"Charlie?" Lyle whispered, his face slack, stricken. "Charlie's dead?"
His features tightened as tears began to slide down his cheeks. He stumbled toward the door but still couldn't enter. He leaned against the resisting air and pounded on silent nothing, sobbing, calling his brother's name.
FRIDAY
1
Jack let Gia sleep in as he got up early, intending to run back to Astoria to see what he could do for Lyle. But a quick listen to the news changed his plans. "The Horror in Astoria" was all over the radio. He flipped on the TV and that was all any of the local newsheads could talk about.
Gia came down in a light yellow terry cloth robe, looking tired and worn but so much better after a shower and some sleep.
He kissed her and held her and said, "I was hoping you'd sleep in."
"I woke up and started thinking about last night." She shuddered against him. "How can I sleep when I remember how Charlie-?" She bit her lip and shook her head. Then she looked up at him and touched his throat. "This still looks sore. And that eye..."
"I'll be fine."
He'd told her about trading Bellitto for her and Charlie and how one of Bellitto's friends had tried to choke him, but had decided against mentioning the fax that had targeted Vicky. She'd already had enough shocks to her system.
She stiffened and pointed to the TV. "Say, isn't that-?"
"Yeah. Menelaus Manor. Looks like Lyle called the cops."
Jack surfed from channel to channel until he found a newshead with the good grace to summarize the developing story.
"For those of you just tuning in, here's what we know so far. At 1:37 A.M. this morning the police received an emergency call from Lyle Kenton, owner of the house in Astoria you see pictured here, saying that he'd returned home after a night out to find his brother Charles dead in a ditch they'd been digging in their cellar. The ditch had apparently collapsed and smothered him.
"Why were they digging a ditch in their cellar?" you ask. Good question. Here's where the story veers into the Twilight Zone. Lyle Kenton claims to be a spirit medium who 'practices' under the name Ifasen. He states he and his brother were contacted by a spirit who called herself 'Tara Portman' and claimed she had been murdered and buried in the basement by a previous owner. For the past few days, Lyle and Charles had been digging up the cellar, trying to find her remains. Last night their excavation collapsed, trapping Charles. When the police arrived, Lyle had dug his brother out but it was too late.
"If that were the whole story it would be sensational enough. But it gets stranger. The police did a little digging themselves and have so far unearthed the skeletons of two children. They are looking for more."
"em>The police want to make it very clear that Mr. Kenton is not a suspect. He has lived in the house less than a year and the remains found in the cellar so far appear to have been there much longer."/p>
"Back to you, Chet..."
Jack surfed on, looking for mention of Eli Bellitto, but his name never came up. Where was he? What had Tara done with him? He hoped it hadn't ended quickly for him.
He clicked off the set. "The barrier must have come down some time after we left."
"Poor Lyle," Gia said. "I feel so bad that we left him to deal with this alone."
The three of them had waited together for the barrier to fall, but after an hour or so, Gia started to get the chills and shakes. Jack had needed to get her home and offered Lyle a bed for the night. Lyle told them go, he'd wait here. Jack promised to come back in the morning.
"Alone is the only way he can deal with it. We can't show our faces-at least I can't. And no reason you should. We can't add anything."
"We could be there for him. He and his brother seemed so close."
"They had their differences, I can tell you that, but there was a bond there, beyond blood. They'd been through a lot together."
"I'm glad he called in the police, though. They'll find the rest of the bodies. Then the families of those poor children will be able to bury what's left of them and have some closure."
Her gaze seemed to drift.
"Thinking of Tara's father?"
She nodded. "I wonder if burying Tara will change things for him and his son." She sighed. "Somehow I doubt it. I think they've been pushed too far off track to get back on."
"I've got an idea," Jack said. "Why don't we get out of town, say, drive up to Monticello and visit Vicky at camp?"
"But she's coming home tomorrow."
Jack knew that, but from the brightening of Gia's expression he could tell she loved the idea. After her ordeal with Tara, seeing her little girl would be just the tonic she needed.
"Even better. You and I can find a motel, stay over tonight, take her out for breakfast in the morning at this neat old-fashioned diner I know, then we'll drive her back ourselves. It'll be fun."
Gia smiled. "Okay. I think I'd like that. When do we leave?"
Jack repressed a sigh of relief. He'd been looking for a way to get up to Vicky's camp without alarming Gia. This was it. Last night, when Gia was in the shower, he'd made a couple of calls, one of them an anonymous tip to the camp warning them that one of the children-he didn't name the child-was in danger of being abducted in a custody dispute. He placed the same call to the Monticello police department, suggesting extra patrols around the camp.
With its leader dead, Bellitto's circle was a snake without a head. But even so, it wasn't enough for Jack. He wouldn't rest easy until he'd seen Vicky and placed her under his protection.
Gia too. She'd told Jack what Tara had said: It wants you dead. Who knew if Tara was telling the truth, but Jack had to assume she was. "It" could only mean the Otherness. What was it trying to do? Wipe out everyone he cared about?
That gut-wrenching thought had kept him awake most of the night. How do you fight something you can't see, that works so far behind the scenes you can never reach it?
The only thing he could think of was to circle the wagons and keep Gia and Vicky close by.
"You pack up some things while I run a few errands, and we'll get going soon as I get back. Make a day of it."
"What kind of errands?" she said, serious again.
"Just a stop by Julio's. Need to check out something with one of the regulars."
2
Jack sipped coffee at the bar and watched the TV while he waited for Barney to show. He'd put on a gray turtleneck to hide the bruises on his throat and wore sunglasses despite the bar's dim interior. Made it hard to see what was happening on the TV. Everyone around him, including Julio, was glued to the on-the-scene reports from what was being called "the house of horror."
He thought about Lyle and wondered how he was dealing with his brother's death. It left him alone for the first time in his life. Jack knew alone. He'd handled it, but he probably had a better tolerance for it than others. He wondered about Lyle's tolerance. He was tough. He'd done all right last night. Hadn't liked it, but he'd hung in there.
He'd be all right.
Bellitto. Lots more questions about him beyond where the hell he was.
Hell... yeah, if it existed, he'd be a charter member.
He'd said he was hundreds of years old and didn't seem to be lying. Could that be true? Not likely. Maybe he'd just thought he was telling the truth. Told himself he was that old for so long he'd come to believe it.
Still, Jack wondered where Tara had taken him. Down through the dirt and into the fault line? Someplace where she could toy with him for the longest time without being disturbed?
That was all right with Jack. The longer the better.
And then the question of Edward, Eli's ersatz brother. Early last night Jack had wanted to wring his neck; by the end of the evening he'd wanted to thank him. If Edward hadn't put him onto Eli, Adrian might have got to Vicky...
His mind refused to go there.
A familiar face popped through the door then and bellied up to the bar about three stools down.
"Barney!" Jack called, wa
ving. "Sit over here. I'll buy you one."
Barney grinned and hurried over. "Never turn down a man who's in a buying mood, I always say."
He'd just got off work and needed a shave. The essence of his grimy Willie Nelson T-shirt gave advance notice of his approach and he had pretty much the quantity and quality of teeth you'd expect in a Willie fan.
"What're you having?"
"A shot of Johnny Walker Red and a pint of Heinie."
Jack nodded to Julio who laughed. "Ay, meng, what happen to your usual of Smuggler an' eight-ounce Bud."
"That's when I'm buying." Barney turned to Jack. "To what do I owe this generosity?"
"Julio tells me you recognized an older gent dropping off an envelope for me the other day."
Barney took a quick sip of his Scotch. "That was no gent, that was a priest."
Jack hadn't been expecting that one. "You mean as in Catholic priest."
"Right. That was Father Ed from St. Joseph's. You thinking of converting, Jack?"
"Not this month." Ed... well at least he hadn't lied about his first name. "You're sure it was this priest?"
"Course I'm sure. St. Joe's was my church back when I used to live down in Alphabet City. Father Edward Halloran's the pastor. Least he used to be. You mean you don't know who he is and he's leaving an envelope for you?" Grinning he lowered his voice and leaned closer. "What was it? A message from the Vatican? The Pope got a problem he needs fixed?"
Jack gave him a hard look. "How'd you know? You been reading my mail?"
Barney stiffened. "Hey, no, Jack. I wouldn't-" He stopped, then broke into another spotty grin. "You rat! Almost had me there!"
Jack slipped off the stool and clapped Barney on the back. "Thanks for the tip, my man." He waved to Julio. "Another round for Barney on my tab."
"Hey, thanks, Jack. You oughta stick around so I can buy you one."
"Some other time. Barn. Gotta go to church."
3
Jack found St. Joseph's church on a Lower East Side street, mid block between rows of sagging tenements. He took an immediate liking to the old Gothic, granite-block building with her twin crocketed spires and large rose window. Could have done with a good power washing though. A convent sat to her left, the smaller rectory to the right.
Jack knocked on the rectory door. A thin elderly woman in a smudged apron answered. When he asked to see Father Ed she tried to tell him that he didn't have any appointments till the afternoon. Refusing to be put off he said to tell the good father that Jack-just Jack-was here.
That did the trick.
Father Edward Halloran-the Edward who'd hired Jack to watch his "brother" Eli-greeted him in his cramped little office with a mixture of warmth and wariness.
"I should have known you'd be finding me," he said as he offered his hand.
Jack shook it, not exactly sure what he was feeling. Looking at Edward in his Roman collar and hearing that thick brogue, he felt as if he'd walked onto the set of Going My Way. Any moment now Bing Crosby would waltz through the door. Still he'd lied to Jack. Big time.
"I thought priests were supposed to tell the truth."
"They are." The little man slipped behind his desk and pointed to a chair for Jack. "And I did."
Jack remained standing. "You told me your last name was Bellitto, Father Halloran."
"Never. Those words never passed me lips."
"You said Eli Bellitto was your brother. Same thing."
Father Ed gave him a cherubic smile. "The Lord says all men are brothers, don't you know."
"Can we cut the word games?" Jack leaned on the desk and stared at the priest. "I'm not here to cause you trouble. I just want to know what this was all about. How did you know Eli Bellitto was going to snatch a kid?"
Father Ed glanced past Jack, as if to make sure the door was closed, then sighed. He swiveled in his seat and stared off to his left.
"He told me."
"Why? Did you know him?"
The priest's head snapped around. " 'Did'?"
"Let's not get into that. Why did he tell you?"
"I don't know. Last Saturday I was hearing confessions next door when this man enters the booth and starts telling me he has killed hundreds of children and wants absolution."
"You believed him?"
The priest shrugged. "One is after hearing many strange things in the confessional. I took him on his word and told him to receive absolution he must be turning himself in to the authorities. He laughed and said he couldn't do that. In fact, he was going to kill another child in the following week under the dark of the moon. And then he left."
"How did you know he was Eli Bellitto?"
"I followed him," he said, looking a little ashamed. "I didn't know if he was deluded or telling the truth. Either way he was certainly daft. I left the confessional, removed my collar, and trailed him to his store. It wasn't far. But as I stood outside his shop I thought of a third possibility: perhaps he was after having some grudge against the church and trying to see if he could make a priest compromise the holy privilege of the Sacrament of Confession. I needed a way of protecting the Church and protecting any child he might harm. I thought of you."
"Me? How does a priest even know about me?"
"One of my parishioners once confessed to me about hiring you."
"Confessed? You mean I'm a sin?" Jack didn't know whether to be offended or pleased. "Who was it?"
"I can't be telling you that, of course."
"Oh, yeah. I guess not."
He decided being a sin was kind of cool.
"Someone was after being hurt as a result of my parishioner hiring you and the lad was afraid he'd sinned. So anyway, I went and bought one of those little disposable cameras and took Mr. Bellitto's picture when he came out. I learned what I could about him-not much, I'm afraid-then called you." Father Ed leaned forward. "Tell me now, would it be true what he said about killing children?"
"It would be," Jack said. "I don't know about the hundreds he told you about, but yeah, more than one. Many more."
Father Ed gasped and crossed himself. "Saints preserve us."
"You hear about that house in Astoria this morning? He was part of that."
"Then I did the right thing. But why was he telling me? Why did he confess?"
"Arrogance, I guess. He kept trophies from his victims on display in his shop. I gather he thought he was some sort of superior being and liked to flaunt it."
"Hubris." The priest shook his head. "Sometimes we can be thankful for it, I suppose." He glanced at Jack. "And where would Mr. Bellitto be now?"
"Gone."
"Gone where?"
"Not sure. Just... gone. And don't worry. He won't be coming back. Ever."
Father Ed took a deep breath. "Like my parishioner, I'm feeling I might have a need to confess. Would that be true?"
Jack shrugged. "Not my call."
"How about you? Would you be needing to confess?"
"I don't think so. I had it on the authority of a good man that I was doing God's work."
EPILOGUE
When Jack arrived at Menelaus Manor two weeks later, Lyle was in the yard watching a landscaper replace the dead foundation plantings. He greeted Jack warmly with a two-handed handshake.
"Jack, how are you? Come on in."
Jack followed him inside to the kitchen where Lyle popped the tops on a couple of Miller Genuine Drafts.
Jack lifted his can. "To Charlie."
He'd died saving Gia's life. Jack would be drinking toasts to him indefinitely.
"Amen to that." After each took a long pull, Lyle said, "How's Gia?"
"Still shaken up, but she's handling it. Having Vicky back has helped a lot."
"And the baby?"
Jack grinned. "Fine."
Gia had had a sonogram two days ago. Too early to tell the sex, but everything was as it should be. What a relief that had been.
But he still hadn't figured out how he was going to become the baby's legal father.<
br />
"I'm really glad you could come over, Jack."
"Glad to make it." He meant that. "Would have been by sooner but for all the company you've had."
In the weeks since Charlie's death, the police, using some sort of ground sonar, had recovered eight bodies from the cellar. They were sure they'd found them all. Sweeps of the surrounding grounds had yielded nothing.
Lyle smiled. "Yeah, well, the cops finished up. At last. I've finally got my house back."
"Not that you would've been home much anyway."
During the past week Lyle had been a ubiquitous presence on the tube. Every talk show, from Today and GMA in the morning to Oprah in the afternoon, to the Rose-Leno-Letterman-O'Brien axis at night, had had him on.
"Yeah, I guess I've been doing a bit of traveling, haven't I."
"You're good on the tube." True. Came across as a very personable, likable guy. "You ought to have your own show."
He laughed. "Been offered two already." His smile faded. "But I might have to broadcast from jail if they link me to Adrian Minkin."
Minkin's body had been found the following day when clerks from Bellitto's store came looking for him.
"They won't. We left that place clean."
Lyle shook his head. "What a night. I still can't believe I was there. Did you hear the latest? Eli Bellitto is a possible suspect."
"Speaking of Eli," Jack said. "Where is he?"
"I have no idea. Not a trace of him in the house."
"So he just vanished, body and all?"
"Tara has him."
Jack was struck by the certainty in his tone.
"Hope she's having fun with him."
Lyle nodded. "She is. Oh, she is."
Again that certainty. "How about visits from Tara?"
"Not a one. She's gone for good." Lyle frowned. "But Bellitto's circle of child killers is still around. I wish there was a way to give them a share of their leader's fate."
"I've taken care of that," Jack said.
"How?"
"Made a call that night to a pair of brothers I know." The Mikulski brothers. Jack saw no reason Lyle needed to know their name. "Told them Bellitto's address and that I'd left the door open. They called me the next day. Said they paid a visit, went through his files, stole his computer's hard drive. Lots of interesting stuff there, including names and addresses of Eli's ring."
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