Snake Skin (39 page)

Lucy returned to Alicia's room. They
couldn't touch the body until the ME released it and she should
probably get a warrant just to cover her ass before searching the
premises but she didn't have time.

"What are you looking for?" Burroughs asked
when she brushed past him and turned on all the lights in the room.
Lucy ignored him, searching between the chair cushions.

"Bingo." She grabbed a pair of gloves and
picked up the cell phone from where it sat, tucked into the
cushions of Alicia's chair. "She set us up. Had Fletcher listening
in the entire time."

Lucy carefully hit Redial. She held it
between them so that Burroughs could hear. Fletcher answered. "Is
that you, Lucy?"

"Who else would it be?"

"You'll pay for what you did to my
mother."

"I didn't do anything to her, Fletcher. She
orchestrated this all on her own. Was she always such a drama
queen?" Lucy hoped she could focus his anger on her, away from
Ashley. "No wonder you locked her away in this dump."

"How dare you! I did the best I could—"
There was a pause, followed by the sound of laughter. "It's not
going to work, Lucy. I'm not stupid, you know. The next sound you
hear will be the sound of this untraceable, pre-paid cell phone
being flushed down a toilet."

"Figured you for a coward. Running away, not
even trying to make things right for his own mother. She knew you
would run, Fletcher. Knew you couldn't be half the man your father
was."

Burroughs grabbed Lucy's arm, shook his head
at her. "Tone it down," he mouthed.

"Just—just you shut your mouth, bitch!"

"Make me. Come and get me, Fletcher. Or
can't you handle a real woman? Have to make do with scared,
half-starved illegals and little girls like Ashley."

"So you found the others. Maybe you're
smarter than I thought." Another long pause. "Maybe I'm smarter
than you think as well. Your career means everything to you,
doesn't it Lucy? Your daughter is sick, in the hospital, and you
abandoned her for the sake of your job. You know nothing about
being a mother."

"Don't you dare talk about my daughter—"
Lucy's grip threatened to crush the small plastic phone.

"Afraid to face the truth? Now who's the
coward?" He hung up.

Burroughs frowned, listened to his own cell
phone then pocketed it. "He was right, Taylor couldn't get a trace
on it. Why'd you push him so hard?"

Lucy deposited Alicia's phone into an
evidence bag. Maybe Taylor could find something useful in it. Or
better yet….

"You need to talk to your TV girl. Get her
to let us monitor her phones. And put a tail on her."

"Cindy? Why?"

"If Fletcher is too smart to deal with me in
person, he'll use her to get to me. Just like his mother did."

"What are you talking about? We set up the
interview, not Alicia."

Lucy bent down to point to a crumpled paper
medicine cup lying beneath Alicia's chair. Several pills, different
sizes and shapes, had spilled out onto the floor.

"Wrong. Alicia played us, just like she
spent a lifetime playing Fletcher."

"Son of a bitch. The old witch killed
herself." Burroughs gave a low whistle. "Man, this family is
nuts."

"You can say that again." Lucy left the
medicine cup where it was and rocked back on her heels.

"What are you going to do now?"

"We'll let the ME document everything." She
pushed herself back onto her feet. "The next move is up to
Fletcher. But I'm betting he'll reach out to Ames, want to go
public, blaming me for Alicia's death."

Burroughs' frowned.

"Can you keep Ames in line? If she learns
we're using her, we're screwed."

He hesitated. She scrutinized his face,
leveling her best "don't you dare disappoint me" glare on him, and
he finally nodded.

"Yeah. I'll take care of everything. She
won't be a problem."

"Ashley Yeager's life might depend on
it."

He looked away, staring at the wretched
corpse on the bed. "I know."

Chapter 33

Sunday 10:04 pm

Cindy fluffed her hair and squared her
shoulders so that the first camera shot would catch her at her best
three-quarters profile before panning to capture her full face.
This was what she lived for, what made everything else worthwhile,
time on air.

Here she was in control of millions of
people, of what they thought, of what they felt. Hell, what they
ate for breakfast.

Best of all, they invited her into their
homes. They wanted
her
.

She pursed her lips, relaxed her neck
muscles, waiting for the weekend anchor to finish his lead in.
Thanks to the FBI, her canned footage was being run on every local
station, but here at WDDE she got an additional three minutes of
air time with a live intro and wrap up of the story.

After tonight she'd be famous. The story was
perfect. Sexy and scary and sordid—with the federal agent gone bad
angle, it was sure to be picked up for national broadcast. Probably
a primetime half-hour special if the kid was found dead.

The red light on camera one glowed and Cindy
began. As she spoke, using her voice and eyes to sell it, she felt
heat fire her belly. She pressed her thighs together below the news
desk. God, this was better than sex.

And then it was done. The cameras were back
on the weekend anchor, the lights off her, techs scrambling to
relieve her of the microphone and send her off set so they could
prep their next shot. She picked her way over the cables taped to
the floor and joined the news director in the control room.

"How was it?" she asked, knowing she had
been brilliant.

"Fantastic," he gushed. "When can I get
follow up? Maybe footage of the old lady locked up?"

Guardino had made her go with a fake ending
instead of revealing Alicia's real fate. It was either that or the
bitch would pull the plug on everything. No matter. Once the girl
was found—dead or alive, but preferably dead for the ratings—Cindy
would use Guardino's own heavy-handed tactics to destroy her.

When Cindy was done with her, Guardino
wouldn't be able to get a job as a crossing-guard.

"Don't think that's going to happen," she
said. "But I could get you more inside stuff from Burroughs, the
Pittsburgh detective."

The news director frowned. "He's okay, but
feds are more glamorous. Get me the lady fed, what's her name,
Guardino. You do that and I'll slot you for primetime
tomorrow."

"Any word from the network?"

"Let me worry about the network. You get me
the story." He glanced about, made sure no one was within listening
range and slid one hand around to grope her ass—his idea of
seduction. "I'll see you later, after we wrap up?"

Cindy weighed her options. She'd hoped to
see Burroughs again, milk him for info on the case, but he would
probably be working the entire night. "Bring champagne and an offer
from the network and I'll get you an exclusive from Guardino."

She spun on her three-inch heels, pausing to
look at him over her shoulder, giving him her best vamp, noting
with satisfaction that his gaze never left her ass. Walking away,
she felt the weight of his stare, felt that everyone in the control
room had stopped to look at her, like she was a supernova lighting
up the dark room.

Retiring to her small office-slash-dressing
room, Cindy wondered how long it would be before she got the call
to come to DC or New York. No more pandering to station managers
and news directors, no more talk of the town features, finally, she
would be doing hard news. In the spotlight, front and center. Where
she belonged.

Her door opened as she dreamed of her bright
future. She looked in her makeup mirror, saw Burroughs enter, close
the door behind him, leaning against it, silent.

"What do you want?" she asked, irritated
that he'd backed Guardino and insisted she keep Alicia Fletcher's
death a secret. "I played along."

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the reflection
of her cleavage. She leaned forward, pretending to adjust her
eyeliner, giving him a good look. It was as close as he was going
to get unless he got her another exclusive.

"That's you, Cindy," he drawled, crossing
his arms over his chest. "Always playing."

His shoulders threatened to burst free of
his sports jacket and his stare turned smoldering. She inhaled,
enjoying the scent of testosterone that filled the room. They could
have a little fun here, she decided. There was time.

"You've never minded our little games," she
reminded him, smoothing gloss over her lips, enjoying the way his
gaze followed her movements. "Face it, Burroughs, you have so much
more fun with me than you ever would with Guardino. Besides, after
tonight, she's finished."

He gave a little shake of his head as if
warning her away from danger.

Cindy ignored it, confident she had the
upper hand. "She owes me. Big time. Sacrificing my journalistic
integrity to help save her ass. I want the inside scoop on the
investigation." She spun in her chair, now facing him. "And you're
going to get it for me. An exclusive."

Her desk phone rang before he could answer.
She reached for the receiver, was surprised when he strode across
the room to join her.

"Cindy Ames," she answered. Burroughs
stabbed the speaker button just as a man's voice came through.

"Ms. Ames, I'm James Fletcher, Jr. You lied
about my mother in your story tonight. I'd like to give you a
chance to correct your error."

Cindy scowled at Burroughs as he grabbed her
hand, restraining her from silencing the speaker. He jerked his
head at the phone, indicating that she should answer Fletcher.

"I'm—uh—I'm very sorry about your mother,
Mr. Fletcher," Cindy said, steadying her voice and trying to mask
her fury at Burroughs. "I had no choice. I was forced to report the
story the way it aired."

"Forced by Agent Guardino?"

"Yes sir."

"I understand." There was a pause. Cindy
opened her mouth, ready to jump in with an offer of an exclusive
interview but Burroughs held her back. A rustling noise sounded in
the background and then Fletcher's voice returned.

"Agent Guardino has a lot to answer for. If
I gave you evidence against her, would you be able to promise me
that it would air without her interference?"

"I think I could convince my boss of that.
If we did the interview on camera and the evidence was
compelling."

"And you'll include Agent Guardino's
responsibility for my mother's death?"

"Certainly. I was there, I saw what
happened."

"I know. That's why I came to you. After the
way Agent Guardino treated you, I thought you would agree that it
is in our mutual interests to keep the FBI and police out of
this."

Cindy wondered at that. How the hell had the
guy seen her at the nursing home and still managed to escape?
Guardino was incompetent. "How would you like to arrange our
meeting?"

Another pause. "There's a playing field. In
Frick Park. The one at the end of Nicholson Street. Be there in one
hour."

There was a click and he was gone. The buzz
of the dial tone echoed from the speaker as Cindy whirled on
Burroughs. "You son of a bitch. You set me up!"

"Relax, Cindy." He was already dialing his
cell phone. "You'll still get your story."

Anger seethed through her as she listened to
him tell Guardino the details of her conversation with Fletcher.
She used her own phone to call Felix and arrange for a van.

Burroughs hung up on Guardino just as she
finished her conversation. "You're not going to be anywhere near
that park tonight."

"It's a free country," she said, standing
and grabbing her bag. "You can't stop me."

"Like hell I can't." He blocked her path,
both hands coming to rest on her shoulders. His face reddened and
she wasn't sure if he wanted to push her away or pull her close.
"It's too dangerous."

"It's my job. Besides, you and the FBI will
be there. Fletcher won't show without me. No way in hell am I
missing this story."

Jimmy hung up the payphone at the Sheetz and
returned to his Blazer. Ashley hadn't moved, still sat curled up in
the passenger seat, looking as deflated as a parade balloon the day
after Thanksgiving. Other than the single word and her new name,
she hadn't spoken to him, not at all. Hadn't looked at him or made
eye contact either.

But still, she had done everything he had
asked her. No need to be worried. He'd followed the protocols
properly, he'd done it right this time.

He slammed the door on purpose to see if
she'd jump. Nothing. It was like she was in a coma—here, but not
here.

All part of the process. He had to just keep
drawing her in.

"Remember I told you we couldn't trust the
cops?" he asked, not expecting her to answer. "Well, I think I
figured out a way to get Bobby, to keep him from hurting anyone
else ever again." He paused, glanced over at her, hoping she'd at
least show some sign that she heard, that she was interested in
what he had to say.

He hadn't gone through all this work just to
end up with a zombie by his side. He honked the horn at nothing.
She didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

"Bobby has a woman helping him find
girls—girls just like you. She's a wicked, evil person." Ashley
didn't even shrug in her indifference, just stared straight ahead,
her eyes not quite shut. "We're going to go meet her. And then
we're going to kill her."

Chapter 34

Sunday 10:37 pm

Lucy groaned as soon as she heard Fletcher's
choice of a meeting place. The man might be psychonuts, but he
wasn't stupid.

She'd been to those playing fields with
Megan's soccer team. There were two soccer fields stretched out
side-by-side, wide open, no way to set up an ambush. Worse, it was
surrounded by forest, trees zig-zagged with jogging trails—no way
to cover them all, not in the time allotted.