She turned down a side street, where porch swings jittered nervously above sagging floorboards.
Under the concrete timbers of the highway overpass. Garbage littered along the ramps leading up to dark and sullied corners. Random graffiti courtesy of random taggers, local gangs, and the familiar name of the man who had ruled Verona all summer long.
Heading downtown, that strange wind continued to blow as Jessica made her way to Southland.
When she walked in, Jessica almost expected to find Eli yucking it up with a group of rich losers. Beers meeting in a brotherly toast, even as he schemed to take every last dime from their pockets.
But the reality of it was that Charlie had been shot through the chest.
Eli was on the run, a statutory rapist whose double life Jessica had blown to pieces.
Nothing but ghosts now, seated under the red glow of an empty bar.
She casually waved to the bartender and made for the rest rooms. The truncated hallway leading to the smoke-free section was decorated with vintage Lucky Strike ads from the mid-fifties. Pink, grinning faces enthusiastically reminding her to be happy-go-Lucky!
The back door lead out to a one-way street, where an unmarked van awaited her arrival.
Jessica slid the door open and stepped in.
Against the far side, a small shelf was set up with dual monitors and some wireless recording equipment. Most of the space was dedicated to the comfort of seven or so officers crammed inside. Padded chairs, wheels stripped from the pedestals. There was even a cheap mattress laid out on the floor, in case someone needed to take a rest.
At the moment, neither Randal, Donahue, nor any of their team were ready to stretch out. They sat Jessica down and ordered the driver to get going. The van started up, floor wobbling against the wheels as they pulled away.
“You think anyone followed you?” Donahue asked.
“Not as far as I can tell.”
“Got to admit it Jessica, you got me more paranoid than I’ve been in a good long while.”
“Excellent.”
“You got what you’re going to be wearing?”
Jessica nodded. Unzipped her book bag and took out a white dress shirt.
Donahue opened a small, metallic briefcase and removed a wireless microphone, clip-on receiver no larger than a pager, and her earpiece; a small, milk-chocolate disk, width of a thimble. He closed the case and carefully laid them out on its surface, body bobbing along as the van took a sharp right.
“Gentlemen,” Donahue declared. “Eyes to the front of the vehicle, please.”
Randal and the rest did as they were told.
“Your shirt, please, Jessica.”
Jessica took off the tank top and folded it into her bag.
Donahue picked up the microphone and reached between Jessica’s breasts. Clipped the microphone to her bra. Adjusted it a few times, never more than a couple of millimeters in each direction. He reached behind her and clipped the receiver to her belt. “Ordinarily, we don’t use this. In your case, we thought you’d like the option of breaking transmission, in case you need any privacy…” Satisfied with his work, he motioned for her to get dressed.
Jessica slipped on the dress shirt. Buttoned up, amazed to find she could hardly feel the bug nestled against her chest.
“And Jessica is officially decent,” Donahue announced.
“Officially out of her mind, if you ask me,” Randal said.
“Ain’t nobody asking you,” Jessica said. “But I think it’s sweet you’re worried.”
“Let’s get some levels,” Donahue called out. He smiled thinly at Jessica. “Randal ain’t the only one worried. I really wish we could have some of our guys in the hotel. In the stairwell, hallway. Shit, anyone of the rooms on that floor.”
“If wishes were horses then beggars would ride. You can’t just have a bunch of cops roaming around, even undercover. If Angry Jonny even suspects I’m onto him, that’s the ball game. Besides, considering how he was even able to find out I’d be staying there… who’s to say he doesn’t work at the hotel?”
“I still think we should’ve asked Chaucer to give up his room for the evening. The man is right next door to you, might end up making all the difference.”
“I told you, I don’t trust him… And it’s not like Angry Jonny’s going to come into my room, guns a-blazing. He’s going to sneak in. Whether it’s through the front or through one of the neighboring rooms.”
“Or up through the balcony.” Donahue said, taking hold of Jessica’s head and placing the soft, plastic disk next to her ear. Stuck like a Band-Aid. “Maybe drop in real quick from the room above, you never know.”
“Well, on the off chance he’s changed his name to Goofy Jonny, you’ll have a couple of guys posted on the edge of the golf course. At the tree line, right? Besides, it doesn’t matter how he gets in. He’ll think I’m sound asleep, and he will take soft steps to make sure I stay that way.”
“Everyone quiet!” Donahue went to the monitoring station, steps uneven as the van continued to bounce along. Donahue threw on a headset. Brought the microphone to his mouth and motioned for Jessica to cover her right ear. Held down a button on the console. “So Angry Jonny’s going to take his time those ten feet across the room to your bedside. That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
Jessica felt his voice coming in loud and clear through the microphone. She replied in a regular speaking voice. “The instant I see him, I’ll mumble the catch word.”
“Which is, one more time?”
“Caterwaul. That should give you all plenty of time to come get to me. I don’t care if he does manage to put me under. When I wake up, you’ll have him cuffed, and this will all be over...” Jessica allowed a smile to surface. “How’s that sound?”
Donahue gave the thumbs up. Took off his headset. “We almost there?”
The driver called out an affirmative.
“Alright, then…” Donahue sat himself back down before Jessica. “After we drop you off at the parking deck, I want you walking straight to the Prescott Pantheon. Like Red Riding Hood to grandma’s, got it?”
“Got it.”
“We’ll be in the neighboring parking lot of the Pantheon Faculty Club. At eleven, I’m sending in a couple of FBI agents into the bar for nightcaps. Undercover. Female detail, nobody ever figures them for cops. Come eleven-thirty, I don’t care how scared it gets him, we’re moving the van next to the dumpsters out back.”
“And I’ll be snug under the covers,” Jessica added as the van came to a halt. “Counting sacrificial sheep.”
“Not sure if the joke plays.”
“Not sure it matters…” She stood, picked up her book bag. Gave Donahue a tiny wave. “Guess I’ll see you at the end of the world.”
Donahue didn’t crack a smile. “It’s not too late to turn back.”
“It most certainly is, Detective.”
“I’ll be reminding you of how wrong you are over the course of the evening. Good luck, Jessica.”
“Good luck,” Randal added.
Jessica slid the door open, hopped out into the same deck where Eli had parked his car on the Fourth of July. Nobody in sight as she walked away. The van backed out, speeding up the ramp and around a corner. She looked out from level three, over the treetops of East Campus. A sea of green rippled beneath a pale, flattened cloud cover obscuring the sun.
“Soon,” Jessica promised.
A single, whispered word, lost to the wind.
Chapter 70: Dinner and a Movie.
7:10 pm.
Jessica checked in, got her key.
Slipped it into her pocket, then headed for the elevators.
It was a quick ride, enough time for Jessica to try out her new equipment.
“You guys there yet?”
Without so much as a static pop, she heard Donahue in her ear. “Yeah. We saw you walk in.”
“Just checking out how these things work in the elevator.”
“Top of the line.”
Jessica headed down the hallway, key at the ready. She stopped before Chaucer’s door and knocked.
“What was that?” Donahue asked.
“Just thought I’d run another test,” Jessica said, satisfied that Chaucer was out for the evening. “Glad to hear you picked it up.”
She entered room 213 and closed the door behind her.
Breathed in the virgin scent of a spotless room. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t get too comfy...” Donahue wasn’t wasting time, guiding her through preparations. “Search the bathroom, shower and closet. Check under the bed. Don’t say another word until I’m convinced.”
Jessica did as she was told, reported back with the all-clear.
“OK, good… Come eleven-thirty, it’s going to be dark in there, so give me the layout. What’s in relation to what?”
With a ghostly light streaming through the windows, Jessica kept it concise. “Bed in the middle of the right wall. Night table on either side…”
Jessica glanced down, found a complimentary copy of the New York Times and Verona Observer staring back up at her.
Front page story revealing the DNA connection between Eli Messner and Dr. Lazenby.
Kept on giving them the schematics. “Window leading out to the balcony on the far wall. Got a desk and chair to the right of that. Closet in the far-left corner. Dresser opposite the foot of the bed. Two-door cabinet on top, television inside. Next to that, the door to room 214…”
“Check and make sure it’s locked.”
Jessica opened door 213. Found the duct tape sticking out from around the latch of Chaucer’s door. Gave it a gentle push. Just a crack, beyond which Jessica could see the empty room beyond.
“Alright,” she reported, quietly closing her own door. “It’s locked.”
“Head on out to the balcony.”
Jessica swept the embroidered lace curtains aside.
She stepped out and surveyed her kingdom. Even with the weather turning ugly, the golfers had stuck to their game. Jessica glanced down. A blue awning stretched from one end of the building to the other. Below that, she could hear the restaurant staff clearing the outdoor seating for the evening.
“All right, looks good,” Donahue told her.
“I thought you were in the van.” Jessica came back in, drew the translucent curtains shut.
“The rest of the team’s on a different channel,” Donahue explained. “Don’t worry, though. They can all hear you.”
“Excellent.” Jessica reached into her book bag and took out her heels, sweatpants. She pulled out the shopping bag and crept stealthily into Chaucer’s room. “How’s the activity in the surrounding units look?”
“Hang on…”
Jessica walked in a low crouch across 214. Chaucer had left the lights off, lace curtains drawn. She crossed into the bathroom and knelt down by the wastebasket. She pulled the cheap lining out of place, laid the shopping bag to rest against the bottom. She replaced the lining. Shuffled its contents around just as Donahue came back on the horn.
“Too early to tell who’s home and who’s not… No lights yet, but it’s only seven-thirty.”
Jessica scuttled back across Chaucer’s room and into 213. “So it looks like I’m all set.”
“Looks like. Though the day’s getting nasty.”
“Strange wind.”
“Feels like tornado weather.” Donahue sighed. “It’s not too late to turn back…”
“Let’s not worry about it.”
“All right, I’m going to leave you alone for a bit… When’s your reservation?”
“Eight-fifteen…” Jessica withdrew her laptop, extracted the housekeeping outfit and placed it under the bed. “Condemned woman getting one last meal and all that.”
“Do us all a favor and stop with the jokes.”
“You haven’t heard the best of it…” She took her toiletries and headed for the bathroom. “Ten o’ clock, I’m going to kick back and watch a movie on TCM… Can you guess what it is?”
“Don’t want to know. Just finish washing up and enjoy your dinner.”
Jessica paused. “How can you tell I’m in the bathroom?”
“Acoustics.”
“Look at you. Keep up the good work, and you’ll make captain someday.”
“Goodbye, Miss Kincaid.”
Jessica waved at the mirror and turned the faucet on.
Splashed warm water on her face, careful not to send any drops down her neck and onto the microphone. The board was set up. Pieces all in place.
Now it was just a matter of how it would all play out.
***
Jessica worked her way through dinner with methodic bites.
The food was not entirely without taste. There was no discord between her mouth and mind. It was her mind’s relationship with reality that seemed to be suffering. Accepting the upscale flavors, but never fully processing them. Like reading a recipe off an eye chart.
She choked it all down with three refills of tonic water.
All the while staring across the room. Not the least bit worried that Jerome Keanen would notice her sandpapered eyes, sense his complete objectification. He was a man of habits. Too preoccupied with his iPhone to take a look around. Tearing into his finely tailored meal, bored with the knowledge that there would be so many just like it until his dying day.
Jessica took two trips to the bathroom.
Passed by Jerome’s table each time, checking for any signs that he might not be going directly to bed after dinner. Didn’t catch anything definitive. But the mismanaged slur of his lips was good enough. The promise of an early bedtime. Out cold till the sun woke up to catch him crying.
For dessert she had a virgin strawberry daiquiri.
Munched on the crushed ice as Jerome signed for the meal.
Jessica watched him depart, shoulders slouched like a fat, velveteen rabbit.
She checked the time on her phone.
9:20 pm.
Jessica flagged her server, some newbie she had never seen before. “Can I get the check, please…? I’m hoping to catch a movie.”
She turned off her phone, tipped forty dollars, and headed upstairs.
Chapter 71: A Boy’s Best Friend.
She announced her return at nine-thirty on the spot.
There was Donahue, resting comfortably in her ear, requesting another check of the premises.
Jessica entered the bathroom, turned on the light. No killer in the shower. Back in the bedroom, no boogieman in the closet. Nothing under the bed but the folded housekeeping uniform, which she placed on the comforter before going to the window. She parted the curtains just enough to cast her dim outline over the dark and abandoned golf course. Closed them again and got to work.
With the light from the bathroom keeping her affairs secret, Jessica kicked off her heels. Ducked into the bathroom and slipped on the housekeeping outfit. Loose-fitting slacks first. Then, with as much care as possible, she put on the mulch-colored shirt. Glad to find that the extra size hung just loosely enough, topped it off with a gray vest. She ran the water for a few seconds, validating her reasons for visiting. Left the bathroom light on as she entered the bedroom.
“Hey, Detective. What’s the good word on the weather out there?”
“Nothing good about it.” Donahue replied, seemingly unaware that Jessica was now wearing an extra layer of clothes. “There’s a tornado watch in effect just a couple counties away.”
“How are your boys out in the woods?”
“Getting pelted. Might have to draw them back if it gets any worse.”
“I can guarantee you, Angry Jonny ain’t coming in through the windows,” Jessica said. She pulled out the iPod and cued it up. Slipped it into the pocket of her borrowed uniform. “Everything’s going to be fine. Our movie should be starting in another twenty minutes.”
“Dare I ask what it is?”
“You and the cavalry can have a little contest…” Jessica gave the headphone wires plenty of slack, then slipped the white ear buds down her white dress shirt. Carefully wound them up through the under-wiring of her bra, pining each a couple of inches away from the microphone. “Whoever guesses first gets a free drink on me after we do this thing. Maybe even a body shot for one of your boys.”
“Quit messing with our head,” Donahue snapped. “Just keep yourself entertained until then.”
Jessica’s laptop was lying on the floor, begging for attention.
“Yeah, I’m just going to mess around online for a bit…” She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her computer. “Guess I’ll let you all chat ‘till then.”
“Well, I’d very much like that.”
“Until ten, then.”
Jessica opened her computer. Let the glow wash over her as she lay on the bed. Checked her email. Nothing. Checked Facebook. Her friend list now down to Dinah and Malik.
Malik.
Jessica reached out with her foot, snagged a book bag strap.
Removed the flash drive. Held it close to her face, as though trying to remember what the hell it was. Not that she didn’t. Like everything else, Jessica simply found herself wondering if it even mattered anymore.
There was a fast, loud rap against her window.
Jessica jumped. Fist balled around the flash drive.
Outside, the wind continued to supply excited testimony.
She stuck the flash drive into the USB port.
Benjamin had done her well, and the window popped up with no added password prompt.
Along with the folder she had pilfered from Malik’s desktop, she found two others; PICTURES and CHRONICLES.
Jessica clicked on CHRONICLES. Within that, there were several sub folders, each one labeled with the month and year. She thought back to her talk with Malik’s father, the fatalism of a simple decree.
Oh-eight was a mighty bad year for us, as you know.
Well, she was sure to know soon enough.
Jessica clicked on a folder reading JAN ’08.
Surprised to find not one document, but a series of Word files. One for each day of the month. Jessica clicked on the first one, unimaginatively titled 01/01/08.
Angry Jonny Page 41