The man stood up, straightened the crease in his trousers. 'I really appreciate this. I feel like a new man.'
A new man, Tommy thought. I wish.
'It was my pleasure.'
The man slipped on his coat. 'How much do I owe you?'
Tommy told him. The man doubled the price, as promised.
At just after eight Tommy locked the shop. As per his explicit instructions, he left the register open, drawer out, under a solitary spotlight.
He walked quickly to the parking lot. The temperature had dropped in the past hour or so.
'Thomas?'
He spun around. He saw no one, just the long-shadowed street.
Thomas? Who the hell called him Thomas? The last person to call him Thomas had been his ex, Jeremy. But that had been in York, and that was three years ago.
'Hello?'
Silence.
Tommy stepped back around the corner. A car trundled past, one person inside, never glancing his way. He looked both ways down the street. And saw him. The man he had just given the trim to. Except now the man was wearing a dark jumpsuit, zipped to the throat.
'Benvenuto al carnevale.'
The man lifted something into the air, an object about the size and shape of a large old-school garage-door opener. Tommy heard a loud crackling sound, smelled something burning. Then his legs went south.
In a van. Moving.
Tommy blanked out. Came back.
He could not move his head.
The van was stopped. The man climbed into the back, put on a pair of thin latex gloves, shut the doors. Classical music was playing on the car stereo. Violins or something.
Tommy heard something else. It sounded like a drill.
Tommy screamed.
Chapter 57
Byrne stopped for coffee in North Philly. He washed his face and hands in the bathroom. Fatigue was a shambling monster within. When he slipped back into the van he turned on his cellphone and saw that he had five messages. All from Jessica. He called her. 'Where are you?' Byrne asked.
'I'm at Jefferson Hospital,' Jessica said.
Jefferson? Why?'
'I ran into an old friend of mine today.'
'What are you talking about? Who?'
'Lucas Anthony Thompson.'
'What? How?'
Jessica gave him a brief recap, starting with the suicide of Joseph Novak, the voicemail from the dead, the existence of Novak's journal, and the assault by Lucas Thompson on her. Byrne took a moment to absorb it all.
'Man, I leave the city for one minute,' he said.
'Tell me about it.'
'Is Thompson in custody?'
'No,' Jessica said. 'He's dead. And Novak's journal is gone.' She filled him in on the rest of the details.
'Where did it happen?'
Jessica told him.
'That was the Kimmelman crime scene, wasn't it?' 'Yeah.'
'Have they moved him yet?'
'Yeah. CSU is all over the place.'
'I'm going to stop there,' Byrne said. 'When did they say you could get out of there?'
'About an hour or so. Vincent is with Sophie. Can you pick me up?' 'I'll be there.'
Chapter 58
Byrne arrived in front of the hospital at about nine-thirty.
Jessica was waiting, forced to sit in a wheelchair — which made everything seem so much worse than it was. Spotting his van, she got out of the chair, crossed the driveway, and slid into the passenger seat.
'You look okay,' Byrne said.
'I am okay. You know how it is. You break a fingernail and they want to do exploratory surgery. Keeps the premiums up.'
'What did they say?'
'I'm fine. No concussion. They said I'll have a headache for a day or so. They want to see me again in two weeks.'
Byrne drove slowly before pulling into the small temporary parking lot. He put the van in park. 'Tell me more about this.'
Jessica tried to organize her thoughts. It was a little difficult after getting her brain scrambled. She told Byrne what she remembered about Joseph Novak's diary.
'He wrote that he was beholden to someone,' she said.
'His word? Beholden?'
Jessica nodded. 'He wrote: All Saints Day. It is done. I know now that I will be forever beholden to him.'
'All Saints Day. November 1st.'
'Yeah.'
Jessica also told him about the photograph in the back of the journal.
'Any idea who the woman was or where it was taken?' Byrne asked.
'None. I didn't recognize the place.'
'And the word hell was on the back?'
'Yeah. Just that. Hell.'
They fell silent.
'Now it's your turn,' Jessica said. 'What happened up in Chestnut Hill?'
Byrne told her about his conversation with Christa-Marie. Jessica had the feeling that her partner was not telling her everything, but that was his way. He would tell her only what she needed to know at this moment.
'She said there are going to be more killings,' Byrne said. 'She said that she could help us.'
'And that was it? No details?'
'No details.'
'Did she sound… how do I put this…'
'Nuts?'
'Yeah. That.'
'I'm not sure,' Byrne said. 'Yeah, I suppose she did. A little. But I'd like to talk to her one more time before all hell breaks loose with her. You know as well as I do that the second I put this on the record they're going to send a half-dozen shrinks up there. She'll shut down completely.'
The rain picked up again. For a few moments there was only the sound of the music from the stereo and the staccato impact of raindrops on the roof of the van.
Byrne turned in his seat, put his hand on hers. 'You sure you're okay?'
