by B. V. Lawson
With one last look at Tara to make sure she was safe, he took a deep breath and headed into the warehouse, fighting off nausea. No time to analyze whether it was ketamine-leftovers or the nightmarish memory of another burning building that almost claimed a different girl’s life just months ago. He’d hoped he would never have to duck into a blazing inferno again.
He heard a scream that made him understand what “bloodcurdling” really meant, as it set off an explosion of black-and-burlap daggers in his brain. It must be Gilbow. But when Drayco stepped into the main room, Gilbow wasn’t making any noise at all. He was standing upright, his arms outstretched and waving around—right in the middle of the spreading fire pit as the flames turned his long white robe into a very effective wick. The man was on fire from head to toe.
As if in slow motion, every detail in the room stood out in razor-sharp relief. Drayco looked around for a hose, a bucket of water, a fire extinguisher, a rug, anything he could use to help the burning man. Other than a few small puddles from rainwater seeping through cracked windows and boards, there was nothing. Not that it would matter at this point. It was simply too late.
Gilbow somehow fixed his eyes on Drayco’s, and in that lifetime of a moment, Drayco saw what the man was asking. He remembered the promise he’d made to Gilbow in a plane flying across a whole body of water—if it’s within my power to prevent it, I will. At the same time, in the back of his mind, he heard Troy Jaffray quoting the Buddha, “Mercy and killing can never go together.”
Drayco ran toward the spot where he’d spied his gun earlier and grabbed it. With a calm and steady hand, he raised the gun, aimed for the T-box zone on Gilbow’s forehead, and shot him straight between the eyes.
He released the breath he’d been holding. Now that he was inhaling smoke, his eyes began to water, and he started to cough. He ran as fast as he could toward the door, almost colliding with Nelia, who’d poked her head inside to check on him.
When they were both clear of the building, he saw several things at once. Tara was free, and the EMTs and Sarg were checking on her. Adele was in handcuffs and being loaded into a police car. Firefighters mustered their gear to tackle the inferno.
And Nelia was staring at him. She’d seen the shot, and the confusion and disappointment on her face were clear. Without a word, she turned away.
47
Drayco sat in a part of the hospital that was empty due to remodeling. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but alone he was. After the EMTs had given him some oxygen on-site, he’d refused any additional treatment, allowing Nelia to drive the two of them to the hospital. That was a long, silent drive. But at least Nelia was unhurt.
This corner of the building had rainbow window coverings that stood out against the brown-and-beige institutional design, doing their best to apologize for the impersonal drabness. He didn’t glance up as steps echoed on the painted concrete floor until they stopped and headed in his direction. Drayco turned to the man standing next to him.
“Yo, FBI dude. Fancy meeting you here.” A shiny new cast graced the arm of Elvis Loomis.
Drayco pointed to the cast. “How did you do that?”
“Was packing up a few things. Fell over a box. Landed right on the old funny bone.”
“Packing? You’re moving to new digs?”
Elvis scratched his cast and grimaced. “They told me it might itch. Didn’t think it would happen so soon.”
“A long pencil or back-scratcher will help.”
“The voice of experience. I’ll try that. Don’t know ’bout the new digs. Depends.”
Drayco was too tired to play guessing games. “Depends?”
“On whether the state of Californ-eye-ay throws me out.”
Elvis’ news was another shock to add to Drayco’s day. “What about Happy?”
“Happy’s one of the reasons I’m splitting. That play of hers at Signature? It’s heading to Broadway. Not much left for me here, nope nope.”
“Your son, then?”
“You remembered that? Yep, that’s my other reason. Don’t know what kind of father I’ll make, but can’t do worse than my old man. I’m pretty good with a baseball. Was pitcher on my high school team. At least I can teach him how to throw.”
“It’s a start.”
“And a good place to start over. I hope.” Elvis bounced on his feet. “Gotta hurry back. Happy’ll throw out my things if I don’t. Good seeing you, G-man.”
Drayco waved a hand at Elvis as the man hurried away. He closed his eyes, enjoying the silence again, and tried to suppress the image of Gilbow on fire. Had he imagined the brief flash of gratitude in those eyes before he ended the man’s living hell? Those images would sneak into his dreams tonight. And the next night.
He settled down into the beigeness, with the silence and the lack of colors. His trance was broken once more when Sarg dropped into the chair beside him. “Thought I’d come down and see how you’re doing. Elaine’s with Tara. She’s awake now, and they’re not going to keep her overnight. She’s already demanding I make her one of my spinach-feta pizzas.”
Drayco smiled at that. “With the smoked bacon?”
“She always wants one on her birthdays, too.” Sarg looked around the room. “Deputy Tyler?”
“She took a taxi to my place to pick up her car. Her husband called. He’s having one of his spells. Just as well—she’ll be much safer back home.” Safer from crime if not her husband. Who are you kidding? You’re the one who’s safer with her far away.
Sarg folded his arms behind his head. “I like her. Tough, quick-thinking, sense of humor, easy on the eyes.”
“She’s tough, all right.” One of the toughest women he’d ever known. And one of the most appealing women he’d ever known. Which made it harder to have her look of disappointment playing over and over in his head.
Sarg said, “So … Gilbow.”
Drayco nodded.
“A case of displacement revenge. Targeting others instead of Mrs. Bankton.”
“With psychosis fanning the flames.” Drayco instantly regretted his choice of words.
“Kinda odd he chose to dump the bodies on federal parkland. Was he trying to get caught or something?”
“Regarding Kenilworth, I made some calls yesterday. One was to a Park Service botanist. The gardens were invaded by mistletoe a year or two ago.”
“And the getting caught part?”
“Mrs. Bankton said that during their teenage crime spree, Gilbow wanted to confess but was too timid. This may have been his adult version of confession.”
“I follow why he targeted synesthetes, a connection to the ‘evil’ Mrs. Bankton and all that. But his goddaughter? Why her?”
“Parents kill their own kids for far less. He did say he wasn’t all that close to her.”
Sarg rubbed his hands together. “I’m dying to hear how Adele arranged that staged shooting on the shore. Got the honor of grilling her after the MPD has their turn.”
“Psychopaths are thrill-seekers. She latched onto Gilbow because he fed into that. Until the next opportunity comes along.” Adele had certainly been quick to save her own skin and leave her husband behind.
“Hope she finds prison thrilling.”
Drayco didn’t feel like talking. At the same time, he didn’t want Sarg to leave. And there was something he needed to say. “I made a mistake in that warehouse tonight. Let my guard down. Passed an alcove without checking it out and got jabbed by Adele.”
Sarg didn’t respond, but he gave Drayco a quick glance. Drayco continued, “You were worried about my welfare at the warehouse the day Officer Decker was killed. And tonight I was worried about Tara. Same thing.”
“But you didn’t get an innocent man killed.”
“Not an innocent one, perhaps.” Drayco could tell, just by the way Sarg cleared his throat, he knew and understood.
“You know, junior. I peeked in the warehouse right before you shot Gilbow in self-defense. That’s what
I’ll tell Onweller. Unless I tell him I shot Gilbow instead.”
“With my gun?”
“Found it on the floor.”
Drayco tilted his head back, resting it on the wall. “You don’t have to take the fall for me as payback. There may be an inquiry, but whatever happens, happens.”
Sarg cleared his throat. “Onweller called off the arrest warrant. In fact, he almost sent me to this hospital with a heart attack when he said he’d be willing to hire you back. Could be one of those face-saving moves of his. If I were you, I’d tell him where to stick his offer.”
Drayco looked directly at Sarg for the first time since he’d sat down. “He said that?”
“Honest and for true. So what are you going to do, take that security job?”
“Oh, I don’t know, consulting’s not so bad. The hours are long at times, the pay sucks at times, you get shot occasionally, or become an offering to … well, whatever deity Gilbow was going to offer me to. What’s not to love about a job like that?”
“If I didn’t have two kids in college and a second mortgage, I might join you. I can see it now, up on the office door—Sargosian and Drayco, LLC.”
Drayco smiled, then noticed Sarg didn’t appear to be joking. “You’d leave the Bureau?”
“In a heartbeat. It’s not just Onweller. The organization’s changed too much. I barely recognize it as the same place.”
“Good bennies.”
“I’ve been saving. A few investments. Barring a major health crisis like Troy Jaffray and his pancreatic cancer … ”
Drayco hadn’t thought of Jaffray in all of this. The man would have to be told. And how would he take yet another hard knock to his shattered life?
He said, “Gilbow may have been right when he suggested Jaffray was Shannon’s biological father. At this point, I don’t see what can be gained from Jaffray knowing.”
“He’s got a lot of religious faiths he can choose from for comfort.”
Drayco opened his mouth to retort, but Sarg cut him off. “I’m joking. Maybe I’ll shock the wife and go to church with her this week. Great place to learn more about human nature, right?”
Sarg’s phone rang with the unmistakable sounds of a polka instead of the default ringtone. Drayco raised his eyebrows, and Sarg shrugged. “Guess you can teach a geezer new tricks.” He listened for a moment, said “Okay” and hung up.
Drayco pointed to the phone. “Why couldn’t Tara or I get in touch with you?”
Sarg grimaced. “That damned crown. It broke in two when I chomped down on an apple. Hurt like hell. Shooting pains down into my neck, bleeding gums, the whole nine yards. So I got an emergency appointment with the dentist for a root canal.”
“Feel better now?”
“Didn’t have a chance to finish the procedure. I’d left my cellphone in the lobby, and then the receptionist brought it in and said it was nonstop ringing.”
Drayco leaned back in his seat, but Sarg said, “Don’t get too comfortable. That call was from Elaine. Tara wants to talk to you.”
Sarg led Drayco through the ER patient area and pulled back a corner of a curtain partition to a bed where Tara was half-sitting up, her mother at her side. Elaine smiled at them and excused herself to let the two men maneuver into the cramped space.
Tara had turned on the television hanging in one corner via the remote control she clutched in her palm. Drayco was surprised to see the channel tuned to a police drama. When she looked up at Drayco, it was as if he’d stepped back in time and she was thirteen years old, not twenty.
“Your Dad tells me you get to go home soon.”
Her voice was weaker than usual, but he didn’t have to strain to hear her. “The sooner, the better. I have an exam tomorrow. Don’t think the professor will believe it when I tell him I was drugged, kidnapped and rescued from being barbecued.”
“If your father and I each write you a note … ”
She smiled. “I think you’ve already done enough. Swooped in and rescued me just like the real Falkor.”
“With the assistance of a warrior princess.”
“You mean Deputy Tyler? I’d love to meet her sometime. When I’m conscious.”
“Maybe we can arrange something.” Drayco didn’t want to promise anything, not knowing when, or even if, he’d be seeing Nelia Tyler. Unless she was serious about her law school plans. The idea made Drayco feel a tiny ray of hope he could patch things up with her. To at least maintain their friendship.
Tara said, “Forensics.”
Drayco stared at her, confused. What kind of anagram was that?
And then she giggled. “Grad school. Screw the pharmaceuticals. I’ve decided on forensics.”
She switched off the TV and sat quietly for a moment. Then she said, “I can’t believe it was Professor Gilbow. What an evil asshat.”
Sarg grinned, “Out of the mouths of babes … ”
48
Friday, 31 October
The newly widowed Adele Gilbow, having access to her husband’s not inconsiderable wealth, was able to afford a primo attorney. Sarg set up an interrogation session, which she’d agreed to—provided Drayco came along.
As the two men sat there with her attorney hovering in the background, all she did was to repeat what she’d told the MPD detectives. She’d only served as a driver and assistant to her husband, the real force behind the murders and kidnapping. She’d gone along with Gilbow’s plans because she was afraid for her own life. Adele was quite the accomplished actress. It was clear why she’d been interested in being on the theater board.
Right before Sarg and Drayco left, she motioned for Drayco to sit in the chair next to her instead of across the table. Then, before her attorney could intervene, she quietly whispered in his ear so only he could hear, “Sweet creature, said the spider to the fly. You’re witty and you’re wise, how handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!”
Then she added, “I may not be able to kill a fly, but I enjoy messing with them,” and gave him a smile that was part sphinx and part siren. Her parting words, as she stared only at Drayco, were, “You’ll hear from me again.”
Sarg prompted Drayco afterward, “What was that all about?”
He was half-inclined to write it off as psychopath humor, although he was oddly uncomfortable at her comment. He shrugged and pointed at the date on his watch. “Halloween?”
Drayco and Sarg later stopped by Troy Jaffray’s office to see how he was doing. He was buried in boxes and busy packing again. Only this time it was his belongings, not Cailan’s.
Sarg put his hands on his hips. “You weren’t fired, were you? Because if you were, we can talk with President Thackeray.”
Jaffray shook his head. “Not fired. I resigned. Greg Smith teaches sociology, but he’s agreed to take over my classes until the end of the term.”
Jaffray perched on the edge of his desk. He looked at the now-bare walls and the shelves seeing the light of day for the first time in years, judging from the thick dust at the edges. “I could have stuck it out. Maybe taught until I keeled over in a class. Not that I haven’t died already. Finding out my niece was killed by her very own godparents. People I called friends and welcomed into my home.”
Drayco asked, “What are you going to do instead?”
“Travel the world. Or as much as I can before I’m planted down in it. Revisit some of the great religious sites like Abydos, Externsteine, the Abbey of Fontfroide, Angkor Wat. I’m thinking of taking Cailan’s soon-to-be-cremated remains with me and sprinkling them everywhere I stop. And maybe I’ll find some semblance of faith or peace before I’m gone to whatever lies beyond this plane of existence.”
“You’re handling this better than I would.”
Jaffray had seemed distracted, alternating looking down at his feet and off into the distance. But at Drayco’s comment, a hint of a smile bloomed on his face. “The Dhammapada says losing what you love brings suffering. But harboring the pain of your loss on
ly brings more pain.”
“Something I wish Andrew Gilbow learned.”
“Not sure it makes any difference to sociopaths.”
“Sociopath? Perhaps. When a musical muse abandons you, it leaves a powerful void. Beethoven contemplated suicide due to his deafness.”
“Other men put in that position find ways to help others.” Jaffray gave Drayco an intense stare, then turned around to rescue two books from his desk, handing a copy to both Drayco and Sarg.
“Andrew wrote tons of books, and I’d always meant to get around to one myself. I finally did, and it just got published. A small print run, but I want you each to have a copy. It’s a history of religion in America. You’ll be happy to note, Agent Sargosian, there’s a mention of the Armenian Apostolic tradition.”
They thanked him, and Sarg added, “You need help with these boxes? Looks like it might take you a while.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I have several students coming over in … ” he looked at his watch, “About ten minutes. They’re going to help me finish up and take everything home. I’d like to be done by five because I have an appointment at a jazz club.”
Drayco asked, “The Basement in Georgetown?”
“Liam Futino’s group is playing tonight.”
Right before the two men left, Jaffray said, “Though I take little comfort in the outcome, I want to thank you both for arranging earthly justice for Cailan.”
Back outside, the late-morning sun cast medium shadows from trees speckled with autumnal colors. The leaves had changed a lot in the past two weeks. A sudden gust of wind knocked several leaves and twigs onto Sarg’s car, but there didn’t appear to be any dings or scratches. None that couldn’t be repaired.
Sarg picked leaves off his windshield and unlocked the car door, then paused before climbing in. “If you want a change from peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches, I’ve still got those truffles crying out for risotto. I know Elaine and Tara would be happy to have you join us for dinner.”
Drayco grinned. “Every time you say truffled anything, I think of chocolate.”