Snake Skin (28 page)

"Yes. I hope so."

Megan's sly grin returned. "Does that mean I
can have my own computer? Maybe I can help some more."

"No. It means you may have just helped save
a girl's life. How's that make you feel?"

Her face lit up, freckles dancing across the
bridge of her nose. "Kind of good. Like Christmas morning. Is this
how it always feels?"

"Yes." Lucy's smile mirrored her daughter's.
She kissed Megan's head. And for the first time in months, Megan
didn't pull away. "Every time."

She slid off the bed and reached for Nick's
hand. "You okay with this?"

"You heard the doc, they won't know anything
more until morning. Go, you're wearing out the floor with your
pacing anyway." His voice was lighthearted but brittle. The
wrinkles forming at the edge of his eyes betrayed him.

"Seriously, Nick, if you have a problem with
this—"

He stood, blocking Megan's view. "I don't
have a problem with you finding that girl, trying to save her." His
voice dropped. "I do have a problem with you wearing yourself
ragged and coming back with nothing left to give your own
daughter."

She understood his words but knew there was
more to it. Nick never picked a fight unless he was certain he'd
examined all sides of the equation.

"Megan, honey, go ahead and set up a new
game. Your father and I are going to be right outside."

Megan looked up at that, a bemused grin on
her face. "You can fight here. I don't mind."

"We're not fighting, sweetheart," Nick said
in his calmest voice, syrupy with a hint of his Southern accent.
The one he only used when they were fighting. "Your mother and I
just need a little private discussion. That's all."

"Whatever." Her attention turned back to the
computer game. "You'll be back tonight to stay with me, right, Mom?
You promised."

"I promise. I'll be here tonight." She
kissed Megan on both cheeks and her nose, earning a familiar
grimace and eye roll, then walked out into the corridor and kept
going until she hit the stairwell. Nick followed her without saying
anything until the door slammed shut behind him.

"What was all that about?" She whirled on
him, her voice low but powerful enough to bounce from the cement
block walls.

"It was about you always needing to find
another kid to save, another crusade to fight. If the worse is
true, if Megan has—" he faltered. "If she's sick, then we're going
to be in for the fight of our lives right here."

"You think I'm using work as an excuse to
avoid reality?"

"Yes. You think if you save this girl,
you'll gain some protection, somehow be able to keep Megan safe as
well. We call it magical thinking."

"I don't need any of your psycho-bullshit
right now, thank you very much."

"Say you save this girl, Ashley. What
happens when you lose the next one or the one after that? Where
does it stop? You can't save them all."

She stared at him, not even realizing her
gun hand was resting on her hip where her holster would usually
sit. But Nick did. He glanced down pointedly at her hand before
enveloping it in both of his, stilling her trembling.

"You can't save the world, Lulu," he said,
his voice filled with longing and sorrow. "But you can help your
daughter get through this. And me. You can help me. I need you. We
need you."

His face was filled with concern and fear.
How could she explain to him that without her work she wouldn't
have any strength to lend to her family? Being out there, seeing
what she saw, doing what little she could to stop predators, it
wasn't something she wanted to do, it was something she had to
do.

She had no words to offer him, nothing
rational that he could analyze without twisting it around and
turning it into nonsense. All she could do was shake her head,
small little beats of denial, her gaze locked on his, hoping he
would understand. Tugging her hand from his, she stepped away.

"I'm late." She jogged down the stairs, her
footsteps crescendoing behind her, knowing that he watched her back
every step of the way.

"Want me to try to follow them?" Cindy's
cameraman, Felix, asked as Guardino ran out of the hospital
entrance and hopped into a black Chevy Blazer.

Cindy watched the SUV drive away. "No. Wait
here. I'm going to go meet the family."

He outfitted her with a button camera hidden
inside a broach. She grabbed a discarded visitor's pass from the
garbage can in front of the entrance. Security was always a joke
around hospitals. She smiled, thinking of the scoop she'd been
handed—thanks to her instincts.

She headed into the hospital and within
minutes was on the fourth floor at Megan Callahan's room.

The door was open. Inside, a young girl lay
against several pillows, sleeping. A video game stood at the foot
of the bed, whirling colors of a screen saver spinning across it.
Beside the girl lay a man, his eyes closed, but his hand moving,
patting the girl's arm in a soothing rhythm. He had the lean build
of an athlete, wiry without being muscle bound, red-gold hair with
an enticing hint of a curl, and appeared to be younger than the
thirty-nine years she knew he was.

Cindy had done her homework, had learned
everything she could about Nick Callahan and his wife. Always paid
to know the enemy.

She unbuttoned her suit jacket, made sure
the camera lens was clear of any obstacles, and nudged the door so
that it creaked a bit.

Callahan's eyes sprung open and he sat up,
untangling his arm from his daughter's. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Callahan, I can come back
later if you like," she said in a demur voice even as she stepped
into the room. "I ran into your wife downstairs, she didn't mention
you were asleep."

He slid from the bed and walked around it.
He was only an inch or so taller than her own five-ten, but he
seemed taller, the way he moved, so confident and graceful. Could
men be graceful? Elegant, that was the word. She had a sudden image
of an eighteenth century nobleman and knew instinctively how to
proceed. For once, sex wasn't the way to get what she needed from a
man.

"I'm afraid I didn't make a very good
impression on Mrs. Callahan," she said, conjuring a blush. "She
doesn't hold the counseling profession in very high regard."

She edged her glance up to see how he took
the implied insult to his own profession. He merely smiled, his
eyes gleaming, and she knew he was thinking of his wife and some
shared intimate joke. A pang of jealousy hit her. No man ever
looked that way when they thought about her.

Burroughs came close, though. When they were
together, he'd stare at her with an intensity that made her skin
glow like it had been targeted by a laser. She could never tell if
his stare was fueled by love or hate—doubted he knew, either.

Callahan's head bobbed with a soundless
laugh. "Lucy firmly believes in the benefits of therapy, just
doesn't have the patience to sit still long enough to experience it
herself."

He led her outside, keeping his voice low.
Silently, he closed the door and gestured to two chairs at the end
of the hallway. "Are you one of the hospital counselors?"

She strolled with him, enjoying the way his
gaze lingered as he examined her. Bingo. Half the battle won.

"It must be quite frustrating for a
psychologist of your caliber," she said, crossing her leg so that
her ankle almost but not quite brushed his, "giving up a NIMH grant
when you left Virginia to come here?"

His lips tightened even as his face retained
its bland geniality. Ahh, a sore spot.

"Is that where your wife was going? Back to
work?" She injected a hint of concern into her tone. "How does that
make you feel? Her leaving you when Megan is so ill."

His stare hardened, he leaned back a bit.
She'd pushed too hard.

"You look very familiar, Miss—" The silence
lengthened. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. And you don't
seem to be wearing an ID badge."

"I'm Cindy." She shoved her hand out fast,
before he could think more about the missing ID, and gave him her
mother's maiden name. "Cindy Janluski."

He took her hand with a strong grip,
surprised her when he stood and gently tugged her back up to her
feet as well. "Cindy. So nice to make your acquaintance."

As they began walking back to the nurses'
station, he tucked her arm in his like a gentleman caller from the
old days.

"I appreciate your interest in my daughter's
well being," he continued in that same melodious lilt perfumed with
magnolias and mint. "But, please tell your boss that if I ever see
you or another reporter come anywhere near my child again, I will
press charges. I believe it's a felony offense to interfere with a
federal agent's family."

Before Cindy could pull away, he leaned over
the counter and addressed the ward clerk. "Would you please have
hospital security come and remove this meddlesome journalist before
she has the chance to invade someone else's privacy?"

"Really," Cindy said, yanking her arm away
from him with a force that rocked her on her heels. "I can see
myself out. Although you may want to explain to your wife that if
she wants to get along here in Pittsburgh, she'd do best to
cooperate with me."

"You're lucky it was me here to meet you and
not my wife," he said as a hulking, acne-pocked security guard
arrived. "She'd shoot first and worry about the paperwork
later."

He gave her a quirky half smile as if he
were imaging just how a confrontation between her and Guardino
might end. From the pitying expression he bestowed on her, she had
the feeling he had no doubt that Guardino would win.

She couldn't wait to prove them both
wrong.

Chapter 25

Sunday, 11:53 am

Jimmy climbed down from the ladder leading
from the hayloft to the outside of the barn, sweat dripping from
his face. It wasn't just the sweltering temperatures in the barn or
the exertion of carrying the buckets filled with squirming reptiles
that had hijacked his heart rate and made his breath heave from his
chest.

Ashley's cries haunted him. When she'd
called out for her father, he had almost broken.

He glanced at his watch. The books said it
would take hours, maybe even days to shatter her will. But it had
only been six minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

He wiped tears and sweat from his cheeks.
Glanced at the closed barn doors behind him. He couldn't take it,
couldn't bear the thought of her in pain for any longer.

"I'm coming sweetheart," he sang out as he
sprinted for the farmhouse, even though he knew she couldn't hear.
"I'm coming."

It only took him a few minutes to finish his
preparations. The last thing he did before leaving the house was to
take one last look at the monitor. Ashley lay absolutely still, the
black forms of the snakes slithering over her body. Her eyes were
open, not blinking, her face blank.

"It's all right." She'd been so strong, so
brave. She was worthy of his love, had earned it. "It's all over
now."

His phone rang. Damn. Work.

He frowned, considering, staring at her
image on the screen.

Just a little while longer.

"I promise." Jimmy kissed his fingers,
placed them on the screen. He grabbed his car keys and ran.

Lucy called Bobby Fegley while they were en
route and filled him in on her theory. He seemed excited by the
prospect of being able to help. When they arrived at his house, his
father met them at the door and led them to Bobby's room where he
was feverishly working already.

"Nice set up," Taylor whistled in
appreciation as he opened up his laptop and joined Bobby. "Bet I've
got some toys you'll like."

They started talking cyber-gibberish,
interrupting each other at a fever-pitch. Lucy let them go at it a
few minutes, watching the large monitor flow from one website to
another, trying to track the creator of Shadow World.

"Why is he so hard to find? I thought these
guys thrived on attention," she said, standing behind the two.
Bobby's neck muscles bulged with tension and she hoped she hadn't
made a mistake in involving him. But no one knew the game or Ashley
as well. "Isn't creating a successful game their idea of fame?"

"For most," Taylor answered her. Bobby
remained silent, jaws gritted together, sweat beading his forehead.
"But some prefer the idea of becoming cult figures. Like super
heroes, they shield themselves in secret identities."

"Is that what this guy has done? This
Maestro?"

"No." Bobby scratched out the single, terse
syllable. "No. He's hiding."

"Don't worry, Draco," Taylor said, already
finding a nickname for Bobby as he did for everyone. Except Walden,
Lucy had noticed. Walden was Walden to everyone, even the
over-eager Taylor. "He can't hide from me. Not for long."

"Could you tell me if it's Tardiff?" she
asked, anxious for some shred of evidence to lead them to
Ashley.

"No. It doesn't work that way," Taylor said.
He paused as if searching for words to explain the realm of
cyberspace to a luddite. She waved him back to work and resumed her
pacing, calling Walden as she did.

"Any sign of Tardiff?"

"No. PBP talked their way into his room and
it was cleared out. He'd only rented it for the week, so today
would have been check out. Maybe he's gone home."

Maybe. Or maybe he'd gone to wherever Ashley
was. "Tell the New York office to put some eyes on his place. I'm
gonna talk to Melissa, see what's really going on."

She'd rather go in person but she didn't
want to leave Taylor and Bobby. It felt like if she was going to
catch a break in this case it would be through the same route the
Maestro used to catch Ashley. Shadow World.