The Devil's Analyst (39 page)

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

“Think back.”
That’s what the voice on the radio counseled. In his hotel room, Danny was up very early to catch a return flight to Los Angeles. The day before he had attended the first day of Barbara Linsky’s annual BLINK conference in Boston.

“Close your eyes. Think back to the very last time you were truly happy. Be slow and think deeply. Imagine looking completely around you. Go three hundred and sixty degrees around the scene. What can you see? Try to remember every detail, and let the feeling of that moment reconnect.”

It had been so long since Danny felt unfettered happiness. He thought that hearing someone from Actuades speak about the algorithms and models developed at Premios and brought into glory at the fully capitalized firm would somehow bring about a sense of closure. Linsky insisted on his attending her conference. “Focus on the good that Josh brought into the world,” she counseled. But a year had not reduced the pain and betrayal that he felt from their years together.

Neither time nor dragging the flowage between Thread and Lattigo ever brought up Josh’s body. But Danny had moved on. With the passage of a year, he came to realize exactly what it was he saw in Josh’s face that night. It was Josh’s recognition that Danny intended to kill him, and for some reason seeing Danny’s fury pleased Josh. He wanted Danny to choose anger.

“Breathe deeply,” the radio talk show guest went on, “and allow your mind to flow backward to that happy moment.” Danny snapped his travel bag closed, and sat on the edge of the bed. He considered following this early morning radio pop psychiatrist’s advice.

“Why not?” he thought to himself as he sought to locate some former happy moment. He landed on a point in January of 1994, and almost laughed aloud imagining how strange it would seem to someone else that this instant in time should remain in his memory as a good moment. But there it was.

Danny mentally returned to a morning in 1994. It was after the sun had risen on the day of the destructive Northridge earthquake in Los Angeles. By then, Josh and Danny were living together in a small duplex in the hills of Silverlake, just a few houses from where Wally and Stephen lived. That day they woke to the fierce jostling of the world beneath. The power failed and the buildings groaned. Dishes were thrown from their cupboard and cracked into shards when they hit the tile floor. But the two boys were okay, and they held each other in the doorframe and kissed as the earthquake rumbled on. Danny remembered thinking, “What if this is our last kiss?” and he didn’t care because he was in the arms of the man he loved.

But the shaking soon stopped. The old frame building did not collapse around them. Danny remembered how Josh looked at him that day, and in that moment Danny believed the person in his arms was someone who would do anything for him. And he was overjoyed to have him in his life.

But Danny hadn’t yet to reach that last happy moment of his memory. That instance came later after the winter sun had fully risen that same morning, and when they could look across the bowl of west Los Angeles toward the Hollywood Hills. Smoke was rising in pockets from a few burning buildings, or maybe the puffs were just signals of outside campfires. The city sounds had shifted. Sirens punctuated the air, but there was no roar of the normal rush of traffic. It was the dawn of a different world, one in which time stood still. In that suspended moment everything might still be possible if everyone could only reach across and touch one another.

Josh suggested they dress, walk to the home of Wally and Stephen, and make sure their friends were okay. By the time they arrived, Stephen had already pulled his gas grill into the driveway, lit a fire, and was boiling water for coffee while heating a pan to fry eggs. They spied Wally walking up the street.

Just as the radio voice commanded, Danny tried to recall each detail. As he mentally looked in that direction, he recalled how Wally was encouraging two homeless people from the neighborhood to come along. It was as though he had invited them to breakfast. At the time, Danny remembered thinking how much they reminded him of two crazy old coots back in Thread.

And when Wally reached the group, he talked about something that seemed so odd. What was it? Did he say he had been dreaming about being back in Thread? Something about when they all met at the original Loon Town Café?

Doing this exercise almost made Danny feel as though he had traveled back in time. He could recall the look of the old coffee pot on the grill . . . the smell of the coffee in the chilly air . . . the homeless woman who displayed tinfoil woven in her hair and muttered about being tracked by aliens . . . and Josh’s smile. Even now, prompted by memory, he felt himself smile in return. Then Stephen lifted up the pot to offer fresh coffee. He said the Loon Town Café was open again. Maybe that was the moment his friends decided to restart the restaurant in Los Angeles.

The exercise relaxed Danny. Strange that such a moment would stay with him after all these years. But at that time he had friends. He had a lover. He was part of a community of experience he valued. And now it was gone.

A rap at his hotel room door broke him out of his reverie. It must be room service delivering the quick breakfast that he planned to eat before departing for Logan Airport. Danny walked over to let the server in. When he opened the door, he saw a breakfast tray on the floor that had apparently been delivered earlier. His eyes moved up to see a person standing outside the door, but it wasn’t a hotel employee. It was Josh.

Josh walked in and closed the door. “I don’t have much time,” he said.

“What? How?” Danny stammered. There was no way this was happening. Josh was dead. He had killed him and left him to drown in the cold waters of Wisconsin.

Josh handed him a set of car keys and a Hertz envelope. “There’s a rental car waiting with the valet. I want you to take your bag, go down to the lobby, get in that car, and drive back to Wisconsin. Now.”

“Why would I do that?” There was no way Danny would listen to Josh. He had a non-stop flight to catch to Los Angeles.

“Just do it. Get on Interstate 90. Stay on it all the way to Rockford, Illinois. Then turn onto U.S. Highway 51 and drive north into Wisconsin until you can branch off on 17 to go back to Thread. You’ll be safe in Thread.”

“What are you talking about? What are you involved with now? Why are you even here? Why aren’t you dead?”

Josh seemed different—calmer, sadder, and maybe even crazier. “I couldn’t help myself. I can’t let anything go, so when I saw that someone was talking about my old projects at BLINK, I had to sneak back and hear what was said. I wondered what survived and what didn’t. Interesting, but so sad that the best parts were abandoned. By some. But not by me. I’ve kept track in my own way of everything and everyone from those days. And then I saw you in the audience. And I knew there was something I had to do.

“That’s why I’m here now. To keep you alive.

Danny didn’t know what to say, so he stood there silent.

“In my own way, and you have to believe this. I love you. Back at the lake, I found out what I wanted to know, so now I promise that I‘m going to let you live your life however you want. But first you need to listen to me. You need to change your plans. Drive home. Whatever I’ve done in the past, forget it. Trust me when I tell you to take this car and leave Boston.”

Danny eyed him. Perhaps his willingness to listen was due to a remnant of the flush of good memories churned up by the just completed exercise, or maybe he decided it was safer to escape by just following the commands of a person he considered crazy. In the years that would follow, Danny never understood exactly why he listened to Josh, or why he didn’t demand answers to all the questions in his mind. He just did what he was told.

He called down to the front desk to check out of the hotel, picked up his bag, and walked with Josh to the elevator. They rode down in silence. As they approached the valet station, Josh stayed at his side until they reached the car, and then he held the door as Danny got in.

He handed over the rental agreement and keys, “Follow Fremont until you see entrance signs for the Massachusetts Turnpike. That’s Interstate 90 and it heads straight west. Drive safe. And don’t forget me.”

With that, Josh turned and disappeared into the foot traffic of downtown Boston. The valet closed the door. Danny started the engine, pulled out into the street, and drove through the narrow streets until he reached the turnpike to head west, away from the East Coast, back toward Wisconsin, returning home.

It was a beautiful morning. The sky was deep blue. The clouds were picture perfect. It would have been a wonderful day for flying. He could see contrails of jets in the sky above. Maybe one of those was the plane he should have been on. Would he listen to Josh and drive as promised, or would he detour and head toward a city to buy a new ticket and catch a different flight to L.A.? He still didn’t know.

He thought back to his memory of the morning of the earthquake. When he opened the door to the person who showed up this morning, he saw something of the Josh he recalled in that memory. Danny decided to honor his promise to that memory. He would drive to Thread.

Danny laughed. Josh thought he had forced Danny to change, but the man was wrong. He hadn’t changed at all. Nothing that God could throw his way would ever alter who he was. He was his own man, and now he was free to chart his own course, wherever he wanted, to whatever might lie in his future.

When he entered the car, he had thrown his sports coat on the passenger seat and he noticed that the boarding pass had fallen out of his inner pocket. It was resting on the seat. American Airlines flight 11, leaving Boston just before 8:00 am, headed toward the City of Angels. Some frequent flyer probably got upgraded to first class when Danny didn’t show up to claim his seat. September 11 was going to be that person’s lucky day.

Danny didn’t care. He was in a car driving, leaving Josh behind forever, about to return home. He was ready to live life again. Alone and unentangled. Free of Josh. Free to be whatever he cared to be.

Author’s Notes

This book
completes the trio of novels that make up my Thread series—three works that interweave a related cast of characters and their same small hometown in northern Wisconsin. While each is written in a different genre—
Tales From the Loon Town Cafe
is a humorous novel about an oddball set of characters;
The Finnish Girl
is a dark family saga; and
The Devil’s Analyst
is a more traditional mystery thriller—together, I hope they create a believable and compelling set of characters.

I would like to thank several people who helped me complete this title. My thanks to Betty Cary who diligently provided a copy edit of the draft and made sure I was consistent with so many details. Tina Masiak and Chris Storey were equally assiduous in making certain that I kept my timeline and my geographical references accurate. I also appreciate an early reading by Dixie Walker who warned me so often when I got carried away. Thanks also to the many readers who have ever sent me a comment or posted a review. Above all, I would like to thank my husband Robert Tieman who has been my rock of support and best of critics ever since I decided to chuck corporate life early and pursue writing in my retirement.

Finally, I salute the talents of Dena Kuhn at AzureFire who has done a masterful job at designing the current covers for all three titles in the Thread series.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dennis Frahmann grew up in Wisconsin, trained in journalism, and spent most of his adult life in New York, Minneapolis, and Los Angeles. Today he resides with his husband, Robert Tieman, in the seaside village of Cambria, California. This is his third novel.

To learn more, visit
www.loontown.com
or follow the author at
www.facebook.com/loontowncafe