by Dinah McCall
He couldn’t get rid of that image—how her eyes had lost focus and then her head had just dropped. He kept thinking of Georgia, and of those five other women. That had happened to them, too. Only they’d gotten some horrible message that had led them to their doom.
Sully wanted to weep. My God…the tragedy of it all. And for what? What the hell had that man done to them that he didn’t want told? And why now? Why wait all these years to start pulling the plugs? Was he afraid of suppressed memories? Was that it? Had he put his hands on their tiny bodies and robbed them of their innocence?
He shuddered. There was something else that had occurred to Sully that he had yet to voice. What if the teacher of that class had been Fontaine himself? It stood to reason. Otherwise, it seemed that the teacher would have been given separate recognition in the school pictures.
He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a Coke. He would have preferred a beer—a good, cold one right out of the bottle—but not now. Not when everything that mattered revolved around keeping Ginny alive.
After deactivating the security alarm, he opened the patio door and walked outside, thought about dropping his shorts and taking a dip in the pool and then discarded the idea. It had been years since he’d swum in the nude. It brought back memories of his childhood—of jumping off the creek bank into the Arkansas River near his home outside Little Rock. He and his brother had been like otters, swimming through the hot Arkansas days. The thought made him homesick. It had been months since he’d talked to Joe. That was stupid. If nothing else, this case had reminded him how very short life could be. He would call him when this was over, if for no other reason than just to say hi. And his mom. Still alive, but not in the ways that counted. She didn’t know anyone anymore. Thank God Dad hadn’t lived to see that happen.
He stared at the water and sat down in the lawn chair instead. As he sat, he heard the crunch of feet on gravel.
Franklin Chee was standing at the side of the house. It would seem it was his turn for night duty.
“Want a Coke?” Sully said. “There’s plenty inside.”
Franklin shook his head. “Caffeine.”
Sully lifted the can in a toasting gesture. “Here’s to quiet nights and solving cases.”
“A good choice of words,” Franklin said.
Sully took a second drink and then set the can down beside his chair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“Tell me about Ginny.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me how that works…the hypnotic suggestion thing. Can it be fixed?”
“Certainly. I could try a variation of it myself, but this is a rather unique case. We have no way of knowing exactly what he did, or how involved the suggestion is. By that, I mean how deeply imbedded it is in her mind. I could wind up doing more harm than good.”
“Then how do we fix her?”
Franklin shrugged, as if the answer was simple. “Find the man. Make him take it away.”
“Jesus,” Sully muttered. “You can’t be serious. We’re looking for a man who’s turned off the faucet on six innocent women, and you expect him to make this thing right? There’s got to be another way.”
“Probably,” Franklin said. “But I’m not qualified. You have to look for answers where you can find them.”
Sully grinned. “Is that some mystic runaround to keep from saying you haven’t got a clue?”
“Yes.”
Sully laughed. The sound caught and carried, moving out past the pool into the desert beyond. In the distance, a coyote stopped in his pursuit of a rat and slunk off into the night, while inside the house, the sound penetrated Ginny’s sleep. She rolled over in bed and realized she was alone.
Uneasy without Sully’s presence, she was halfway out the door when she remembered that Dan was here. Quickly slipping on her nightgown and robe, she moved into the hallway, following the sound of his voice. When she saw he was not alone, she stopped inside the door and moved into the shadows, and as she did, unintentionally heard her name.
They were talking about the case and what had happened to her this afternoon. And why not? It was what they did for a living, but she couldn’t stifle a small sense of betrayal. She tried to remind herself that it wasn’t as if they were talking about her behind her back. She was the reason they were even here. They had to talk about her. Wondering if there was something they were keeping from her, she moved closer to the door to listen.
“Dan’s leaving in the morning, right?” Franklin asked.
Sully nodded. “He faxed that teacher list in to the Bureau before he went to bed. Said the director would put some people on it…try to run down some leads.”
Franklin was silent as Sully finished his Coke, but Sully could tell he had something on his mind.
“What are you thinking?” Sully finally asked.
“They say that you cannot coerce a person to do something under hypnosis that they would not do if they were awake.”
Sully stiffened. “What are you saying? That those women wanted to die? That’s bull, because Georgia Dudley wasn’t like that.”
“I’m just saying that’s what I was taught. And I was also thinking that it would take something very powerful to override the human instinct for survival.”
The word powerful echoed in Sully’s head. Where had he heard that used before? Oh, hell. It was the word Ginny had used to describe the feeling she’d had about the man who’d been their teacher. Powerful. She said she’d had an impression of a large, powerful man.
“She’s in a lot of danger, isn’t she?” Sully said.
Franklin hesitated and then looked over Sully’s shoulder into the house beyond.
“Yes.”
“Got any suggestions?” Sully asked.
“Don’t let her out of your sight.”
The words were still ringing in Sully’s ears as Franklin moved back into guard mode and disappeared around the side of the house.
Ginny was shaking. The words had been faint, but she’d heard them just the same. Danger. It wasn’t as if the concept was new. She’d known it from the moment she’d learned that Georgia was dead. But hearing it said aloud seemed to give it new life. She looked out into the night to the man beside the pool. He had come to mean so much to her, and in such a short time. It wasn’t just because he’d come to save her. She had learned to listen for his footsteps, to appreciate his wit. He made her furious, and he made her laugh, and he could make her come apart in his arms. She was so in love with him that she couldn’t think straight. If she was still alive when this was all over, she was going to make him realize he couldn’t live without her.
Then she sighed. One thing was for certain. If she didn’t do as they said, the chances of that happening were very slim.
Defeated in every fiber of her being, she went back to the bedroom, shed her clothes and crawled back into bed.
A short while later she heard the patio door open, then close. Heard the beep of the security system as it was reset. A few moments later Sully came into the room. The mattress gave as he slipped back in beside her, and when he snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her against his body, she started to cry.
Quietly.
Allowing nothing but tears to escape.
“Okay, guys, here’s the drill,” Dan said, as he readied to leave again. “I’m flying straight to D.C. and getting some clean clothes, and then I’m heading to Florida. The info I got from headquarters this morning tells us that at least four of the teachers on that list have retired to that area. I’ll know more when I get there.”
“Is Edward Fontaine there?”
“He wasn’t on the list I received,” Dan said. “But we’ll find him soon. It’s pretty easy to track down people who draw Social Security checks.”
“What if he’s dead?” Ginny asked.
“Then we’ll ask someone else,” Sully said. “Don’t worry. Dan’s good at his job.”
Ginny leaned against Sully’s
chest, savoring the feel of his arms around her, holding her close.
“You’ll keep us informed?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. You can count on that,” Dan said, and then pointed a finger at Sully. “You keep an eye on her, Dean. Can’t lose someone like her. Who knows when I’ll be wanting some more of those ham and cheese rabbits.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Go find the bad guy and quit picking on my cooking skills.”
Dan laughed and then waved as he boarded the chopper. Sully pulled Ginny back to the porch, shielding her from the blast of rocks and sand as the chopper lifted off. They watched until it was nothing but a speck. Ginny shrugged out of Sully’s arms and turned around.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Crazy,” she muttered. “Want to come?”
Sully laughed and swooped her off her feet as he carried her into the house and shut the door.
“How far do you think we’ll have to go?” he asked, as he swung her around.
Ginny grinned in spite of herself and then thumped him lightly on the arm.
“All the way to the bedroom. After that, I’ll leave the travel plans to you.”
Sully grinned. “You’re all a man could ever want and then some. Won’t talk on the phone. Drives me crazy in bed. Course, there is that one small flaw…but hell, it’s easy to overlook, considering everything else you have to offer.”
She knew she was being set up and still felt compelled to ask.
“Exactly what are you getting at…besides me, of course?”
“Well, honey, I hate to tell you this, but did you know you snore?”
She’d been expecting a crack about her cooking. This took her by surprise.
“Put me down this instant. I don’t snore.”
“Oh…but you do. However, it’s all right. It’s not really noticeable until you snort. But I can get used to it.”
“Get used to it? There’s nothing to get used to. I don’t snore. I would know.”
Sully didn’t crack a smile. “How? You’re asleep when it happens.”
Her cheeks began to burn, and she knew she was blushing. Damn this man four ways to Sunday.
“I don’t snore,” she muttered. “But if I did, a gentleman wouldn’t mention it.”
Sully grinned as he dumped her on the bed and then straddled her legs and began pulling her T-shirt over her head. Before she could think, he had her bra on the floor and her breasts in his hands.
“Now, baby, tell the truth, aren’t you glad I’m not a gentleman?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer.
Lucy took a handful of shirts from the dresser drawer and laid them in the suitcase, carefully smoothing at the fabric, although they were still neatly wrapped from their trip to the cleaners.
“I wish you didn’t have to go again so soon,” she said. “You’ve only been home a couple of days.”
“I know, sweetheart, but it’s my work.”
She pasted a bright smile on her face as she turned. “Of course, and I wouldn’t have it any other way for you. I was being selfish. Forgive me?”
Emile smiled as he put his wallet in his jacket.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Then he looked around the room, making sure he’d left nothing behind.
“Do you have your tickets?” Lucy asked.
“In my briefcase.”
“Did you get extra cash from the ATM this morning when you went out?”
“No. I forgot.”
“Then wait here. I’ll go downstairs to my desk. I keep a little mad money there, you know.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Emile said. “I can use the ATM at the airport.”
“I don’t mind,” Lucy said. “It won’t take a minute. Why don’t you go tell Phillip goodbye while I’m gone?”
“Yes. Good idea,” he said, and followed her out of the room, turning left down the hall as she went to the right.
Frowning at the style and volume of the music being played inside, he knocked twice and then called out.
“Phillip! It’s me. Do you have a minute?”
The door swung inward, and for an instant Emile thought he was looking at a stranger.
“Yeah. What do you want?”
Emile stared. “The music. It’s so loud.”
“That’s the way I like it.”
Emile raised his voice a couple of octaves just to be able to hear the sound of his own words.
“Phillip, is everything all right?”
A cocky grin changed the angles of Phillip’s face. “Oh yeah, Pops, everything’s ducky.”
Taken aback by Phillip’s sarcasm, Emile’s first instinct was to demand an apology, but something told him to hold his tongue.
“I’m leaving for the airport. I came to say goodbye.”
A short bark of laughter preceded another snide remark.
“What else is new? So goodbye. Adios. Sayonara. Hasta la vista, baby.”
The hairs rose on the back of Emile neck. Dear God, who—no, what—was this manner of man? He reached for Phillip’s arm, but his son spun out of the way and danced across the floor toward the stereo that was going full blast.
“Phillip! We have to talk! You must—”
Lucy grabbed him by the arm, pulled him out into the hall and quickly shut the door. Her eyes were wide, almost frightened in appearance, and she had a nervous giggle in her voice he’d never heard before.
“Emile, here’s some cash…almost two hundred dollars. You must hurry or you’re going to miss your plane.”
“Phillip. There’s something wrong with him.”
“Oh no, dear, you must be mistaken. Here, put this cash into your wallet so you won’t lose it.”
“But I’m telling you, he isn’t—”
“It’s all right,” Lucy said. “He’s just tired. He was up all night working on his book. Probably letting off a little steam, don’t you think?”
“No…it was more than that.” He took her by the arms. “You’re not listening to me. It was like looking at a stranger.”
“Then you must stay home more, my dear, if you don’t recognize your own son.”
She kissed him quickly to soften the sting of criticism and then took him by the hand and began dragging him down the hall.
“Now come along. The cab will be here any moment.”
Emile went, but reluctantly, and even as he was getting into the cab, he couldn’t turn loose of the thought that he was leaving a monster alone in the house with his wife.
“Hey, mister…what the hell are you tryin’ to prove? This is my beat, and if there’s any recyclable stuff in there, it’s mine.”
Phillip blinked. There was a very large street person poking him with a stick. He started to laugh at the incongruity of the situation and then realized where he was leaning over a Dumpster. He yanked his hands out quickly, as if he’d stuck them in fire. They were covered in filth. As he looked closer, he realized some of the filth was dried blood. He started to shake.
She was nothing but trash. I just put her where she belonged.
Phillip jerked and then started to moan.
“Oh my God, oh my God, what have you done?”
Does it matter? Does anything matter anymore?
He was afraid to look, but he had to know. He grabbed the edge of the Dumpster and peered in. To his everlasting relief, there was nothing but garbage.
Not in there, stupid. Don’t worry. She’ll never be found.
Suddenly he doubled over and threw up.
The old tramp covered his nose and started to back up.
“Dang it all, mister. Look what you went and done to my alley. I ain’t gonna wade through all that puke for a couple of cans. I’m outta here.”
Phillip was gasping for breath when he finally straightened. With a frantic last look, he stumbled backward a few steps, then spun around and started to run, only to realize as he reached the streets that he didn’t know where he was. He needed to get home.
He needed to clean himself up and try to forget this had happened.
He patted the pockets of his pants, breathing a quick sigh of relief as he felt the ring of keys beneath the fabric. His car. Where had he parked his car? He started walking.
The other way, stupid. You can’t do anything right.
Pivoting sharply, he began walking with long, jerky strides. His fear and frustration carried him three and a half blocks before he realized it was going to be okay. His car! He’d found his car. He bolted out into the street without thinking. The strident blare of a car horn brought him up short, and he jumped back to the curb only seconds away from disaster.
“Watch where you’re going!” the driver shouted, and flipped Phillip off as he sped down the street.
Phillip took a deep breath and this time looked both ways before he bounded across the street. Moments later he slid behind the steering wheel and then quickly locked the doors. The car was littered with an empty whiskey bottle as well as condom wrappers.
“At least I’m not going to die of AIDS,” Phillip muttered, and then started the car and drove away.
By the time he reached home, he had most of his panic under control. He couldn’t let this go on. Something had to be done.
As he pulled in the drive, he noticed that his mother’s car was gone. Good. That would give him time to clean up. Make up some sort of excuse as to why he’d been gone—maybe he could say he’d been doing research for his book. Yes. That was it. That would work. He jumped out on the run, desperate to wash away the filth from his body, and as he did, he wondered how long he’d been gone this time. Curious, he picked up the morning paper as he hurried inside, then breathed a quick sigh of relief. One night. So he hadn’t come home last night. No big deal. He was a man, not a child. He shouldn’t have to check in.
By the time he got to his room, he was running. He opened the door and then stopped in midstride. The room had been trashed. His clothes were in shreds, and his computer was in pieces all over the floor.