“The killer’s.”
My friend’s incredulous voice reverberated through the porcelain echo chamber as it suddenly rose in pitch, “Shit! You mean like ON the list, on the list?”
“Yeah,” I almost whispered. “Like ON the list, on the list.”
“Why the hell didn’t ya’ tell me this sooner?” he demanded.
“Like I said, I planned to talk to you about it as soon as we were done with the interview.”
Ben came to a halt in front of me. He started to reach for his neck in his usual unmindful gesture but seemed distracted even from that. A second later he blurted, “All right, so where’s Felicity right now?”
“She’s safe,” I told him. “She’s with a client.”
I could almost see the cogs and wheels turning behind the massive Native American’s eyes as he calculated and schemed around the information he had just been given. After a short interlude of silence, he wrinkled his brow and pointed at me.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” he instructed. “You and Felicity are stayin’ with me an’ Al. I’ll call ‘er soon as we get upstairs.”
He was already starting to hustle me toward the door of the men’s room as he spoke. We rushed past the trash receptacle so fast I think the wad of paper towels I tossed at it ended up on the floor.
CHAPTER 22
Ben was not at all keen on the idea of our keeping the dinner date we had arranged with Austin for this evening; but in the grander scheme of things, that was actually the least of his concerns. What provided his strongest point of consternation was the fact that Felicity and I had refused to abandon our home in the face of my being the target of a serial killer. While at first I was almost inclined to go along with his cautionary actions; after some thought I knew for certain that if this killer wanted me bad enough, he would find me wherever I holed up. Hiding away at Ben’s would most likely only prolong the inevitable, and that would guarantee to tip my internal scales even farther from center in the process.
As frightening as the entire prospect was, I mused aloud that this might even be the break we needed. There was next to nothing in the way of useful evidence thus far, and in my own opinion I had been no real help to the investigation either. If the killer was after me, then perhaps we could set a trap with me as the bait. My friend wasted no time informing me that I had seen too many television shows and that this was real life and not an episode of the latest cop drama. It simply didn’t work that way.
For a moment, I made a grab for the diaphanous skirts of a long shot and partially allied myself with Ben to make a half-hearted attempt at convincing my wife to follow his advice and stay with he and Allison for a while. I knew better than to even make the suggestion, especially considering that being pulled away from her photo shoot and escorted to the police station by a pair of uniformed officers had already set her mood at an oblique angle to the rest of the world. My bid for the brass ring ended as soon as she rolled her eyes, while turning to face me, and then slowly cocked her head to the side. From behind a spiral fall of fiery auburn curls, her jade green eyes subjected me to the Felicity O’Brien trademark I beg your pardon glare. Her message was received free of any distortion or ambiguity whatsoever, and no further word was spoken on the subject-from me at any rate.
Better than an hour passed by while Ben continued to demand, argue and even plead with both of us, but as sound as his contentions were, we remained steadfast in our decision to stay put. In the end he finally conceded grudgingly but only under a specific condition. We were to be afforded the same protection as the other individuals that were believed to be on the killer’s list.
We agreed with the compromise, and then Felicity dropped the other shoe-our dinner engagement with her brother. Before my friend could even begin to object, she outlined in no uncertain terms that there was no room for negotiation on this point.
Ben had let out a resigned sigh as he automatically massaged the back of his neck. After a trio of short phone calls, he laid out his own non-negotiable terms.
One, he would be pulling the first watch with us personally.
Two, we were to eat at a busy, very public restaurant with valet parking, and he wanted to know which one it was before we left so we could be tailed.
Three, we were to go straight there and come straight home.
And finally, four, we were to meet him at our house no later, but no earlier, than eleven p.m.
Had the service at the restaurant been slower or had we encountered a little more traffic on the streets, we just might have been able to comply with the last point.
The fact that the glowing digital clock on the in-dash radio read 10:13 p.m. at the moment we exited the highway didn’t really register-even though I looked directly at it.
“Aye, Rowan, an’ you’re sure now you wouldn’t want to be stoppin’ for a cheeseburger or some such?” Austin’s cheery voice boomed from the back seat of Felicity’s Jeep. “That fare on your plate didn’t seem enough for a young lad, much less a grown man.”
“I got plenty,” I told my brother-in-law with a chuckle. He had been ribbing me about my dinner selection for the better portion of the evening. I knew it was all in fun, and it seemed to be keeping him entertained. Besides, it was keeping my mind off the far less pleasant realities I was facing, and a diversion was something I desperately needed-so I played along.
“I’m still thinkin’ you would have been better served with a good steak, man,” he offered as he reached forward and gave me a good-natured jab in the side. “What was that frou-frou you ordered again?”
“Seared sea scallops with bourbon-horseradish-mustard and grilled asparagus in a balsamic vinaigrette.”
“Aye and what about that plate of cheese and such?”
“Mozzarella, red onions, and tomatoes with olive oil. It’s called a caprice salad.”
“Frou-frou, man!” he announced once again.
“Really, Austin,” Felicity piped up with her own musical laugh. Her Celtic timbre had been thoroughly reinforced by the evening spent with her brother. “Surely now you’re the only one I know who would go to a restaurant celebrated for its seafood and order a steak.”
“Aye, the menu said ‘Surf and Turf,’ didn’t it now?” he ventured. “I simply told the lass to keep the surf and bring me extra turf.”
“Aye.” My wife nodded into the rearview mirror then laid on an extra helping of her thick brogue. “Sure’n that Colleen was makin’ eyes at you too. You were just puttin’ on a show for the young lass.”
The stick shift clicked smoothly as she pushed the vehicle through a quiet intersection and accelerated along the avenue in the direction of our subdivision.
“I’m single then, aren’t I?” Austin chuckled.
“Aye, you are,” Felicity answered. “But she was a bit young then. She’d soon grow tired of an old man like yourself.”
My brother-in-law’s infectious laughter filled the interior of the Jeep as we hooked through a turn and continued down a familiar tree-lined street toward our home. A pair of short blocks later the radio’s luminescent clock displayed 10:22 p.m. As the last digit blinked itself into a three, we made the arc from the street into the driveway and followed the concrete strip to the rear of our house. The next turn to the left banked us around the back corner and brought the harsh swath of blue-white from the vehicle’s headlamps to bear on the garage door.
The Jeep screeched to a halt as Felicity less than gently applied the brakes, adding her own high-pitched yelp of surprise to the sudden noise. Austin’s retort was abruptly transformed into a deep huff as he pitched forward heavily against his seatbelt. My hands went automatically to the dash as I did the same. With my palms still planted firmly before me, I lifted my head and simply cast a mute stare through the windshield.
Overspray fogged the outline of the graffiti that graced the normally solid white overhead door. Haste had been an obvious factor to the perpetrator of the artwork as evidenced by the watery trails of the runs that had trickled from the paint. Still, a familiar and somewhat steady hand had been applied to the task. The symbols were large, even, and painstakingly clear.
