanced at his watch. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since he left?”
“Not exactly,” Tom said, “but it couldn’t have been too long ago. He called us after the meeting with the hypnotist and said he would be home before dinner. I’d say, maybe thirty minutes? His cell is going straight to voicemail, too. He’s not answering.”
Taggart glanced at his office clock. It was only an hour drive to Twin Creek from Omaha. “How did he sound when he called?”
“Relieved. He said the hypnosis session proved he had nothing to do with Rakel’s murder. Is that true?”
“Mr. Regan, Tom, I can’t get into the specifics, but we know Zach didn’t kill Rakel Anders.”
“Oh, thank God,” Tom said. “We didn’t think Zach did it, but the whole situation was so strange. We met Rakel, really liked her, too, and then we learned she’d been complaining about Zach bothering her at work, stalking her almost. Those kids loved each other, Detective. We weren’t sure what to believe.” He paused for a second. “Do you have any idea why he’s going to Twin Creek?”
“I think I know, Tom, but I’m worried Zach might not be in the best frame of mind right now,” Taggart said, knowing Zach must’ve somehow learned about Mitch Bannock. It was the only possible reason why he’d have left for Twin Creek so suddenly.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Has Zach ever mentioned the name Peyton Sayre to you before?”
“Peyton Sayre? No, not at all. What does she have to do with my son?”
Taggart glanced at his watch again, knowing Zach was getting closer to Twin Creek with each passing second. “It’s hard to explain. Call my partner, Detective Jack Mauger, and he can fill you in. I need to get an alert out on your son, see if we can stop him. In the meantime, I need you and your wife to stay put.”
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