“Act?” Julie asked, raising her left brow. “So, you do think the test broadcast was some kind of a put-up job?”
Gabriel spared the reporter a look, and quickly turned back to watch the twisting road. “No, not the ending of Kelly’s little game.”
“Just the beginning—the disappearance?” Julie asked.
“I think it may have started out as a prank, but the house one-upped Kelly and her friends, took it to the next level.”
“The house?” Julie said with a skeptical look.
“Look, if you open a doorway and allow the house into your head, it will take the advantage—it will attack.”
“You’re going off on a tangent. Either you’re advancing a theory that has yet to be discussed with UBC, or you’re holding back historical information from us. Which is it?”
Kennedy shifted in the seat. Through the heavy downpour, he saw the road sign for Bright Waters. “Jesus,” he said as they entered the town.
“Damn Jackson. Little does he know, he’s playing right into the network’s hands with this circus.” Julie leaned over the seat and brought out a camera case and a digital recorder. She started filming the ten state police cars, flashing their blue lights outside of the small constable’s office. There was still an ambulance out front, along with several news vans from Philadelphia with lights blaring. Julie saw that one of them was an affiliate station of UBC, so she stopped filming and put the camera back in its bag.
“Lieutenant Jackson is ever diligent, isn’t he?” Kennedy asked. Julie tried her cell phone again as Kennedy pulled to the curb behind a news van.
“Finally, a signal,” she said, punching numbers on the phone.
Kennedy turned off the car and watched the comings and goings of the police as they made their way from the diner across the street to the constable’s office.
“No wonder you have a signal. You have enough microwaves emanating from this little town to light up Cape Canaveral.” Kennedy opened his door and stood, letting the rain pummel his head as he watched the scene before him. He would let Jackson come to him. He needed coffee.
“Jason, what’s up?” Julie said as she opened her door to follow Kennedy.
Gabriel didn’t wait on her; he made his way through the rising water toward the brightly lit diner. A group of state policemen were standing over something on the concrete. He swallowed when he saw it was the taped outline of a man’s body. Several of the policemen looked up and eyed him with suspicion. Kennedy averted his eyes and walked into the diner.
Julie came in close behind Kennedy and turned as the door closed. She watched the policemen as they noted details. One of those details was the brownish stain that had soaked into the concrete of the sidewalk.
“Okay, I’ll pass along the message. Now inform the news division that I’ll be filing a live report from Bright Waters on the murder, using the affiliate that’s already here. Tell whoever you need to pull some strings and threaten whoever needs to be bullied, and get me that affiliate crew’s cooperation.”
Kennedy removed his coat and shook out the rain as he sat at the counter. He eyed the three policemen sitting further down the counter and the four others in a booth eating breakfast. An old man in cook’s whites placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of Gabriel and then started to move away.
“Quite a bit of excitement,” Kennedy said. The man stopped and turned.
“Don’t know how folks can eat after seein’ things like that,” he said. He placed a cup and saucer in front of Julie when she sat, and poured her coffee without asking if she wanted any.
“Did you see what happened,” Gabriel asked as he poured sugar into his cup. Julie placed her bag on the stool next to her and watched the exchange.
“You bet I did. I never want to see anything like it again.” The old man turned and disappeared behind the swinging doors.
Julie sipped the hot coffee and then turned to look at the policemen, who were in turn eyeing her. She turned back and removed her own coat, laying it over her large bag.
“Jason said that John Lonetree had quite the experience; Sanborn’s about to have kittens. He wants you to call him as soon as you can.”
Kennedy held out his hand, indicating that he needed the phone. Julie started to place the cell phone into his hand, but when the door opened she pulled it back and raised her cup to her lips instead.
“Mr. Wonderful is here. That didn’t take long,” she said, hiding her moving lips behind the cup.
“It seems your cast of characters is fast coming together. Well, minus one of the players. Paul Lowell won’t be making the cast party,” Damian Jackson said as he removed his soaking raincoat. “Why don’t we grab a booth so we can talk.”
Kennedy sat motionless and Julie sipped her coffee. Then they slowly rose and walked over to the nearest booth. They sat, both on one side to face the grand inquisitor. Jackson watched them sit. He eyed the state policemen sitting at the counter, and then the four in the booth at the back of the diner.
“I think we have a prisoner almost ready for transport,” he said to them. “Or do you want the local constable to handle it?”
As Kennedy and Julie watched, the three policemen at the counter and the four in the booth all rose.
“And leave the man a sizable tip. I have to eat here today and tonight.”
The policemen started tossing dollar bills on the counter and booth table. They didn’t meet the large detective’s eyes as they placed their Smokey the Bear hats on and left the diner. As they did, the old man stepped out of the kitchen with his coffee pot, but Jackson waved him off. He sat down across from Julie and Gabriel. This was the first time that either of them had seen Jackson without a tie and not looking as if he had just stepped out of a GQ magazine ad.
He smiled at the two people across from him as he laced his fingers together.
Silence hung between the three like an invisible wall. Gabriel knew he was the focus here, even though he had nothing to do with Kyle Pritchard or Paul Lowell.
“I would liked to have seen Kelly Delaphoy sitting there. I have a few pointed questions to ask her about tonight’s events.”
“She’s conferring with the network legal department at the moment,” Julie said. Kennedy remained silent and kept his eyes on Jackson.
“I imagine she is.”
“Detective Jackson, why would two missing men show up after eight days, and then one kill the other with a state police detective as a witness?” Julie asked. She pulled out her small digital recorder, which Jackson immediately covered with a bear paw-sized hand.
“This is not your interview, Ms. Reilly. It’s mine.”
Julie pulled her hand and recorder out from under Jackson’s palm and clicked on the device. “Then I’ll forward you a copy. It will save us all a lot of time. Otherwise, you know what you can do with your questions.”
Damian smiled, the expression falling short of his brown eyes. He pulled a sugar dispenser toward him and started rolling it. Kennedy recognized the sleight of hand gesture as a way policemen had of distracting the person they were questioning—a trick that only worked on people who were scared to begin with.
“Now, what condition is Kyle Pritchard in?” Julie asked, pen poised over her notepad.
“Okay Ms. Reilly, quid pro quo. I’ll play along and then I would like something answered.”
“Fair enough,” Julie said.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Jackson said. He was eyeing Kennedy.
“What questions could I answer that would cast light onto something only you witnessed?”
“In answer to your question, Pritchard is in shock. He looks emaciated and he’s dehydrated.”
Julie wrote down Jackson’s answer.
“His last words to me, after he slit the throat of your network personality,” he said looking from Kennedy to Julie, and then back, “were, they’re mine. Does that sound familiar, Professor?”
“In the spoken word, no. Not familiar at all; how
ever, I’ve seen those words written on paper.”
“Don’t play games with me, Kennedy. You did that once before and you paid dearly for it.”
“Yes I did. Both of you saw to that. Let me add that a closed mind, coming from either you or Ms. Reilly here, is a very dangerous thing to have when you’re facing something like Summer Place. I suspect however neither of you will realize it until that house jumps up and bites you both on the ass. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”
Jackson started to reach out and take Kennedy’s arm, but stopped short. Gabriel looked at him with an intensity the detective didn’t remember Gabriel having before. The professor leaned over and looked the detective in the eyes once more.
“And I would expect my antagonist to allow me an even playing field. Let me speak to Pritchard before you cart him off to Philadelphia for your own inquisition.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m happy to see you here, Professor. I want your take on his state of health and well being.”
Kennedy held Julie’s cell phone up and waved it. “Excuse me.”
Julie watched Kennedy leave. She jotted her observation down in her notebook and then looked up, smiling at the detective. “He seems to have grown a set of balls since the last time you confronted him.”
“No comment,” Jackson said. “I take it you are seeing things quite differently nowadays too, Ms. Reilly?”
“Let’s just say, I have a little bit more of an open mind than I used to have.” Julie turned off the recorder and gathered her things. “I’m going to give you some time to think about my question, Detective. Just where the hell were Pritchard and Lowell all this time? I mean, you searched high and low for them, and then all of a sudden they come strolling into Bright Waters to demonstrate to you personally their culpability in a hoax, and then one kills the other. And please don’t stick with a pat policeman’s answer. This is damn strange and you know it. So think hard, Detective, because in just two days Kennedy may have a point to ram home to you.”
“And that is?” Jackson asked as Julie rose.
“The point is, that house is beginning to look like it just may be capable of reaching out and biting us both in the ass, just like it may have done to Pritchard and Lowell. And you know what else I’m beginning to believe?”
“What?”
“I think that house may have enjoyed scaring the hell out of you personally, and I can see by your eyes you don’t like being scared. So now I guess you know how Kennedy felt all those years ago.” Julie raised her brow as she said the words. “After all, the house may have just sought you out…on a more intimate basis.”
Julie moved off to join Gabriel outside. Jackson watched her go, then turned and slid the sugar dispenser away so hard that it broke against the wall fronting the booth. He closed his eyes. The tables had been turned on him by both Reilly and Kennedy, and he knew exactly why. The reporter’s theory had been spot on.
He was indeed scared, for the first time in his career.
Jackson stood to the side in the one-cell constable’s station. Kennedy stood in front of the bars and as Julie tried to join him, Gabriel gently pushed her back. She held up the recorder and Gabriel reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. Julie placed the recorder on the locking mechanism on the cell door and then backed away to stand beside Jackson in the dark. Outside, the last of the storm was passing by and all that could be heard was the gentle falling of the rain. The lightning was now far off to the east.
“Kyle, can I speak to you a moment?” Kennedy asked.
Pritchard was sitting on the lone uncushioned cot that occupied the cell. His long hair was a tangled, wet mess. His head hung low, buried between his raised knees. Kennedy could see the shaking of his shoulders.
“Mr. Prichard, Mr. Kyle Prichard, my name is Kennedy. I would like—”
Pritchard’s head shot up and he scrambled into the corner, as if he wanted to crawl up, around, or through the wall.
“I had no message for you!”
Gabriel didn’t miss a beat. “That’s why I’m here, Kyle, to understand the message you brought to—”
“Jackson, big, strong buck nigger!”
To Damian’s credit, he didn’t react to the racial slur in the slightest. He raised his right brow at Gabriel, wanting him to continue. These were the only words that Damian had heard the man utter since he was taken into custody.
“Yes, that’s the man,” Gabriel said. Kyle Pritchard lowered his head and started weeping again.
“Who gave you the message to give to the detective?”
“I…don’t…know…”
The answer was almost an extended whine.
“Why was it necessary to kill Paul Lowell?”
Pritchard looked up just as if he had been given a reprieve from his execution. His eyes were wild and he actually smiled.
“It….it…said that I would free myself if I allowed Lowell to escape. I did, didn’t I? I kept my part of the bargain. Now I don’t have to go back there, do I?” Prichard jumped from the cot and slammed himself into the bars, striking his head hard enough to get a good flow of blood running down his forehead. Jackson took a step forward but Gabriel held out a hand, staying him before he reached the bars. “I… don’t…have…to…go…back…there—right?” he yelled into Kennedy’s face. “You know it, Kennedy. You know it better than anyone. It keeps its word, right? I don’t have to go back?”
Julie saw a man who had gone totally insane. She knew that Gabriel would receive no useful information from Pritchard.
“No, Kyle, you never have to go back. Not ever.”
“I knew it. I knew as soon as you said your name. It’s satisfied,” Pritchard slid down the set of bars until he was on the cold concrete of the cell.
Kennedy was about to turn away when Pritchard spoke again.
“They tried to protect us, but that…that…thing would have none of it. It found us and…and…” he turned, twisting his neck until he could see Kennedy, “and…and...Paul was the lucky one. I wanted to be the message, but it chose Paul. It wasn’t fair. Now Paul will never be afraid again. It’s just…not…fucking fair.”
Pritchard lowered his head and sobbed.
“He’s not making any sense at all. He’ll be away a long time before he goes to trial for murder.”
Gabriel shook his head. “You didn’t understand a single thing this man said, did you? All you heard was the rambling of a terrified man, just as you didn’t hear me all those years ago. You stupid bastard, he told us everything.”
“For instance?” Damian asked.
“Show up on October thirty-first. Summer Place can explain it to you better than I ever could.”
Kennedy walked out of the cell area. Julie started to follow, but then remembered her recorder. She reached back to pick it up and stopped in front of Jackson.
“I guess Summer Place is the place to be, huh?”
“I’ll be there, all right. You bet your ass I’ll be there. I guarantee all of this bullshit will be laid to rest.”
Julie turned at the door.
“Let’s just pray that’s all that’s laid to rest on Halloween.”
Julie laughed as Damian glared at the empty doorway.
“You don’t believe all of this shit, do you?” he yelled after her.
“No,” she called back, “but it sure is going to be good television, one way or the other.”
When Jackson turned back around, his heart fell through to his stomach. Kyle Pritchard had stood up and was staring right into the detective’s face, smiling a maniacal grin that made Damian step back another foot.
“Don’t worry, Detective. If it has its way, they won’t be showing up for any TV special. It’s hungry now.” A blank look crossed Pritchard’s features. It was as if something had reached out and switched him off.
“These fucking people,” Jackson hissed as he turned away from the cell. “I’m going to nail them all!”
Outside the las
t of the lightning and thunder faded from the small valley as the storm worked its way toward the place that was calling the shots—Summer Place.
Gabriel listened to the call from New York and the dire warning from John Lonetree. The rental car was pulled off to the side the road while Julie Reilly made her field report with the assistance of a very disgruntled affiliate team from Philadelphia. Their own field reporter glared from underneath an umbrella. Kennedy could understand the affiliate’s distaste for Reilly; it seemed the UBC woman was used to stealing the spotlight from people. As he watched, he came to the realization that Julie didn’t even know she was doing it. Gabriel didn’t know if that was a factor of her arrogance or if it was from a natural ability to lead. He watched her wrap up the report outside the diner. Maybe she had been climbing the ranks of reporting for so long that she had become insensitive to others trying desperately to do the same thing.
“Well, maybe we should get Leonard to break a few laws and get the information through the historical society database. We can do the same with the New York and Pennsylvania state records on the deaths of the children. Then we can do the research from Summer Place, if need be. I’m inclined to take John’s warning seriously, if he thinks we’re being separated for an attack. Listen, Jason, keep everyone together at the Waldorf, Leonard is the only one allowed out of the hotel to work with the UBC engineers. He needs access to their equipment, but see what you can do about getting a guard on him.”
Gabriel listened and then closed the cell phone. He watched through the misting rain as Julie thanked the UBC affiliate crew. Then he saw Reilly take the frustrated young woman reporter by the arm and walk with her, steering her toward the covered entrance of the diner. It looked as though they were in serious discussion. Julie smiled, and when the Philadelphia reporter lowered the umbrella, she was also smiling. Julie handed her a business card and the younger reporter looked not only grateful, but outright giddy. Julie shook her hand and then made her way back toward the car. Kennedy shook his head as he started the vehicle. Reilly opened the door, tossed her bag inside and then followed, snapping her seatbelt and looking straight ahead. Kennedy watched her a moment before placing the car into gear. The reporter was tired. He could see that much through the dim dashboard lighting.
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