“The CDC team is on its way,” announced Ralph. He had left Marcie with Mr. Williamson’s security personnel.
“Good,” I mumbled. I was walking over to Kincaid’s body.
Ralph pointed to Marcie. “They think they can control this thing with her help. Treat it.” He looked at the gruesome scene around us. The bodies of Kincaid’s group lay scattered around the courtyard. Only the big guy and Marcie had survived. “With a little luck, no one else is going to die today.”
I heard his words but only faintly. They were fading into the distance of space and time.
It couldn’t really be what I thought it was in his hand. It couldn’t be.
Showing us the board… he’s been showing us the board…
I reached Kincaid’s body.
The paramedic looked confused. “The guys outside told me to come in and take a look at her.”
Agent Tucker stood up. Stood toe to toe with the paramedic. “C’mere for a second,” he said.
Then Tessa watched him lead the paramedic into the hallway and around the corner out of sight.
Brent Tucker is with Tessa…
I knelt down, noticed a ragged scar across the inside of Kincaid’s wrist, probably from a suicide attempt a long time ago.
He shot the man in the neck but didn’t kill him… made sure he didn’t kill him… he knew where to shoot them…
I reached out to open Kincaid’s hand. My heart was screaming. No, no, no!
My fingers began to tremble.
He reaches across the board, touches a piece, then he takes her.
Tessa heard a muffled gasp and a soft thud.
I uncurled Kincaid’s fingers.
Saw the item.
Tessa’s necklace.
“Agent Tucker?” called Tessa.
I spun around, yelled to Margaret. “Get Tucker on the phone! Now!”
Tessa strained to see around the corner. “Are you OK, Agent Tucker?” Her heart began to slam against the inside of her chest.
A voice inside of her told her to get up. To get out. Something was wrong.
She tried to stand but was still dizzy from shock.
Her legs felt wobbly.
“Agent Tucker?”
Margaret put her hand on my elbow to calm me down. “Don’t worry, Pat, Tessa’s all ri-”
“I know who it is!” I yelled.
“Hello, Tessa,” said the killer, the Illusionist, the boy who had snuggled up to the corpse of his mother, the man who was at home in the dark. He stepped around the corner, holding a dripping blade, and grabbed Tessa, shoving a cloth over her mouth, quickly, so quickly that it swallowed her scream and sent her reeling into a terrible, terrible sleep. Terrible and dark.
But before the shadows closed around her she saw one last thing-one last grisly thing-a man trying to crawl around the corner of the hallway, trying to get to her. To help her. Failing. Falling. Collapsing onto the carpet, his throat slashed.
A man.
A dead man.
Special Agent Brent Tucker.
83
“Don’t worry, Pat,” said Margaret. “She’s OK. The paramedics are looking after her.” But her words were barely audible, floating somewhere beside me. They meant nothing. Because I was holding Tessa’s necklace in my hand, and nothing else mattered.
He leaves an item from the next victim.
My daughter is next.
“Phone!” I yelled, pocketing the necklace. “Give me a phone!” Lien-hua handed me hers. I dialed Tessa’s cell phone number. Please answer. Please, please. The room was twirling; I was about to collapse, dizzy from the drugs.
It rang.
Someone answered. “Hello, Patrick.” I knew that voice: it was the paramedic who’d treated my shoulder. The paramedic who’d waited patiently for us to finish examining Mindy’s body, the one who helped the injured officer to the ambulance outside of Alice’s house last night. But no one noticed him because he was supposed to be there. Because paramedics are always supposed to be there. Even in Charlotte, in another city, he could blend in and disappear in the chaos following the shooting in the parking garage by just wearing his uniform. It was the perfect disguise because it wasn’t a disguise at all. He became invisible by the cleverest misdirection of all-by fitting in.
By hiding in my ear.
“Checkmate,” he said.
Dizzy… dizzy… swaying… I handed the phone to Lien-hua and mumbled, “GPS…” The world was closing in. “Track her cell location with GPS… It’s the param-” I started to say, but before I could tell them who the Illusionist was, everything went black.
84
Tessa opened her eyes.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious.
Something was stuffed in her mouth. Some kind of gag. It made her want to retch, but she was afraid that if she threw up she’d choke on the vomit and die like that kid from school did last year at that party when he got so drunk he passed out and never woke up.
Never woke up.
Calm down, Tessa. Calm down.
Never woke up.
Calm down.
She was on her side. Her hands stretched behind her back, tied together. It felt like duct tape. When she tried to move her legs, she couldn’t. Her ankles were tightly bound too. At least she still had her clothes on-thank God.
Her mind felt fuzzy, unclear. She looked around.
Where was she?
An ambulance. She was in the back of an ambulance, and they were driving up a curving road, into the mountains.
Drifting. Drifting. She blinked, tried to focus.
Slipped into unconsciousness again.
I woke up, looked around. A huddle of faces surrounded me.
“The guy tossed the phone,” someone was saying.
“The paramedic,” I managed to say.
“He’s back!” Ralph’s face loomed into view. “You OK?”
I nodded feebly. “It’s the paramedic.” I tried to speak, hardly made a sound. “The Illusionist. It’s him.”
