“Are you asking me as an officer of the law, or a concerned relative? Although I’m not sure it really matters at this point.”
“Come on, Daniel, knock it off. It’s me.”
He and Jake had once been closer than brothers, but time and distance-whether it’s physical or emotional- has a way of eroding even the tightest relationships.
Jake, however, was one of the few people who hadn’t given up on him.
Pope sank to the bed, hearing the springs groan, letting himself relax a little. “Sorry, man. Being an asshole is a tough habit to break.”
“Doesn’t have to be.”
Pope shrugged. “Use it or lose it, I always say. What can I do for you?”
“I wasn’t just asking before. I need to know if you’re straight.”
“Why?”
“You won’t like this, but I’ve got a case here I need some help with.”
Pope sighed. He should have known. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard such a request, and he hated it whenever Jake tried to drag him back into his old life. That had been its own kind of prison.
After the murder, he’d tried to fit in, to resume his work at the clinic and with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, but had felt like a man who had gained too much weight and was still trying to wear his old clothes.
“I’m not interested,” he said.
“Come on, Danny. It’s important. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t.”
“Sure you would. You’ve been trying to save me from myself since I was twelve years old.”
“Obviously I’ve failed.”
Pope smiled. “Now look who’s the asshole.”
“You need to snap out of this, my friend. Start circulating again. Use that big brain of yours.”
“I do, twice a night, starting at nine p.m. Not that you’d know.”
“Actually, I would,” Jake said.
“Oh? How so?”
“One of our deputies, a kid named Chavez, drove out to see your show a while back, brought us a DVD of the night’s festivities. You had him up onstage, howling like a goddamn coyote.”
“That one always goes over big with the tourists.”
Now it was Jake’s turn to sigh. “What the hell are you doing with yourself, Danny?”
“Surviving,” Pope said.
“Existing,” Jake countered. “You can’t let this thing rule you forever. There’s a saturation point.”
“Then I guess I haven’t reached it yet. How many times do we have to do this before you finally get the message?”
“And how many times do I have to ask before you finally say yes? This is a bad one. Three people dead, a little girl missing, and a brother who’s in a bad way. I hate to tell you who he reminds me of.”
Pope stiffened. “Then don’t.”
“He’s about the same age, Danny. Got the same eyes.”
“Fuck you,” Pope said, shifting his thumb to the kill button — “Don’t hang up. I know you want to, but don’t do it.”
Pope hesitated, not sure why. He had every right to drop the hammer on this conversation. Jake knew this was a touchy subject.
“He may be the only one who can tell us what happened to the girl, but he’s in shock, having memory problems. We need somebody out here as quickly as possible and I figured you’d be awake. And I definitely know you’re the best man for the job.”
“Not anymore,” Pope said.
“I don’t believe that. I know the old Danny’s in there somewhere. We just need to wake him up.”
“So… what? Poke him with a stick and hope he doesn’t snap at you? That’s expecting too much, Jake.”
“For Christ’s sake, all we’re talking about is a couple hours of your time.”
Pope hesitated again, trying to push back the image that was suddenly crowding his mind: Ben giggling at the breakfast table as he purposely dribbled milk down his chin.
Every instinct Pope possessed told him to turn Jake down, just as he had a dozen times before. But that image seemed to have grabbed hold of him and wouldn’t allow him to form the words.
Finally he said, “I won’t come to you. You’ll have to bring him here.”
“Come on, Danny, I’ve got an investigation to run and a restless feeb up my-”
“Take it or leave it,” Pope said. “And all you get is two hours.”
“All right, all right, hold on.”
Pope heard the sound of a hand muffling the receiver. After a long moment of silence, Jake came back on the line. “You’ve got a deal. The medic is checking him over right now, but somebody’ll be out there with him as soon as possible. I’ll call you back with the details.” He paused. “And Danny? Thanks for this.”
Pope pressed the kill button.
7
“ I gotta tell you,” Chavez said. “The guy’s pretty freaky. Lotta people go to the show because of the tabloids and all, but he’s definitely the real deal. Had a bunch of us up onstage doing all kinds of crazy stuff.”
It was close to four now and they were rolling along what seemed like another endless highway. Anna sat in the backseat of the deputy’s patrol car, only half-listening to his words and to the faint squawk of the two-way radio.
“I wouldn’t’ve believed it if I hadn’t watched the DVD myself,” Chavez continued. “Guy put me under but good.”
Despite what she’d seen tonight, despite all the blood and the drama with Royer and Worthington and little Evan Fairweather-who sat pressed up against her now-there was one thing that clung to Anna’s mind. Something Royer had said:
Sideshow psychic.
Anna had seen a few psychics on TV in her time and had never given them much thought.
But Royer’s words tonight had stirred something in her brain.
A revelation of sorts.
Over the years, Anna had forgotten many things about her childhood, but one thing she’d always remember was her mother’s belief that there are people out there who possess certain powers. People whose minds are tuned into some cosmic frequency that broadcasts information the rest of us aren’t privy to. Events from the past, the present-and even the future.
Anna’s education-hell, her common sense-had taught her to doubt such things, but considering what she’d been going through the last few weeks, she had to wonder, could her mother have been right? Do true psychics exist?
She thought of the lullaby she’d sung to Evan, the sadness of the melody, the prophetic words, as if they had been written with an eye toward some predetermined future and a desire for release:
Every little star
Way up in the sky
Calls me
What had her mother been thinking about when she wrote those words? Did she know about the pain she’d one day have to endure? That she’d be leaving this world sooner than most? Could she see things, predict things, that others couldn’t?
And, by extension, what about Anna?
Could these visions she’d been having, these terrible glimpses of carnage, be some kind of ominous portent?
