Silent Kills (33 page)
Authors: C.E. Lawrence
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Lee Campbell stood at his front window watching as night fell over the East Village. The last lingering rays of the sun bounced off the great rose window of the Ukrainian church across the street, casting a halo around the stained-glass saints in their long robes. The days were getting shorter now, and the saints would have their hour in the sun earlier and earlier, until the rays were entirely blocked by the buildings of midtown.
A young couple huddled together on the steps of the church, heads intertwined like two nesting birds. The girl’s hair was dark; the boy’s was roan red, the same shade as the bricks on the apartment building next door. His hair blazed in the soft glow of the setting sun—it looked as if his head was on fire.
Passion, fire, blood, anger ...
all these things drove David Adrastos, Lee thought, but the forces that forged him were beyond his control. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the boy. More than any case he had consulted on, his heart went out to this young man, and his desperate search for something to fill the void inside him. Except that nothing could, of course. The black hole in his soul continued to grow, until it began devouring him and the people around him.
Passion, fire, blood, anger ...
all these things drove David Adrastos, Lee thought, but the forces that forged him were beyond his control. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the boy. More than any case he had consulted on, his heart went out to this young man, and his desperate search for something to fill the void inside him. Except that nothing could, of course. The black hole in his soul continued to grow, until it began devouring him and the people around him.
The police search of David’s house had answered a lot of Lee’s questions, and confirmed his theories. There were pictures and mementoes of David’s dead sister everywhere, and it didn’t take long to find out what had killed her. And it wasn’t hard to extrapolate that’s when his obsessions began—though Lee could only guess at the toxic family atmosphere that allowed them to grow and take root. Grief-stricken mother, distant father, everyone so preoccupied with the dying child that the surviving one comes to feel he doesn’t exist. Lee knew that kind of identity annihilation could turn tragic or violent—or both.
And poor Francois. He couldn’t help wonder if he were in the boy’s place if he would have done the same. Someday he might very well come face-to-face with his sister’s killer—and then what? Would rage envelop him as it had Francois, dragging him down in its fatal embrace?
The sun slid across the front of the church and onto the young couple on the steps, bathing them in its soft glow. Lee was looking forward to the coming fall, the long nights and short days—all the more precious because they were so brief. As the days gathered in length, they seemed to lose some of their meaning. But now that fall was here, a deep sense of peace settled over him as he watched the slowly descending twilight, the sky a faint pink in the western sky.
The phone rang. It was Chuck.
“Hey, it’s me.” He sounded sheepish.
“Hi.”
“Look, about that whole thing—”
“Forget it.”
“I feel so stupid. I ... oh, hell, Lee, who am I kidding?”
“About what?”
He could hear the long, slow intake of the breath on the other end of the line.
“I just—I mean, I can’t ... oh, hell, I can’t imagine ever living without her.”
“Okay.”
“Shit, don’t say it like that.”
“How should I say it? Look, I can’t tell you what’s right for you. I just don’t want you to—”
“To be a sucker? A sap? Whipped? Well, maybe that’s what I am, so deal with it.”
“Okay.”
Another pause. “Look, that guy calling you about your sister ... we’ll get him.”
“He hasn’t broken any laws.”
“I know, but we’ll get him.”
“I know you will. Thanks for calling, and good luck with—well, good luck.”
“Shit, Lee. What do you think, I’m an idiot?”
“No. I think you’re a sap.”
Chuck laughed, which made him laugh too.
“Okay, then, we’re both saps.”
“How’s that?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how I feel.”
“Sure I do.”
“And don’t tell me you wouldn’t walk through goddamn fire for Kathy.”
“Maybe I would. So what?”
“Sucker.”
They both laughed again. The mood had lightened between them—unaccountably, even with all that had happened. The capture of the Van Cortlandt Vampire had lifted such a great weight from their shoulders that nothing else seemed all that important—not even women and love and loss and betrayal.
“Let’s talk in a few months and see who the real sucker is,” said Lee.
“Yeah, right,” said Chuck. “You hear from Kathy?”
Lee had finally confided in his friend about the trouble between them—given the situation with Susan, it seemed only fair.
“Nope,” he said.
“You okay?”
“Yep.” And it was true. He was okay. He had been forced to put a lot of things on hold in his life, so why not this too? That’s how it felt, like it was on hold between them.
“You, uh, still on for tennis Sunday?”
“Sure.”
“You bring the rackets, and I’ll bring the—”
“Good night, Chuck.” He heard the sound of his friend’s laughter as he hung up, and was glad. That feeling was mixed with other emotions, but there would be time for them later.
He had a sudden urge to view the sunset from the roof of his building. He trudged up to the fifth floor and pushed open the fire door that led to the roof. The air was clear and thin, the lights across the river in New Jersey twinkling softly. The band of water visible between Manhattan and the western shore was flat and grey. From this distance it looked completely still, though Lee knew the river was never really still. The Hudson was restless, always moving, the tides either coming in or going out.
He stood and looked out over the water. He wished Kathy were here with him, but he also understood that his own rage had helped drive them apart. Somehow, though, it felt right, at least for now. Here, at dusk in early fall, he had no desire to predict what the future might hold. The need to control his destiny slipped away as the sun sank slowly in the evening sky.
He loved the river and its many moods. Like the city it enfolded, it was unquiet and turbulent, forever coming and going, never content to remain in one place. He had seen the Mississippi, the Delaware, and the Ohio, but they all seemed muddy overgrown streams next to the Hudson. It was as dynamic as the people who lived along its banks, from Battery Park to Saratoga and beyond. Lee knew that no matter where else his life might lead, he would always come back to this place—this river valley and the beleaguered, heartbreaking city he called home.
Don’t miss
C. E. Lawrence’s next mesmerizing thriller,
Silent Slaughter
coming from Pinnacle in December 2012.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2011 C. E. Lawrence
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7860-2912-9
Other books
Poseur #2: The Good, the Fab and the Ugly by Maude, Rachel
The Mandate of Heaven by Mike Smith
Seven Days From Sunday (MP-5 CIA #1) by M. H. Sargent, Shelley Holloway
In The Arms of a Stranger by Kristen Robinette
The Captain's Daughter by Minnie Simpson
The Devil's Apprentice by Edward Marston
A Purrfect Romance by Bronston, J.M.
The Satyr's Head: Tales of Terror by Campbell, Ramsey, Lumley, Brian, Riley, David A.
The First Time is the Sweetest by Erin M. Leaf
Leif Frond and the Viking Games by Joan Lennon
