detection because when homeowners decide to renovate, my gable might need to be accessed to run phone or cable wires or TV antennas for better reception. But new construction at this price point always pre-wires. If the particular gable I want has been pre-wired, I simply re-route the wires around my living space.
My early years as an army sniper required me to remain perfectly still for hours at a time, useful training for my later years of living in the attics of occupied homes. To hedge my bet, I try to select an unused gable, located as far from the attic access doors as possible. I’m safest just off the far side of a rarely-used upstairs guest bedroom, in case an unexpected cough or snore might alert a family pet. Usually that isn’t an issue, since most of my construction time is spent sound-proofing my living space. I lay a top-quality, non-squeak floor. Then I mix sawdust and baby powder into the caulk I lay between and below the floor joists and in the nail holes to keep the floor from squeaking. My access door is always located on the far side, indented a couple of feet into my living area to avoid detection. Several times a day I don a blindfold and practice escaping. The blindfold forces me to memorize the location of the floor joists in case I have to escape in pitch darkness.
Once completed, I move in and try to adapt to the routines of my host family. When possible, I sleep when they sleep and remain quiet when they’re active. I monitor their personal computers, their phone calls, and watch family interactions through pinhole cameras I’ve hidden throughout the house. Within weeks I’ll know their habits and schedules better than they do, at which point living with them becomes more enjoyable. If they’re going to be away a few hours I’ll use their toilets, enjoy a hot bath or shower, nap in their beds, share their food and liquor, and use their computers instead of mine when sensitive work needs to be done without leaving an electronic trail.
The most fun I have is playing with their pets.
Dogs and most other pets are easy, but I can’t live with a cat. Once a cat discovers me, things are never the same. It never stops looking up at the ceiling and always tries to find a way to get to me. It moans and fusses all night every night and never seems to get over it. I’ve got a soft spot for all types of pets, but when one of my families brings a cat into the house I have to find it a new home ASAP. Otherwise, the owners keep sending exterminators into the attic to check for mice.
Chapter 60
It took four evenings to complete my living space on Dunvegan, and wouldn’t you know it, Fathi never made it to Atlanta. That’s the problem working with informants: they’re usually worker bees who have access to little more than rumors. But I was content to kill the two local leaders, and did so with ease.
I’d followed them to a lively nightspot in downtown Atlanta. The place was so jammed it took me ten minutes just to find them. They were part of a crowd that was watching two hard-bodied women dancing to the loudest music I’d ever heard. Every thirty seconds the cavernous room went dark, and strobes and laser lights flashed from all directions.
It was a perfect killing field.
I positioned myself behind the terrorists, put a syringe in each hand, and waited for the strobes. When they flashed, I plunged the needles into their lower backs and stepped aside as they fell to the floor. A couple of people shouted, but the dancers kept dancing, the music kept blaring and I was out of there before anyone figured out what happened.
My new living quarters were complete, but because the construction crew was still on site, it would be weeks before I could move in. The two weeks I planned to spend training Alison were still in the future. My dinner with Callie and Eva had been postponed twice due to Eva’s tireless rehearsal and performance schedules, but I had a firm commitment from them for Sunday night.
Finding myself with three days of free time, I decided to meet Dr. Nadine Crouch in Jacksonville, Florida. For five thousand dollars and a beach vacation, Nadine agreed to help prepare my daughter Kimberly for the news that I was alive.
I could have contacted Kimberly sooner, of course, but I wanted to wait until I was certain I wouldn’t have a relapse. Now I’d killed a dying man and two terrorists without incident, so I figured to be okay from this point on. Since I’d missed a big part of Kimberly’s life, I planned to make up for it, starting now. But first I had to pave the way. I couldn’t just walk up to her with this new face and say, “Hey, Kim, it’s me, your dead Daddy!”
Kimberly had inherited my entire estate—or to be more precise, the entire estate identified in my will and supporting documents. Naturally I had secret stashes of money tucked away in case I needed to fake my own death.
Lou Kelly had spoken to Kimberly a few times over the years, but my funeral was their first face-to-face meeting. Since then, he’d called every month to see how she was doing. It was Lou who presented my “Last Will and Testament” to the attorneys settling the estate, so it seemed natural to have Lou phone Kimberly about this. He taped the exchange and emailed it to me in an audio file.
“I want you to meet someone,” Lou said. “Her name is Dr. Nadine Crouch. She was your father’s therapist.”
“There must be some mistake, Mr. Kelly,” Kimberly said. “There’s no way my father would ever see a therapist.”
“She only saw your dad a few times that last year. But she has some information you’ll want to hear.”
She went silent a moment, then sighed. “I’m not so sure I want to hear it, Mr. Kelly.”
“Kimberly, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
“You obviously know what it is,” she said. “Just tell me now.”
“Nadine’s going to be in Jacksonville this week anyway. Plus, the type of news she’s got for you—well, let’s just say she’s better trained to deliver it.”
