A Fear of Clowns (The Greasepaint Chronicals) (27 page)

Well, then, they'd have called the police... and probably
have ended up right alongside the first victim. Not that the man was a killer,
as far as Jason knew. Corrupt in other ways, and a horrible person, but that
was all. A misguided man, who'd fallen prey to a conniving and evil woman. It
was the exact opposite of what he'd always assumed had gone on.

Jason gave each man a look, then slumped a bit.

"Right. Well, I don't really know any more than you do.
He has issues with his mother, which is what this was really all about, and
he's pretty clever. Methodical, but willing to adapt when he has to. I... Don't
really think he's planning to live through this. That needs to be remembered. A
person will do a lot of things they might not otherwise, if they think they're
going to die anyway." That part was so clear that he was surprised when
the two men looked at him funny.

"How so?" Daniels seemed not to get it at all, his
face confused and almost tired. "I mean, why not escape to kill again
another day?"

"He might, but think about it. He has one goal. To kill
the person that left him, as a small child, in an untenable situation. That, to
his mind, is Lynn, and only her. He isn't even wrong about it, I don't think.
She didn't know that would be the outcome, but... That doesn't matter." He
looked at the younger man, feeling closer to him, for some reason. "Mills
only has one real goal in life, and until she dies, it won't be over. There's
nothing else though, as far as I can tell. There was no talk of how killing her
would fix things, or right the wrongs and let him get on with a normal life. He
doesn't have another plan. Just to kill her. It was probably why he did the
work on Carl first. He... wasn't the target. Not the obsession. Just a stand in
for a dead man. Tony Mills. The father that left him. A
good
substitution, being the real dad. Lynn, she's the real thing and always was, in
his mind. The ultimate goal. That's my guess. He won't act sane about it. I
feel pretty strongly about that. I mean, to the point that if we're going to go
and get her moved, I think we should take a whole team with us."

It was prudent, plus, he was scared. It was so bad he could
nearly taste it on the back of his tongue. A sharp and bitter flavor that left
him feeling like a few stiff drinks would be a good idea. It wasn't. Nodding he
remembered that he had Alex, for now. That a real father wouldn't abandon her
again, and that she was going to need him, no matter what happened. Lynn wasn't
exactly in shape to take care of her anymore. Not that she'd really been doing
that.

Going to where Lynn was really did seem to be the plan, and
since it was the only real hospital in a sixty mile radius, Daniels requested a
team to go with them, just in case. It wasn't going to be hard for Mills to
work out where she would be.

"We can do that. Let's move out. Load up, we need to
get in place inside forty! Load up!" The men, and now that he looked he
noticed there were three women too, were all dressed in deep blue and looked
like they were about to storm a drug den. Cert or Swat. Whatever they were
called there. He didn't know, since the outfits, the armor, just said police on
it. Not even State Police. Just the one word. Probably so no one would get
confused. It wouldn't do to have people think they were someone else, when they
broke through the door in the middle of the night.

He drove himself, shaky and a bit out of sorts or not. It
was a rental, and he
was
taking it with him. The FBI men did the same
thing, so he felt entitled to it. Plus, it felt good to be in control of
himself, for a bit. He did check the trunk and backseat first, which had the
State people laughing at him, until Daniels did the same with his car. They
were dealing with someone that might pull something like that, after all.

The trip was fast, so he let the rest of them go ahead, not
worried about getting lost. He knew where the hospital, Grand General, was. It
was where Alex had been born. Where he'd gone to the emergency room when he'd
fallen from a ladder some years before, and badly sprained his left wrist. He
mainly kept up, because all the armed people were ahead of him. The police in
their two large van like trucks, and the FBI car right behind them. It wasn't
until they got closer that the lead vehicle started to go the wrong way. He
went straight as the others followed the line, and honked his horn.

Daniels looked as he passed, so Jay pointed the right way,
and kept driving. He could get them there, if they'd follow. The dark Sedan
did, but he couldn't tell if the others were tailing them or going a different,
longer, route. They were almost there, however.

In the end they beat the vans by ten minutes, but didn't try
to go in, parking well away.

Daniels knew what to do, thank goodness. Jay certainly
didn't.

"We can't afford to spook him. Everyone stay ready.
McNab and I will go up..." He looked at the man in charge of the state
unit and shrugged. "Actually, just call it in. We need eyes on the scene,
but it's kind of hard to hide all of this." He waved, showing that he
meant the men and women in their rather severe looking outfits. They did stand
out a little. Armed and armored for war, like they were.

"Got it. Let me do that." He leaned into his own
chest, and pushed a button on the black mouthpiece that was connected to a
curly cord. It ran to his waist, where a radio, which looked small and nicely
compact, rested on a black belt. "Grand General team one, this is point,
go."

What that meant, Jason didn't know at all, but nothing
happened, so the man tired it again. Then he looked at Daniels, followed by his
own people.

"Insert! We have possible down! Fourth floor. Possible
down!"

They ran, and so did the FBI men. He did too, wondering if
he were supposed to stay with the car. It made sense, but he didn't really want
to be stuck there, trying to stop Mills alone. That would be what happened, he
didn't doubt, if he stayed in place. They used the stairs, running the whole
time, which reminded him to get in shape and actually start using the gym at
work. He gasped by the time they were at the top, even as the people carrying
more gear seemed fresh and ready to fight. That, it turned out, was a good
thing. Because the shooting that started would have killed several of them, if
they hadn't been.

Jay dove to the floor, covering his head with his arms,
because of their magical bullet stopping properties. It was instinct however,
and he did it without thinking, peeking upward only when Deputy Mills, dressed
up for a day on patrol, ran out of a room. He was all in brown, but the hail of
bullets that came back at him changed that quickly enough, filling him with
holes.

They made little bloody marks all over his front. There was
no spurting of crimson liquid, or a dramatic long fall. He just went to the
floor, bleeding. The silver weapon in his hand fell, hitting with a clank, Jay
thought. He might have imagined that part. As soon as he was down, men ran
toward him, yelling. It wasn't going to do much good, since he had to be dead.
Some of the bullets had hit him in the head. Ending it.

Jay ran, past the man on the ground, into the room, to find
what was inside. He didn't want to know, he thought, but it was even worse than
he'd imagined. In a bed, a blue and white hospital one, silver on the sides,
hooked up to an I.V. still, was Lynn. Her face was gone. It was probably
bullets that had done it, but he didn't know how it had happened. Not really.

On the floor, behind the bed, were four other people, all of
whom had been shot. There was slow movement still. Pained and confused.

"Over here! Get a doctor! Four down, over here!"
He called that out until help came, which didn't take long. Shooting or not,
they were in a hospital. Then he was pulled to the side, and out of the room,
by Daniels and McNab.

The whole time he couldn't help but look at what was left of
Lynn. She was, in the end, a bad person, but he couldn't help but remember that
he'd loved her, once.

A long time before. That she hadn't been worthy of it didn't
seem to matter as much, just then.

The night didn't get shorter just because the now infamous
Killer Clown was dead. In fact, he was kept at the hospital until nearly noon
the next day, no one getting any sleep at all. When he finally got out, let go
by the FBI men on the condition that he be reachable, there was a throng of
reporters waiting for him outside the main doors of the hospital.

Daniels and McNab were still with him, and started muttering
no comment as they moved along, rather than risk saying the wrong thing. For
his part, he just didn't care at all. He didn't really know anything that these
people would want to hear, did he? He wondered about that for a minute, and
then kept his mouth shut firmly, walking away as if he weren't part of
anything. As far as the people there really knew, that was the truth and they
were just hoping to get some kind of response from someone, anyone, that would
look good on the air that night. Or possibly sooner, since a few of them were
from big twenty-four hour news networks.

It was a man from one of those that recognized him.
"Dr. Hadley? Did you come to identify the body of your ex-wife?"

People stopped pestering the FBI, which was clearly what
they should have been doing and started in on him. Innocent and not at all
someone that would know anything of interest. It was tempting to just tell them
everything, but again, they didn't really want to know. They just thought they
did. Some things, once seen, or heard, couldn't be taken back. There was a lot
of that in his mind now. There had been, but now...

Still they needed to be told something. So he looked at the
man, dressed in a nice gray jacket, with a black tie and soft blue shirt, who
held out a microphone.

"I... I was visiting when it happened." Then he
walked on. That was all he had and McNab pulled him by the arm, taking him to
the shiny burgundy car that waited for him. Then the two men spoke to him,
softly, so as to not be overheard.

Daniels did most of it, his voice rough from being awake too
long, beaten and held captive. Jay knew that always took it out of him, so
didn't judge the man based on that.

"It would be good if you ran anything you want to say
to the press past us first. There probably won't be a court case, since
everyone is dead, but the FBI does like to control the flow of information
anyway. It gives us something to do. The higher ups get bored, if they can't
meddle a little." The weariness poured off of him then, and Jay didn't
blame him, not even a bit.

He felt it too. It was the kind of thing that no one talked
about in the press. The toll that even being too close to a horror show like
what he'd seen did to you. Worse, he really doubted it was going to get better,
any time soon. You saw too much, and it damaged you.

It was tempting, the idea of just going to some bar and
drinking until the next day came and it was all at a remove from him. That
couldn't happen. He had Alex now.

That reminded him that he was going to have to tell her
about the death.

"Carl Morse?" The man had just said that they were
all dead. Jason hadn't known that.

"A few hours ago. He hung on, but couldn't give any
kind of statement. That part is being left to us." There was a firm tap on
the top of the car. "You have my number. Call if you need anything. Or
just to talk. If you don't, we'll call you. Don't sit on this, or it will eat
you up inside. Talk to someone about it."

He nodded, not planning to, really. It was going to be hard
to even explain what had taken place. How could he tell his little girl about
it? She'd find out, eventually, so he had to let her know, but... It was all so
big. So awful. They'd need a funeral, of some kind, and Alex...

For the next few hours he just drove, his mind quiet, except
for flashes of pure fear, and then worry, as he planned out what to say. He
didn't go fast, so it was about four when he actually got to the casino. His
car was still there, so he pulled up and parked on the far side of Carlos and
Wendy's Van. He had to count the days off on his fingers, but it didn't make
sense, they should have been at their other gig, not there. Unless they were
visiting. Why though? He walked in, going to the stage area, to find them all
there, Max, Carlos, Wendy, the people that had acts that night, and Alexis.
She'd been crying, and was sitting next to Felicity Maine, who held her from
the side.

They really did look a bit alike. Like they could be
sisters, except for the eye color. Or maybe not. Two girls with light skin that
both had dark hair. Similar, but also pretty different. For instance, one was
his little girl. He jogged over to her, and she surged up, carrying the other
woman with her, to hug him.

"I saw it on the news. Mom, and Carl. What do I do? I
don't know what to do." She seemed hurt, but confused and scared too.
Felicity hugged her again, catching him in the action at the same time. It was
on purpose, but not bad. Just like she was saying they were family, after a
manner of speaking. Letting them know that she, at least, stood with them.

Carlos cleared his throat.

"I'll help you make the arrangements, if you're doing
that?" He was looking at Jason, who didn't know the answer to that.

"Most likely. Thanks. This is... Hard." He didn't
know what to say. Or how to say it.

The dark haired singer patted his daughter, and stood back.
She wore a serious expression and seemed sad, but strong.

"My mother died, not too long ago. Cancer. We had a
plan for her. I... I can ask my grandfather if he'll help too? It was a lovely
ceremony, and I don't think anyone will mind if we do it twice. It didn't cost
too much. Most of the money he had, that we all had, went to the medical
bills."