Let Her Lie, page 19
“So, were you in on the arrest?” I asked.
The detective, having returned moments later, had taken his seat across from me. He looked utterly distracted.
“Excuse me?”
“When Jasper was—”
“You mean the serial killer,” he said.
“Well, yeah, sure. Were you there when he was arrested?”
“We all were,” he said.
“Really. Let me ask you something.”
“Mr. Snyder, I really don’t think you understand. There is a massive manhunt for the escapee. You’re now a part of it. We’re going to ask you to stay in the station, at least for the time being.”
My body tingled with the need to get out of there. But I stayed calm.
“No problem,” I said. “I want to help. But can I just ask you a couple of questions? It might help me gauge how much of what he told me was actually true. Like that whole Mexico thing. He could have been playing with me.”
The detective leaned forward. “Why would you think that?”
“I’ve spoken to him. A lot. He’s crafty. And he’s hiding something. That’s why I’m here. One question. Please.” He nodded, so I continued. “Was he arrested at the cabin? Where he had Barbara Yost?”
“Is that what he told you?” the detective asked.
I paused, thinking about how to respond. I needed to play the man correctly if I had any chance of getting out of there.
“No,” I said slowly. “He told me that he was arrested somewhere else.”
“That’s correct. He was apprehended twenty feet off Coastal Highway, between mile markers seventeen and eighteen.”
That meant nothing to me, especially considering I’d read it on the report during my research.
“On the highway?”
He nodded.
I thought about the key card Jasper had mentioned.
“Outside a motel?” I asked.
“No, sir.”
“How did you find him?”
The detective’s eyes locked with mine. His head shook, but he told me.
“We had an anonymous tip.”
“Someone called you? Was it a woman?”
“Our tip line is confidential, Mr. Snyder.”
“What was the tip?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“So, you caught him. Then he told you about the cabin. And about Ms. Yost?”
He didn’t answer. I could tell I was losing him. So I continued.
“He told me that he did. He said that it wouldn’t be right if she died out there. I think he meant it would be wrong unless he did it.”
“That man is a lunatic,” the detective said, losing his calm.
“I agree. The worst I’ve seen.”
He glared at me. “That man murdered innocent young ladies. Daughters, sisters, mothers. He took so many people from our community. Brutally ending their lives. And you find this interesting. Maybe you should just move on, Mr. Snyder. Go back to Hollywood.”
“Okay,” I said.
I stood up, reaching for the door handle. The suddenness of it startled the man. I had the door open before he reached his feet.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
I stepped out into the hallway, sending my response back to him as casually as I could.
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re—”
“Are you arresting me?”
The detective just stood there. He stared at me like he wanted to rip my head off my shoulders.
“No,” he said. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
And I hurried out of the station.
CHAPTER
7
I WAS GETTING CLOSE. I could feel it. I knew I needed to get away from the police. I had the feeling that they would follow me. Maybe even bring me in for jaywalking or something. Anything to get me off the street. Or, if they were smart and they truly believed Jasper was after me, they could tail my every move. Follow me until he found me. Kill two birds, so to speak.
He wasn’t after me, though. The deeper I fell, the more and more I believed that. There was something else. Something bigger. And Miracle was a part of it. She was probably the anonymous caller. She’d turned her mother’s killer in to the police. Ended his reign of horror.
It all added up. But as I put distance between myself and the station, the itch began. I knew that Miracle had lied. I knew she was involved. But something felt off. I didn’t know what, though.
I needed help. Not yet knowing who I intended to call, I pulled out my phone. I decided on Jessica. I would need a camera operator. When I tried to dial her number, however, it wouldn’t go through. I looked at the screen, and it said I had no cellular service.
“Really!”
When I looked up, though, I could see a massive cell tower up ahead, one that looked vaguely like a pine tree. I checked again, but nothing. When I tried to go to the internet, I had no connection.
“Come on!”
I turned, looking back at the massive white manor housing the state police. I could go back. They might even let me use the phone. But that would be crazy, so I sped up. I was in a rural area, so it took me about ten minutes to reach a tiny clapboard farmhouse that sat back off the road. Slowly I moved up the walk, feeling more and more like someone might point a shotgun at me with every step.
I knocked tentatively. When a young guy with a thick beard and Buddy Holly glasses answered the door, it surprised me.
“Oh, hi … um, do you think I could use your phone?”
The guy nodded, pursing his lips as if the answer required a good bit of thought.
“Is it local?”
“Uh … no.”
“You can use mine, then.”
He opened the storm door, and I noticed the tool belt around his waist. When I stepped into the small foyer, he handed me a specimen of the newest iPhone in an ombré case.
“I’d let you use the landline, but it’s not my house. I’m just here doing some work.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
He opened the phone and handed it to me. Then he just walked away, leaving me alone. I imagined someone acting like this back in the city, or in Los Angeles, for that matter, and it made me laugh out loud.
“You okay?” he called from the other room.
“Yeah.”
I stared at the screen for a second, then decided to call my own number first. It rang once, and a message played.
We’re sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
That couldn’t be possible. I had my bill paid automatically. Next, I called the provider, entering my number when prompted. As soon as I did, the call ended. A jolt of suspicion caused me to look over my shoulder. I tried a second time, and the same thing happened.
I had to concentrate to keep my hand from shaking. Something was very wrong. The only thing I could think to do was what I had originally planned. I called Jessica.
“Someone disconnected my phone,” I blurted out.
“Who is this?”
“Jessica?” I asked, confused. Then I remembered I had called from a strange number. “Oh, it’s me, Theo. I just borrowed someone’s phone.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Delaware. I need you—”
“The police came by yesterday, looking for me.”
“To your apartment?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Then they asked me a bunch of questions about that guy. The … Jesus, am I in danger?”
“No way. You’re fine.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I really am. But—”
“No,” I snapped. “No way. You can’t leave now. I need you. This is huge. Bigger than you can imagine. When we get this finished, when we tell this story, you’ll get any job you want. Shit, they’ll offer you a million to do your own film, if that’s something you’re interested in. Just stick with me. Trust me.”
Either the line crackled or she scoffed. “I can’t—”
“Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. But you can’t tell anyone else. Not the police. Anyone.” I took a deep breath. “You know that young woman, Miracle? She isn’t what she appears. She’s using us to get to Jasper. I think she plans on killing him. Getting revenge for her mother or something. I’m not sure yet. But I know she’s been playing us … Playing us all.”
“All of us?” Jessica asked.
“All of us.”
“Even Zora?”
“Even her.”
“And how do you know this?”
“I just left the police station in Delaware. They said that when they arrested Jasper, he wasn’t at home. He was near the beach. Someone had called in an anonymous tip. It had to be that woman from the story. I think it was Miracle.”
“Okay …” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you need help. I’m out of here. I don’t get paid enough to …”
Her voice trailed off. There was a harsh rustle against her speaker. Then Jessica ended the call. I stood there, staring at the screen, until the guy came into the foyer. Smiling, I handed him the phone.
“Thanks, man,” I said.
“No worries. I have an unlimited plan.”
As I turned for the door, one thing Jessica had said struck me. She’d asked if Miracle was playing all of us—even Zora. Before that moment, I’d never thought to be concerned. Zora could obviously handle herself. But if she was with Miracle, maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t safe.
“Can I make one more call?”
“Um, yeah. Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good.”
“I’m fine,” I answered, annoyed.
He handed me the phone, and I dialed. With a soft laugh and a shake of the head, he headed back to the kitchen just as Zora answered.
“Hey,” I said.
“Who is this?”
I’d forgotten about the number again. “It’s Theo.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Delaware. But listen. We need to talk.”
She sighed. “I thought I made it clear when we left you in New Jersey.”
“Are you still with her?”
“With who?”
“Miracle, for Christ’s sake.”
“No,” Zora said. “I got her on a train this morning. She’s heading to her boyfriend’s house in Philadelphia. I’m out, Theo. Totally and completely.”
“Thank God. I’m onto something. Something huge. You sure you’re making the right decision?”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“Okay. But do you want to hear what I’ve learned?”
“Sure,” she said, sounding more interested than I had expected.
“She found him, Zora. Not the police. And she tried to set him up. Something about a hotel key card. That’s how he was arrested.”
“Who’s she?”
“Miracle!”
“Wow,” she said. “You’re telling me that someone without any experience hunted down one of the most notorious and elusive killers in history, beating every detective in the country. And she did all of that without telling anyone. Come on. Just listen to yourself. It makes no sense.”
“Yes, it does,” I answered, sounding more petulant than I’d intended.
“No, Theo, it doesn’t. What’s your evidence?”
“I …” Suddenly, my head felt cloudy. I couldn’t organize my thoughts. “The article! And she disconnected my phone … somehow.”
“I have to go,” Zora said.
“But—”
“Get some help. You need it.”
Zora ended the call. I stared at the screen until it relocked.
Evidence.
Evidence.
Maybe she was right.
“Hey, buddy,” I called out.
The guy came back, still smiling at me. He put his hand out, and I gave him the phone.
“Does this place have Wi-Fi?”
“Sure,” the guy said. “But I don’t know the password.”
“Is there a Starbucks nearby?”
“The library has free Wi-Fi.”
“Cool.” I paused. “You think you could give me a lift?”
The guy actually laughed out loud. When I just watched him for a moment, he stopped.
“You’re testing my Christian kindness,” he said.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Then added, “But can I get that ride?”
CHAPTER
8
I SAT IN A comfy chair under a window, trying to concentrate. It didn’t work. It seemed as if every word that had been spoken to me over the past few days blew through my thoughts like lights from a disco ball. Frustrated, I rose from my seat and found the nearest bathroom. Pushing the door open, I moved to stand in front of the mirror. I stared at my reflection. Deep circles hung under overly wide eyes. Sallow skin looked all the paler under dirty black hair. My clothes looked as if they had been slept in by multiple people. My stomach growled loudly. And my mouth was so dry that my tongue stuck to the roof.
I was a mess. But I wasn’t crazy. Not like they thought I was. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Bender, no one would ever have dreamed of thinking it. They would have seen the truth. That I was on a hunt. And that my ending inched closer and closer every minute.
I splashed cold water on my face and did what I could with my hair. Tucking in my shirt, I looked at myself again. With a grunt, I left the bathroom and saw a vending machine nestled in the corner. My mouth watered. I hit it up, but the best I could do was some Lance crackers. Stuffing two in my mouth, I returned to the same seat. I intended to use the Wi-Fi on my phone and search the internet with a new eye. When I’d done my research earlier, I’d never imagined that this story would grow so spectacular.
For some reason, I checked my email first. As I scanned through the junk, I noticed a message from my mother. I’d almost forgotten that she even had an account. I expected it to be some innocuous note about a little-known third cousin, but I was horribly wrong.
Dear Theodore,
Where are you? I called you five times now but the recording said your phone has been disconnected. I saw the news on Fox 5. The police are looking for you. And a woman came to my apartment. I thought she might be a detective but she didn’t look like it. She started asking me questions about you. And that Bender woman. That dancer. I told you to stay away from her. I don’t know what else I can do. I need to know that you’re okay. Call me, please.
Love, Your Mother
“Nononono.”
I reread the note three times before responding.
Mom, I can’t call right now. My phone is out of charge. Everything’s fine. I promise. But I need to know who the woman was that came to your house. What was her name? Please get back to me immediately.
I hit send and realized I had been holding my breath. When I exhaled, I guess I started to talk to myself.
“What the hell?”
“Shhhh,” someone hissed.
I turned and saw a guy, who looked homeless, sitting at the desktop computers nearby. I hadn’t noticed him before, but now he was glaring at me.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
It was Cassandra, or someone working with her. She’d started working on her documentary. Honestly, I’d thought it was a warning, a threat. I’d never imagined she’d really make a movie about me. Strangely, for just a second, it felt sort of … exciting. An entire documentary about me. That thought vanished quickly.
I leaned in and hit refresh on my email. There was no response. I hit it again and again and again, for how long I have no idea. Maybe a minute. Maybe an hour. Time seemed to have both stopped and careened forward.
Finally, her response popped onto the screen. I opened it, and it was even worse than I could have expected.
Dear Theo,
I’m glad that you’re well. Please call me as soon as you can. I don’t know if she gave me her name, but she was a tall woman, like a man. Had this giant bunch of yellow hair on top of her head. Like someone from the islands. I think she was lying, because she told me she was working for that famous director. You know the one? Or maybe it was his daughter. Yeah, that was it. That famous director’s daughter. Once she said that, I asked her to leave. She was probably one of those crazy hackers that watch the news and try to take advantage of the elderly. Please call me. I’m worried.
Love, Your Mother.
I couldn’t move. It had been Zora. She’d interviewed my mother. She was investigating me. For Cassandra. My eyes closed, and I remembered what she’d said on the phone. That she had moved on already.
“Shit,” I whispered.
And the homeless guy growled.
CHAPTER
9
EARLY IN MY career, I worked on a piece for the local news. It was about a boy—I won’t use his name—but he had a horrible illness. The kind that parents won’t even explain to their other children for fear that they will never sleep again. I read up on it before the interview. Even as an adult, I wasn’t the same for days.
When it came time for our meeting, I felt sick to my stomach. Driving to his home, I thought about turning around at every single intersection. I didn’t, though. When I arrived, his mother walked me into their sun-room. The boy sat in his wheelchair, his eyes bright but his body ravaged. I took the seat across from him and cleared my throat nervously.
“It’s okay,” the kid said in a voice at once frail and indomitable. “It’s not contagious.”
I laughed. He smiled. We talked for over an hour. I felt amazing when I left his house. As I drove back to my place, one thing he’d said stuck with me. When I’d asked him how he remained so happy, the boy answered:
“Who said I’m happy? It’s just life. I wake up. I face what I have to face. And I go to sleep. People always tell me how strong I am. I never really understand that. I can’t even lift a sheet of paper. I need help going to the bathroom. The truth is that I’m just who I am. I have what I have. I’ve never known anything different.”
I stood in that library and let his words straighten my back.
