The Serial Killer's Wife (14 page)

T
ODD
WAS
SLOW
waking up, groggy from a deep sleep, and it was clear he misunderstood her because at first he only frowned, his eyes squinted, and murmured, “Bed?”
 

“
Dead
,” she whispered harshly, shaking him harder now, “they’re
dead!
”
 

Why she was whispering, she didn’t know. Maybe she feared Cain was still somewhere in the building. Or maybe it had to do with the fact she hadn’t turned on the lights, and it was just a normal human reaction to keep your voice low when the lights were off. Still, she was shaking, that nausea that always attacked her at the sight of blood still fresh, and the room continued to spin, though slowly.
 

Suddenly understanding her, Todd sat up straight on the couch. He wiped the drool from his mouth, started to stand up, stayed seated, shook his head. Finally he managed, “What are you talking about?”
 

“Van and Harlan and two others.” Still whispering. “They’re down in the office. They’ve been shot dead.”
 

This was enough for Todd, finally waking up enough to put the pieces together. “Holy shit. Do you think he’s still here?”
 

“I don’t know.”
 

“If he killed them, why didn’t he kill us?”
 

That answer was obvious, at least to her, and she thought after a few moments Todd would get it, too. They didn’t have time to talk, not like this, not with four dead men (and possibly more) downstairs.
 

“We have to leave,” Elizabeth said. The room had finally stopped spinning, and she didn’t need to hold onto anything to keep her balance anymore. “Now.”
 

Five seconds, that’s all it took for Todd to get his bearings straight, and then he was up and headed for the door. He paused and turned back to her.
 

“Where’s that gun Harlan gave you?”
 

She already had it in her hand, having grabbed it the moment she reentered the room.
 

“Do you ... want me to take it? To, like, go first?”
 

She appreciated the gesture but knew Todd wouldn’t be able to handle a gun, not if it came to the point where he actually had to fire it.
 

“That’s okay,” she said. “You can carry the books instead.”
 

They went down the stairs, pausing on the second floor, staying still and quiet and listening for any sound.
 

“Stay here,” she whispered.
 

“Where are you going?”
 

“I forgot something.”
 

The screensaver hadn’t come on yet and Van’s office was still illuminated with that bright artificial light. She could see Harlan and Van and the two men on the couch more clearly now despite the fact her nausea threatened to return. Elizabeth managed to keep it down, though, and strode right up to Van’s desk and grabbed the BlackBerry.

Back in the hallway, Elizabeth took the lead again. They went down the stairs, then through the kitchen to the door that led into the alley where Todd had moved the Prius earlier.
 

“Give me your keys,” she said, holding out her free hand.
 

He shook his head. “I’ll drive.”
 

“You don’t know these streets like I do.”
 

Without anymore objection, Todd reached into his pocket, dug the keys out, handed them to her. They were in the hybrid moments later, the engine started, Elizabeth throwing the car in gear.
 

“Hold on.”
 

She punched the gas, jerking them forward, taking them down the alleyway. Out onto the street, not slowing at all, an oncoming car having to swerve out of the way and blaring its horn at them.
 

“Slow down,” Todd said, gripping the caution bar, but Elizabeth didn’t slow down, swerving between the little traffic that was out on the street at this time of night.
 

Todd said, “You don’t want us to get pulled over by the cops, do you?” and that was what reminded her that she was in a major city, fleeing from a murder scene.
 

She lifted her foot off the gas. She hadn’t been in this city in years, but suddenly she remembered every street, every alleyway, every shortcut.
 

They made it to the highway five minutes later. They took the onramp headed east. The sky was still dark but beginning to show light off on the horizon.
 

“Son of a bitch,” Elizabeth said suddenly. She began smacking the steering wheel with every word. “Son—of—a—bitch!”
 

“Elizabeth,” Todd said quietly.
 

“He was right there. He was right fucking there. Which means Matthew was there, too.”
 

“You don’t know that.”
 

“But I do. I feel it.”
 

“Feel what?”
 

And that was when the BlackBerry rang.

CHAPTER 28

“D
ESPITE
WHAT
YOU
may think,” Cain said, “I did not enjoy doing that back there.”
 

Elizabeth was conscious of Todd watching her from the passenger seat, his body tense. “Doing what back there?”
 

“Don’t be coy. If you didn’t know what I was talking about, you wouldn’t be back on the road like you are now.”
 

“You didn’t have to kill them.”
 

“You’re right, I didn’t have to. But you forced my hand.”
 

“How?”
 

“You went there and got them involved. I suppose when I told you no police, I thought you would be smart enough to know that meant no anybody.”
 

“They were no threat to you.”
 

“But they were. At first I didn’t understand why you had gone there, but after some quick research, it all made sense. Donovan Riley wasn’t the most upright citizen, as you no doubt already know.”
 

“That was still no reason to kill him.”
 

“What about those hackers? What purpose were they going to serve?” When she didn’t answer, Cain said, “Exactly. If you don’t want to play our little game fairly, then there is going to be consequences.”
 

“I want to talk to my son.”
 

“No.”
 

“Yes. You want those trophies, I want to hear my son’s voice.”
 

“You want to hear his voice? Okay, then. Listen.”
 

There was a pause, and then she heard movement, the sound of tape ripping away from skin. She heard Matthew but just barely, his voice faint, only it quickly grew stronger as he began to scream.
 

“No!” she shouted. “Don’t!”
 

Todd was visibly shaking beside her, his eyes wide.
 

Matthew’s screaming went on for only a few more seconds but to Elizabeth it felt like days. Then the screaming suddenly ceased, and Cain spoke again.
 

“There, you wanted to hear your son, you heard him.”
 

“You bastard.”
 

“I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing here, Elizabeth, but it’s not going to work. I will teach you not to fuck with me.”
 

She hesitated, then said, “Clarence, please don’t do this.”
 

“Shut up! You say one more word and I will make your son scream again.”
 

Elizabeth bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Tears had begun to well in her eyes, blurring the highway in front of her.
 

“I’m beginning to think I’m giving you too much leeway. I thought one hundred hours was more than kind, but it seems you have decided to take advantage of my generosity.”
 

There was another pause, this one much longer, Elizabeth at first thinking that either Cain had disconnected or else she had lost the signal. She heard a beep in her ear, pulled the phone away, and saw there was a new text message.
 

“There,” Cain said. “That should motivate you a little more, don’t you think?”
 

Then he did disconnect and Elizabeth immediately clicked on the icon to show her the picture.
 

Her foot instantly lifted from the gas pedal. Her hand fell away from the steering wheel. Her body was weightless and she was just sitting there, staring at the image on the screen.
 

“Elizabeth!” Todd shouted, grabbing the wheel and trying to keep the car in their lane.
 

Elizabeth barely paid any attention. Her entire focus was now on the image on the BlackBerry’s screen: her son still tied to that bed, still with the tape over his mouth and the explosive collar around his neck, the bright red digits above his head now reading
70:00:00
.

CHAPTER 29

B
Y
THE
TIME
they passed over the Pennsylvania state line it was almost noon. Todd was driving now, Elizabeth in the passenger seat paging through the two books. The sky was clear and the sun was bright and Todd wore his sunglasses. He didn’t have an extra pair for Elizabeth but she didn’t care, keeping her head down and her gaze focused on the pages.
 

For the past seven hours they had barely spoken. Three times Elizabeth had cried, both for her son and for what had happened to Van and Harlan. There was a time when those men had been the only family she had, and now because of her they were dead.
 

Every hour the BlackBerry dinged, and Elizabeth would glance at the picture and then quickly set the phone back down on the middle console. She felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs—every time she heard that familiar and innocuous ding, she started to tremble.
 

At one point she was paging through
Never Coming Home: The Edward Piccioni Murders
and sighed heavily, shaking her head.
 

“What’s wrong?” Todd asked.
 

She didn’t answer for the longest time, just staring down at the book. Finally she said, “There’s a chapter in here about how me and Eddie met. Only it’s half right. I’d completely forgotten it was in here.”
 

“What part did they get right?”
 

“Basically that we were in college. This author, he interviewed some people we went to school with but who weren’t even close friends.”
 

“So the author was being a lazy reporter?”
 

“Either that or he just didn’t give a shit. To be honest, I can’t blame him. Besides Eddie, who was to say he didn’t have it right? As far as anybody knew, I was gone and never coming back.”
 

There was a silence, and then Todd said, “Can I ask you something?”
 

“What?”
 

“Why did you bring them with you?” Meaning the books.
 

She glanced down at the paperback in her lap. The other was on the floor by her feet. The gun—Harlan’s gun—was locked tight in the glove box.
 

“Like Van had said, I need to freshen up on my history. I never thought I’d go back home. Not even once did the idea cross my mind. And now we’ll be there in”—she glanced at the dashboard clock—“probably four hours or so, and I don’t remember what happened.”
 

“You don’t remember?”
 

“I remember bits and pieces, but for the most part I forced myself to forget. It was just ... a different life. It wasn’t my life anymore. I kept telling myself I had nothing to do with it, that I would never have to think about it again.”
 

“So then reading those books—at least, that book—it helps?”
 

“It brings some of it back. Most of it’s bullshit, though.”
 

“Like what?”
 

“Just the stuff they say about Eddie. Like one time in high school he had gotten suspended for pulling some prank. The author says his teachers should have seen the signs then. I mean, he wasn’t the only one. The prank—and the author doesn’t go into detail about what kind of prank it was—it involved two other kids. The author doesn’t even mention them. So apparently Eddie’s teachers shouldn’t have considered the possibility there would someday be trouble with them, just Eddie.”
 

Todd had begun his ritual of chewing coffee beans again. He started to place another one in his mouth but paused, his mouth hanging open.
 

“What?” Elizabeth asked.
 

“Nothing.”
 

“It’s clearly not nothing. What is it?”
 

“You mentioned the author talking about warning signs. You never noticed any yourself?”
 

She slumped in her own seat, staring now out her window. “No, I didn’t. For the longest time I asked myself how that was possible. I mean, I was with him the most. We shared a bed together. We shared a bank account together. I should have seen the signs, right? I should have noticed something was going on. In a way”—and here she wiped at her eyes, her voice breaking—“in a way, I’m responsible for those women’s deaths. In a way, I killed them, too.”
 

“Don’t do that.”
 

“Don’t do what?”
 

“Blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”