Ted thought it over. There were some key questions that he still hadn’t come close to answering. How had Lynch known about his suicide? There was no way Lynch could have dreamt up the suicide circle on the spot. He must have known about the suicide beforehand. But how? And if he had known, why not let Ted go through with it and clear the way for Holly and himself?
You didn’t want to commit suicide.
“What are you thinking?” Wendell asked.
“I’m so confused.”
“It’s all pretty simple, believe me. Justin would never dare to stand in front of me and pull the trigger. He doesn’t have the balls. He needed somebody to do it for him, and there you were. I’m surprised he thought you would be capable; he obviously doesn’t know how to pick people.”
Ted felt foolishly offended. In his fantasy, he had killed Blaine and Wendell like a professional hit man. He had even drugged Blaine’s dog!
Unfortunately, in this reality, the only things Ted had shot were the silhouettes at the shooting range. Wendell was right: he couldn’t kill another person.
There was just one flaw in Wendell’s theory. If they really didn’t know each other, how could Ted possibly remember being here at his house before?
You don’t remember it. This is the first time you’ve been here.
Once more the same infuriating thought. He wanted to cling to what he had felt when he got here, walking down the dirt road to the house, when he’d been able to summon up every detail of the mansion before he even got there. That thought had been real. He had to cling to it. He suddenly thought of the horseshoe; if he could clench it in his fist, he thought, he might erase all his doubts. He reached into his pocket.
Wendell went on the alert. He grabbed his gun, fast as lightning.
But Ted soon realized that Wendell hadn’t been reacting to his attempt to get his horseshoe. While aiming the gun at him, Wendell was looking out one of the windows in the castle.
“I thought you came alone!” Wendell accused him without taking his eyes off the window.
“I did.”
“Then you were followed.”
Ted couldn’t tell who Wendell was talking about from where he sat. He leaned forward slightly to look out—and froze. A black man in a white lab coat was walking along the side of the house. It was Roger, the strange fellow Ted remembered from his visit to Blaine’s.
“Do you know that guy?” Wendell was still pointing the gun at Ted. “What’s he doing at my house?”
“I’m not sure if I do.”
“You’re not sure?”
Roger walked nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. When he reached the corner of the house, he turned and walked toward the lake, away from them.
“I think he’s leaving,” Ted said.
“Where’s he going? There’s nothing here for two miles in either direction. What’s that guy doing here?”
19
The sight of Roger haunting Wendell’s property was the second direct connection between his “fantasy” (Ted didn’t like the term, but who cares?) and the present. The other connection was the horseshoe. And the note from the desk.
Wendell practically shoved him out of the castle.
“Do you know the guy or not?”
“Yeah, I guess I met him somewhere.”
Wendell sighed and rolled his eyes, as if he might find a clue to Ted’s behavior in the sky. He grabbed Ted by his jacket collar.
“Concentrate!” Wendell stuck his face in Ted’s and stared him in the eye. “Do you think that guy followed you, or is he searching for you blindly?”
“Blindly, I think.”
Wendell let him go. Rubbing his chin, he shot a glance at the side of the castle, and then turned to stare at the white gravel in the play area.
“Come with me.”
Together they walked into the woods.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something I’ve got in my car. But best not to let the guy see us.”
They went far enough in to stay hidden, circling the house until they came out on the private road. By then Roger must have been on the far side of the house, so there was no way he could see them. They went to the car’s luggage compartment, which opened automatically before they touched it.
An elaborately organized set of file boxes were arranged inside the compartment. Wendell picked one and lifted the lid. He drew out a folder and pushed it at Ted.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s move,” Wendell urged him, shaking the folder. “There’s a guy circling my house. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Ted took the folder. It was identical to the ones Lynch had given him. He opened it. The first thing he saw was the photo at the restaurant. Wendell hadn’t been lying. In the photo he could clearly see that Lynch was the man offering Holly a taste of something on his fork. There was no doubt that it was a recent photo, as seen by Holly’s lighter hair and shorter cut. Ted flipped to the next photo. The pair of them walking on a busy sidewalk—holding hands! In the third…
Wendell snatched the folder from his hands.
“You don’t need to see more.”
Ted stood with his hands open, holding an imaginary folder, unable to react.
“Convinced? There is no Organization; it’s much simpler than that. Lynch has been pulling the wool over your eyes. He wanted to get rid of you by incriminating you in my murder. We’ll deal with Lynch when the time comes. But not yet.”
Ted didn’t say anything. Wendell shook him to bring him back to reality.
“Listen to me. Walk that way. Cut through the woods and you’ll get to the highway. It’s roundabout, but I don’t want the guy to see you. Do you know what his name is?”
“Roger,” Ted muttered. “I think it’s Roger.”
“Okay. I’ll deal with our friend Roger.” Wendell drew the pistol.
Ted’s eyes went wide.
“What are you going to do to him?”
“He’s on my property.” Wendell smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll just give him a scare. Call you later.”
Ted walked toward the trees. He took a last glance over his shoulder to see Wendell walking away. He realized that Wendell had said he would call him, but he hadn’t given Wendell his phone number. The idea made him laugh out loud. Something told him that Wendell wouldn’t find this a problem.
20
There was only a wood-paneled wall now in the living room where the patio door used to be. And though Ted could see only a tiny window from inside the room, he knew that the wall was painted pink outside and decorated with pictures of Disney princesses.
He almost had to feel his way forward in the dark. It was nighttime and the square of light guided him; all he could hear was the hypnotic swoosh of waves breaking in the yard. He reached the window and had to stoop to look out, just as at Wendell’s house.
Foamy tongues of ocean spray lapped against the hill in back. The white ripples racing across the vast expanse of water shone bright in the moonlight. Ted reached through the open window and waved his hand until the motion sensor finally noticed and the single porch light clicked on. No sign of the possum, or of Holly. The wooden chess box still lay at the foot of the barbecue grill, however.
Ted stretched his arm out as far as he could, his fingers grazing the lid of the wooden box, but when he tried to grab it he only succeeded in pushing it an inch or two farther away. He knelt and adjusted his position, extending his whole shoulder through the window until the window frame dug into his neck and ribs. Then he tried again, groping blindly this time since his face was pressed against the wall and he could see only the living room darkness. His probing fingers found a corner of the box, scratched at it, and managed to drag it a little closer. He hadn’t stopped to wonder why he was so interested in this chess box, but holding it and opening it had become an urgent need. The box must have been closer now, yet his fingertips seemed to find it at the same spot each time he felt. The wild illusion that the
box was moving farther away, that it was floating on that vast sea, took shape in his head. And each time he touched it, he pictured his arm as an incredibly long, elastic limb jutting from the castle window and stretching all the way to the box. No matter how he tried, how he stretched, the box was always a little too far away, and all he could do was barely touch it.
He slapped it forcefully, again and again, like a crazed swimmer practicing the breaststroke, his fingers transformed into claws, grabbing again and again for the corner of the box, always unable to grasp it. He felt impotent. The window frame was biting into his sore body, and his cheek had fallen asleep.
Exhausted, he let his arm drop, and it immediately returned to its normal size. He dangled from the window for a while, his body on one side and his arm on the other, getting his breath back. He peeked out again. There was the chess box, still by the grill, in the same place as ever, its cover untouched.
A noise made Ted look up. A dark object was protruding from the ocean, a dripping-wet shell that Ted soon recognized: his father’s red Mustang, from when Ted was a boy. The back of the car emerged slowly, a decrepit, algae-covered jalopy, but still recognizable. It stopped when it was still half underwater. Then the trunk opened as if by magic and Ted felt a visceral fear. He didn’t want to see what it held.
Roger walked over from around the house. When he got to the Mustang’s trunk he held out his arm as if inviting someone to dance, and a hand reached out and grasped his. Holly climbed from the trunk with some difficulty. Naturally, she was missing one leg. She was wearing the bikini Ted liked, the one in the photo on the fridge, except the red seemed faded, lackluster. Her skin was pale and soapy; her haggard face had lost any trace of humanity. It was possible that she wouldn’t have been able to move normally even with her missing limb. Roger helped her.
They reached the porch and climbed the steps with some difficulty. At that exact moment, Holly seemed to notice the pink wall facing her. A wan smile formed on her lips as she recognized each of the princesses in turn, but her happiness vanished when she came to the window. When she saw Ted she glared at him accusingly, reproachfully, so that he felt an urge to go hide. This was, of course, a decision that was not his to make. Holly condemned him with a prolonged glare, and then moved on to the grill, still aided by Roger, who showed no interest in Ted, only in his task as an escort.
Holly pointed out the chess box to Roger. He bent over and carefully picked it up in both hands. He solemnly handed it to Holly, who held it to her bosom like a newborn child. She hugged it hard, jealously, while she shot another warning glance at Ted: The box is mine! She turned around and walked away slowly, still under Roger’s attentive care. Ted felt a pang of grief at seeing her gaunt, scraggly body, so different from the vigorous, muscular body he remembered.
Holly and Roger returned to the ocean and she climbed back into the trunk of the Mustang, which stood in the same spot, like a tin monster with gaping jaws. Before the trunk lid closed, Holly turned to Ted to direct one last, heartless glare at him.
And then Ted had no choice but to hide. And wake up.
21
“In the girls’ castle?” Laura asked, thrown for a loop.
“Yes,” Ted said, surprised that this should be the detail that got his therapist’s attention. “I went there. I don’t really know why. I guess because the castle caught my eye and I thought how much my own daughters would have liked one like that. Wendell showed up and told me to go inside with him. Why do you find that so interesting?”
Laura laughed.
“I don’t know. I guess it makes sense that he didn’t ask you inside his house until he was sure what you were doing there.”
“Of course.”
“Can you describe the castle to me?”
Ted wrinkled his forehead.
“Is it important?”
“I find it interesting that you went over to the castle in the first place. From what you’re telling me, it was kind of far from the house.”
“Yes. About fifty yards, I’d say. There’s a play area right at the edge of the woods. The castle is an attention grabber: it’s girly pink and covered with pictures of Disney princesses, one after another. It’s got four towers, one on each corner, with pointed roofs, eaves for the windows—all sorts of fine detail.”
“You mentioned just now that your own daughters would have loved a castle like that, and you were thinking about them as you walked toward it. Why do you think they don’t have such a castle?”
“Well, my girls have had lots of things. I haven’t done badly at all.”
“But nothing like the castle? Why not?”
Their sessions didn’t normally go in this direction. Ted felt disoriented.
“Let me put it another way,” Laura said. “You live well, and I’m sure you’ve bought Cindy and Nadine all sorts of toys. Yet when you saw this castle, what you thought was, they’ve never had anything like this.”
“I don’t see what’s so important about that. I just saw the castle and I thought about them. I miss them, and I guess my going to the castle was a way of getting closer to them, imagining what they would say if they saw it. Stuff like that. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”
Laura remained silent.
“I don’t know, Laura. I thought we’d talk about the other part, about Lynch and Holly.” Ted shook his head. “I need you to help me understand.”
“Yes, you’re right. Let’s talk about them.” Laura put on one of her devastating smiles. “So, Wendell told you the Organization was just a crazy idea he and Lynch had dreamt up at college, and their friendship had become strained over time.”
“Correct. Lynch had apparently tried to blackmail him about something—I don’t really know what—and so Wendell had him investigated, and that’s how he found out about Holly.”
“And you believed him? From what you’ve told me, Wendell doesn’t seem like a very trustworthy person.”
“I didn’t have to believe him. When we left the castle he took me to look at the photos. They left no doubt.”
“He let you into his house?”
“No. He kept them in his car.”
Laura was silent. At last she asked, “How do you feel about it, Ted?”
“I’m not angry, if that’s what you mean. It’s my fault our marriage fell apart. Last night I had another dream about her.”
For the next two minutes Ted described his dream about the back porch. When he mentioned the pink castle, Laura became immediately interested; the sparkle in her eyes showed that she was now sure she was right. There was something particularly important about that castle. The only detail from the dream that Ted hid was the part about the man who helped Holly rise out of the sea. He wasn’t ready to mention Roger. Not yet.
“Interesting that the chess box turned up,” Laura noted. “That box is closely tied to your past. You were telling me that Holly picked the box up and watched you distrustfully, like she was protecting it.”
“Yes. And it felt terrible.”
“What exactly did you feel?”
“It was like the chess box belonged to her and she had caught me trying to take it for myself. Holly has never even seen it. It’s been years since I last saw it myself. But yeah, I guess it does represent my past, who I used to be, once upon a time, and I suppose Holly became distrustful when she saw that it meant so much to me. It’s just old dreams, though. Today’s reality is quite different, I’m afraid.”
He’d been so wrapped up in the conversation that he hadn’t looked around the office until this very moment. It was a bright day, and the morning sun entered brazenly through the window, throwing a large rectangle of light across the center of the room. Laura hadn’t closed the curtains today. Ted stared out the window. The sunbeams refracting from the glass blinded him. When he looked away, he saw a black square superimposed on Laura’s face, slowly fading.
“And? You were about to tell me about the chess box.”
Ted nodded.
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br /> “It belonged to my grandfather Edwin. A rectangular case, about this big.” Ted gave its dimensions by placing his hands as if he were actually holding the box on his lap. “Tropical wood, dark, highly polished. There was half a chessboard made of inlaid wood on either side. It opened up like a book, and then you had a full chessboard.”
Ted conjured up these details in a pleasant reverie.
“The pieces were stored inside it,” he went on. “Each piece had its own slot cut in the thick felt liner, so it fit snugly with just a light press. One of the slots had been widened for some reason, I remember. It was for one of the white pawns. I knew I had to open the case in a certain way so that the white pieces would be on the bottom. I always took that pawn out first. The second pawn on the right.”
“Your face lights up when you talk to me about chess.”
“Sure. I guess that’s because I associate it with my early childhood, when I was happy. When Miller died, I completely stopped playing and homelife became torture, with my mother getting sicker and sicker and my father abusing her all the time. He left to live with his lover. I stayed at home with my mother, just when her illness was getting worse. I was alone, and it’s a difficult age. The change was brutal.”
“Your father abandoned you?”
“Practically. He tried to keep in touch at first, but I refused to see him. I was a rebellious teenager, angry with the world. The worst of it was that I had a mother at home who didn’t give a shit whether I was angry or not. She was in her own world. For different reasons, my mother had also rebelled; I always felt that my father’s cheating made her give up, that she let her illness take over and control her life. Those years were horrible. Later she had to be committed.”
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