Twisted (50 page)

“Aren’t the mountains beautiful?” Lillian murmured at one point. “They make me feel closer to God.”

For the first time, Sloane looked around and really took in the room. She’d been so focused on getting her cell phone that she’d barely noticed anything else.

The bedroom was a suite, filled with all the things Lillian held dear, from photos of Luke to gifts she’d received from her John Jay family. Her bed, which had its headboard against the wall adjacent to the door, faced a panorama of windows that spanned the entire far wall. The scenery was breathtaking, overlooking tall, lush green mountains. Sloane turned to scrutinize them, as much for her sake as for Lillian’s. She was looking for any landmarks that could tell her where they were.

“I can understand how this would make you feel close to God,” she replied. “The mountains are exquisite.” As she spoke, Sloane noticed something that looked like a mini Washington Monument in the distance. Whatever it was, it made a great landmark.

A short while later, the bath was finished, and Lillian looked exhausted, and yet happier and more peaceful than even Sloane had expected—as close to glowing as a dying woman could be. Sloane wasn’t naive. Lillian was on the verge of passing. And yet, it gave her pleasure that her skin and hair were clean. That, in turn, brought Sloane pleasure.

“Come in, Luke,” Sloane called as she finished brushing and drying Lillian’s hair.

The door opened instantly, and Luke hurried in. One glance at his mother, and his entire being lit up.

“You look lovely,” he told her. “Ten years younger than you did before.”

Lillian mustered a smile. “Then perhaps I should bathe more often.” She turned her head toward Sloane. “Thank you so much—for the bath and for the chat. I’ve missed that…” Her eyelids were drooping.

“Well, I’ll be spending the night,” Sloane told her. “So we’ll have more time to talk.”

“Really?” Hope flickered in Lillian’s eyes, even as they started to close.

“Really. So get some rest. I’ll visit you later on this evening.”

Out in the hall, Luke turned to Sloane. “I haven’t seen her this happy since the night of her retirement party. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Just seeing her reaction was thanks enough. But I do have a request.” Sloane feigned a tad of embarrassment. “I haven’t used the facilities all day. Plus, I feel so grungy from all the hours I spent in the basement. Would you mind if I used that magnificent bathroom you built for me?”

Luke frowned. “How rude and thoughtless of me. Of course you need the facilities. And I want you to use the tub.” A brief hesitation. “I have to prepare dinner. So I won’t be able to stand guard outside your bedroom door. I’ll have to lock it from the outside. But don’t worry. I’ll check on you in a short while.”

“That’s fine. Remember, I ate later than you and the others. So I’m not famished. I’ll soak in the tub until you come back.”

Five minutes later, Sloane was locked in “Artemis’s” room. She went straight to the bathroom, used the toilet, and simultaneously turned on the bathtub faucets.

The combined sounds of the flushing toilet and the running bathwater were more than enough to silence the tones of her cell phone as she turned it on.

Dammit. The reception was practically nil.

She walked all around the bedroom, including as close to the window as she dared to go, to see if she could get more than one bar. No change.

She had to try something. Her voice would be garbled with only one bar. If a call wouldn’t go through, maybe a text message would.

Swiftly, she navigated the phone’s menu to text messaging, punched in Derek’s number, and pressed OK. Then she typed the following:

luke. 12–24 hr 2 live. mtns. c wash monmnt 2 e.
BOMB
.

She pressed send.

The chances of him getting the message were bleak, not without a stronger signal.

She’d have to get outside and resend it where the reception was better.

And she knew just how to accomplish that.

I thought Artemis might enjoy having dinner with me. Not locked in her room, but downstairs, in the dining room. I had never actually eaten in there. What better occasion than this?

So I came up to invite her.

I knocked on the bedroom door, and when there was no answer, I unlocked it and pushed it open a crack. “Artemis?”

No reply.

Now I was worried. I shoved open the door and stalked in, half worried that something had happened to her, half panicked that she had tried to escape.

As I opened my mouth to call her again, the bathroom door swung open, and she stepped into the room, wearing nothing but a bath sheet. It was wrapped securely around her, revealing nothing, but that didn’t excuse my intrusion on her privacy.

I froze.

Her gaze widened as she saw me, her hand instinctively grasping the knot at the top of the towel. “Delphi. I wasn’t expecting you. I…”

She was mortified. How could I blame her? She was a goddess of virtue, a maiden in every way. Having a man walk in on her bathing ritual was akin to blasphemy.

Recovering myself, I averted my gaze at once, feeling utterly ashamed. I lowered my head and retreated from the room, shutting the door behind me.

“I deeply apologize,” I told her through the door. “I had no idea you were indisposed. I called your name. When you didn’t answer, I got worried. I have no other excuse.”

“It’s all right, Delphi,” she assured me calmly. “I trust you. I know you would never do anything indiscreet. It was an error—mine as well as yours. I should have been listening for your knock. Instead, I was savoring my time in that magnificent bathtub you gave me. I must not have heard you over the water draining from the tub.”

I bowed my head, feeling both relief and esteem. She was as forgiving as she was gracious. I was indeed fortunate.

“Thank you for your tolerance. I’m glad you know I’d never invade your privacy. Never.”

“I do know that. Let’s forget it ever happened. Besides,” she added, “I had a wonderful idea, and I wanted to seek your approval.”

“By all means.”

“I heard sounds coming from Gaia’s room. So I assume she’s awakened from her nap?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, the pain doesn’t allow her to sleep for long periods. The sounds you heard were my attempts to give her dinner. But she has no appetite. And very little strength. Her only joys were your visit, her bath, and a view of the mountains.”

“Then my idea should be perfect.” Artemis sounded exuberant, and I could hear her rustling around, getting a fresh chiton from the closet. “Why don’t we take Gaia for a stroll? The fresh air will do her a world of good. The mountains at twilight will be breathtaking.” A pause. “And it will be a wonderful final memory for her to carry with her to Mount Olympus.”

A walk. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Gaia loved nature, and she’d been deprived of it since she’d arrived. And Artemis was right. As goddess of the earth, Gaia deserved a beautiful final memory of this planet to take with her.

“Your idea
is
perfect,” I said to Artemis. “Gaia would love that. She even has a favorite garden out back. I’ll suggest this to her right away.”

“If she’s up for it, I can be ready in two minutes,” Artemis called back. “I’ll carry the wheelchair so you can carry Gaia. Once we’re outside, she can sit back and revel in nature.”

I was so eager to tell Gaia, I could scarcely contain myself. “I’ll be right back,” I promised Artemis. “That way, I can share Gaia’s response with you.”

“I promise to answer this time when you knock.”

Sloane heard him go, and released a huge sigh of relief. Now all she had to do was hope that Gaia’s desire to drink in the natural world one last time would supersede her physical weakness from the disease that was claiming her life.

By the time Sloane’s chiton was on and belted, and her hair was dry and brushed, Luke was back at her door.

“We’re ready,” he said as he knocked.

“As am I.” Sloane quickly palmed her cell phone.

He unlocked the door and beckoned for her to join him. “Gaia is elated,” he told her as they crossed the hall to her room. “I’m so glad you came up with this idea. She’s so weak she can hardly sit up on her own, and yet she’s smiling, eager to be pushed through the gardens, to breathe in the scent of the flowers. And it is a perfect twilight. Clear, warm, with a full moon to light our way.”

“It sounds as if it was meant to be.”

Transferring her cell phone to the wheelchair was easier than Sloane had expected. Luke was so preoccupied with lifting his mother, removing the IV bag so he could carry it downstairs and hook it onto the wheelchair, that he barely noticed Sloane. She dropped her cell phone into the seatback bag, folded the wheelchair, and hooked her arm around it to carry it downstairs.

Soon they were strolling through the gardens. Lillian interrupted to ask Sloane to push her wheelchair. Sloane was puzzled, but pleased to agree.

“Luke is exhausted,” Lillian explained, indicating the signs of fatigue etched on his face. “He’s done nothing but care for me for weeks on end. He won’t take a break unless he trusts whoever’s with me. I know he trusts you. Would you mind taking over for him just for this walk? It would do my heart good.”

“Of course not.” Sloane glanced at Luke to seek confirmation that the arrangement was okay with him.

His nod gave her permission, although he did pat his jacket pocket to remind her he had his pistol.

Sloane didn’t need a reminder.

With Luke sitting on a stone bench, scrutinizing them carefully, she had to be just as cautious as if he were walking beside them. Well, almost. At least this situation afforded her the benefits of distance and camouflage.

She wheeled Lillian through the lush garden the older woman loved most, then glided her wheelchair along the path, moving to a beautiful, serene spot. She angled the wheelchair so Lillian could smell the flowers, and simultaneously gaze at the mountains that surrounded them.

“Are you familiar with these mountains?” Lillian sounded half out of it, partially from the morphine and partially from the weakness. “They’re so majestic, tall, and green. Or snowcapped in the winter. I’ve always loved it here. It’s like being halfway to heaven.”

“You’re right. It is.” Sloane slid her fingers into the mesh compartment of the seatback bag, retrieved the phone, and flipped it open. Four and a half bars. It didn’t get much better than that.

Keeping her hands shielded from view by her body, she accessed the phone menu, entered Text Messaging, and went to her out-box. Then she selected the last message sent, clicked Options, scrolled down to Resend, and pressed OK.

The whole process took less than thirty seconds.

With such good reception, Sloane assumed the message would go through.

Or maybe it wasn’t an assumption. Maybe it was a prayer.

But whether or not she’d succeeded, she had to get rid of the phone before Luke found it. And the best way to do that would be to leave it on and leave it out here, where nobody would venture after this evening’s walk was over, and where the reception was ideal. Because once Derek realized the message was from her, he’d work with the cell-phone company to triangulate on the location of her cell phone.

She glanced behind her. Luke was leaning back on the bench, his right hand in his jacket pocket. His gaze kept shifting from Sloane and Lillian to the beauty of the sunset over the mountains.

Sloane bided her time. Then, when Luke was looking up at the sky, she grasped her cell phone and tossed it into the row of hedges just beside her.

Done. Now it was up to Lady Luck.

Second Avenue, New York City

May 2, 12:30 A.M.

Derek hadn’t shut an eye. In fact, he’d barely sat down.

He didn’t plan on slowing his efforts. Nor did he plan on giving up or considering the worst. He was best when he was active, doing things to bring about resolution.

Feeling helpless was
not
his forte.

Goddammit, he was going crazy.

From its spot on the night table, his cell phone gave a short beep. He snatched it up and glanced at the display. The text message indicator was on. He flipped open the phone, which informed him that he had a new text message, and inquired if he’d like to read it.

He punched in yes.

His heart began pounding as he read the abbreviated words.

luke. 12–24 hr 2 live. mtns. c wash monmnt 2 e.
BOMB
.

Sloane was alive. She’d managed to use her cell phone. And she was trying to give him the information he needed to find her.

Derek didn’t waste time, and he didn’t go through channels.

He called his ADIC—the head of the entire New York field office—at home. Frankly, Derek didn’t care what time it was, or what protocol he was violating. Sloane had sent the message at seven-thirty. That was five hours ago. Anything could have happened since then. He was down to the wire. And he wasn’t about to let Sloane, or any of those other women, die.

He relayed the situation and the contents of the text message to the assistant director in charge.

“What do you need?” was his response.

“For starters, a
SWAT
team and a bomb squad. I’ll also need topology experts from New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.” Derek wasn’t screwing around. “Also, specialists from Parks and Recreation. Former Special Agent Burbank is telling us that she’s in the mountains and that she sees something resembling the Washington Monument to her east.”

“At one A.M? That’s not going to be easy.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t care how hard it is. I don’t care if we have to wake up the governors of all three states. This is a serial sexual killer who’s brutally raped and carved up half a dozen victims. Right now he’s got seven kidnapped women, all of whom could still be alive, but with only a few hours left to live. Among those seven women is one of our own.”

“I’ll make the calls.”

Date: May 2

Time: Dawn

Sloane had lain awake all night, jumping every time she heard the slightest sound, in the hopes that it was
SWAT
breaking down the doors and initiating a rescue.