Friday, Oct. 27
Quinn was considering turning off the video when he saw it. He had concluded the entire process was a waste of time. Lord Halloween was too careful to simply walk past a security camera. But for some reason he kept coming back to it. In the hospital room, he had been out of it, but he had felt sure he had seen something.
Now he was sure he saw it again. It had been quick, just out of the corner of his eye, something like a flash of metal. It could have been a watch, but Quinn didn’t think so. He rewound the tape and paused. It was the arm of a jacket-nothing more. He couldn’t see the man or woman it was attached to. The jacket was olive green and Quinn thought the shade looked familiar. Like he had seen it before. Like he knew who the jacket belonged to.
It felt like a song that he couldn’t place. He knew who that jacket belonged to, but he couldn’t place it. It was just on the tip of his tongue. Work backward, he thought. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was mentally flipping through the people he knew like old photographs when it came to him.
The piece of metal he was looking at was a medal-from the Vietnam War. He only knew one person who wore such a thing. He pictured it sitting on the chair at the Loudoun Chronicle. How many days had he seen it just lying there? And yet he didn’t recognize it when it was out of place.
Dear God, he thought, the jacket. It belongs to Buzz. He had been in the hotel just before Kate’s room was ransacked.
“Jesus,” Quinn said.
(Where was Janus headed?) he asked Kate.
Kate had stopped in mid-interview when he had figured out who the jacket belonged to.
(Buzz. He was going to see Buzz.)
(We have to get there. Now. He’s in trouble.)
Janus drove to the end of the cul-de-sac in Ashburn, parked the car on the curb and got out. He sighed. Every time Janus saw Buzz’s house, it looked like a run-down mess. Buzz had inherited it from his mother, who had died only about four years ago. But he did not seem to inherit the ability to keep it up.
The grass was long, at least three of the shutters hung at slightly crooked angles. If he didn’t know better, Janus might think a crazy person lived there. Only he supposed one did. Buzz was the most paranoid person he had ever met-he had been worried about Lord Halloween way before it was fashionable.
How long had Buzz worked for the paper? As long as Janus knew about, that was for sure. And all that time, Buzz talked about sinister conspiracies concerning county supervisors or the police and when Laurence had transferred him to the business beat, Buzz had relentlessly pursued some bank in Waterford, claiming there was some check kiting scheme.
Holden and Buzz had never gotten along. Rebecca tolerated Buzz’s eccentricities because he produced good copy. He showed up at odd hours, but he did consistently deliver good stories for the paper.
Janus glanced at the house. For a second, he felt a twinge of anxiety, but he brushed it away. The killings, the telepathic twins back at the office and Laurence’s general attitude of panic had put Janus on edge.
He walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. It sounded deep through the house and Janus jumped a little.
Jesus, he thought, I’m way too skittish. He rang the bell again and listened to it echo through the house. But he did not hear anything else.
Maybe Buzz blew town, like he had figured. Buzz had told Laurence he was staying indoors, but that could have been a lie. It was possible Buzz was out shopping, getting supplies. But honestly, Janus thought Buzz seemed like the kind of guy that had supplies stockpiled in the basement. He would be prepared for this.
Of course, Buzz could be ignoring the door. That made sense, since Buzz might believe the killer would actually show up and ring the doorbell.
Or Janus thought Buzz could be in some kind of danger. Maybe he was hurt, or…
He didn’t let himself complete the last line of thought.
I should get out of here, a voice in his head said. The neighborhood was oddly quiet and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Everyone was either gone or had locked themselves in. Four days to go before Halloween and people would not come out if they could help it.
So why am I here? Buzz was either gone or dead. Either way, Janus could not help. He turned on the doorstep and prepared to walk away.
And then a crash came from inside the house.
Janus stood at the doorway for a minute.
“Buzz?” he yelled from outside the door. “Are you fucking in there, mate?”
There was silence. Janus wet his lips with his tongue. Reluctantly, he tried the front door. It was locked. Janus sighed in relief.
“Buzz? You there?” he called again.
He took a step backward. Well, there was nothing he could do, he thought. He should get in the car and get the hell out of dodge.
But he knew he should check the back of the house as well. He should be sure that Buzz was not just lying somewhere, bleeding, maybe getting his guts ripped out even now…
Janus worked to get the image out of his head.
He looked around. There was no one in sight. I have to be sure, he thought. Besides, it’s a bright sunny day out. He should not be this spooked.
Moving carefully, he looked through the front windows and saw nothing. With a longing glance back at his car, Janus disappeared around the side, stopping for a second to look in the garage window. He saw only Buzz’s brown BMW.
Janus continued around the house and stopped on the back patio. There were a few rust-covered chairs there, but the yard looked overgrown.
Janus’ heart stopped when he saw the back door, however.
It was wide open.
Shit, he thought.
“Buzz?” he called moving cautiously to the door. “Look, are you in pain? Do you need help? It’s me, Janus.”
But there was no answer. Janus could see clearly into the kitchen and there was no one there. He should go, he realized. The thought of Buzz in there hurt, or tied up, kept him from running away.
Janus walked through the doorway tentatively. He tried to look around corners. But he could not see anything.
“Buzz, are you in here?” he asked again. “Listen, man, don’t blow my head off ‘cause you think I’m someone else. I’m just trying to make sure you are alright.”
He took another step forward into the house. He saw nothing.
This, Janus decided, was rapidly becoming the dumbest move he had ever made. He reached for his cell phone and realized he had left it in the car.
Here he was, with a murderer on the loose, walking around in a deserted house. He was like one of those idiots in a horror movie. That thought stopped him from moving forward.
If Buzz was in trouble, the police could help him.
“Buzz, I’m coming in, okay?”
But Janus wasn’t going to. Instead he backed slowly up, preparing to turn and run if he had to. Fuck this, he thought. He wouldn’t do anybody any good if he got picked off so easily.
He walked back out the door and then turned and ran around the house to his car. He had left Buzz’s back door open, but the police could deal with that.
Janus dug into his pocket for his keys and pulled them out. He kept looking behind him waiting for something to come out of the house.
But nothing did.
He flipped the key on his ring and practically jumped inside the car, keeping his eyes very carefully on the house. He turned on the car, shoved it into drive and tore out of the cul-de-sac.
It was only as he looked back at the house in the rearview mirror that he saw it. There in his rearview mirror was a single yellow piece of paper-a post-it note stuck right on the glass. Still driving forward, Janus read it as a
