strangle one of the women. I had several sessions with Sammy. At the time, he wasn't ready to confess his sins. I had to wait until we spoke again, years later, in a more private setting.'
'How can you be sure the man on the tape is Walter Smith? It could be someone else.'
'Walter's been to Sinclair recently.'
'Why? The hospital is abandoned – I tried to buy the property years ago but it was tied up in legal tape. Why would he go there?'
'To visit Mary, his one true mother,' Fletcher said.
'Walter goes there to talk to the Virgin Mary?'
'Yes.'
'You've been to the hospital?'
'Yes. In fact, I'm here right now, waiting for the police to arrive.'
'How did they find out about Sinclair?'
'I called them here.'
'You called them?'
'They're already here.'
'Do they know about Walter Smith?'
'No. Mr Hale, I want you to listen to me very carefully.'
For the next ten minutes, Fletcher explained to Hale what was going to happen. When he finished, Hale was silent.
'There is no way the police will be able to connect you to this, but I can't prevent them from focusing their attention on you.'
'Does Karim know?' Hale asked.
'We've discussed the matter at length.'
'He approves?'
'He does. However, since we have no choice but to involve you, Dr Karim and I both agree that the decision is yours. If you change your mind, you know how to reach me, but don't take too long. The preparations have already been made.'
'How long do I have?'
'An hour,' Fletcher said. 'I'd suggest you leave for New York this evening. Dr Karim has searched through a national patient database called the Medical Information Bureau. Walter sees a doctor at the Shriners Burn Center, but the MIB contains an old address.'
'Can you find him?'
'Karim can't access the Shriners database. I plan on doing that myself later this evening. I suspect I'll find Walter in the next few days. In the interim, you may want to give some significant thought as to what you asked during our initial conversation.'
'I haven't changed my mind.'
'After I hang up, I want you to call Detective Bryson and tell him about the DVD you received in the mail. Tell him what you saw, and please make sure to give him the mailer.'
'Your name is on it.'
'Along with my fingerprints,' Fletcher said.
'I don't understand.'
'The police already know I'm here. I want them to think I'm acting independently.'
'Won't the FBI find out?'
'By the time their task force arrives, I'll be gone.'
A black Mustang tore its way up the winding road.
'I'll contact you shortly,' Fletcher said. 'If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.'
Darby McCormick stepped out of the car and showed her ID to the two security guards standing outside their truck. Apparently she had called ahead to let them know of her arrival.
The young woman was, by all indications, bright and fearless; but would she keep pushing until she found the truth? It was time to find out.
49
Darby paced outside the room where she had found the photograph and statue. The two undercover Boston detectives who escorted her were somewhere in the dark, watching.
She pushed the button for the backlight for her watch. It was almost nine and Malcolm Fletcher still hadn't called.
The ancient building groaned around her. Down the hall, wind blew through a window, the sound like a high- pitched scream.
Darby felt the hospital's presence as though it was a living, breathing entity like the Overlook Hotel from The Shining. She didn't believe in ghosts but she knew there were places in this world that were haunted, where men had performed unspeakable acts of cruelty and violence against each other, where the cries of the damned lingered for eternity. As she waited, she wondered about the possible secrets waiting for her inside these walls.
Her phone rang. She grabbed it, heard silence on the other end of the line. Then she realized her phone was set to vibrate.
The ringing was coming from inside the patient room.
Darby had already mounted the tactical light on her SIG. She turned it on and found a cell phone lying on the floor behind the steel door.
'Step out of the room and turn to your left,' Malcolm Fletcher said. 'At the end of the hallway, you'll see a stairwell.'
Darby saw the stairs. They led only one way: down.
'Don't worry about the stairs or the landings,' Fletcher said. 'They're secure.'
Darby moved the beam of her tactical light around the cold, empty rooms. 'What happened to Jennifer Sanders?'
'Ask her yourself,' Fletcher said. 'She's waiting for you downstairs.'
'I know you're in here. I know you're watching me right now.'
Fletcher didn't answer.
'I'm alone,' Darby said. 'Show yourself. We'll go downstairs together.'
'I'm afraid you'll have to endure this journey alone.'
'I'm not going anywhere until you tell me your agenda.'
'I thought you wanted to know the truth.'
'Then tell me.'
'Telling you the truth doesn't carry the same impact as discovering it for yourself.'
'Tell me where you found the statue.'
'The historian Ian Kershaw said the road to Auschwitz was paved with indifference,' Fletcher said. 'It's time for you to choose. You need to make your decision now.'
Darby looked back to the stairs, thinking of Emma Hale and Judith Chen. She thought about Hannah Givens. She wondered if the answer to Jennifer Sanders' disappearance was, in fact, waiting somewhere below her.
She thought of Jennifer's mother clutching the crucifix tucked underneath the cellophane wrapper of her cigarettes and took the first step.
Descending into the awful dark, Darby was aware of her physical senses – the hollow feeling in her legs; the sweat collecting underneath her arms and hardhat; the way her footsteps echoed and thumped along with the rapid beating of her heart.
'How are you feeling?'
'Nervous,' Darby said. 'Scared.'
'Are you claustrophobic?'
