She saw them: the children in the library. The poison still moist on their lips. Moist on their lips.
Her daughter’s trusting face.
At last, with her little girl’s smiling face drifting before her, Marcie let the last fragment of her old life fall from her fingers and onto the floor. “Francisella tularensis,” she whispered. She sensed a man beside her, a big man with a rough voice. It was almost as if she were somewhere else watching, a spectator observing a woman getting handcuffed. “Genetically enhanced…” she said in case anyone was listening. This was good. She could finally do something good with her life. Something right. “We spliced the genes… Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever…”
81
Tessa tried to drink the glass of water Agent Tucker had gotten for her, but her hands were still shaking. She heard purring and noticed Midnight stretching out on the floor at her feet. She hadn’t seen Sunshine since the craziness started.
She set down the glass and looked in her lap. She had two phones-hers and the one Patrick was using. She slipped them into separate pockets in her jeans and gently stroked Midnight’s soft fur.
She just wanted to get out of here. To go home.
Mr. Tucker was talking on his cell. “Yeah, Agent Wellington?” he was saying. “This is Brent. I need to get a message through to Pat. Tell him I’m with his daughter, and she’s fine. Yeah. Make sure you tell him. All right. Thanks.”
I overheard Lien-hua talking with one of Kincaid’s people about the contagion. Ralph was cuffing the woman. I ran to them. “Wait, ma’am. What did you say?”
“Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever,” she said.
“What’s that? How do you know?”
“I have a degree…” Her eyes were blank. “In microbiology.. ” She spoke to us from another place. “I used to work for Father at PTPharmaceuticals… I was a researcher… that’s where we met.”
I looked her in the eye, tried to help her focus. “Can we stop it? Do you know how to treat it?”
The woman nodded. “We altered the genetic makeup, but I worked on the project. I can help you.”
“Let her go,” I said.
“It’s another trick,” said Ralph. “She’ll kill herself just like the others.”
“I believe her,” said Lien-hua. “I believe you, Marcie.”
So her name was Marcie. I looked at her. Tried to read her eyes. Couldn’t. “Why would you help us?”
“The children,” she said, “my daughter.” Mists began to form in her eyes. “No more children need to die.”
“She could be lying,” said Ralph.
“She’s not lying,” said Lien-hua softly.
Marcie’s eyes found me. Searched me. “Do you have any children?”
A rush of emotion overwhelmed me. “Yes. I do,” I said. “A daughter. She’s seventeen.”
The woman nodded, smiled. “My daughter was seven. I loved her.” She looked directly at me. “I killed her,” she said, her voice as fragile as glass, “because I loved her.”
Fear and love, the two missing motives that drive all the others. Set free in some hearts. Twisted in others.
Then Marcie began to weep, and Lien-hua reached out for her, cut off her restraints, took her in her arms. Ralph’s cell phone sprang to life and he flipped it open. “It’s the CDC,” he said. He told them about Marcie and then grudgingly he handed the phone to her. “They want to know what you know.” Then he glowered at her. “No games, you understand?”
She nodded and stepped aside with him to a quieter corner of the courtyard.
Just then Margaret came hurrying over to us. I didn’t even know she was here. Probably just came when she heard about all the media people present. “Sit down, Pat.” It didn’t sound like anger in her voice. Something else. Fear? Concern?
“What is it?”
“Sit down.”
“Tell me.”
“A few minutes ago there was a 911 call from the safe house.” “What?”
“Listen, Tessa’s OK. An officer was shot, though. Officer Muncey.”
“Where’s Tessa?”
“She’s still there. Don’t worry-”
“Jason Stilton has always been a good friend,” Trembley said. “Do anything for a buck.”
“Where’s Stilton?”
“Officer Stilton?” She looked at me curiously. “He’s there, Pat. They called an ambulance. Brent Tucker’s there too. I just talked to him. He told me he’s with Tessa. He wanted you to know.”
Oh no.
Suddenly, everything began to spin and click. The pieces of the puzzle slid together with grim accuracy, shattering my mind, my world. “He knew we were leaving for Denver,” I muttered. “That’s why he called me this morning. He wanted me here. That’s why he gave me Kincaid…”
“What?” said Margaret.
“The first murder,” I whispered, “was two days after Grolin’s girlfriend moved out, after he beat her up… Right?”
Lien-hua nodded but looked confused.
“She was treated for her injuries, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” she said. “What are you thinking? What is it?”
“He knew,” I said. The world was getting bleary. Whatever was in that capsule was starting to affect me. How does the killer get away? He always slips away. At the mall… at the golf course… Alice’s house…
“He knows how to cut them…” I said, “to keep them alive.. ” “What are you talking about?” asked Margaret.
“It’s the drugs,” said Lien-hua, eyeing the half-dissolved capsule on the floor. “Get a doctor over here!” And then to me, “Take it easy, Pat. Sit down.”
Only the most foolish of mice would hide in a cat’s ear, but only the wisest of cats would look there. I felt weak. “The Illusionist,” I whispered. “He’s been hiding in my ear the whole time.”
And that’s when I saw that Kincaid, before he died, had pulled something out of his pocket. It lay hidden in the grip of his left hand.
“I have something to give you,” he’d said to Taylor and me.
He had something to give me.
And I knew who it was from.
82
Tessa was on the couch, trying to relax, trying to catch her breath. Agent Tucker sat beside her. The house was a little quieter; a bunch of the cops had left when they wheeled that woman away.
Agent Tucker placed his hand on her shoulder. “You OK?”
She nodded. “I’m shaking, though.”
“It’s shock,” he said. “We need to get you out of here.”
“Is she dead?” asked Tessa softly. “That police officer?”
Agent Tucker nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so.”
A paramedic appeared in the doorway. “Is everyone in here OK?”
Agent Tucker slipped his hand around Tessa’s shoulder. “I’m taking her with me.”
