After Midnight, page 14
As the cab pulled to a stop at Logan Airport’s Terminal B, where they were scheduled to fly back to Tampa on board a National Airlines Boeing 757, Virginia made her decision. She would do what had to be done.
She held her daughter’s right hand in both of hers, squeezing it gently. She ignored the impatient cabbie, who was waiting for them to climb out of the backseat so he could remove their luggage from the trunk and move on to his next fare.
She stared into Caitlyn’s eyes and said, “You need to calm down. I can feel your fear. It’s coming off you in waves.”
Caitlyn shook her head. “It’s hopeless. There’s nothing I can do.”
“You can get on this airplane and go home, for starters. Get a good night’s sleep and I guarantee things will look better tomorrow.”
“How is anything going to get better? And what do you mean, ‘I’ have to get on the airplane? Don’t you mean, ‘we’?”
“I didn’t want to tell you until the last minute because I thought it would upset you,” Virginia lied. “I talked to one of my old friends in Revere this morning on the phone and made plans. I’m going to spend tonight with her and then fly back to Tampa tomorrow.”
Cait furrowed her brow. “When would you have had time to do that?”
The cabbie cleared his throat and grunted something in Bostonian. The words were unclear but the message was obvious: Get out of my cab.
“I did it while you were sleeping this morning, and with everything going on, I never got around to telling you until now. But don’t worry, I’ll be back in Tampa by tomorrow.”
“I’ll stay here with you.”
“No, honey, you’ve never met my friend, and it will just be two old ladies making up stories about the good old days. Besides,” she said. “I know how badly you want to get back to Tampa so you can be at Kevin’s bail hearing.” The hearing had been scheduled for 4:30 tomorrow, and Cait had told Virginia she was determined to make it back in time.
“I-I suppose,” Cait said. She was clearly confused and her expression said she didn’t believe Virginia’s story, but by now the cabbie had begun to raise his voice and was demanding they get out. “We’re holdin’ up traffic!” he said with a wave of his meaty arm at the cars behind them.
And he was right. The line of cars at the terminal’s sidewalk passenger drop-off had expanded quickly and now snaked out onto the access road. Soon the police would be along to unsnarl everything and get the traffic moving again.
Cait stepped reluctantly out of the car and Virginia followed behind her. As the driver pulled their suitcases out of the trunk she touched his arm and said, “Only my daughter will be flying out today. I need a ride to Revere, can you do that?”
The scowl on his face conveyed his impatience with her, but he nodded. He was clearly unhappy picking up a ten-minute fare at the airport—Revere was that close to East Boston—but Virginia knew he would change his tune once they were safely away from Cait and she could tell him the real destination.
Cait pointed out her suitcase and the driver lifted it out of the trunk and set it on the ground next to her. She lifted the handle and stepped up onto the sidewalk and Virginia hugged her tightly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, knowing it was likely untrue. “And stay calm. Try not to worry. You’ll get through this.”
The driver interrupted. “I gotta go now. I can’t afford to lose my airport medallion for you two. Get in if you want a ride.”
He slid in behind the wheel and slammed his door. Virginia stepped back to the cab and got in as well.
And then they were gone. The last thing Virginia saw as they rounded the circular airport access road was her daughter still standing where she had been dropped off. She looked bewildered and afraid.
And utterly, completely alone.
26
Cait was now confused as well as terrified as she sat anxiously in the back of a cab. She doubted her mother had called anyone from their hotel room that morning, although she couldn’t be one hundred percent certain. Virginia had been awake while she was sleeping. Cait recalled waking up to find her mother watching her from the other bed.
So she would have had the opportunity to make a call.
But wouldn’t Cait have heard her talking? Cait’s insomnia was so debilitating that she rarely slept more than a few minutes at a time, and even when she did, she slept extremely lightly. She didn’t think there was any way Virginia could have had a telephone conversation from the same hotel room without awakening her, no matter how quietly she had spoken into her phone.
And who would she have called? Since moving to Tampa, Virginia rarely talked about her life back in Revere, and when she did, she never mentioned being close to any of her neighbors. In fact, just the opposite was true. She had confided in Cait many times that she practically became a shut-in after Robert’s death. She rarely socialized and had no close friends.
So something was happening that Cait didn’t understand. The plan all along had been for them to fly to Boston, get into Bridgewater State Hospital to convince themselves of Milo’s helplessness, and then fly back to Tampa. Together.
Now her burgeoning fear—and it continued to build, despite her mother’s reassurances—was joined by a profound confusion. If Virginia wasn’t visiting an old friend tonight, and the more Cait thought about it the more she felt it was highly unlikely, then what in the world was she doing?
Cait took a deep breath and tried to put her fear and confusion aside, tried to focus on the excitement of seeing Kevin. He could be a free man, pending trial, in just a few hours. His bail hearing was scheduled to take place at 4:30 and despite his insistence she stay away, Cait was determined to be there if at all possible.
And it looked as though it would be possible.
Her taxi pulled to a stop in front of the George E. Edgecomb Courthouse, a modern-looking, seven-story office building with a circular entrance on Twiggs Street in downtown Tampa. The all-glass three-story entryway featured a large portico with columns in front and a sign announcing Thirteenth Judicial Circuit Court of Florida in silver banner lettering running along the top of the portico.
Cait paid the driver and hurried inside. Security was tight, typical of all modern courthouses, and she knew bringing a full suitcase into the building would be a problem. She might be denied entry with it, and even if she could convince the courthouse security force to hold the bag for her, the amount of time it would take to convince them to do so would probably result in her missing the hearing.
So she dropped it in a trash barrel and walked inside. She considered leaving it at the entrance in the hopes it would still be there when she came out, but knew that possibility was practically nil. And leaving a suspicious bag at the entrance to a municipal building like the Edgecomb Courthouse was a good way to get the entire place locked down for hours and possibly herself arrested as well.
She wouldn’t miss the bag. Its contents were nothing more than a couple of cheap outfits and some toiletries, nothing she couldn’t easily replace, and being present for Kevin’s bail hearing was much more important to her than a couple of pairs of slacks and a blouse or two.
Inside, Cait waited for her turn to pass through the metal detector, checking her watch impatiently. There were only three people ahead of her but time was running out. It was going to be close. Moments later, she had emptied her pockets into a small basket, passed successfully through the metal detector, and recovered her belongings. Then she received directions to the criminal courtroom where Kevin’s hearing would take place and hurried away.
Inside the courtroom, the gallery was half-filled. Some of the viewers were undoubtedly media members here to report on the case of the Tampa police officer who had attacked his live-in girlfriend with a carving knife. It was a juicy story, and Cait knew it would be followed closely until some other, juicier story took its place in the limelight. She hoped that would happen soon.
She slipped inside and took a seat in the back row. She wanted badly to see Kevin but didn’t want to upset him after he had expressly instructed her to stay away. Glancing around the gallery, she saw no one she recognized. Cait didn’t know all of Kevin’s cop buddies, probably didn’t even know most of them. But of the ones she knew, none had chosen to be here to support their friend and fellow officer.
After a few long minutes, as Cait’s tension and fear—she was beginning to wonder if the fear would ever go away—steadily increased, a side door opened and Kevin entered the courtroom. He was dressed in an orange jailhouse jumpsuit, hands cuffed in front of him, accompanied by an armed bailiff.
The sight broke Cait’s heart. Kevin was the finest, most upstanding man she had ever met and she knew this ordeal must be killing him. He appeared composed, however, and moved directly to the defendant’s table, face impassive. He turned his back to her and took a seat next to his attorney. He never saw her.
27
Milo raged at the unmitigated gall of The Evil Bitch and Mommy Dearest. After they waltzed out of his room, he entertained himself with elaborate fantasies of the suffering he would visit upon them. Connelly would be first, and then the worthless vessel who had spawned her thirty years ago would get a turn.
He spent what felt like hours on this pleasurable exercise, and by the time he lost interest, Milo realized he was once again exhausted. Apparently one recovery cycle was not enough after leaping into someone else’s head. He drifted away and lost consciousness.
* * *
Once again, Milo had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious when he woke up. But in any event, this time when he awakened, he felt refreshed and ready to go.
He felt like his old self again.
And that was fortunate, because there was a lot to do. He needed to come up with yet another plan of attack that would finally rid the world of Caitlyn Connelly. Once and for all. Her string of lucky escapes had led Milo to the inescapable conclusion that he had been too half-assed in his approach, had taken too much for granted.
That would now change. He resolved to take his time planning and to develop a strategy that would leave nothing to chance. His next attack would be his final attack.
First things first, though. He needed to learn exactly where The Evil Bitch and her mother were right now, and what they might be up to. Their little sortie inside Bridgewater State Hospital had unsettled Milo more than he would like to admit, because no matter how highly evolved he might be, how intellectually advanced, his physical body was his Achilles heel. He was as helpless as helpless could get.
Until he could finalize his plans for dealing with the only person in the world who posed any kind of real threat to him, Milo knew he would have to monitor her—and by extension, her mother—closely.
There was no alternative. It was time to get back inside Connelly’s head.
* * *
He was surprised to discover that she was inside a courtroom somewhere.
Interesting.
He absorbed the atmosphere with an interest bordering on fascination as Connelly took in her surroundings. Despite the fact Milo Cain was one of Massachusetts’ most notorious serial killers, he had never entered a courthouse, had never stood trial for anything, had never spent a single day in jail.
His intelligence and cunning had managed to keep him several steps ahead of law enforcement his entire life. Until, of course, he ran into The Evil Bitch and her mother’s goddamn handgun last summer.
His luck had run out at the most inopportune moment.
Milo felt the familiar agitation beginning to set in, the fury that seemed to overtake him whenever he even thought about his twin sister, and he forced himself to relax. This was a reconnaissance mission, nothing more, and for it to be effective, he had to set aside his animosity and gather information.
The first order of business was to determine why the hell The Evil Bitch might be sitting inside a courtroom. His assumption had been that she and Mommy Dearest had flown to Massachusetts for the sole purpose of gloating at him, of invading his territory to demonstrate their superiority. And they had done exactly that, to his impotent fury.
Why then would they have gone to court? What business could they possibly have in a Massachusetts courtroom?
Then a side door opened and Milo watched through Connelly’s eyes as her boyfriend Kevin Dalton, the wannabe-hero cop from their little encounter last summer, was led into the courtroom in handcuffs.
Thunderstruck, Milo realized Caitlyn Connelly was no longer in Massachusetts. She had accomplished her goal of humiliating Milo and had apparently flown right back to Florida to support the man who had tried to slice her open.
This must be a bail hearing.
Milo smiled inside his head. He couldn’t believe his incredible luck. This was too good to be true. A large part of Milo Cain’s genius, and the main reason he had been able to elude authorities for over a decade despite committing atrocities of the sort rarely seen outside the bloodiest horror movies, was his ability to adjust to changing circumstances.
When he had been active as “Mr. Midnight,” haunting the streets of Boston in search of victims to torture in his own unique way, Milo had possessed almost a supernatural sixth sense regarding the authorities’ search for the elusive serial killer. While the cops concentrated their efforts on protecting the city’s large population of college girls, Milo would carve up a few hookers.
Eventually the dolts would change their strategy and focus their efforts on protecting the prostitute population. Every time they did, with unerring instincts, at exactly the right moment Milo would adjust his priorities, targeting the college girls the police had previously been so keen on protecting and who were now ripe for the picking.
Those instincts hadn’t abandoned him over the past six months, regardless of his bad luck back in Revere last summer, and they were screaming at him that this was a clear opportunity. This was an unexpected chance to fuck with The Evil Bitch in a way that would be just as satisfying as a direct attack on her physically.
If nothing else, it would buy him time until he developed a plan to finish her off for good.
He took in the proceedings, biding his time, watching Kevin Dalton carefully through Connelly’s eyes. It was simple, much easier than it had been last night at The Crow’s Nest. Today, she practically stared a hole through her precious boyfriend as he sat quietly at the defense table.
Milo realized his assumption had been correct. Kevin Dalton was in court today for a bail hearing. And to listen to the defense tell it, there was no reason in the world why this man should not be allowed to walk free pending trial. He was a solid citizen, so the argument went. A police officer, charged with protecting the citizens of Tampa, and possessed an exemplary work record.
He’d performed his duties as a law enforcement officer to a consistently high standard. He’d never been in trouble with the law prior to last Friday night. There was no reason to consider him a flight risk.
Even the prosecution team, although attempting to summon the standard prosecutorial indignation at the notion that anyone charged with a crime might be permitted bail, didn’t seem to have their hearts in it. It was apparent to Milo that they recognized the futility of their position and appeared content to surrender this round basically uncontested.
Milo intended to change all that.
* * *
The moment the now-familiar pressure started building inside her skull, Cait knew bad things were about to happen. Whether as a result of some strange ability by Milo Cain or something else entirely, the cause and effect of this phenomenon had by now become as clear as day: cranial pressure equaled some unfortunate and likely painful outcome.
The onset of the pressure was once again accompanied by sharp pain. Each time the phenomenon had occurred, the pain had gotten steadily more severe, and today was no exception. It shot through her brain like the crack of a whip, and Cait clutched her temples and gasped, lowering her head and closing her eyes, praying the intense discomfort would recede within seconds as it had in the past.
The courtroom observers closest to her furrowed their eyebrows and glanced in her direction, either out of concern for her wellbeing or annoyance at the interruption. One middle-aged woman seated in front of her leaned back and asked quietly, “Are you all right, dear?”
Five seconds dragged into ten, during which time the pain inside her skull was so intense Cait could do no more than concentrate on staying conscious, of trying not to collapse to the floor. This was by far the worst occurrence yet.
Then the vise that had been tightening on her brain loosened and the discomfort began to melt away. The amount of time she had spent caught in the grip of the pain was no longer than any of the previous instances, but the intensity of that pain was far worse this time than it had ever been.
Cait wondered fleetingly about the damage being done to her brain by…whatever was happening. But this wasn’t the time to worry about that. Now that the sheer agony had receded, she had other, much more immediate concerns.
She realized the woman two rows in front was still waiting for an answer. She lifted her head and whispered, “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
She didn’t bother to express her terror. What would she say? I’m actually not fine. I’m about as far from fine as I could possibly be. I’m not even within shouting distance of fine. If you want to know the truth, I’m terrified that my comatose, paralyzed twin, who happens to be an infamous serial killer, is about to wreak havoc in this courtroom and I’m afraid, really and truly afraid, that I might be about to die.
But she said nothing. Instead, she offered a trembling smile to the older woman, who gave her an odd look and then turned back around, focusing her attention once more on the front of the courtroom. The judge didn’t seem to have noticed the minor spectacle, nor had the prosecution or defense teams.
