Deadly Visions (22 page)

“Always.”Joe stopped the video. “I just wanted to—sort out some things.”

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all need to spend some time in the past.”

Joe stood.”It's not like that. This falls under the category of research.”

“If you say so. But if you want to talk, that's why I'm here.”

“Thanks, Dad.”His father had always been there for him. “Right now I think I just need to go to bed.”

Eight-fifteen A.M.

Joe awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. He was about to answer it, when he heard his father pick up in the next room. A few seconds later, Cal rushed into his room.”Come on, Joe. We have to go to Nikki's school.”

Joe sat bolt upright. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, but her day is over.
Monica Gaines
'
s Psychic
World
just went public with your so-called visitations from Angela.”

That bitch Tess Wayland. He jumped out of bed. He had to get to Nikki before the media descended on her.

“What's wrong, Daddy?”Nikki stood up from a chair in the principal's office.

Joe hugged Nikki while Cal closed the door behind them. “Sorry to yank you out of your classes, honey.”

Nikki shrugged. “No prob. You saved me from having to stand up and give a report on the agricultural revolution.”

“You'll make it up later.”

She made a face.”Great.”

“What did the principal tell you?”

“He said that you were going to take me home and that you'd tell me why when you got here.”

“Honey, remember the last time I investigated a murder case and all those reporters bothered us?”

“How could I forget
that?
It sucked out loud.”

“Well, it's going to happen again. Monica Gaines's TV show is doing a story about the things that have been going on.”

“What things?”

“The things in our apartment. The furniture, the fingerprints, maybe even the voices.”

“The voices?”

Joe nodded. How could he tell her? “After you thought you heard Mommy the other night …I heard something too.”

“Heard
what?
”

“Something …that sounded like Mommy's voice.”

Nikki's lower lip quivered.”I knew it was her.”

“I said it
sounded
like her, not that it
was
her. There's a big difference.”

“What did she say?”

“Honey, I'm sure it wasn't really—”

“
What did she say?
”

Joe shared a quick glance with his father. “Just some stuff about me being careful. Nothing specific, nothing that proves anything.”

“She's trying to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?”

“Whatever hurt Monica Gaines. Whatever hurt those other people.”

“Honey, we don't know what's going on here, but I wanted to talk to you before someone else did. Monica's show just did a story about it and they uplinked it to their syndicator on a satellite. Reporters are already starting to call my precinct with questions. They may be coming after us next, so it would be best if you came home. Grandpa will look after you.”

“No.”

“Sweetheart, it's only until—”

“I don't want to go home. If any reporters bother me, I'll tell them to bug off.”

“It's not just the reporters. When this story breaks, the other kids and even your teachers will be asking you about it.”

“So what?”

“They'll ask you a lot of things about Mommy. It might upset you.”

“What's to be upset about? I know she's dead. It can't get any worse than that.”

“They'll ask about the voice you heard. They might make fun of you.”

“If they laugh or pick on me, that's their problem. Isn't that what you always say?”

Cal chuckled. “Yeah, Dad. Isn't that what you always say?”

Joe turned toward him. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, when we walked in here. Hell, it was my idea to come get her. But now I don't know. The girl makes sense.”

Nikki gave him a curt nod.”Of course I do.”

Joe wrinkled his brow. “I still think you should come home.”

“I want to stay here. Please?”

Joe sighed. Nikki could be so damned stubborn, just like her mother.”Do me a favor. Don't talk about this to anyone, not even your friends or teachers.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Say that it's a police investigation and you're not allowed to talk about it.”

Nikki picked up her canvas knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. “You're afraid people are going to think I'm crazy. You're afraid they're going to lock me up like they did Suzanne.”

“She told you about that?”

Nikki nodded. “When she was a kid, she spent a whole year in a special hospital because she heard her dead friend talking to her.”

“That's right.”Joe pushed Nikki's hair off her forehead. She had always liked Suzanne. “But that's not
what this is about, honey. I just don't want you to talk about it until we have a handle on things, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Leave it to the Spirit Basher to steal my thunder,”Howe said as Joe entered the squad room.

Joe shot him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

Howe grinned. “I proposed to Regina this morning, and she accepted. We're getting married in May.”

“Hey, that's great. Congratulations.”

“Of course, you're the only one that anybody's thinking about today. Timing was never my strong suit.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Apologize to the public information office. All the nutty calls about you are being directed there.”

Carla walked into the room. “I just talked to the feds. The Narada Study has been officially disbanded, but the U.S. Department of Defense still respectfully requests that we maintain our silence about it.”

Howe rolled his eyes. “About a half-baked study that yielded zero results? Fine.”

“What's Monica Gaines's status?”Joe asked.

Carla shrugged. “Hanging in there. You gotta give her credit, she's a fighter. Doctors didn't think she'd make it through the night.”

“Still unconscious?”

“Afraid so.”

Joe sat down at his desk. “I wish I knew who she met in that bar. There was something interesting going on between them.”

“What, you don't check your voice mail anymore?”

Joe turned to see Sam walking into the room, accompanied by a uniformed officer from downstairs.

Sam hefted a thick brown package under his arm. “I called you four times yesterday. You don't think I have better things to do?”

Joe motioned for the officer to leave.”Sorry, Sam. I was kind of busy.”He pointed to the package. “What did you bring me?”

Sam tossed it onto his desk. “A gift, made to your specifications. I'm still not sure about this.”

Joe tore into the paper and revealed half a dozen white terry-cloth robes. “Excellent. Thanks, Sam.”

Howe grinned. “More hotel robes? Are you going to model those too?”

Joe carefully rewrapped the package. “Not yet. Tonight.”

“Why tonight?”Carla asked.

Joe nodded at Sam.”We need to rehearse.”

“You should have given me the security tape, Bailey.”A faint tone of defiance tinged Tess Wayland's voice.

“Extortion is against the law.”Joe fell into step with her as she hurried down the twenty-seventh-floor corridor of the Georgia Pacific Building. He'd come from Sam's shop and was amazed to find that the
Monica Gaines
'
s Psychic World
production offices had moved overnight. The building's conservative atmosphere was shattered by the blue-jean-and-T-shirt attire worn by the dozens of technicians and assistants.

Joe ducked to avoid a boom microphone. “I told you that there was no way you were getting that tape. Is it true that you did a reenactment with actors playing me and my daughter?”

“We usually try to get the real people for our reen-actments, but I had a feeling you wouldn't be inter-ested. We found a good match for Nikki, but I'm afraid that the man who plays you is about thirty pounds overweight.”

“Oh, this just keeps getting better,”Joe said sarcastically.

“He's actually quite good. The look on his face when he hears his late wife's voice gave me chills.”

“Are you sure it wasn't nausea?”

“You haven't seen it yet, Detective. It's tastefully done.”

“Right. Like the Monica-Gaines-on-fire reenactment?”

“That's airing on tonight's show too.”

“Can't wait.”

“If you came here to try to pull your story, it's too late. It's already gone out to the stations.”

“That's not why I'm here. I came to give you a different story.”

“I see. A little gratitude for giving you cell phone info?”

“No. Any gratitude was instantly erased when you released that story. I may be fair game, but you have no right to upset my daughter. I'd like to break your neck.”

“You'd have to stand in line. So what's the story?”

“Bring a camera crew to Monica's hotel at eight-thirty tonight. You'll see then.”

“Give me a hint. How do I know you're not intentionally wasting my time?”

“In order to get back at you? Not a bad idea.”

She studied him for a moment. “But I don't think you're doing it now. I'll be there.”

“And, by the way, don't think I'm naive enough to think that you haven't already checked out that phone number she called.”

“You mean to her sister? Okay, so I put a research assistant on it. Too bad it wasn't somebody more interesting or exotic. Are you sure you can't give me some idea why I'll be paying overtime for a camera crew tonight?”

Joe stepped aside to allow a crew member and a camera dolly to pass.”No.”

“I
did
get under your skin, didn't I?”

“Don't push it. Listen, while Monica was away, she spent some time with a man. Fortyish, maybe a little chubby, with dark hair. Does that ring a bell with you?”

Tess shook her head. “No, and I thought I knew most of her usual boy-toys.”

“It may not have been in one of her usual haunts. I traced the connection to a small town in the middle of nowhere. She and this guy spent some time together in an out-of-the-way dive.”

“Ooh, now we're getting somewhere. You
must
tell me where this happened.”

“South Carolina.”He shook his head.”I can't be any more specific than that. Think about it, will you? Ask around with the people who knew her.”

Tess scribbled on her yellow legal pad. “Believe
me, I will. If I have my way, he'll be our guest on Friday's show.”

Exactly the reaction he'd hoped for. Let the self-serving witch do a little of his work for him.”See you tonight.”

Shawn Dylan walked into his hotel room and looked around. Nothing fancy, but it would do. He'd been careful to avoid any of the hotel chains that he usually patronized. He didn't think he had any rivals on his tail, but with the stakes this high, one couldn't be too careful.

Dylan flipped open his leather satchel and spread its lethal contents on the bed. He'd brought a few of his favorites. He picked up his 7.65mm Beretta Brevetto and checked the ammo cartridge. Oiled and ready. He rested it on the pillow. Four packets of blasting gelatin were contained in flat, square-shaped packages that reminded him of condom wrappers.

He picked up a wrist-strap switchblade and fastened it to his left forearm. Its fiberglass construction proved handy for avoiding metal detectors, and the triggering mechanism was much more reliable than the earlier models, which had a nasty habit of unexpectedly ejecting into the wearer's wrist. He clasped his right index finger over the trigger and watched the brandy-colored blade spring across his watch-band and extend midway over his palm. He pressed again and the blade retracted.

He'd used it on Haddenfield's assistant in the hospital stairwell the other night. The poor, stupid kid.

Dylan sighed. This was supposed to be a simple
assignment. Just a trifle, his superiors had told him, while he recovered from his hellish mission in Chechnya.

Chechnya, where he'd watched a busload of his countrymen blown to bits. He could have prevented it, but it would have meant destroying months of undercover work. Excellent decision, his commander told him.

Tell that to the people on the bus.

This was supposed to be his reward. An easy, low-stress assignment.

Nothing easy about it, he thought bitterly. Especially now, when he was about to come face-to-face with a serial killer.

In a hotel room directly two floors below Monica Gaines's suite, Joe raised his arms while Sam patted down the folds in the fire-retardant bodysuit.

“How does it feel?”Sam asked.

“Snug.”

“Good. If you get an air pocket, the air could heat up and burn the hell out of you. I still think you should wait for the stuntman.”

“He's working on a film in St. Louis. I'll be okay.”

“Did you tell Nikki you were doing this?”

“No, I didn't want to worry her.”

Sam raised his index finger. “That should be your barometer. If you're thinking about doing something risky, think about whether you'd want your daughter to know about it.”

“She'll see it on TV tomorrow.”

“And she'll be madder than hell at you.”

“Probably.”

“I don't know why in hell you invited the camera crews anyway. I'd like to pitch them all down the elevator shaft.”

“So would I, but the captain wants to dispel as much of this mumbo-jumbo as we can. We need to shed some light on Monica Gaines's attack.”

“Torchlight?”

“Very funny.”Joe uncapped a tube of Zel-Jel, a product used by welders and other laborers who worked near open flames. He smeared the gel on his face and neck.

Sam pulled a polyester cap over Joe's head and handed him a robe.”They're waiting for you outside. It's not too late to back out, you know.”

Joe smiled. “You said the same thing when I did that bungee-jump-straitjacket escape from the rafters of the CNN Center.”

“At least this time you won't get arrested.”Sam grinned.”Now get outta here.”

Joe threw open the door and saw two dozen cops, reporters, and cameramen. He squinted in the camera lights'glare.

Howe and Carla stood front and center, standing near Captain Henderson. Howe shook his head. “Now I know why you became a cop. You wanted to give performances people were
forced
to attend.”