Shannon should have no reason to doubt her.
“You’re going to have the opportunity to make some noise, I suppose,” Dax said, pocketing the phone and turning to Abby. “You could scream, kick the horn. I don’t know what all has run through your head, but I’m sure you’ve had ideas, and I can promise you that all of them are bad. Right now, she’s got the chance to walk in and out of this garage alive and unhurt. Don’t ruin that for her, Abby.”
He studied Abby’s eyes for a moment, then nodded once, opened the driver’s door, and slipped out. They were parked beside a large panel van with a cleaning company’s logo, and he vanished on the other side of that. Abby watched him go and then turned to her right, where the stairwell was.
Shannon Beckley should come from that direction. Maybe alone, maybe not. If she walked through the door with a cop in tow, Abby didn’t think it would take long for the shooting to start.
Shannon came alone. She’d moved fast too, because the wait hadn’t been long. The stairwell door opened and there she was, tall and defiant, or at least trying to look defiant, though you could see her nerves in the way she scanned the garage even after she’d observed the Challenger parked where she’d been told it would be. She hesitated, and Abby saw her glance back at the stairwell door as it clanged shut behind her, but then she steeled herself and started toward the Challenger with long, purposeful strides.
She made it halfway there before the kid got her.
Abby hadn’t seen him move. She’d thought he was still waiting on the other side of that van, but he must have crawled under it or around it, because he emerged from behind a pickup truck that was parked four empty spaces from the Challenger, now on Abby’s right instead of her left. Shannon Beckley was walking fast, her eyes on the Challenger, and she might have glimpsed Abby’s face through the darkly tinted glass because she seemed to squint just before Dax rose up beside her.
She had time to scream, but she didn’t. Instead, she tried to fight and run at the same time, stumbling backward while throwing a wild right hook. If she’d stepped into the punch, she might’ve landed it; she had a fast hand. But because she was trying to both attack and flee, she missed the punch, and then Dax had her. He caught her right wrist, spun her, twisted her arm up behind her back, and clapped his gloved left hand over her mouth.
Abby jerked forward instinctively as if to help. The cord bit into her throat and forced her back. She reached for the headrest release, but before she could even find it, they were walking her way, Dax whispering into Shannon’s ear with each step. When they arrived beside the car, he released her and drew the gun. He did this so quickly that it was pressed against the back of Shannon’s skull before she had time to react to being free. She stood still, staring through the window at Abby, close enough now to see the cord around her throat.
“Open the driver’s door,” Dax said to Shannon. His voice was soft but menacing, like early snowflakes with a blizzard behind them.
Shannon walked around the back of the car and opened the driver’s door, and then she and Abby were briefly face-to-face with no glass between them.
“I’m sorry,” Abby said. The words sounded as hollow to her as Shannon’s expression told her they felt.
“Backseat,” Dax said, folding the driver’s seat forward and allowing access to the back. Shannon hesitated, and he cocked the revolver. She crawled into the backseat, scrambled across the leather, and crouched in the far corner. Dax followed, swinging the door shut behind him and sealing them all inside, Abby tied to the front passenger seat, Shannon and Dax and the gun in the back.
“All together now,” he said. “Terrific. This thing is close to done, Shannon. Closer than you think. You’ve got a big job to do, though. You’ve got to get our beloved little phone to your sister and unlock it and bring it back. You’ve got to do that quickly and without anyone else seeing it. Otherwise, the killing starts fast.”
Shannon had been staring at Abby, but now she looked back at Dax and seemed to be sizing him up. Other than having the gun, he didn’t appear all that imposing. Abby remembered the night she’d made the same mistake.
“You need to listen to him,” Abby said. “And not for me. I’m not worried about myself anymore. But you need to listen to him because you need him to go away fast.”
“That’s excellent advice,” Dax said. “Abby’s been along for the ride for a while now. She’s seen some things. I’d trust her wisdom if I were you.”
Shannon Beckley looked at Abby and then back at Dax, and Abby knew her mind was whirling, and she was almost positive she knew what she was thinking.
“When the Department of Energy agent gets to the room, she isn’t going to be able to help,” she said, and Shannon’s eyes widened. “Nobody in that room can help, because he can hear you. He’s listening to the hospital room. Has been.”
She’d taken this chance expecting retribution from Dax, expecting maybe even a bullet, but instead she received a smile.
“That’s right,” Dax said. “But we won’t need to worry about ears anymore. Shannon’s going to give us eyes too.”
He took off the black baseball cap and extended it to her. She recoiled and smacked against the door. But she had nowhere to run, and it was far too late for that anyhow.
“The agent is en route,” Dax said. “My understanding is that she’s very close. That puts some added pressure on you, Shannon. I’m sorry about that, but…” He shrugged. “I’m not the one who sent for her. It’s your turn to wear the black hat.”
Abby watched in the mirror. Shannon took the hat from his hand like she was accepting a snake, then put it on. She pushed her hair behind her ears and settled it down. It looked natural enough. Looked good, even. But it wouldn’t look right to the doctor who was in that room.
“Why’d she leave and put on a hat?” Abby said.
“Good question,” the kid answered, not looking at her. “Why’d you do that, Shannon?”
Silence for a moment, then Shannon said, “I don’t know.”
“I think you do. I think you get migraines from the lights in the hospital. Stress and bright light? That can definitely bring on a headache. You took some Excedrin, you put on a hat, and now you want everyone to just shut the hell up about you and focus on your sister. I think everyone is ready to focus on Tara.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew Oltamu’s phone. When he tapped the display, Abby watched Shannon’s face change. She understood the picture. Or at least, she wasn’t confused by it.
“You’re going to need to hold this up to her eyes,” Dax said, “and hope that it unlocks. It asks for a name, but I think that’s bullshit. It just needs her eyes. If I’m wrong, though…there’ll be a lot riding on Tara figuring out what to do then. Because I know your mother and stepfather are in room four eighty-one in the hotel next door, and they’ll die fast if you make a bad choice.”
He pressed the phone into her hand. Her hand was trembling, but only a little.
“You can save a lot of lives tonight,” Dax told her.
“They’ll be watching me,” Shannon said. “At least, Pine will be. The doctor. How do you expect me to explain this to him?”
“Convincingly,” Dax said. “That’s how I expect you to do it. I’m not a fan of scripts. People get hung up on them, they forget their lines, and then things go to hell fast. I like quick thinkers with room to be creative. Maybe you want a word in private with your sister. Maybe you’re angry with Dr. Pine. I don’t know. But I think you’ll figure it out. And Shannon? Make it believable. Because if that phone finds its way back to my hand, your family stays alive. If it doesn’t…” He inclined his head toward the front seat. “Ask Abby what happened to the last person who disappointed me today.”
Shannon didn’t look at Abby. She put Oltamu’s phone in her pocket and said, “May I go now?”
“You in a hurry?”
“Yes. I don’t want any strangers around. Let me go now, before the detective or agent o
r whoever gets here.”
“Wise,” Dax said, and then he moved back, keeping the gun pointed at her, opened the door, and stepped outside. He lowered the gun and kept it down against his leg as she climbed out. He actually offered her a hand, looking like a high-school kid with his prom date. She ignored it and climbed out alone. She ignored the gun too. She ignored everything and just started walking toward the stairwell.
“He sees and hears you,” Abby called after her. She knew how pathetic the warning sounded, but she was terrified for Shannon. She was going to try something. Abby was sure of that. She might not have a plan yet, but this woman was absolutely going to try something.
Dax leaned on the roof of the car and sang, “‘He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good, for goodness’ sake!’”
The stairwell door opened and clanged shut, and Shannon Beckley was gone.
49
Pine wasn’t as helpless over the sister as he’d claimed because when Boone arrived, he came down to meet her and said that the sister was gone and it was just Tara now.
“Shannon will come back,” he said. “I’d be stunned if she didn’t. Maybe we should wait.”
“We are not waiting,” Boone said. “Less is more, Doctor, when it comes to time and witnesses in this scenario.”
She didn’t give him a chance to consider that, just walked in front of him and down the corridor as if she knew where she was going. Using motion to push past hesitation was one of her favorite techniques, and it worked. Pine reacted as most men in positions of authority did and quickened his pace in an attempt to not only catch up to her but make it seem as if he were actually leading the way, that the rush had been his idea all along.
The corridor ended in a T, and Pine turned left and exchanged quick greetings with two nurses in the hall. If they had any interest in Boone, they didn’t show it. She was just another stranger here to look at the brain-dead girl, evidently. Pine had done a good job of shutting down the chatter about Tara Beckley’s return to consciousness in his own hospital, at least. The girl’s mother had carried news outside the walls, but inside, it was business as usual. For the first time, Boone was pleased that she’d gotten here so late; the hospital was quieter at this hour.
“The process will seem simple to you,” Pine said. “It will seem easy, even. She moves her eyes to give you answers—what could be less taxing, right? But I warn you that it is a laborious process for her. We’ve pushed her hard already today. At some point, the fatigue will catch up to her. Remember that as you phrase your questions.”
“I tend to be concise,” Boone said, which was certainly not a lie.
“It’s not about being concise. You can talk all you want. What you need to consider is how many words are required for her to respond. You want to cut that down, down, down. As much as possible, use yes-or-no questions. When she has to spell out a word, make that word count.”
They had reached room 373.
“Omit needless words,” he admonished her, and then he opened the door.
50
Omit needless words.” Dr. Strunk is here! Damn it, if Tara could only speak, she would say that to see whether Dr. Pine is enough of a writing geek to laugh. She expects that he is. Aren’t all doctors well read? Their patients hope so, certainly.
As Dr. Pine ushers the new woman in, Tara finds herself thinking that she looks forward to having a real conversation with him at some point. She likes him and trusts him, and she suspects that he has good stories. In a business like his, how could you not? Tara wants to become one of his best stories.
A success story.
“Hello, Tara,” he says, “your guest has arrived.” He pauses, and then, as if reading her thoughts, he adds, “I’m sure Shannon will be here in a moment. But would you like to wait for her?”
Tara has no idea what bug crawled up Shannon’s ass to send her rushing out of here, but she’s comfortable with Dr. Pine and certain that Shannon will return soon. Then they will all get the lecture on how they shouldn’t have started without her. But in the meantime, why not get to it?
She flicks her eyes up twice. No need to wait.
The woman with Dr. Pine is tall and lean, well muscled. A workout junkie, probably. Not a runner, though. Or at least, not just a runner. She likes free weights. Her shoulder muscles are defined under her tight-fitting black top, and Tara is surprised and somewhat disappointed that she’s not wearing a jacket. She’d expected a jacket that might conceal a gun. Having never met a Department of Energy agent before, she allowed her imagination to go wild, and she should have known better. This is a notepad-and-laptop kind of law enforcement agent, not a gun-belt type. But, hey, she’s clearly strong.
“Tara, it’s very nice to meet you,” the woman says, walking closer, every movement balanced and her focus on Tara total. “Dr. Pine was explaining how I can make this as easy as possible for you. I’ll respect his guidance on that. I understand that yes-or-no questions are best, and I am going to stick to those as much as I can, but occasionally, I might need to ask you to spell. Do you understand all of that?”
Tara flicks her eyes up once, thinking, Say your name, damn it. At some point, she’s going to have to take the time to get that sentence out so Dr. Pine knows how important it is to her. Common courtesies like introductions make her feel more human, less like a spectacle, some tourist attraction or circus freak, the Amazing Locked-in Woman, five dollars for five minutes of her incredible nonverbal communication.
The woman sits on the stool that Dr. Pine usually claims, and for some reason this bothers Tara. Let the medical professional run the show, lady. But there’s no one in the room who matters to the woman except Tara.
Until the door swings open, and there is Shannon, dressed like a hostage negotiator. What in the world is she doing in that dumb black baseball cap?
“Sorry I’m late,” she says in an odd, too-loud voice. “I was getting a bad headache. The stress and the lights…” She waves her hand at the overhead fluorescents. “I was afraid it would become a migraine.”
The agent seems less than delighted to have Shannon join the party but accepts it with a thin smile and nod. “No problem. I was just about to ask Tara a few simple questions, and then I hope I can bring an end to your stress. At least this additional aspect of it.” She rises from the stool and offers her hand, and Tara thinks, Sure, the walking-talking girl gets an introduction.
“Shannon Beckley,” Shannon says, still too loud, as if she wants to be heard three rooms away. Her eyes are skittering all around the room, like someone taking inventory after a burglary.
“Nice to meet you, Shannon. I’m Andrea Carter, with the Department of Energy.”
Well, Tara thinks, at least we now have a name.
And then, as Tara stares at her sister, something troubling overtakes her: She has seen that hat before. She’s seen that hat in this room, when the Justin Loveless impostor showed up with the flowers.
What in the hell is happening?
51
Inside the Challenger, Dax and Abby sat side by side, like partners, and watched the video feed on the phone. It had been a disorienting show so far, with Shannon Beckley’s head creating the effect of a Steadicam in a horror movie. Now things finally slowed down, and room 373 took on clarity: Tara in the bed, the doctor named Pine standing in the corner, and the DOE agent sitting on a stool at the bedside. Abby couldn’t see her face, just the back of her head, blond hair against a black shirt, but then she turned to the door, and Abby waited with the sensation of a trapped scream for Shannon Beckley to say the wrong thing, to doubt the killing capacity of the kid who’d sent her in there. She might think calling 911 would be the right move, and then she would learn swiftly and painfully that such a mistake would be measured in lost lives.
Instead, she nailed it—voice too loud and a little unnatural, but the rest was right. The bit about the stress and the migraine worked well enough
. Abby exhaled, feeling like the first step was a good one, but Dax went rigid.
What did he see that I didn’t? Abby wondered.
Dax picked up the phone and used his fingers to change the zoom. The agent’s face filled the screen.
“Well, now,” he said, and other than during the initial moments after his last murder, it was the first time he’d sounded unsteady to Abby.
“What is it?” Abby said. She wasn’t expecting an answer, but she got one.
“That’s not a DOE agent,” Dax said. “That’s Lisa Boone.”
“Who is Lisa Boone?”
“She worked with my father a few times. He thought she was very good.” Dax finally looked away from the screen, met Abby’s eyes, and realized the message meant nothing to her. His gaze was steady when he said, “That means she’s a professional killer.”
52
Shannon stands there wearing the black hat, the hat that Tara hasn’t thought about on this day of developments, her future opening in front, her attention being directed to the past, pulling her in opposite directions. The young man with the hunter’s eyes and the black hat seemed a forgotten player to her.
Now he is back. Tara knows this, and Shannon must too.
I could have warned her, Tara thinks.
Shannon says, “I don’t want to interrupt this. I really don’t. Trust me, I understand the importance. But I would like to have a few words alone with my sister before we begin any interviews.”
Agent Andrea Carter is not happy with this. She rises, and for the first time Tara can see the intimidation evident in that lean, well-muscled frame. She moves with a menacing grace, like the instructor in the one self-defense class Shannon made Tara take before she went off to college. For frat parties, Shannon explained. And pay attention to the groin shots.
If She Wakes Page 29