Web of Lies (20 page)
“She’s right.” I shook my head. “And I’m afraid my hands are tied. There are ethics in my field, Mr. Waking.”
Unlike yours,
my tone implied. “It’s not appropriate for a forensic artist to — ”
Chelsea’s breath hitched. I glanced at her and stilled. Her face had gone slack, eyes glazing. “Chelsea?”
Her mouth opened but no sound came.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna started to rise.
Milt laid a hand on her arm. “Wait, I know that look. She’s having a vision.”
T
he dirt ants were back.
Somehow he had to ignore them. Too much work to do.
He stood in his basement, panting. The door to the little room was closed. All his creepy crawly friends were in there now, doing their thing.
Little ant feet pricked up his ankles. He swiped them away. No, no, you’re not here, you’re not!
Quit thinking about ’em. Focus on the future. The truth would die here, that’s what mattered. He’d be safe again. He could go back to doing fun stuff. Get himself a steady woman. Start traveling again, maybe leave this town for good. They could end up anywhere — Africa, South America, Timbuktu. She’d have to be loyal. Take real good care of him . . .
Tiny legs scurried on his bare feet, like cold needles. “Get off!” He doubled over, scrubbed at a foot with both hands. His heart did that funny grind thing, started to pound.
Okay, okay. I can handle this.
He sank down on the floor. Pulled both pant legs up to his knees. See? Nothing there.
Man, he had to beat this thing before he ended up in the loony bin. Fact was, those people deserved to die. They’d gotten in his way, so he took care of them. Big deal. He wasn’t some mama’s boy. Some haunted soul. He didn’t even have a soul.
Hey —
His head jerked at a terrible thought.
What if Chelsea Adams could see him right now? What if she told everybody about the dirt ants and the long showers? His fingers curled into his palms. People would laugh at him. Think he was psycho.
Anger blazed in his stomach. He arched his back, giving himself room to breathe. You wanna watch, Chelsea Adams? Fine. I’ll show you what I can do.
“So, uh . . . Amy!” He threw the words toward the closed door. “Any poisonous ones get you yet?” He barked out a laugh. It felt so good, he laughed a second time. Silence answered him. “Not talking, I see. So how about you, man-without-a-name? Did you know that’s what they’re calling you? How many times have you been bitten?”
Snickers and guffaws rolled off his lips.
Way to go, man. He felt better already. This was the ticket. Every time those dirt ants came, he’d just show ’em who was boss.
Hey.
His neck straightened. And his spine. He pulled his hands into his lap. Sat still, closed his eyes . . .
Feeling . . .
Nothing on his feet.
The dirt ants were gone.
He examined his ankles to be sure. Nothing. Not one prickly feeling.
It worked.
“Hah!” He scrabbled to his feet, elated. He’d hit on something. He’d really found it!
The power lay in the role, man; it was all in the role. He just had to keep playing it.
Grinning, he slapped off the lights and headed for the stairs.
“Bye now!” he singsonged to the door of the little room. “Bye, Amy; bye, man-without-a-name. Bye-bye till you die-die!”
Hammering the stairwell with a victorious fist, he bounced up the steps toward civilization.
C
helsea fell headlong into the vision . . .
And landed with a sickening
crack
.
What?
Where?
Sensations flooded her. Evil. All around her.
Within
her.
No!
She ventured a terrified gaze — and saw the world through
his
eyes.
The oppression within him enclosed her, wrapped clammy hands around her neck. His mind writhed with paranoia, hatred, malevolence. He would deceive and plan and kill. Anything to protect himself.
Scenes of him formed, flipping from one to the next, like TV channels. He
hunches over a kitchen table, reading the newspaper. Seething, stunned. Forming his next move.
Flip. He
croons at spiders in a glass terrarium, fascinated by them and their ability to wound. Using a stick, he captures them into a jar. They will go down to his basement, into the little room.
Flip.
He is scrubbing at his feet, panic-stricken, mind screaming that he will overcome.
Flash, he’s
yelling at Amy and the “man-with-no-name” through the closed door. “How many times have you been bitten?”
The scenes froze.
Disappeared.
A powerful force ripped Chelsea from the man’s horrifying mind. She spun . . . tumbled . . . landed outside on the ground. There she stared at an oval window, then its surroundings . . .
Her world undulated.
The vision faded.
Her next sensation was the feel of the couch beneath her legs.
Annie’s house?
Chelsea couldn’t move. The evil of the man’s soul lingered, nibbling at her lungs.
Help me, God, please!
She opened half-focused eyes.
Navy blue fabric. Her pants.
Hands in a lap. Her own.
Someone called her name. She lifted her head, feeling the return to her own body as if she’d fallen from an alien planet.
“
Chelsea
. Are you all right?”
Annie’s voice. Chelsea blinked at her, dazed. Her tongue felt thick. “Yes. Yes, I’m . . . here now.”
Her gaze pulled to Milt Waking, who ogled her with a half-open mouth. Two words surged into Chelsea’s mind, quiet words of thunderous authority.
Tell him.
I
stared at Chelsea, my breath caught.
“I’m here now”?
Where had she gone?
Jenna half rose. “Chelsea! Talk to us!” Milt craned his neck like some jack-in-the-box waiting to spring, bristling with anticipation. I could have punched him.
Chelsea lay a trembling hand across her cheek. Swallowed. “I . . . I saw him. I was
inside
his mind. He was yelling at Amy and the man through a door.
Taunting
them.”
She shuddered, drew her arms across her chest. My mind spun. Taunting two captives? Then Orwin Neese
did
have them both. And they were still alive.
“What did you see, what did you see?” Milt could barely contain himself.
Chelsea shivered. “It was the same man. But this time I felt his thoughts. He’s so terrified of being caught, and he’ll kill to keep that from happening.” She focused on me. “Then I saw scenes of him. Sort of like I was in his head and watching him on TV at the same time. He saw the paper this morning and didn’t like what he read. People are going to pay.” Her eyes grew distant. “I saw him standing before terrariums that held different kinds of spiders. He was taking spiders out of them, putting them into jars. He’s going to release them in that little room.”
The words hit me like rampant electricity. Jenna and I exchanged a horrified glance.
“Wait, wait — you mean the little room with the shelves?” Milt spoke rapidly, as if to pull everything he could from Chelsea before she clammed up. “Where he’s keeping those two people?”
“Chelsea, don’t answer.” I seared him with a look. “You already got more than you bargained for, Milt. I think it’s time you left.”
“No.” Chelsea’s voice firmed. She straightened. “No, Milt, don’t go. Annie, he needs to stay.”
I gawked at her.
“Why?”
“Because he’s supposed to know. Don’t you see the timing? It’s God’s planning, Annie. I have to tell him.”
No, huh-uh. This “timing” was sheer bad luck. Coincidence. And I wanted Milt Waking out of my house. “I don’t think — ”
“I saw something new, something important.” Chelsea raked in a breath. “Remember the oval window? I saw it from the
outside
. The top half is just above ground level, and there’s a semicircular well cut out of the dirt at its lower half, with a little stone retaining wall. I was sitting near that well, looking down, so I could see the whole window. At the bottom of the well is cement, with a drain.”
“The room must be in a basement,” Jenna breathed. “Would you recognize that window if you saw it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Unusual shape.” Milt spoke half to himself. “Why would a basement window be oval?”
Chelsea shook her head, then looked meaningfully at me. I blinked at her, beginning to understand. The police should be told about the window. It was a solid lead.
And one Blanche would never listen to.
Sickness coiled through my stomach. Now what? Why had God placed us in such an untenable position? The police wouldn’t want to hear our story, while here sat Milt Waking, a
reporter
, hanging on Chelsea’s every word. If the situation weren’t so frightening, I’d laugh.
Almost.
Milt rubbed his chin, as if already spinning the news story. “How many homes in this area have basements? I’d bet not that many.”
“Maybe not a total basement, but it could be like ours.” Jenna gestured toward the door leading downstairs. “That lower level is a basement in front, but a walk-out in back because the lot slopes. You see only two stories from the front of the house, but three from the back.” She pushed to her feet and paced toward the fireplace, energy bristling from her. “The room Chelsea saw could be toward the middle of a basement, where the lot has leveled down some, but not completely.”
“Was the ground around the window sloped?” Milt asked.
Chelsea closed her eyes. “I . . . don’t know. I didn’t notice.”
I ran a hand through my hair. Everything about this was so warped. But it fit with what Blanche had heard. Neese
was
hiding in some house. Blanche just didn’t believe he was nurturing a nightmare in the basement.
The phone rang. I jumped.
“Better get that,” Jenna said. “It could be Dave and the kids.”
At the mere mention of them, terror seared my chest. Where were they? I wanted them home —
now
. None of us would go anywhere. We would lock ourselves up until this atrocious killer was caught and the world righted itself on its axis.
I hurried to the kitchen phone. Dave’s house number appeared on the ID. I jerked up the receiver. “Dave? Are you home? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” He sounded surprised at my intensity. “Is everything okay with
you
?”
“Yes. No. I mean, we’re safe, but . . .”
“But what?”
I pulled out a kitchen chair and sank into it. How to explain it all — Blanche’s phone call, Milt, Chelsea’s vision? The fear gripping my soul, as if some ravenous monster stormed its way toward my family?
“Annie?”
The story spilled out of me. Dave listened with no interruption. “Now what do we do?” I said. “The police don’t want to hear from us, and Chelsea’s done this one-eighty, thinking God sent Milt here. But why should we trust him?” Tears bit my eyes and I stiffened my back. This was not the time to lose it.
“Hang on, I’m coming over right now.”
“But the girls. They can’t be left alone and I don’t want them to know — ”
“Stop it, Annie.” Frustration weighted his words. “I am
going
to help you figure this out; don’t you dare find excuses to pull away.”
My mouth opened. I hadn’t pulled away — for once. I was too petrified. “Dave, I do want you here. Please come.”
“I’m on my way.” His words were brusque. “I’ll bring the girls so they won’t be alone. We can send them up to Kelly’s room. They’ll want explanations, but we’ll handle that later.”
“Okay.” Relief trickled through my veins. “Thank you.” I clicked off the line and headed back to the great room. Three questioning faces turned toward me.
“It was Dave.” I halted at the back of the armchair. “He’s coming over to help us talk this through. We’ll send Kelly and Erin upstairs.”
Curiosity creased Milt’s features. “Dave?”
“Willit. My neighbor.”
He surveyed me. Only then did I realize what I’d done. Milt would remember Dave’s name from the news stories about Lisa’s death. Now he would see us together. He was
a reporter; he would
know
. I stared at him, feeling my face harden. Sending a signal —
Subject closed, and don’t you go there, buddy.
I veered to the front door and opened it. Dave and the girls were crossing the street. Our guarding policeman stood outside his vehicle, watching them. “Hi!” I hurled a brightness into the word that fooled no one. “How was the movie?” Kelly and Erin stepped inside, their faces leery. “Hey, girls.” I hugged Kelly, smelling her flower-scented shampoo, put an arm around Erin’s shoulder. I did not look at Dave. If I did, my facade might crumble.
Kelly pressed her lips. “Dave says we need to go upstairs.” Underneath the statement raged a thousand fearful questions.
I smiled at her lopsidedly. “We’re just discussing things. Figuring out the best way to help the police.”
Boy, Annie, talk about a spin.
Chelsea and Jenna called out greetings. Milt Waking rose, and I introduced him to the girls and Dave. Words and actions, all surface level, while underneath every expression flowed anxiety and fright. Well, except for Milt. I could practically hear the reporter calculating his Neilson ratings when this whole thing was over and done.
The girls tromped upstairs, mildly soothed. Our expanded group resumed their seats. Dave eased onto the couch at my right with Chelsea. I wanted to sit close to him, but didn’t dare with Milt in the house. Dave’s presence shifted the dynamics. Another male — and one who cared for
us
, not some national television career.
The two men sized each other up.
The girls’ steps muted as they hit the upstairs carpet. Kelly’s bedroom door clicked shut.
“So.” Milt raised his hands with ill-muted expectation. “Let me sum up where we are. We have a spider-crazed idiot out there. Who has also threatened to kill you, Annie. With Chelsea’s visions, we now know more than the police. Problem is, the police won’t listen.” He cocked his head. “Which leads us to the question of the day:
Will
you let me help you catch this guy? Hopefully before these two people die?”
