Driven (22 page)

A
mber Clayborne released her mother’s hand in order to catch Amy, who had just burst through the door. Amy kissed her on the
cheek several times as they both cried. Gavin, who had followed Amy in, was out of breath from the sprint from the front entrance.
Across the room he saw Chris sitting in a chair. His partner discretely waved hello with the rise and fall of his right index
finger. He was no longer wearing the bandage around his head, but the cast that climbed up his arm and around his left shoulder
was still there. His eyes were wet.

“Thank God you’re back,” Amy cried. “That’s all that matters right now.”

Amber’s loud moans were evidence she did not agree. What was painfully clear was exactly what Gavin had expected: as far as
Amber was concerned, her newlywed husband had been brutally murdered just moments ago. The horrible act that had already been
realized and digested by everyone else had only now dug its tormenting claws into Amber’s soul. Gavin understood the intense
need for what was no longer there. He wanted to help, to somehow ease the pain. But what could he say?

Chris slowly got up from his seat with the help of a crutch and made his way toward Gavin, each step clearly difficult. This
was the first time Gavin had seen him walk since the accident.

“I’ll see you outside,” Chris whispered, then continued out the door.

The twins were embracing, with one parent on either side of
the bed. Gavin did not feel needed, but their sorrow beckoned him. What could he do? He wanted to join them and tell them
everything would be all right. But that would be a lie. Amber’s life would never be the same. And to a lesser degree, neither
would Amy’s. After a few minutes of watching helplessly he slowly backed toward the door, then turned, knowing he’d return
as soon as he was done with Chris.

He found Chris on a window seat just down the hallway and sat beside him.

“I’m outta here tomorrow,” Chris said.

Gavin was surprised. He wondered if the doctors knew.

“I’m going to see the Giants play the Bears from my own couch. I can’t wait.”

“It’s good to see you out of the wheelchair,” Gavin said.

“Yeah, just in time for Amber to wake up. I was hoping it would be your job. It… wasn’t a pretty scene.”

“I owe you one,” Gavin said.

“You owe me two. I not only told her about her husband, but I questioned her about the crash.”

“You did?”

“It was Dr. Fagan’s idea. He thought a strong diversion might help. He was right—for about thirty seconds. It was bad, Gav.
As bad as I’ve ever seen. The nurse had been helping me with my exercise, walking the hall, when she woke up. We were right
there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor by Amber’s doorway.

“What did she say?”

“The first thing she said was her husband’s name. As soon as I heard ‘Mitchell, Mitchell’ coming from her room, my heart sank.”

“No! I mean, what did she say about the crash?”

“Oh. Not much. The last thing she remembered was the sunset reflecting off the front windshield of the car like it was a mirror.
She couldn’t see in. The next thing she knew was waking up here.”

“Had she ever see Krogan before the crash? He has a habit of going after people that rub him the wrong way. Did you show her
the sketch?”

“It never got that far, Gav. Like I said, the distraction idea didn’t work very long.”

Gavin looked back at Amber’s door. He could hear the crying. If she were anyone but Amy’s sister, he would give her about
an hour and then begin inching his way in.

“Forget it, Gav. Give her at least till tomorrow. She’s been through an awful lot and her mind has some clearing out to do.
A little time will do wonders.”

Gavin sighed. “Yeah, ‘Time heals, then it kills,’ ” he said, then looked at Chris, whose expression begged for an explanation.
“One of Amy’s Japanese sayings.”

“Oh. By the way, Gav. You look like garbage. What did you do, sleep in those clothes?”

Gavin snorted. “I wish. In the last couple of days, sleep has been harder to find than Krogan.”

“Speaking of Krogan, where’re we at with him?”

Gavin looked at Chris for a long moment without speaking. If his heart hadn’t been so wrenched from Amy’s anguish, he’d have
laughed. His injured partner was probably the only sane person he’d talked to all week. Everyone else, including himself right
now, could be ruled “out of their minds.” But not Chris. Chris had always been Gavin’s voice of reason. The logical one.

“Where are we at? If
we
includes Katz, we’re at book signings and talk shows. If
we
includes Reverend Samuel J. Buchanan, we’re on a witch hunt.”

“Who?”

“Buck is what his friends call him. Amy and I drove up to the Catskills to see him this morning, after staying up all day
and night with Karianne. Oh, I almost forgot the breather I got when Krogan
took out the Learjet Gasman was on. Who needs a cup of coffee to keep you on your toes with this guy around?”

“I heard,” Chris said.

“I told him not to go. I practically spelled out for him he was a dead man if he took the flight. Chris, this guy’s bad—real
bad—but he’s not smart. Why don’t we have him yet? There must be something we’re not seeing. I know when this is all over
I’m going to look back and laugh, or more likely cry, that what we’re looking for was right before our eyes.”

“Ain’t that the way it always works?” Chris said. “It’s just that this time you’re so personally involved and worn out you
can’t see straight.”

“Thanks,” said Gavin sarcastically. “Words of wisdom from the brother I’ve never had.”

“That’s right, smart guy. Go home and get some rest. Take tomorrow off, like the rest of the world. Watch the football game
and get your mind off the case. Monday we’ll both lay everything out on the table and dissect it all with fresh minds.”

“This time I’m gonna surprise you. I’m gonna take your advice.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“No, you’ll see it when you believe it,” Gavin said, shaking his finger mockingly in the air as he got up.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Gav.”

Gavin turned. “What?”

“Ten bucks says you work tomorrow.”

Gavin shook his head. “I can use the ten bucks. You’re on.”

Back at the room nothing had changed. Amy, who was still sitting on the bed next to her sister, noticed his entrance and immediately
waved him over. Amber was sitting up, rocking, with her
knees tucked up and her head planted between them, her movement echoing her low moans. Their grief was raw and open.

He didn’t even remember telling his legs to move. He just suddenly found himself at their side. He knelt on one knee and took
Amber’s left hand. He didn’t know if she even knew he had it. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Amy’s mother, he thought,
but didn’t turn to see. Amy’s father sat on the opposite side of the bed, staring tearfully at his ravaged daughter as if
he could not find the words to express his anguish. The pain in the room was frighteningly thick.

It was then Gavin knew Amy could no longer be a part of the manhunt. Buck had scared her good and Gavin was almost glad for
it now. He would not try to dispel her fears. Krogan would be as vindictive toward her as he had been to anyone who had raised
a hand against him. Now at least she was alive and safe from him; Krogan still didn’t know she existed. And he wouldn’t. She
had to be cut off from the case. Amber needed her alive.

The thought of Krogan as the source of Amber’s grief fanned his rage. Effortlessly he envisioned his hand around Krogan’s
neck, his fist pounding his face. He imagined throwing a handcuffed Krogan at the feet of the Reverend Buck and emptying his
gun into the back of his captive’s head and shouting into the preacher’s face, “Go on. Tell me the cretin’s not dead, dead,
dead.”

G
avin let out a startled yell when Cedar’s cold nose found the back of his warm neck. “Snagged me again, didn’t you?” he said,
rolling over to eye the dog. Cedar just smiled.

Gavin stared at the two digital clocks on his night table until his eyes focused and there was only one of them. Nine
A.M.
“Geez. I’ve been asleep for ten hours,” he told Cedar.

It was Sunday and he was going to take Chris’s advice: a day of rest. He went for the shower, washed, then sat down in the
tub, letting the steamy water bounce off his chest and massage his mind. Later, he decided as he soaked, he would leisurely
go to the hospital to see Amy and Amber, but not for questioning, unless Amber initiated it.

Gavin had barely finished exhaling a sigh of celebration for his well-needed breather when a crowd of intrusive thoughts raised
their ugly heads, vying for position at the door of his mind. Memories emerged of conversations with his grandfather at Coney
Island and of working with John Garrity on the Sunbeam Tiger. They were pleasant recollections, but came with a price; attached
to them were vicious flashes of their cruel and undeserved deaths. He couldn’t see them one way without the other.

He quickly tried to chase them away with more pleasant thoughts. The last thing he needed now was more grief. He tried thinking
of Amy, but couldn’t do that without thinking of Amber. Relaxing, he decided, wasn’t very relaxing. His naturally analytical
mind needed to be shut off. What he really needed was a lobotomy.

His thoughts shifted to Reverend Buck. There was no way of proving or disproving anything the man had said. You either had
to take what he said in faith or find the more realistic explanation…

“Enough,” he said aloud. “I get more rest when I’m working.” With a sigh he got out of the tub and slipped into a pair of
worn jeans, basketball sneakers, and a navy-blue T-shirt. He strapped on an ankle holster and was ready to go when he caught
a glimpse of something on his night table that made him pause. He reached for the Polaroid of him and Grampa with the snake
on the boardwalk. The smiles on their faces both warmed and saddened him.

Something about the photo bothered him. The snake. He didn’t like the way the thing was so at rest on them, as if it owned
them. Maybe he was allowing his emotion to read more into the picture than his logic could rightly perceive. Maybe he was
simply feeding off the common mythical association that snakes have with evil. Whatever, seeing the reptile spiked a notion
he couldn’t shake. He might not have any faith in the Reverend Buck, but he could put what he had said to the test.

G
AVIN SAW KATZ’S CAR
outside Karianne’s apartment, so he tried the door before knocking, in case they were in session. They were. He hung back
out of sight in the foyer and listened.

“And what is Carry doing now?” Katz said.

“She’s taking food out of the picnic basket,” Karianne said slowly, the way she spoke when under hypnosis.

“Are you hungry?”

“No. Thirsty.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Whiskey.”

“Did Carry bring any whiskey?”

“No. She doesn’t like whiskey. Gets her mad. Real mad.”

Gavin listened for several more minutes before he stepped into the living room. He hadn’t heard a word about Krogan and figured
Katz had broken the only rule Gavin had given him: go wherever you want, as long as Krogan’s there.

Katz jumped slightly at the sight of Gavin.

Gavin gave him an abbreviated wave with his fingers. Caught you, he thought. He then gave a nod to Steinman, who had been
listening because Karianne was speaking in English.

Katz got up and motioned toward the foyer.

“How did it go with Buchanan?” Katz asked in a hushed voice.

“I’m not sure.”

“Where’s Amy?”

“With her sister. She woke up.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah. How’s it going here?”

“Phenomenally. I was just speaking to Dr. Charles Gloyd,” Katz said, beaming.

“Who?”

“Dr. Charles Gloyd is a Union veteran from Ohio.”

“What’s a union veteran?” Gavin said, thinking of burly men waving picket signs.

“Union as in Union Army. The Civil War, Pierce. I’ve already checked with the Kansas State Historical Society to verify what
she’s been saying. It’s all true, and she couldn’t have found these facts in an encyclopedia.”

“What facts?”

“Have you ever heard of Carry Amelia Moore?”

Gavin thought. “No. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“How about Carrie Nation?”

Gavin frowned. “Sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t know. Who is she?”

“At the turn of the century she and her followers were marching
through saloons with axes, smashing everything in sight, starting with the bottles. Her zeal was the result of her first husband,
who died of alcoholism two years after they were married. He drove her crazy. Dr. Charles Gloyd was that husband,” Katz said,
beaming.

“A drunk?”

“Yes. Karianne’s always a drunk. It’s amazing. There’s no end to the mysteries she’s capable of unlocking. Alcoholism is not
only hereditary. Apparently, it can be passed along in the reincarnation process,” Katz said enthusiastically.

“Apparently,” Gavin said, nonplussed.

“I’ve traveled five, maybe ten thousand years with her, and in each life, she’s a drunk. And so are her friends… including
Krogan. Do you know she’s had at least twenty lives as a pirate, dating back from the first Phoenician pirates, hundreds of
years B.C., through the Vikings, and beyond. She even sailed with Anne Bonney, the infamous woman pirate. The only one I’m
having a little trouble with is during a time she claims to have been a pirate just after the Vietnam War. The problem isn’t
verifying that the events happened. The problem is she was already alive as Karianne.”

Gavin thought of what Buck had said. “How’s our Karianne doing?”

“Great. No more problems. I’ve installed a shortcut command in her. If I see even the slightest hint of anxiety, I say ‘Terminate’
and she automatically returns to full consciousness without any memory of whatever unpleasant event she was reliving. And
just in case of an emergency, I keep a hypo of tranquilizer at the ready.”

“You’ve obviously thought of everything,” Gavin said sarcastically.

Katz’s naturally sad expression became sadder. “What’s wrong?”

Gavin paused, looking him in the eye. “I want you to let me speak to her.”

“While she’s under?” Katz said, taken back.

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“I don’t know. She’s not going to recognize your voice. It could be disruptive.”

“I’ll take that chance. Besides, you have your shortcut command.”

“I still think—”

“I insist,” Gavin said.

“I don’t understand, Pierce. What do you want to say to her?”

“One word. That’s all. Just one word.”

“One word?” Katz found it funny. “Do you think I would spend the time I do, delicately wooing her mind, suggesting emotions
and dispelling possible phobias, if I could learn anything by simply walking up and saying one word?”

“Well then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

Katz shrugged. “Be my guest.”

“A simple test to satisfy my curiosity, Katz. Nothing more.”

Katz smiled and graciously gestured toward Karianne. “She’s all yours.” As Gavin took one step forward Katz held up an index
finger and reminded him, “For one word.”

Gavin took the seat Katz had been warming since who knows when while Katz sat back in a nearby folding chair. Gavin looked
at Katz, who smiled and gestured again toward Karianne.

Karianne looked like she could have been asleep, her eyes closed, hands folded on her abdomen. Gavin had been driven with
curiosity all morning, but now, sitting before her, he suddenly felt foolish. He wished he were alone. He could see Katz in
his peripheral view, amused, ready to explain to him why some people are cops while others are psychologists. Ah, why not,
Gavin thought. It wouldn’t be him that was wrong; it would be Reverend Buck. He
was simply testing every possibility, as far fetched as it might be, just like a good detective should. And if he was going
to do it, he might as well do it right.

“Sabah,” Gavin called firmly, as if Sabah was Karianne’s real name. Katz looked at him curiously.

Nothing. Good.

Wait… Something was happening. Karianne’s chin lifted slowly. Her eyelids slitted open, then widened. At first she gazed
straight ahead. Then, without moving her head, her eyes shifted and found Gavin.

Gavin was shocked speechless. Of all the times he’d seen her under, he had never seen Karianne open her eyes like this. Her
gaze was locked onto his and it scared him. He could not see Katz, but he knew the doctor was no longer smiling.

Karianne pivoted her head until her eyes were centered. “Who called me?” she said evenly, almost authoritatively.

Gavin didn’t know what to say. Buck had not said anything about what to do in this situation, only that he shouldn’t do what
he had just done. Okay, his curiosity was satisfied, but how was he supposed to turn her off? He suddenly wished Buck were
here to hide behind.

“In whose name am I called?” she repeated, this time demanding.

A clearly baffled Katz motioned for Gavin to answer her.

Gavin nodded. “Detective Gavin Pierce, Nassau County Police,” he said. He could not remember it ever sounding so lame.

She laughed strangely; a scream would have sounded warmer.

“I don’t recognize your authority. How do you know my name?” she said as she dropped her good leg off the side of the couch
and sat upright, her injured leg sticking outward in the cast. It was not a position Karianne would naturally situate herself
into.

Gavin started to tell her he was a friend of Reverend Buchanan,
but hesitated. He didn’t know if it would help or hurt. He didn’t know anything.

Just then, Katz, who had not been prepped on any of this, came over. He put his hands on Karianne’s shoulders, apparently
hoping to ease her back down. “I want you to relax yourself and—” he said, just before Karianne threw him to the side as easily
as if she was a bull gorilla. Gavin jumped back as he watched Steinman reflexively raise his arms to protect himself from
Katz sailing into him. In the next instant they were both sprawled out on the floor.

Gavin instinctively reached for his ankle, pulled out his gun, and leveled it between Karianne’s eyes. “Hold it right there,”
he yelled, feeling ridiculous. There he was, weapon in hand, aimed to kill a twenty-nine-year-old woman who had just gotten
out of the hospital with a broken leg.

Karianne looked at the gun and laughed. “Go ahead, Detective Gavin Pierce,” she said spreading her arms wide, her eyes unnaturally
wide. “Shoot.” She rose from the couch like a living scarecrow, effortlessly standing on the broken leg.

Gavin stepped back involuntarily. He immediately remembered Buck warning him not to shoot Krogan. He didn’t want to shoot
Karianne, but…

“Terminate,” Katz yelled from the other side of the room.

Nothing.

“Terminate,” Katz repeated. “Ter-min-ate.”

So much for the shortcut. Karianne was still standing there as if hanging on an imaginary cross, seemingly intent on being
shot. Gavin thought of what Buck had said about disenchanted demons wanting to kill their hosts so they could get a new one.
If Sabah wasn’t doing this to Karianne, then what was? He could not believe what he was thinking, but he also could not believe
what he was seeing.

Katz and Steinman came to their feet and hurried toward her. Gavin joined the charge.

Gavin had been on a college wrestling team, had trained in the martial arts, and had instructed rookies in police defense,
but never had he seen quicker reflexes than Karianne’s when he, Katz, and Steinman closed in. A simple but blindingly fast
backhand lifted the two-hundred-plus-pound Steinman into the air and dropped him unconscious to the floor more than fifteen
feet away. Gavin himself was certain he had her by the right arm when suddenly the arm he thought he had, had him. She gave
him a snapping jab under his left eye and then with astonishing speed grabbed his shirt with the same hand, lifted him up
by the chest, and threw him down at her feet. The strength in that one arm was hydraulic. His gun jarred from his hand, flying
into the chair’s cushion.

As Gavin took in his bearings from his new floor-level position, he saw the drug-filled hypo nearby. Karianne was turning
toward Katz, who let out a loud groan and then crumpled. As fast as he could, Gavin grabbed the hypo and stabbed it into soft
vascular flesh behind Karianne’s knee joint, burying the plunger into the hypo’s barrel in the same motion. He only hoped
whatever was in the syringe was fast acting.

Karianne reacted instantly, and with a flick of her leg, Gavin was thrown against the wall, collapsing the plaster between
the studs. He fell back to the floor. As she came toward him he dove for the overstuffed chair… and his gun. If he didn’t
shoot her now, she would kill them all. He found the gun quickly and spun to fire, but when he turned, she had already stopped.
She blinked once… twice… then fell to the floor in a heap.