Fear Has a Name: A Novel (10 page)

Keeping her eyes on his, Pamela reached up and covered his hand in hers. “You are a good person, Granger Meade.”

She smiled and kind of bounced on her toes in an attempt to lighten things up by shaking his hand and letting it go—but he held on.

And then she saw something else coming from those small, penetrating eyes. Something desperate. But something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Until now.

Now, twenty years later, she knew.

Now, as her offspring played on the floor at her feet and her soul mate yakked on the phone about the bizarre, twisted monster who was after her, she realized—it had been love.

The love of Granger Meade.

Perhaps hers had been all the love he’d ever known.

And apparently he wasn’t going to let it go.

Not on his life.

14

With the body language of a Secret Service agent, Jack hurriedly and methodically escorted Pam and the girls out of the church, into the hot sun, toward his car. Scanning each person and car in the lot—looking for any figure in black, any brown car—he unlocked the VW, ushered everyone inside, got himself in, and locked the doors.

“He saw you on our wedding day?” Jack started the car and cranked the air-conditioning. “You held hands with this person? Yet you had no clue it was him? What’s this about, Pam?”

“Jack.” Pam shot a glance toward the girls in the backseat, then gave him a foul look. “Cool down. We’ll talk at home.”

“How about some music, girls?” Jack jabbed the button for the stereo and started an upbeat CD the girls had enjoyed that morning. “Why don’t you tell me now?”

Pam explained who Granger Meade was, how she’d known him as a child … sharing the same bus stop … feeling sorry for him … the incident at the football game. Her speech came in bits and pieces, as if she was doped up on some kind of truth serum.

“It didn’t dawn on you till now that this might be the guy?” Jack pressed.

“No, it didn’t.”

“Never even crossed your mind—”

“What are you implying, Jack? That I
knew
who it was and didn’t tell you? Are you sick?”

“It sounds like it was pretty serious.”

“I barely knew him. I certainly didn’t recognize him, or I would have said so.”

“Yet you almost kissed the guy?”

“Don’t be a jerk! I felt sorry for him.” Pam slipped a trembling hand to her mouth. “Why are you doing this? I can’t believe you. You’re making it harder than it already is!”

His mind reeled. Dizzyingly, he checked the rearview mirror for the brown car.

“Daddy, don’t forget pizza,” Rebecca yelled over the music.

He didn’t answer, but he wasn’t about to stop until they were locked down at home. If the nutcase was brazen enough to wander into their church, he certainly had the gall to make his way back to their house.

“Campolo’s!” Faye yelled. “Extra cheese, please. I’m a poet and I don’t even know it.”

Jack ignored her. That afternoon he would go see Amiel, their friend who owned a small gun shop and shooting range on the square in downtown Trenton City. Whatever gun Amiel would recommend, Jack would buy it.

“Did you hear them?” Pam’s voice brought him back.

“What?”

“The girls … pizza.”

“We’re not stopping,” he said.

She shook her head and glared out the passenger window. He could tell she was hurt, and he’d been the one to wound her. On the rare occasions they argued, Pam would sometimes cry silently, just like that—her eyes glassy, her chest hitching periodically but barely making a sound. Holding it all inside.

And it was his fault.

Idiot.

The time she needs you most, and you’re driving her away. How can you possibly think she might have known it was him?

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed his temper to flare. He knew it was pure poison—one of his ugliest flaws.

He drove faster than normal, zipping right past Campolo’s, feeling a tinge of meanness for not stopping, yet justifying his robot-like action by reminding himself that he needed to take charge; it was up to him to keep his family safe. He simply needed to get them home, pronto. Pam stared out the window. The music played on.

“Daddy, did we pass Campolo’s?” Rebecca said.

You’re not fighting a man. This isn’t flesh and blood you’re up against. This is Satan working through this guy, and he wants you to freak out … He wants to divide you and Pam … consume you with rage.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I’m letting this thing get to me. I apologize, Pam. Forgive me, please.”

Still holding everything in, staring out at the landscape in the opposite direction, she gave a quick nod and sniff.

But he realized the damage had been done.

The people in that car—his bride, his girls—they were
his
responsibility. But things were getting away from him. It was all happening so fast. He felt weak and inadequate, as if he was battling another suitor for the lives of his girls—and losing. Not just being defeated by a little but getting slaughtered.

He would have a security system installed as soon as possible. The girls could get away, perhaps to his parents’ house in south Florida. But was that realistic? It was so far. He needed to be close to them, but then again, where would they be safest?

His phone vibrated, and he answered.

“Mr. Crittendon, Officer DeVry.”

“Officer DeVry,” Jack said. “Did you get my message?”

Pam shot him a watery-eyed glance.

“I did. Good timing too,” DeVry said. “Turns out our guys were able to lift two stray prints off that picture frame of yours after all, and guess who they belong to?”

“Granger Meade.”

“Yes, sir. One and the same. He was arrested in some sort of brawl outside a miniature golf place in Geauga Lake, but he was never charged.”

Jack covered the phone and looked at Pam. “Prints on the wedding picture—Granger Meade.”

Pam’s head dropped.

“So what now?” Jack said with renewed confidence.

“Let me tell you what else we’ve found.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“The results from your laptop came back.”

Jack could almost hear his heart ticking faster, faster.

“The encryption shows that all the pornography was downloaded to your computer on July 11—the day of your home invasion. So your suspicion was correct.”

“Thank God.” Jack repeated the news to Pam. Both of her hands covered her nose and mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears.

“Something else of interest,” DeVry said. “On that same date, same time of day, a number of photographs from your laptop were copied over to some sort of USB device.”

“Personal photos, like of our family?” Jack sensed Pam watching him.

“That’s right,” DeVry said. “Fortunately, our guys were able to restore those to your desktop. This Meade character may have thought he deleted them, or stole them, but they were still there under all the layers. Shoot, everything’s still there long after you think it’s been deleted. I don’t understand how it works, but it’s amazing stuff.”

“That’s probably how he knew what my daughter looked like,” Jack said. “I told you he waved at one of my girls at our church.”

“Disturbing, I know.”

Jack’s whole body tightened as he thought of Granger Meade fantasizing over their family photos. He wanted to
kill
the monster. “So what now?” He swung the VW into their neighborhood.

“Well, when all this started hitting the fan yesterday and this morning, I put in for a search warrant. Officers Potanski and Nielson are on duty today, so we’re going to pay Granger Meade a visit.”

“Today? You have an address?” He gritted his teeth, pumped a fist at Pam, and told her the news.

“Affirmative. We’ll be heading his way within the hour. We’ll let you know—”

“Where does he live?” Jack eyed Pam, who rubbed her nose with a wadded tissue and stared down at her lap.

“Here, in town. We’ll give you all the gory details later.”

“Do you plan to arrest him?”

“We’re going to search his place and see what turns up. We’ll go from there. Don’t worry, Mr. Crittendon. We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t consider him a prime suspect in the invasion of your home and the harassment of your wife and family. Hopefully we’ll surprise him, confiscate evidence, and make an arrest—at least bring him in for further questioning. We’ll see. But don’t hold your breath; sometimes these things don’t happen as fast as we’d like.”

Jack knew it was doubtful, but he asked anyway. “Is there any way I could go with you, or meet you there?”

Pam scowled at him.

“No, sorry, that wouldn’t work,” DeVry said. “If we need you for anything—an ID or something like that—I have your number. Just sit tight, Mr. Crittendon. We want this guy out of your hair and off the streets.”

Jack hung up and explained everything to Pam as they maneuvered their way along the curvy, tree-lined roads leading to the back of their neighborhood. Seeing no brown cars on their street and no sign of anything unusual at the house, Jack wheeled the car into the driveway. The girls skipped out to the street in the bright summer sun to get the bulky Sunday newspaper that had been tossed in the daisies.

“Girls, inside!” Jack yelled, waiting to close the garage door.

They scampered in and dashed off to their rooms to get changed.

With her shoes off, still wearing her black linen dress and the brown pearl earrings and necklace Jack had bought her for a recent anniversary, Pam picked up odds and ends throughout the downstairs, then began cleaning up the morning dishes at the kitchen sink.

After glancing at a few of the day’s headlines at the island, Jack approached her from behind, gently and deeply squeezed her shoulders, reached around her, and turned off the water. He then slipped both arms around her waist and nestled his head against her soft hair. She rested her hands on the counter in front of the sink and stood still, looking straight out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. It’s my fault.”

She didn’t answer.

“It’s my job to protect you,” he said. “I guess it felt like this guy had the one-up on me.”

Still she said nothing.

“That doesn’t excuse what I said—what I implied. I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t mean any of it, please know that. It was the old me, rearing his ugly head.”

“The old you is a
jerk
,” she said, and pinched both his wrists, hard.

“Ouch!” He did not pull away, but closed his arms around her.

She dropped her head back against his chest. “Is it going to end today?”

He nodded so she could feel it. “Yes.”

“He was always shunned,” she said. “I bet no one’s ever loved him. Can you imagine how that feels? All I did was show a little interest; we didn’t even know each other that well. I listened—that’s all. I treated him like a friend.”

“That sounds like you.”

Pam was too good for Jack. So often, he looked into the mirror of her life and was ashamed at the selfish, prideful man he saw looking back at him. Her words confirmed what an idiot he’d been. But she was always quick to forgive—always. Jack could tell Pam had recognized that his outburst was a character flaw issue between him and God. She’d completely relinquished it. That was her way. Forgive. Leave it with God. Forget.

Jack kissed her head and held her close. Very close. Very quiet.

But as far as Granger Meade was concerned, Jack was dumbfounded that Pam could feel any sort of compassion for the guy. Then again, if what Jack knew was true—that it was the evil powers and spiritual forces at work inside Granger that made him “bad”—then Jack
should
be able to conjure up some remnant of sympathy. His dad always said, “Be slow to judge other people until you know what they’ve been through.”

But Granger had literally busted his way into their private world. He’d stolen their personal things and attempted to frame Jack for a despicable felony. He’d attacked Pam. And he’d dared—
dared
—to enter the unspoken boundaries clearly and sacredly drawn around a man’s wife and children. And the sick threat of replacing Jack as Pam’s husband?

Jack would destroy him if he ever found him.

Yet Pam seemed willing to be merciful.

“You’re a good person.” He turned her around, leaned her up against the kitchen sink, and kissed her softly, deeply.

She pulled her head back and searched his eyes. “We’re partners, Jack. We’re one. I’ve never doubted that, or you, ever.”

He drew her in as close as possible and just hugged her.

“I love you,” he said.

She was perfect for him. No other woman on earth could understand him, or put up with him, or uplift him as she did. He rocked her back and forth in his arms, slowly, and banished the thought of ever having to live without her.

“I love you too, Mr. Reporter,” she said.

“Don’t remind me of work.” He groaned. “I really gotta dig into that McDaniel piece. I’ve had no time.”

He needed to follow up with Barbara Cooley to make sure she’d sent the email blast and find out if she’d heard back from any other church employees who may have seen Evan McDaniel the morning he disappeared. He needed to talk to the two people Barbara had mentioned who did see Evan that morning. And he needed to track down that rich lady, Pendergrass, to see what she had to say about her weekly meetings with the pastor.

If the cops can just nail Granger Meade, we can get on with our lives.

“I was thinking maybe I could go with you if you go back to the McDaniels’ house,” Pam said. “You know, just to kind of be there for Wendy, see if there’s anything I can do.”

“Great idea.” Jack stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “I’d give anything to be at Granger Meade’s apartment right now.”

“Oh, I’m sure that would be a pretty picture.” Pam squeezed him around the waist. “Let the police do their job. Come on, let’s scrounge up some lunch and get you your Sunday nap.”

He held up his hands. “Maybe you can join me.”

She lifted hers. Their fingers intertwined and their palms pressed together.

“Oh, really,” she said. “I didn’t think you let
anything
interfere with your Sunday nap.”

“Anything but you.” He guided her hands around his back; she latched them behind him. Smoothly, softly, he leaned in and kissed her, hoping she would feel how very much he loved her. Their mouths melted together. Warmth flowed. Pleasure swirled. And suddenly nothing else in the world mattered but their passionate communion.