Slaves to Evil - 11 (6 page)

Brady gazed contentedly at the kids splashing in the pool. “The gate protecting the front is weak. We ram through it with a truck, drive into the courtyard, and…” He mimed pressing a button with his thumb.

“You’re using a remote trigger?” asked Matt.

“Course,” said Brady. “Nobody’s trying to be a martyr.”

“I don’t know,” joked Peter. “What about those seventy-two virgins?” He and Brady both laughed. Matt forced a chuckle, trying to think of some way to get to that bomb.

“What kind of trigger are you using?” he asked.

Brady shook his head. “No idea. Everett put together the electronics.”

Vamping desperately, Matt said, “You know, some of those remote receivers are kinda twitchy. Like if there’s a cell phone on the same frequency…”

The other man hesitated, and Matt feared that his bullshit had been detected. But Brady only said, “Ask Everett about it.”

“Sure.” Matt shrugged, deliberately casual. “I could also look over the circuitry. Never hurts to have an extra pair of eyes on a job, just to be sure.”

Brady took the bait. “Yeah, have a look. We’re loading the truck in the morning.” He looked supremely satisfied. “It’s time for some fucking payback.”

“You think it would make you feel better, don’t you?” Matt asked Elena that night as he swabbed his wounds with disinfectant.

She was immediately defensive. “What?”

“Blowing me away.”

Elena didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Matt went on. “You think it will make losing your brother less painful. Let you move on and get back to your life. Assuming you don’t get locked up for murder, that is.”

She didn’t blink. “That’s the risk I have to take.”

“For justice,” he said.

“Yes.”

He nodded, taping a fresh square of gauze on his shoulder. He’d been lucky, he knew. If she’d shot a couple of inches to the left, he’d probably be dead. “What do you plan to do about the nightmares?” he asked.

She started to protest, but he cut her off. “I know…you won’t have any nightmares. Because I deserve it and you’ll be doing the right thing.”

“Yes,” she said again. Matt remembered that kind of certainty. He missed it.

“Problem is,” he told her, “that won’t make any difference.”

Elena stared at him, dubious. “What do you mean?”

Matt allowed himself a wry smile. “Turns out that even if the person you kill is undeniably bad, even if you do it to save innocent lives…you will never forget that person’s face. You’ll see it every night. You’ll see all of them.”

He turned on her, pointing at his own face. “You ready to carry this with you? To have the image of your bullet going through my skull haunt you for the rest of your life?”

For a moment he thought he’d made a dent in her armor. She looked away. “You’re just trying to talk me out of killing you.”

“That too,” he admitted. “But I’m not lying.”

She didn’t answer, her face still turned to the wall. Matt let her be. He settled down on the carpet, head on his duffel. It promised to be another long, sleepless night.

CHAPTER FOUR

As soon as Kathy Lennox opened the front door, Matt wanted to apologize. She looked appropriately festive in a skirt, sweater, and pearls. His “best” clothes were a pair of gray pants and a faded blue shirt he’d slept on last night. Still, he’d felt presentable enough, at least until he worked up a sweat riding here on his purloined bicycle. Now, he knew, he was a mess.

To her credit, Kathy didn’t hesitate to give him a warm hug. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said. “I’m so glad you could come.”

The Lennox home was beautiful, much bigger than Sheridan’s. Matt wondered how much a civil servant pulled down these days. It was decorated in tasteful neutrals with bursts of color from several large flower arrangements. The only flaw Matt could see was a section of wall that had been patched but not yet painted.

Kathy caught his glance. “Sorry for the mess. We just moved in a month ago.”

Now Matt was even more impressed by the showroom elegance of the place. Kathy led him into the living room, where Lennox was sitting with a couple in their early sixties. All were dressed impeccably. Of course.

She made the introductions. “You’ve met Tom. This is my aunt and uncle, Diane and Edward Williamson.”

Her uncle stood and held out a hand. “Call me Eddie.”

“Matt Cahill.” He shook the man’s hand and smiled at Diane, who looked briefly dismayed by Matt’s appearance but recovered quickly.

“Get you a drink?” asked Lennox as he went to the wet bar. The rot had continued to spread across his face. Most of his jawbone was now exposed, a few scraps of bloody muscle tissue still clinging to it.

“Please,” said Matt. “Scotch would be great.”

He sat on the overstuffed couch and chatted with the relatives as Kathy returned to the kitchen. He spun a tale about the new job he’d be starting at a furniture company in Duluth, keeping it boring enough to avoid a lot of questions. Eddie reciprocated with the story of how he’d opened a single stationery store twenty-two years earlier and now owned a chain of five stores across the state. Matt was duly impressed.

Lennox had clearly heard this before. He paid little attention as he finished one gin and tonic and made himself another, light on the tonic.

Kathy announced dinner. As the others moved into the dining room, she stepped into the hallway and called, “Chris, time for dinner.”

She had to call twice more before a slight twelve-year-old boy reluctantly appeared. He had such a bad case of acne that Matt had to look twice to be sure the lesions weren’t something worse.

Kathy plucked the earbuds from her son’s ears and turned him toward Matt. “This is Mr. Cahill.”

“Hey,” Chris muttered.

“Nice to meet you,” answered Matt.

Everyone took their seats, as indicated by place tags adorned with little pilgrims. Lennox sat at one end of the table, Kathy at the other. Matt was between her and Diane.

Everyone joined hands as Eddie said grace. Then the chief went to work on the turkey. Matt felt even less comfortable watching him wield a carving knife than he had watching him with the big scissors at the library opening. When the suppurating sores on Lennox’s face started to drip on the sliced meat, Matt had to look away. He reminded himself that the decomposition he saw on people was metaphorical, an indication of moral rot within. There was no, repeat
no
, actual bodily fluid on the food.

Even so, it took some willpower to eat enough turkey and trimmings to avoid insulting the chef. The moment anyone’s plate looked half-empty, Kathy offered them more food. When she brought the dish of sweet potatoes to Lennox, he pushed it away.

“Stop your damn hovering,” he snapped. She stepped back quickly. Matt saw a flash of fear on her face.

She replaced it with a pleasant smile as she turned to Chris. “Sweet potatoes?”

“No.” He didn’t look up from his plate. Kathy retreated to her seat. Eddie and Diane exchanged a glance but said nothing.

Everyone ate in silence for a moment. Diane turned to Matt with deliberate cheer. “Where are your people from, Mr. Cahill?”

“Washington State,” he told her.

“I hear it’s just lovely there.” She beamed.

“It is,” said Matt, distracted by Lennox emptying a bottle of Chardonnay into his glass. “Especially the mountains.”

Kathy served herself green beans. “We took a vacation in Washington once. Near Spokane.”

Lennox added, “You were pregnant.”

His wife smiled at him, pleased. “You remember.”

“I remember that you couldn’t hold your bladder. And how you wet the bed at that hotel.” He faced her across the table, looking for a reaction. She betrayed none. He went on. “Got so bad you had to wear a diaper. That was real sexy.”

Kathy stood and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll get the pie.”

Eddie turned to Lennox. “Tom… ,” he began.

The cop looked at him. “What?”

Whatever Eddie saw in the younger man’s face was enough to shut him up. Lennox scooped up a big forkful of cranberry sauce and put it in his mouth.

Matt sat there, not sure if he should go after Kathy. What could he say?
That’s not really the man you married
? He looked at Chris, whose eyes were still fixed on his plate. He played with the napkin in his lap, his hands twisting and retwisting it silently. Matt wanted to talk to the boy, but what about?

“So, Chris,” he asked, “what are they reading in English class these days?” It was a pretty lame question, he knew.

“
Lord of the Flies
,” Chris muttered.

“That’s a great one.” Matt was sincere. He loved that book.

“Yeah.” The boy looked up at him. “Mr. Hamill says it’s about bullying.”

“Really?” said Matt. “I always thought it was about how quickly a so-called civilized society can break down.”

Chris considered this. “Yeah. I can see that too. With Jack, and the Beast.”

“Exactly.”

Kathy came back to the table with a warm apple pie and set it down in front of Chris. For a moment the kid looked almost happy. Then his father spoke up.

“This one’s in private school now.” He took a gulp of wine and turned to Matt. “Guess how much tuition I have to pay.”

Matt assumed this was a rhetorical question until Lennox insisted, “Guess.”

He had no idea what to say. “Uh…ten thousand dollars?”

“Hah!” said Lennox. “I wish. Twenty-six thousand fucking dollars a year. And now I’m supposed to pay even more for a tutor to keep my little angel from flunking math.” He waved a derisive hand toward Chris, who had withdrawn again into silence.

“That’s enough.” Kathy’s voice was quiet but firm.

All eyes went to Lennox, anticipating an angry response. Matt felt his muscles tense, ready to intervene if things got physical.

Maybe it was the five glasses of wine, but Lennox stayed calm. He even seemed amused. “Whatever you say. Dear.”

Chris stood abruptly and left the room. Kathy went after him. Eddie and Diane exchanged another concerned look.

“Fuck it,” said their host. He grabbed the wine bottle and left. A moment later they heard a car start up and drive away.

Matt, Eddie, and Diane returned to their pie with minimal chitchat. Matt excused himself and headed toward the bathroom. He didn’t really have to go, but he needed a chance to think. The Dark Man had touched Lennox, but he was poisoning the man’s family as well. Matt had been agonizing about the pain he caused innocent families when he killed someone they loved. But at least it freed them from the corrosive damage he was seeing now. He thought about Elena’s family, how her mother must have felt watching Peter slide further and further into darkness, unable to save her boy.

He wanted to find some way to help Kathy and Chris. Could he persuade Kathy to leave her husband? Matt doubted it. Once again he wished he could turn to Janey for advice. And was again reminded that he was on his own.

On his way back to the table, he glanced through an open door into a home office. There were two desks, presumably his and hers. Matt paused. He’d love to get a look at Lennox’s papers, search through his computer files. He could take a quick peek right now if he dared.

That idea was quashed by the appearance of Eddie, making his own bathroom run. His lips were pinched into a tight line, suppressing his own helpless anger. He nodded at Matt as he passed. Matt returned the nod and continued on to the dining room.

The three of them were clearing the table when Kathy returned to the dining room. “You don’t have to do that,” she insisted.

“We got it,” said Matt.

Diane approached her niece, concerned. “Are you all right? What’s wrong with Tom?”

“He’s just stressed. Issues at work.” But even Kathy didn’t look convinced by that excuse.

Eddie joined in. “You and Chris could come and visit us for a while.”

“He has school.” Kathy faced them. “We’re OK. Really. This will pass.”

After the Williamsons took their leave, Matt stayed behind to help wash dishes. Kathy kept up a steady stream of chatter, to avoid any serious topics. “It’s a shame my mother couldn’t join us this year. Eddie’s her little brother.”

“I liked him,” said Matt. “And Diane.”

“They’re good people,” she agreed.

Matt added, “I liked Chris too. He seems like a smart kid.”

“He is.” Kathy rinsed a serving platter. “He’s really a good boy. He’s just at that age…”

He nodded. “I remember what that was like. Wanting to be your own man, but still needing approval from Dad.” Which Chris obviously wasn’t getting from Lennox. Matt felt shameless, exploiting Kathy’s maternal sympathies. He knew she’d be more sensitive to any harm to her son than to herself.

“Chris knows his father loves him,” she said, her voice more brittle now.

Matt dried a plate. “Are you sure about that?”

He knew right away that he’d crossed the line. She gave him a long, even look. “You don’t know my family,” said Kathy.

“You’re right. Sorry.”

They spent a quiet moment fussing with the dishes. Kathy brought up the innocuous subject of movies and they resumed chatting about that.