Kill Her Again (A Thriller)

by Robert Gregory Browne

  Pope waited a moment. Then he said, “I’m gonna count backwards now. And as I do, you’ll feel more relaxed than you’ve ever felt before. Are you ready?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay. Five . . . think about your feet; let all of the tightness in them drain away. Four . . . now your legs are relaxing, the muscles loosening up, melting into those clouds. Three . . . concentrate on your stomach and arms now; let the tension go. Two . . . loosen your shoulders, your neck, your head. And one . . . just let yourself float away. . . .”

  Pope gently took hold of Evan’s right wrist and raised his arm slightly. “When I let go, relax your arm and let it float, like it’s on its own separate cloud. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  To Anna’s amazement, when Pope released the arm, it stayed in place. Just seemed to be floating.

  Pope waited another moment, then turned to Anna. “He’s under.”

  “That quick?”

  “Kids are more receptive than adults. Better imaginations. More open-minded.”

  “Except for the arm, he looks like he’s sleeping.”

  “He can hear everything we’re saying, right, Evan?”

  “Uh-huh,” Evan murmured.

  “All we’re dealing with here is an altered state of consciousness. If you’ve ever meditated, you’ve pretty much put yourself into a hypnotic state.”

  “I’m not really a whole grains and falafel kind of girl,” Anna said.

  Pope smiled. “Okay, how about this? You ever fall asleep watching Leno?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know that feeling when you first start to drift off? You’re still aware of what’s he’s saying, you may even be laughing at his jokes, but you feel removed from the whole thing—like you’re detached from the real world?”

  Anna stiffened. Pope had just described what had happened to her in Royer’s car, and at the crime scene this morning—what had been happening to her with increasing frequency ever since she woke up in the hospital.

  Detached from the real world.

  Even when those awful images flooded her brain, she was always vaguely aware of what was going on around her, as if she were trapped between dueling realities.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  She was suddenly aware that Pope was staring at her with those intense eyes. She may as well have been standing there naked.

  She felt flustered. “No, not at all.”

  “You sure? You lost a little color for a moment there.”

  Covering her discomfort with a dismissive flick of the wrist, she said, “Let’s concentrate on Evan.”

  Pope nodded and turned back to the boy. “What do you say, Evan? Shall we concentrate on you?”

  Evan kept his eyes closed. “Okay.”

  “Good. Go ahead and let your arm float back down again.”

  Evan lowered his arm.

  “Now what we’re gonna do,” Pope said, “is help you remember some stuff. If you start to feel uncomfortable, if your body starts to get tight again, just let me know. And don’t worry, Agent McBride will be here the whole time, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good,” Pope said, then looked up at Anna as if asking her for permission to continue.

  Still slightly flustered, Anna had to wonder: Was this really the only way to proceed? Was putting Evan in a trance and risking further trauma truly worth it? Or was it one of those choices you’d look back on with regret?

  None of these questions could be answered, of course. Not by her. Not with her history. Not the shape she was in.

  Detached from the real world.

  The way things were going, she figured she was probably one vision away from basket case.

  Yet despite her reluctance, she quietly nodded.

  10

  “SO YOU LIKE cartoons, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “My cousin Jake and I used to watch a show called Mr. Peabody and Sherman. You heard of it?”

  “It’s on Cartoon Network. Me and Kimmie watch it every time.”

  “Then you know about Mr. Peabody’s Wayback Machine.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, what I want you to do now is pretend that you’ve got a Wayback Machine. But instead of a big one like Mr. Peabody’s, yours looks just like a TV remote and you’re holding it in your hand. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Take a look at it and pay close attention to the buttons. The red one takes you back a hundred years, the green one goes back about ten, but the big blue one is the one that takes you back to yesterday. You see it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Go ahead and give the blue button a push.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now the room is starting to spin—spinning around and around and making your stomach tickle—but in a good way, like the merry-go-round at the playground. Can you feel it?”

  A laugh. “It feels funny.”

  “I’ll bet it does. But don’t worry, it’s not going to spin very long, because you don’t have far to go. And now it’s slowing down, and when it stops completely, you’ll be back at home, yesterday afternoon, right after school, and you’ll feel relaxed and comfortable.” A pause. “Has it stopped yet?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And where are you now?”

  “In the kitchen. Mommy made frosted grams.”

  “Is your mom there with you?”

  “Un-unh. She’s getting ready for work. She told me to put some on a plate and get glasses of milk for me and Kimmie and Tammy. We’re playing Donkey Kong Barrel Blast.”

  “I know Kimmie’s your sister, but who’s Tammy?”

  “She watches us while Mommy’s at work. She’s in high school.”

  “I see. Is it just the four of you in the house? Or is anyone else there?”

  “Just me and Kimmie and Tammy.”

  “Okay. What time does your mom usually go to work?”

  “Right before Batman and Friends. But we’re not gonna watch, ’cuz Tammy wants to play Donkey Kong instead.”

  “Then let’s go forward a little. Look down at your remote again and find the yellow button. The yellow one takes you forward in time, but not too far, just a little skip. You see it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Go ahead and press it once.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now after a quick spin, just a few hours have passed and Batman and Friends has been over for a while. It’s around dinnertime and your mom is at work. Where are you now?”

  A pause. “In my room.”

  “And what are you doing there?”

  “Talking to Tammy.”

  “What about?”

  “She says she’s got a secret she doesn’t want Kimmie to hear.”

  “What kind of secret?”

  “I dunno. She won’t tell me. She says it’s a surprise. But she’s gonna have to break the rules and she doesn’t want Kimmie to cry.”

  “What rules?”

  “When Mommy’s at work, we’re not supposed to leave the house. But Tammy says we have to.”

  “Why? Where does she want to go?”

  “To the rec center. She says there’s somebody there she wants us to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “I dunno. But we’re not supposed to leave and Kimmie’s gonna cry, so Tammy says we have to pretend we’re gonna meet Mommy. We’re not supposed to lie, either, but Tammy says it’s okay if it’s for something good.”

  “How far away is the rec center?”

  “Far. It’s over by Kmart. But Tammy’s gonna drive us. She’s got her license and everything.”

  “Okay. You’re doing great, Evan. Now I want you to look down at your remote again, give the yellow button a press, and take another little jump forward until you’re at the rec center. Can you do that for me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good. So where are you now?”

  “In the gym, watching the big kids play basketball. Tammy bought us Slur
pees.”

  “Is she there?”

  “No. She went to find her friend. She says he’s late.”

  “Do you know her friend’s name?”

  “She called him Rick.”

  “Is he one of the high school boys?”

  “No. Tammy say he’s older.”

  “Older, huh? How much older?”

  “I dunno. But I wish they’d hurry up because Kimmie’s almost finished with her Slurpee and she wants to know where Mommy is.”

  “Okay, let’s go forward again. Push the yellow button and jump ahead a little.”

  “Okay.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “At McDonald’s. Rick took us there in his Mustang.”

  “He drives a Mustang, huh? What color is it?”

  “Black. With an orange flame on the side. It’s really cool.”

  “Are you inside McDonald’s or out in the car?”

  “In the car.”

  “Are Kimmie and Tammy there, too?”

  “No, they went to get burgers and fries.”

  “So it’s just you and Rick, then, huh? What does he look like?”

  “Tall. Really tall. With black hair and a ring in his eyebrow and a tattoo of a dragon on his neck. Him and Tammy were holding hands and kissing and stuff, but he looks like he should be her uncle or something.”

  “Is he Tammy’s boyfriend?”

  “I dunno; I guess so.”

  “Okay. So what are you and Rick doing right now?”

  “Talking.”

  “What about?”

  “All kinds of stuff. Baseball, video games . . .”

  “Anything else?”

  “He says he’s been wanting to see me and Kimmie for a really long time.”

  “Oh? Has he told you why?”

  “Yeah, but I think he might be playing a joke or something. Like April fools.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I dunno. I just do.”

  “You must have a reason.”

  A pause.

  “It’s okay, Evan. Just stay relaxed. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  “If it was true, he’d be kissing Mommy, not Tammy.”

  “If what was true? What did Rick tell you?”

  A longer pause.

  “Evan?”

  “He says he’s . . . He says . . .”

  Another pause.

  “Evan?”

  IT CAME ON without warning.

  Evan uttered a small cry of distress; then suddenly his entire body went rigid.

  “Oh, shit,” Pope said.

  Then the boy began to convulse, bucking violently on the bed, chest heaving, legs kicking.

  McBride moved toward them, face full of alarm.

  “—what’s happening?”

  “Grand mal seizure. He must be epileptic.”

  His breathing uneven and labored, Evan sucked in air, then stopped breathing altogether as foam began to gather at the corners of his mouth, his face darkening.

  Pope reached down and grabbed the boy’s jeans, working to unfasten the button, loosening the waistband as Evan continued to buck and kick, making the task more difficult than it should have been.

  “He’s turning blue,” McBride said.

  “He’ll be fine. We just have to let it run its course.”

  “What about his tongue? Shouldn’t we stick something in his—”

  “No. That’s TV bullshit. Just let him be.”

  Evan let out a loud, shaky breath—some of his color returning—then suddenly sucked in another, uttering short animal-like grunts as his body continued to convulse.

  “We have to do something.”

  “There’s nothing to do,” Pope said. “Trust me. My grandfather was epileptic; I’ve seen this a hundred times.”

  Eyes still shut, mouth foaming, Evan bucked and kicked, his small body violently shaking the bed, reminding Pope of Linda Blair in full possession mode—

  —then, finally, thankfully, the convulsions began to subside until the boy was still.

  Pope quickly turned him on his side, letting the fluids drain from his mouth onto the bedspread. Sweat had formed on Evan’s forehead and McBride crouched next to him and carefully wiped it away with her hand, smoothing his hair back.

  He opened his eyes then and blinked up at them, his voice high and thin and shaky.

  “I want my mommy,” he said, and burst into tears.

  11

  “EVAN HAD A seizure. Looks like epilepsy.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Worthington muttered. His voice sounded as if it were coming through a wire stretched between two tin cans.

  Anna hated cell phones.

  She had considered calling Royer, had known it was proper protocol, but hadn’t felt like dealing with the inevitable headache. She figured she was sparing him one as well.

  Instead, she’d dug out the business card Worthington had slipped her just as she and Evan were climbing into the cruiser, and had called him directly.

  “I’m sure glad we had that medic take a look at him,” Worthington said sourly.

  “It’s not like he was wearing a sign. But Pope told me if he’d known, he never would’ve put him under.”

  “I wouldn’t think so. Is Evan all right?”

  “I’m sure he’s been better. The hotel doctor is checking him over.”

  “Hotel doctor? At the Oasis?”

  “I have a feeling it’s one of Pope’s poker buddies.”

  “Figures,” Worthington said. “What about the session? You have any luck?”

  “Not much, but it may be enough. Turns out the babysitter broke the house rules and took the kids on a surprise field trip. Introduced them to a guy Evan thinks was her boyfriend—only he’s probably twice her age.”

  “That sounds promising. You get a description?”

  “Adult male, first name Rick. Dark hair, eyebrow ring, dragon tattoo on his neck. Drives a black Ford Mustang with a flame on the side.”

  “Should be easy enough to track. I’ll put out an alert and we’ll check with Tammy’s friends, but it doesn’t sound like anyone from around here.”

  Judging by the neighbors who had stood gawking in the street, Anna wasn’t surprised. Ludlow was more Travis Tritt than Tommy Lee.

  Then she remembered the photo on the Fairweathers’ camera and a thought struck her.

  “Didn’t you say the carnival’s still in town?”

  There was a pause on the line, Worthington’s silence filled by an annoying digital static. Then he said, “A carny. I should’ve thought of that. Those lowlifes are always hitting on the high school girls. They’ve got an encampment on a vacant lot next to the campus. If he’s still around, ten to one that’s where we’ll find him.”

  “Whatever you do,” Anna said, “approach with caution. If he’s our guy and he’s got Kimberly with him . . .”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll do a little reconnaissance before we strike. You want to be part of this?”

  Anna felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. “Definitely.”

  “Then you’d better get back here ASAP. We’ll need time to organize, but I don’t want to drag this thing out. Not if there’s a chance the girl’s still alive.”

  “What about Evan?”

  “Sounds like he needs to stay put for a while. Leave him with Danny.”

  Anna looked around the hotel corridor, noting the stained carpet and faded wallpaper. This was no place for a seven-year-old boy.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Worthington said. “I’ll make some calls and get someone from social services out there as soon as possible.”

  “And if Pope objects?”

  “He won’t.”

  “He didn’t seem too thrilled about this whole proposition in the first place. And to be honest, I’m not sure he’s entirely stable.”

  Worthington laughed, but it was a dry one, with little humor attached. “I’ve known Danny Pope for n
early forty years. Considering what he’s been through, he’s about as stable as they come.”

  Anna thought about this and, despite her initial misgivings concerning the entire enterprise, decided Worthington was right. Evan had fallen asleep shortly after his seizure, and social services would probably be out here before he even woke up. It didn’t make much sense to sit around and stare at him.

  There was Kimmie to think about.

  A killer to catch.

  And . . . something more.

  Call it fate, a feeling, just a sliver of intuition, but Anna suddenly felt as if what had happened out here in the desert was somehow related to her visions.

  Was that even possible?

  The onslaught of images that had assaulted her back at the crime scene seemed to have been triggered by the photo of Rita Fairweather and her kids. The Ferris wheel in the background. The house of mirrors. And although she knew, instinctively, that the little girl plaguing that dark corner of her mind was not Kimmie—not even close—there was something synchronistic about those images. About this case.

  Something about it all that just . . . fit.

  She wasn’t sure how—wouldn’t even try to guess why—but she knew that she was meant to be here. Meant to be part of this.

  Thoughts of sideshow psychics once again rose from the back of her brain. Maybe she was psychic after all.

  Or just plain nuts.

  WHEN SHE RETURNED to Pope’s room, the so-called hotel doctor was finishing up his exam. He was an old guy, with rheumy eyes, who smelled faintly of Preparation H and carried the distinct air of a man who, at one time in his career, would have been perfectly comfortable performing backroom abortions.

  “Vital signs are all stable,” he said, rising from the side of the bed. “He’ll be fine in an hour or two. Best thing now is to let him sleep.”

  Stuffing a stethoscope into his black bag, the doctor nodded to Anna and Pope, then headed back to the casino or wherever it was he’d come from. When the door closed behind him, Anna turned and told Pope about the phone call with Worthington, immediately broaching the subject of babysitting.

  Pope balked. Big-time.

  “Do I look like I’m equipped to take care of a kid?” He gestured to their surroundings.

  “Worthington said you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Nice of him to consult me first. But that’s Jake for you. Always trying to keep me engaged. He hasn’t quite accepted the fact that I’m a lost cause.”