The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel (27 page)

Then Rachelle started laughing to herself because she thought,
Look who is calling the kettle black
. She had been the same exact way with Paul over the previous three years. Maybe
NCIS
was more real than she thought. She finished getting dressed, left the house, and started walking down Prospect. She turned right on to East Main Street and within five minutes walked into the Red Onion Café. She ordered herself a smoked turkey wrap on whole wheat with a skinny green tea chai. She waited a few minutes, got her food from the young woman who co-owned the establishment, and sat down at one of the tables in back. She was there for about seven minutes when a man walked in, got himself a coffee, paid for it, and walked over to Rachelle’s table and sat down.

“Hello,” Rachelle said.

“Hello. So?” he said. “Looks like fate has brought us together.” Rachelle sipped her green tea as she looked at Robert Simpson sitting across from her.

Bud and Paul walked into Sherry’s room and visited with her for about an hour. Sherry was more alert and awake and was able to give extraordinary details about everything that had happened three nights earlier. She expressed that she failed her job by getting herself stabbed; however, both detectives praised her as the hero she was. It was her shots and call to 911 that stopped Mason from finishing off Rachelle, not to mention the masked killer did not have time to kill anyone else. Sherry mentioned that she even wondered if the masked killer would have killed Rachelle if he had the time. Even Sherry realized that if the masked man was Phil Smith, why didn’t he kill Deborah? Paul and Bud agreed, but Paul added it would be a great cover and alibi for Smith to just knock off his partners, then possibly disappear himself with the chance that everyone else thought he was eliminated. Only difference was that his body would never be found. One thing they all agreed on was that the case needed to get closed and not be another cold case for Long Island, with all the media attention.

Sherry told them the doctors gave her another week in the hospital before they let her go but that she would be on disability for a few weeks. She told them her husband had asked her to leave the force and think about having children. Her decision would be made after she healed from her wounds and she had a chance to speak at length with her entire family. Bud asked her how her parents were doing, and she told them it was difficult for them, especially for her dad. “Yeah,” Bud said, “I got that impression.”

Paul asked Sherry if she had heard anything said during the whole episode. Paul looked at Sherry and said, “Sherry, I need to ask a question, and I want you to answer yes or no as fast as you can. It is really important to tell me your first instinct when I ask the question. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Sherry answered.

Paul moved in to take a close look at Sherry’s eyes and said, “The screams you heard, were they real, or was it an act?”

Sherry returned Paul’s eye contact and said, “Yes, they were real.” Paul looked at her and said, “OK, thank you.”

“Wait,” Sherry said, “you are going to have to do better than that.”

“Yes,” Bud said, “enlighten us.”

Paul sat down on the chair next to Sherry’s bed as he spoke. “It’s a question that had to be asked, and I wanted to see your face when you had time to think about it when I asked you.”

Bud looked at Paul and asked, “Are you having any doubts about her?”

“Not anymore,” Paul said. “If I’m wrong, I won’t be around much longer.”

“Cut this shit out right now!” Bud yelled. “Why are you talking like this?”

Paul stood up again and said, “This thing has been like some mystery puzzle from the beginning. If you look at this piece by piece, day by day, we found out who the bad guys were, yet we have a mystery that keeps getting more mysterious every day.” Sherry tried to sit up a bit as she listened to Bud and Paul exchange theories on the case and the chain of events that happened late Wednesday night.

Finally she added, “Who would benefit by having Rachelle dead other than the people who kidnapped Debbie and killed Timothy?”

“Why would they even care?” Paul added.

“So she wrote articles and tweets?” Bud added. “Why is this bothering you now, Paul?”

Paul wiped his forehead and pulled out his phone. He showed Bud the text on his phone and then to Sherry. It was from the watch detail on Rachelle. It read, “Rachelle is having lunch with Robert Simpson right now at the Red Onion.” Bud couldn’t believe his eyes, so he pulled Paul’s BlackBerry closer to him.

“Now you know why this is becoming more of a puzzle every day,” Paul said as he sat down. “I don’t know whether to go over there and ask her straight out what’s going on or bring her in as a suspect to question her.”

“Hold on a second,” Bud said with both his hands out in the air as if it was going to help him figure out this latest piece of the puzzle. “Rachelle knows she’s being watched, even if she wanted to do anything, she knows that she could not get away with anything.”

Sherry sat up even more and said, “Not unless she had lunch with someone that we have no evidence against, and that’s Simpson, right?”

“Other than being an asshole, no, there’s no evidence against him,” Bud replied.

“Regardless,” Paul said, “we don’t have evidence of any kind on him, so why is she having lunch with him?”

“Maybe we need to ask her,” Bud replied.

“Maybe,” Paul said. “I have a feeling we better speak to Cronin first, but somehow I have a feeling he already knows.”

Paul called Cronin’s phone and, as he suspected, he was already aware of the lunch. He hung up and said angrily, “Great, it seems we all know about the lunch. The whole damn world will know tomorrow!”

“Why didn’t you ask him about questioning her?” Sherry asked. Paul looked at her and replied, “I didn’t have to. He told me to let it play out.”

Bud threw his hands up and said, “That’s great. What the fuck?”

Sherry spoke up, saying, “We could talk about this all night, but maybe Cronin is right, let it play out. If Rachelle knows she is being watched, then maybe she knows what she’s doing.”

Paul stood up and said, “You mean like her desire to get herself killed because she’s looking to establish herself as a serious writer?”

Paul sent a text back to the watch detail and asked if they were still together and how long it had been. He received his answer within minutes that they were still together talking, drinking, and eating and that it had been for one hour and fifteen minutes so far. Paul shook his head as he told Bud and Sherry.

Sherry had a look of disappointment on her face as she spoke up to say, “Well, I have to tell you, if I took a knife to the abdomen for nothing, I may just shoot the girl myself.”

“No,” Paul said, “there is more to this. Let’s go over everything.” Paul, Bud, and Sherry went over the entire case again, step by step.

“It’s clear the masked killer is Phil Smith,” Sherry said.

“I don’t know,” Bud said. “What do you say, Paul?” he asked. “I’m still stuck on Rachelle’s involvement,” Paul said.

Paul called Rachelle’s number.

“What are you doing?” Bud asked.

“I’m calling her,” he replied.

“No,” Bud said. “You heard the boss.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paul replied. He put his BlackBerry on speakerphone to allow Bud and Sherry to hear the recording.

“The number you have called has been disconnected. Please check the number and try again.”

He dialed again, and the same recording came on.

“She changed her number,” Paul said. “I don’t want to believe it, but we may have to bring her in.”

“No,” Sherry said. “If you bring her in, we may not find out the whole story. Listen to Cronin and leave her alone. She knows she is being watched.”

“Sherry Walker,” Bud added, “maybe we should call you 'Detective Walker.’”

“You will,” she replied, “or you will be calling me civilian Sherry Walker.”

Bud smiled and asked, “How much longer are you going to be here?”

“Another week, guys,” she replied. “What can I say, the price you pay for being a hero is high.” They laughed for the first time since they had arrived in the room. It was perfect timing, for Sherry’s husband came into the room as they were leaving.

When they got to the parking lot of Mather Hospital, Bud told Paul he hadn’t been able to reach him in the morning.

“At the gym, my friend,” Paul said. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get in a workout here and there.”

“Hey,” Bud replied, “I’m very deceiving looking. I can do miles and miles on the treadmill.”

“Show me,” Paul said. “Tomorrow morning, 8:00 am, pick me up, and I’ll give you a workout.”

“You got it,” Bud answered.

While they were driving to the precinct to get some paperwork done, which never seemed to go away, Bud sent Deborah a text that said, “When you get this you will have arrived in Florida, so welcome to the sunshine state.” Then he sent her another one that said, “Text me back to let me know you got this.” He then called the local authorities in Florida to make arrangements for them to keep an eye on the house and Deborah while she was down there. As they drove to the precinct, Bud’s thoughts were on the events of the day. His doubts about who the masked killer was were starting to concern him. They were thoughts he wanted to keep to himself for now.

Rachelle got up from the table at the Red Onion after an hour and 45 minutes conversing with Robert Simpson. When she got up to leave, she did not even turn around to look at him. When Rachelle left the café, she made a left, then crossed the street to Thompson Street and went into the Port Jefferson Free Library. She went right into the computer room, signed in with her library card, and signed on to Twitter. She wrote an update: “Thanks for the meeting TODAY. JUST REMEMBER IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU SAY. I’m not going AWAY.” When she finished the tweet, she started Googling for information, not noticing or caring that one of the watch detail had entered the library to be certain nothing happened to her or anyone else in the library while she was there.

She got up and walked downstairs to the adult book section. She was there for 15 minutes before she left the library. Instead of walking on East Main Street toward Prospect, she walked down Arden Place to go to Z Pita on Main Street. As she walked to Z Pita, Paul’s Black-Berry buzzed as it always did when one of Rachelle’s tweets was published. He showed it to Bud and said, “Forget the paperwork. Let’s go see Madison and then Rachelle. If we are going to solve this thing, we sure as hell need to know what the hell is going on.”

Rachelle greeted everyone at Z Pita with a warm hug. Joey Z let her get through all of the formalities so he could greet her and then speak to her. He brought her to table three in the back of the establishment on the other side so they could have as much privacy as possible. They sat and talked for almost an hour about the past and the memories built while she was at the restaurant.

Finally, Joey Z broke the ice and asked, “Are you coming back, Rachelle?”

She looked at him with a tear in her eye and said, “Yes, I will, if you want me.”

Joey was very quick with his answer. “I want you. We all want you. But I don’t want this case unsolved, and I want to be certain you, yourself, are OK. You have gone through more in the last week than most experience in a lifetime. I want you back, I want you right, and I want you feeling well—physically, emotionally, and mentally. Take a month, two months, and then you will need to tell me you are ready for this. My feelings for you cannot overshadow the business, the staff, and of course the customers. I know you understand that.”

Rachelle replied, “Yes, of course I do.”

Madison greeted Paul and Bud with a hug at her dance studio, where she gave her kids a break.

“Just a couple of quick questions, Maddie,” Paul said. “Did you know that Rachelle changed her cell phone number?” Maddie walked over to her desk and called Rachelle, and it went straight to voice mail.

“She has the phone off, but she didn’t change the number I use.”

“She had two phones?” Bud said.

“Yes, one for business-related and one for personal.”

“Oh,” Bud said, looking at Paul.

“How has she been, Maddie, other than what we would expect?” Paul asked.

Madison answered as she wiped the sweat from her neck, saying, “She seems OK. She’s going to need therapy so she can talk about it to someone, but I think she will be OK. I’m not worried to death about it. I’m concerned as a sister, but she’s a strong woman.”

Bud spoke up, saying, “Do you know of any reason why Rachelle would have lunch with Robert Simpson today?”

“What?” she replied. “Is this a joke?” When she looked at Paul’s face she knew it was not a joke and said, “No, I don’t know what is going on.”

“Welcome to the club,” Bud said.

“You will need to see what you can find out, Madison,” Paul added, “before more lives are lost.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Madison replied.

The two detectives got in the car, and Paul called Joey Z about his meeting with Rachelle. The watch detail was certainly doing their job as far as watching her. Joey Z excused himself while talking to Rachelle and mentioned to Paul discreetly she was still sitting with him at the table.

“Good,” he said, “keep her there.”

Paul and Bud walked in the front door within minutes and saw Rachelle and Joey Z in the back.

“Let me have this, Bud. I’ll call you. Have a drink with Joey Z.” He walked up to the table to greet Rachelle and the owner.

“Hi,” Rachelle said, “I was just leaving.”

“OK,” Paul said, “can I walk you home?”

“Sure,” she said with a smile. She said her goodbye to Joey and hugged Bud before she left the restaurant with Paul.

When they turned on to East Main and reached Prospect, Paul started talking. “104 Prospect, R.H. Wilson house, built in 1840. This is the house where he made the sails for the
America
, the vessel that won the first America’s Cup in 1843. The bird’s-wing-shaped sail revolutionized sail making for all time. 105 Prospect, the Edwin Tooker home, built in 1875. 108 Prospect, the Hamilton Tooker home ,built in 1854.”