Death Mask

“Then I should tell the police that.”

“No. It’s too risky. Even if the cops can find him, what are they going to do? Shoot him? You know that they can’t hurt him. But he might harm Victoria.”

“Oh God, Frank. No.”

Frank said, “He’s done this for a reason, Molly: to get his revenge on you. You created him, but now you’re trying to destroy him, and you’re the only person who can. You’ve betrayed him, so far as he’s concerned.”

He turned to Jane Becker. “Well, Ms. Becker. It looks like you’re going to be helping us sooner than we thought. How about getting yourself changed?”

“Are you serious?”

“Never more so,” Frank told her. “Red Mask obviously wants us to come looking for him, on his terms, the way he did with Detective Kunzel and those two SWAT teams. He wants a showdown. So let’s not disappoint him, shall we?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN The Falling Girl

As they drove back into the city over the Roebling Suspension Bridge, Sissy borrowed Molly’s cell phone and called Detective Bellman. The bridge had a rumbling metal-grid floor, so she had to shout to make herself heard.

“Freddie? It’s Sissy Sawyer! We have a crisis.”

“Has Red Mask called you again?”

“Not since last night. But it looks like he’s abducted Molly’s little girl, Victoria.”

“What? Jesus! Have you called it in?”

“Molly’s neighbor did, as soon as it happened. That was about twenty minutes ago, from her home in Blue Ash. Molly’s called, too, and talked to a Sergeant Haskins.”

“Bella Haskins, yes, she’s terrific. And the FBI will come in on this, too. They always do, when it’s a child under twelve. Where do you think he might have taken her? Any ideas?”

“We believe he might be hiding her in the Giley Building. That’s the only place where he really feels real.”

“Okay, I’ll get some units round there right now.”

“Freddie — I’m asking you a huge, huge favor. I know you were pretty skeptical about what happened in the Giley Building yesterday.”

There was a crackling silence. Then Detective Bellman said, “In all honesty, Ms. Sawyer, I have to tell you that it did stretch my credibility to the universe and beyond. You know that I’m still trying to be open-minded here, and I saw for myself that something got burned on that office carpet — maybe even somebody.”

“It was Red Mask, Freddie. I swear to you.”

“Well, maybe. But I didn’t see no human remains, and I didn’t see no canine remains, neither. In fact, no material evidence to substantiate your story whatsoever.”

Sissy said, “Listen, Freddie — that Red Mask was nothing but an image. So was Frank. So was the scenting dog, too. They vanished. When a living image dies, it fades away. It simply disappears, like it never was. Even the original sheet of paper that it was drawn on is blank.”

“So, okay — what’s this huge, huge favor?” asked Detective Bellman. It was obvious that he wasn’t keen to get involved in any kind of existential argument.

“I want you to let us into the Giley Building, to look for Victoria. You can come with us if you want to, but I’d prefer it if it was just us. I think it’s our only chance of finding Red Mask and getting Victoria back unharmed.”

“Who’s ‘just us’?”

“Myself, and Molly, and Frank — ”

“Frank? You mean your husband Frank? Am I missing something here? I thought you just told me that Frank had vanished?”

“He did, Freddie, but like I was telling you yesterday — ”

“Go on, then. Who else?”

“Jane Becker. You remember her — she was one of Red Mask’s first two victims, her and George Woods. We need her to confirm Red Mask’s identity. And our scenting dog.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the same scenting dog come back to life?”

Sissy turned around in her seat. Deputy was right behind her, in the back of Molly’s SUV, panting as if he had been running after rabbits.

“Let’s put it this way. It’s a similar scenting dog.”

Detective Bellman said nothing for a long time. Sissy could hear other officers talking in the background, and a siren whoop. At last he said, “Ms. Sawyer, I don’t have anything like the authority to do this. Apart from that, it’s totally against CPD procedure. Civilians under no circumstances are to be put in harm’s way during the course of any criminal investigation or arrest operation.”

“I see,” said Sissy.

There was another long pause, but then Detective Bellman said, “On the other hand, you know and I know that we’re talking about some decidedly weird shit here. We’re talking about perps who can appear and disappear like they can walk through walls. We’re talking about perps with nothing but kitchen knives who can wipe out two SWAT squads armed to the teeth with semiautomatic weapons. We’re talking about people who can come to life even though they’re supposed to be cremated.”

“I know, Freddie. I know. But let me just say that — ”

“I have to admit that I’m bewildered, Ms. Sawyer, and I’m very skeptical. But there wasn’t nobody more skeptical than Mike Kunzel, including me, and even Mike could see that these stabbings weren’t your garden-variety massacres, not by a long way. He could see how goddamned weird they were. So just for Mike, I’m going to let you in to the Giley Building for thirty minutes, if that’s what you want — provided you never tell nobody what I allowed you to do, ever, and provided you don’t get yourselves injured or, God forbid, killed. Where are you now?”

“We’re just coming off the Roebling Suspension Bridge, by the ballpark.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you outside the Giley Building in five minutes.”

Sissy said, “Thanks, Freddie. You won’t regret this. They’ll probably promote you to detective first class.”

She switched off the cell phone and patted Frank on the shoulder. “He’s given us thirty minutes’ grace. So let’s step on it, shall we?”

Detective Bellman was waiting for them when they parked outside the Giley Building. The street was still crowded with vans and Hummers from the CPD forensic teams who were painstakingly going over the parking structure next door, inch by inch and floor by floor. The media vans were still there, too, from Channel 5 and Channel 12 and WLW radio. After all, it had been the worst mass murder in Cincinnati since 1987, when male nurse Donald Harvey had killed forty of his patients at the Drake Hospital.

“I feel like I’m dreaming this,” said Detective Bellman, as they gathered on the steps.

“Maybe that’s the best way,” Sissy told him. “After all, it is a dream, of sorts.”

“I’m coming in with you,” said Detective Bellman. “I know what you said, that my weapon can’t harm him. But this is my responsibility, this case, and I owe it to Mike Kunzel to see it through to the finish.”

One of the uniformed officers guarding the Giley Building unlocked the revolving door for them and they went inside. The lobby was gloomy, and their footsteps echoed on the marble flooring.

Jane Becker said, “I really don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t think any of us do, honey,” said Frank. “But remember the roses, okay?”

Sissy went to the center of the lobby, under the chandelier, and closed her eyes. She breathed slowly and deeply to relax herself, and then she allowed herself slowly to rise up through the building floor by floor. She passed by deserted offices, chairs tipped over, dead computer screens. She heard phones ringing, unanswered. But as she