Is your blood pumping yet, Tim? I could help them, you know. I know where you live, I know where you eat, I know everything about you. I’ve even been in your room while you slept. Bet you didn’t know that, did you? I came to kill you, but thought better of it. You’re good at what you do. I’m good at what I do. There should be room in the world for two people of talent, don’t you think?
But our time is fading. By Oct. 31, my time here will be up-at least for this year-and you… You could be in jail. Or dead. Or just mentally unhinged. Part of this is up to you. Your next article should hit the police even harder. They have suspects, I will tell you that. My favorite is Charles Holober, a paranoid schizophrenic that lives in Ashburn. The guy keeps dead fish in his drawer, Tim. He’s married, but there are all kinds of domestic trouble. He even cut her.
Or there is always Mike Taylor down in Sterling. He’s been arrested for armed burglary twice in the past 10 years, so he knows how to get into houses. He could be their man.
This county is filled with sickos and psychos, fools and fall guys. They’ll find someone that fits their bill. It won’t be me, but I can pretend, Tim. I know a lot about pretending.
And so do you, it seems. I’ve seen your brave face to the public. I also know how you begged your bosses to help you. But you are starting to feel it, aren’t you? The burn, the weariness, the feeling that it will all be for nothing. She’s dead and you can’t bring her back. This story is making your career, but the price you are paying is your soul. Do what I want and you are nothing but a hack. Refuse me and you are nothing but a corpse.
So let’s go out with a bang, shall we? Hit the police even harder, Tim. Pull no punches. Waste no ink. Let’s see what you really are.
Yours Sincerely,
Lord Halloween
Chapter 15
Thursday, Oct. 19
Quinn and Kate were careful not to walk into the office at the same time, lest they start any rumors. Quinn had rustled up some breakfast, drove them both to Starbucks, then let Kate arrive a good 15 minutes before he walked into the office.
Still, as soon as he walked through the door, he could see Janus smirking. He caught Quinn near the vending machine where, after finishing his overpriced espresso, he was heading for a Coke.
“So how did it go?” Janus asked. “You noticed I got out of there pretty quickly. I was hoping maybe a little adventure got the blood pumping and you two…”
“Please silence the porn movie in your head,” Quinn said. “We were exhausted. We went to sleep.”
“Yeah, but she stayed over right? You cuddled a little bit, right? Right?”
Janus stared at Quinn for a moment.
“You didn’t even cuddle, did you? Seriously, dude, everything was right. There was action, drama, a hint of romance-this always works.”
“In the movies, Janus,” Quinn said. “In the real world, these things tend to tire you out.”
But in the back of his mind, he wondered if that was true. They were both exhausted, but hadn’t he continued to feel that spark during their evening together? Should he have made a move? He remembered something then, a voice saying, “Don’t hesitate.” Who had told him that?
“Thanks so much for bringing this up,” Quinn said.
Janus clapped him on the shoulder.
“Next time, make a move,” Janus responded.
“Make a move on what?” Kate asked, walking up to them both.
Quinn had to give Janus credit. If he had intended to embarrass Quinn, he could have easily done so. Hell, he could have simply let an awkward silence reign. Instead he immediately said, “He should have grabbed more files when he had the chance.”
“Come on, he did great,” Kate said. “I thought we weren’t going to find anything.”
With that, the three of them returned to their desks and began to work. They had divided up their investigation into Lord Halloween. Kate was cross-referencing previous victims with their addresses and occupations in an attempt to figure out if any had been killed in the Chronicle building and if any were connected to Tim Anderson.
Quinn, meanwhile, was interrupted by Laurence to have a brief conversation in his office about the company’s sexual harassment policy. Glaring at Janus when he finally returned to his desk, Quinn started looking through old clips of Anderson’s and doing some Internet research to find out if the reporter was still alive. One thing was clear: Anderson was not on the official victim’s list. He wasn’t even officially labeled missing. So whatever had happened, no one had made it public.
Since neither was supposed to be doing their investigation during work hours, they both also had to keep handling their normal workload, with Quinn writing up his story on the ghost hunter while Kate finished off the piece on Madame Zora.
After a few hours, Quinn was growing increasingly frustrated. He had gone to the library and managed to find microfiche on the Loudoun Chronicle and read Anderson’s work. Quinn thought it was some of the best writing he had ever seen. Anderson should have easily made his way beyond the Chronicle to the Post or even The New York Times. But in a search of Lexus-Nexus later, Quinn found no by-line by that name or others like it. Assuming Anderson was alive, he hadn’t kept writing-at least not under his own name.
He was probably dead, Quinn thought. But something about that last letter from Lord Halloween made him wonder about that. The letter had said Anderson passed some kind of test. It had warned him to leave, but it hadn’t threatened to kill him. Additionally, Lord Halloween was anything but subtle. If he had killed Anderson, wouldn’t he have left a calling card? He did with everyone else.
But if Anderson had left, where had he gone? What was he doing? And if it wasn’t his blood in the basement of the building, whose was it?
An idea popped into Quinn’s head. He got up suddenly from his desk and wandered over to where Alexis was.
“Alexis, I was wondering if you could help me out?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, turning in her chair to face him. “What’s up?”
“That story you did a couple months ago on how teachers are cracking down on kids who use the Internet to copy term papers,” Quinn said. “You mentioned someone was selling software to help catch them. How did it work?”
Alexis was clearly excited. She often felt like she was considered the unimportant part of the paper, but clearly Quinn was reading her work. It mattered to him.
“It’s sold over the Internet,” she said. “It’s just software that detects patterns in a document and looks for it elsewhere. So if a kid copied a term paper from the Internet, it would catch that immediately.”
“But could it also find phrases? Something that literally wasn’t the same exact document?”
“Yes,” she said. “At least, I think that’s the idea.”
“Great,” Quinn said. “Where can I buy it?”
Kate and Quinn met again for dinner that evening and he had trouble taking his eyes off Kate. When he showed up at the hotel, he hadn’t been expecting her to dress up. But she came downstairs looking amazing. He had suddenly felt embarrassed about his own appearance.
He chose the King’s Court Tavern right near the center of town and Quinn was surprised when Kate asked for a romantically lit table in the far corner. Then he figured it out: it was much better to discuss their investigation without being overheard. When the waiter had finished taking their drink orders, Quinn started.
“So I did some digging,” he said. “Thomas Fillmore.”
Kate gave him a blank look.
“Should the name mean anything to me?”
Quinn looked around to ensure no one else could hear.
