Let Her Lie, page 13
“Oh,” I said, while something danced at the fringe of my thoughts. When it didn’t strike right away, I stayed in the moment. “Weren’t you afraid of what she’d find? That she’d … leave you?”
Meg laughed. “You don’t have any children, do you?”
I shook my head. “Doubt I ever will.”
“When you have them, when they are so little that you can fit them in your outstretched hands, you think they will be yours forever. When you take care of them, feed them, hold them when they cry, you think you’ll be theirs forever, too. When they start school, you still make all the decisions—what they eat, what they watch, what they do. But then they grow. They change. It starts with opinions. Then defiance. But when they first ignore you, that’s when it hits home. No matter how much you believed it when they were little, they were never yours. They are individuals, marching through life just as we did. And just like we saw our parents, they see us. Family, definitely. An annoyance … often. But when they turn into adults, we’re mostly just an afterthought.”
“That sounds sad,” I said.
Her head shook slowly. “No, not really. I mean, maybe. But it’s also the happiest feeling you can ever have. Because you know you did it. You succeeded in the most important job that exists. You got them to their starting line. Even though the rest is up to them, you hold this little thought—that without you, maybe they wouldn’t have gotten there at all.
“The hard part, the part that hurts, is that … even though they forget, you don’t. You are always theirs. That never changes. They have you no matter what. Whether they call you that week or not. Whether they send you a card on your birthday or not. That never changes.
“Now, that sounds sad, doesn’t it? I don’t mean it that way. I just … When I bought that test for her, I knew what she must have been feeling. She was pregnant. She was going to have her own child, one she would have to protect and raise. One that would be hers for a long time. I thought she had to feel afraid.”
“Wait! So you did know she was pregnant.”
Meg nodded. “Of course I did. I’m her mother.”
“What did you think she was afraid of?”
“Not knowing. How can you raise your child if you don’t really know who you are?”
“Oh,” I said, leaning back on the couch in her front room. “I never thought …”
I didn’t know what I was going to say next, but it never mattered. Because in that moment, someone pounded on the door. Meg startled and so did I. She got up to see who it was. Before she got there, though, I heard Ginny Harris’s voice.
“Meg! Are you watching this! Meg!”
“Ginny, Jesus,” Meg said. “You’ll wake the baby.”
She opened the door. Ginny already had the storm open, and Max burst into the house, his hackles raised. Standing in the threshold, Ginny looked past Miracle’s mother, right at me.
“Did you see it?” she whispered excitedly.
“What?” I asked.
“He escaped!”
The world flipped upside down. I knew immediately who she was talking about. And the news paralyzed me. Ginny, for her part, watched my face like it was the best television show ever made.
“The Halo Killer,” she said with great drama. “He’s free.”
CHAPTER
9
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN thrilled. If it was true and Jasper had somehow escaped a maximum-security prison, my film had just become astronomically more marketable. Escapes were rare, certainly among the most high-profile inmates. Pure gold!
But sitting in Meg’s living room watching the local news report on the prison break at Howard R. Young Correctional Institute in Wilmington, Delaware, I felt something very different. Numbing fear, if I were to be perfectly honest. I remembered the flower outside my apartment. I thought about just how skilled someone had to be to escape. And I could no longer blame my exhaustion. Instead, I heard Jasper’s tinny voice in my head, threatening me over and over again to stay away from Miracle.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked, a strange smile on her face.
“Huh.” I blinked. “Yeah, definitely.”
“Do you need something to drink?” Meg added.
“No, I’m good. Thanks … Why?”
“You look pale,” Ginny said.
“I’m fine.”
I ran a hand across my face. My skin felt clammy.
“Are you okay?” I asked Meg, turning my head so she wouldn’t see the fear I suddenly felt.
“I think so, but looking at you, maybe I’m being foolish.” I felt her hand on my shoulder, the surprising strength of her fingers. “Is Miracle in danger?”
I turned but couldn’t look her in the eyes. Instead, I stared at the screen. The reporter stood outside the prison as he spoke.
Prison officials are claiming that there are no leads. No physical evidence. At this point, they are baffled, with little idea how this convicted serial killer escaped, only that he was logged in to his cell at the nine PM lights-out and that the cell was empty by six the next morning. But we have breaking news on this story. An exclusive source within the prison spoke to me on the condition I do not reveal their name. I was told that there are signs that Jasper Ross-Johnson was aided in his escape by at least one prison employee. Possibly more. We have uncovered documents authorizing the inmate’s transfer to Sussex Correctional Institute in Georgetown, Delaware. At this time, it is believed that these documents were forged, but that a corrections officer used this paperwork to drive the inmate out of the prison. The whereabouts of both inmate and officer are unknown at this time. But an abandoned prison van was just found outside the city of Dover.
“Theo?”
“Sorry,” I said, finally turning to her. I took a deep breath. “Yes, I believe she’s in danger.”
For the first time since I’d met her, Meg showed raw emotion. “Why? Wasn’t murdering her mother enough!”
“That’s the one thing I don’t know. Not yet. But it’s something. I believe Jasper may have had a run-in with your daughter. Although he made it sound like a coincidence, that’s just not possible. So, I think he tried to find her. Probably not long after she was identified as the … biological daughter of his first victim.”
“He contacted my daughter? You know that for certain?”
“Not for certain.” I slowly shook my head. “There’s something different about him. Like so many murderers, he experienced trauma when he was young. There was a head injury, and his home life was … difficult. I thought it was his father. But he said something last time, about a young boy he may have … killed … when Jasper was still a teenager. He said it was wrong. I think he meant the fact his victim was a boy, because every victim after was a woman. I believe most were mothers …”
“Oh, God. Miracle is a mother …”
“He can’t know th—” The timeline started to take shape in my head. “When did you learn Miracle was pregnant?”
“It was about this time last year.”
“Before the police identified her mother?” I asked, more to myself.
“Yes. That’s what I said, didn’t I?” she answered.
“Jasper was still at large. He would have followed the news. They all do. I read the articles. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to find her. Especially down here. Everyone seems to remember the Miracle Baby.”
“We need to find her,” Meg said, standing up. “If he—”
“We will,” I said firmly.
I rose and stood face-to-face with Meg.
“What should I do?” she asked.
“Let me make a call,” I said. “Then we can go from there.”
I pulled my phone out and dialed Zora’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me. Did you hear—”
“Where are you?” Zora asked calmly. “Don’t answer that. Just say yes or no. Are you with Meg Jones?”
I felt my eyes narrow, even more surprised that she knew that. “Yes.”
“Is she right there with you?”
“Um … yes.”
“Listen to me, Theo. If you want to survive this, you need to leave. Now. Tell Mrs. Jones to go to a hotel, somewhere at least an hour away. But you need to leave immediately. Do you understand?”
“How do you know? He’ll probably run off to Mexico or something.”
“This isn’t a movie,” she snapped back.
“Well …”
She huffed. “Just get out of there. Now!”
“Hold on,” I said.
I smiled at Meg and motioned to the front door. She looked suspicious but did not follow as I stepped out onto the porch. I glanced back to make sure Meg couldn’t hear me before continuing.
“Are you serious?” I whispered.
“A friend of mine from the Department of Corrections called. He told me what happened.”
“I heard. The news said he somehow forged transfer papers.”
“That’s bullshit,” Zora said. “The story is that he almost killed the leader of the Aryan gang in the prison. Supposedly for no reason that anyone is aware of. She said the prison was about to explode. They needed to get him out. Fast.”
“Are you serious?”
“Just listen to me,” she snapped. “If he’s coming for you, Theo, he’ll know where you are. And he’ll be close.”
For me? “How can you—”
“Get out of there, now.”
“What about Miracle? We need to—”
“I don’t think that’s important right now. I mean, if you want to stay alive.”
“Come on, Zora.” I laughed, but I knew it sounded forced. “He could be after her. I was just talking to Meg. There’s something there. I think he found her, before he was caught. Or at least he was stalking her. She’s in more danger than I am.”
Zora didn’t respond immediately. Then she made a frustrated sound.
“Fine. If I promise you that I’ll find Miracle, will you get out of there?”
“Okay,” I said, feeling strangely relieved.
“And warn her mother.”
“Okay,” I said. “Call me when you find her. I’ll … where should I go?”
“Go to Kent’s place. He’ll never find you there.”
“You really think it’s that serious?”
“I know it is, Theo. And the sooner you do, the better your chances of surviving this shit storm.”
CHAPTER
10
KENT LIVED ON the top floor of a building across from the park, between Eighty-Second and Eighty-Third. It took me over three hours to drive from Delaware to the car rental place and another twenty minutes to catch a subway to the closest station. During that time, I’d meant to text him. What was I supposed to say, though? Hey, can I stay at your place? I’m sort of on the run from a notorious serial killer.
When I got close, my mind was racing. I kept thinking about the flower. That it hadn’t been there the next morning. It must have been in my head. The project—Cassandra—Bender—it just had gotten to me. I had been tired. Sort of drunk.
“Theo Snyder,” someone said.
I startled. A large guy in a black overcoat and hat stepped in front of me.
“Yes,” I said cautiously.
“Mr. Barre asked me to look for you. He’s expecting you upstairs.”
“Kent?”
“Yes, sir. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing a hand across my face. “Yeah, definitely.”
“Great. Why don’t you follow me? I’ll have you up to the penthouse in no time.”
* * *
“Thanks, Vincent,” Kent said to the doorman as I stepped into his apartment. Then he looked in my direction and gave me the once-over. “Wow, you look like shit. You need a kombucha.”
I barely heard him, utterly captivated by his place. I’d been to a few mansions on the island before. Kent’s place felt like one of those, but floating up in the sky. All the walls and fixtures were pure white. The furniture, all white. The flooring, perfectly finished walnut and plush white carpets. Instead of a wall of windows looking out at the ocean, he had a wall of windows that sat perfectly balanced between the lush park below and the billowing clouds above.
“Sit,” Kent said. “Before you pass out.”
“I’m fine,” I said for the hundredth time.
But I listened. Slipping out of my shoes, I walked softly to the closest couch. I sank into it, feeling it surround me like a warm hug. For a second, I felt dirty, like I was going to stain everything, but the exhaustion quieted that. When Kent came back with the tea, I could barely keep my eyes open.
“You look like you need a nap,” he said.
“I feel like I need an IV.”
He laughed. “Zora called me. She told me about that lunatic. Do you really think he’s after you?”
“No,” I said.
His head tilted. “Then why the hell do you look like you do?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I got time.”
I looked into his eyes. They were mirrors to our friendship. I felt safe and whole sitting there, though I don’t know why. I also felt more vulnerable than I ever had before. I told him everything. About Cassandra and Jasper. And most of all, about Miracle. He listened, asking only a few questions. When I was done, his head shook slowly.
“You’re running yourself into the ground, Theo,” he said. “I’ve seen it before. This project has your number.”
“I think I’m starting to see that. But I can’t stop. Not after getting this far.”
He put his hand up, cutting me off. “Look, brother, I know what I’m talking about. You’ve put all your eggs into one basket. And from your point of view, they got smashed by Pepper”—he laughed—“of all people. Anyway, it’s an addiction. No one wants to call it that, but it is. We’re a generation of kids who grew up in front of the television. Worshiped action stars and supermodels. We dressed like Michael Jackson as our parents elected an actor to be president. Believe me, I know. And I’m not saying I’m any better than you.
“But think of it like drinking. Almost everyone I know is an alcoholic. But most of them function. Most of them have families, show up for work, go to the gym, and raise kids. They can’t do it without their nightly wine, or beer, or cocktail, but they do it. Then there are a few that can’t. Drinking gets in the way of everything. They are the addicts, Theo. They are the ones that need an intervention.”
“Are you calling me an alcoholic?” I asked, trying to deflect.
“No, I’m calling you a fame-aholic. Like the rest of us. But we’re functional. We’re not having panic attacks and driving so hard that we make ourselves sick. We’re not on the run from serial killers or making unannounced visits to the adoptive mother of one of his victims—”
“She wasn’t one of his victims,” I protested.
“You know what I’m saying. And let me be frank. The rest of us aren’t going out of our way to step on Cassandra’s feet, either.”
I had been leaning forward, listening to him. When he said that, I threw myself back and let the plush cushions swallow me whole. I moaned, but I’m not even sure he could hear it through the padding.
“Can you hear me, Theo?”
I nodded.
“Good, then listen. I don’t tell people what to do. Ever. So, understand this is way out of character for me.”
I looked up. Suddenly, Kent appeared nervous. He looked behind him as if afraid someone might overhear what he said next.
“It’s time to cut bait. You’re in too deep on this one.”
“Why do people keep saying that? Zora, you … even Jasper. For that matter, why does everyone keep asking me if I’m okay?”
“Because we’re worried,” Kent said.
“Whatever,” I said, absently rubbing at my face.
“Look, if you let it go, step away from this Halo Killer business, I can fix everything. In fact, I can get you funding for any other project you want to work on.”
I poked my head up, my eyebrows raised. “Are you serious?”
“I am. I like you. More than most. And I want to see you okay. Can you do that for me? For you? Can you give this up? Start over. Together, we’ll get you back to the top. But the right way.” He stuck his hand out. “Deal?”
I stared at it for a second. My heart told me to refuse his generosity. My gut told me to leave, immediately. But my brain, it heard what Kent said. It listened. And it agreed. Slowly, I put my hand out. We shook.
“Great. Get some sleep. You can stay here until they catch that creep. Then we are going to make a movie.”
“Awesome,” I said, already groggy. “Awesome.”
I fell asleep sometime between those two words, I think.
CHAPTER
11
THE APARTMENT WAS as dark as my dreams. In them, something chased me. I thought it was Jasper. He was close. So close that I could hear the reptilian rasp of his breath in my ear. But when—in the dream—I turned, he wasn’t there.
When I startled awake, still on Kent’s couch, it took me a minute to get my bearings. When I realized where I was, my conversation with Kent came back. I recalled everything he’d said and everything I’d agreed to do. Or more accurately, not to do.
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and checked the time. I wanted to call Meg and make sure she was okay, but it was too late. Instead, I looked out the wall of windows at the silent park below. Although streetlamps burned among the towering trees, it felt so odd to be in a New York City apartment at night and not see a carpet of light out every window. In fact, the openness hung over me, an oppressive thickness that made my skin crawl. I felt eyes everywhere, boring into me. Threatening me.
I swear that, even in the moment, I knew how amazing Kent’s offer had been. More importantly, I was 100 percent certain he would deliver. And I had shook his hand in good faith. Yet something moved me, like a primal urge. It tugged at my very center of reason. I sidled along the long, curved couch and toward the front door, careful to avoid making even the slightest sound. I slipped into my shoes, then grabbed the handle. My entire body vibrated with nerves, but I turned it. The sound of the latch disengaging might as well have rocked the entire building. I froze for just a beat, then swung the door open and hurried out.
