Edge of Midnight (37 page)

“First, we run you through a series of tests to identify your learning style. Dr. O personalizes each subject’s program,” Jared explained, as he merged onto the interstate. “The tests are the hard part, but it’s just the first couple of days. Then the fun begins.”

Cindy stared out the windshield, bug-eyed. Tests? Her goose was cooked. To a crunchy crisp. “Wow.” Her voice strangled. “Super cool.”

Jared waited for some enthusiastic, intelligent, intellectual comments from her, but anything she said would betray her for the bubbleheaded idiot that she was. In over her head. And going down.

“Uh, OK,” Jared tried again, gamely. “So. I liked that abstract you wrote about predictions of formant-frequency discrimination in noise based on model auditory nerve responses. I even showed it to Dr. O. I was thinking, maybe we could try combining temporal and rate information for a smaller population of model fibers, and tune them—”

“Um, could we talk about non-technical stuff?” Cindy rubbed her damp palms over her jeans. “I really prefer to get to know people talking about, like, you know. Normal stuff.”

“OK.” Jared looked baffled. “What’s normal?”

“You know. Everyday life. Movies. Current events. Fashion. I believe in being well-rounded. You can’t sit around obsessing on plane wave solutions all day, you know? You gotta make space for red cowboy boots, and espresso brownies, and the Howling Furballs.”

Jared frowned. “Who the hell are the Howling Furballs?”

“They’re an acid punk band that’s doing some cool multimedia stuff,” Cindy explained. “They’ve got a totally wild sound, and the engineer uses the signals the musicians generate in real time to create a freaky interactive light show. I’ll show you their website, if you want.”

“OK. Great. Sounds interesting.” He sounded bemused. There was an uncomfortable silence that Cindy wanted desperately to fill, but she didn’t dare push her luck. Then Jared spoke again.

“I get the impression that you’re not happy to be here,” he said.

Duh. “Look at it from my point of view,” she said. “I’m a girl all alone with a guy I just met, going to a place I’ve only heard of on the Net. Anybody would tell me I’m brain dead.” Yeah, like her entire family.

“You’re not,” Jared said. “I know you’ve had bad experiences.”

She had? Shit! She hadn’t read the transcripts of Mina and Jared’s chats, so she didn’t even know her own back story. Yikes!

But Jared was talking earnestly on. She tried to concentrate.

“…wanted to tell you that I understand where you’re coming from,” he said. “I’m an orphan, too. In foster care since I was seven.”

“Really?” She looked at him, wide-eyed. “Get out.”

“I did high school at Deer Creek.”

She blinked. “You mean the reformatory?”

“Drugs,” he confessed. “I set up a meth lab in my foster father’s barn, all by myself, when I was in the ninth grade. Dr. O heard about it. He came to meet me. He thought any kid who could get into that much trouble at age thirteen had to have potential.”

“Wow. That’s totally wild,” Cindy said weakly.

“When I got out, he invited me to the Haven.” He paused for a moment, and added “It’s the only real home I’ve ever had.”

“Wow,” she said again, feeling totally inane.

“Maybe it could be, you know. A home for you, too.”

She tried to smile. He seemed like a genuinely sweet guy. But the corners of her mouth felt like they had weights attached to them.

“So where is the Haven, anyhow?” she asked.

Jared chuckled. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

He must have heard the thud as her stomach froze into a solid chunk and hit bottom. His gaze darted to her face. “That was a joke,” he said. “You know, jokes? Hah, hah? Very funny? Irony, and all that?”

“Hah, hah, hah,” she echoed thinly. “Very funny, Jared.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. We never tell new recruits where the Haven is until we get there. It’s part of our mystique. You’ll see.”

“Oh. Yeah,” she muttered. “I can hardly wait.”

A six-foot-three blond guy in a Versace suit with a black eye attracted more attention than he wanted today, he reflected as he strolled through the library. Con and Davy agreed that only one of them should go in, and they’d opted for Miles, but this moment was a turning point in his life. He was goddamn well going to be present for it.

The two librarians were checking him out. The older one, an iron-gray lady shaped like a pigeon, was giving him a disapproving look over her bifocals. The cute younger one, with the bobbed strawberry red hair, was blatantly scoping him whenever the older one’s back was turned.

He heaved an internal sigh. No quick in-and-out, then. He had to do the leisurely browsing masquerade for Strawberry Red’s benefit.

He made a big show of flipping through the card catalog. Then he wended his way through the library, making stops at the magazine racks and the local newspaper, moseying with elaborate casualness toward the Historic Collection Room.

Through the glass doors, into the paneled room full of cracked leather sofas, brass reading lamps, hidden alcoves. This was where he’d had his historic tryst with Liv. The first time he’d made her come.

A feeling of foreboding took him by surprise, twined together as it was with the surge of lust and longing that came over him whenever he thought of Liv. Prickling his face, his balls. An urgent, go go go feeling.

This wasn’t about Kev. Something was up with Liv. The certainty buzzed in his head. He had to finish up here, and check on her. Quick.

He snapped open the clasp on Davy’s briefcase, scanning shelves for the reference number. The distinctive smell of old books was heavy in his nostrils. Anxiety pricked him, harder. Hurry. Hurry. Go go go.

Closer…almost there…and there it was. 920.0797 B63. It was a thick red leather tome, stamped in gold. He reached for it, with a hand that trembled—

“Can I help you with anything?”

He practically jumped out of his skin. He turned with a gasp.

Strawberrry Red stood there, smiling at him. “Hi.”

He let out a shaky breath, and smiled back. “Whew. Startled me.”

“So sorry,” she said demurely. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Oh, not really. I was just, ah, poking around,” he said helplessly. “I’m a history buff.”

The wattage of her smile went up a few notches. “A history buff? That’s funny. So am I. There are some beautiful historic sites in Endicott Falls. Are you just passing through?”

“Yeah. Sort of,” he said.

“If you have the time, I could show them to you. I get off at four. You see so much more with someone who knows the place intimately.”

Sean swallowed. “Ah, wow. That’s tempting, but I’m afraid I’m busy later,” he told her. “I’m having dinner with my fiancée and her family.” He gave her a you-know-how-it-is shrug.

She took it well. There was a brief, awkward moment while her smile stiffened, and she stepped back. “Well then. Another time. I’ll just leave you to browse. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Her heels clicked across the room. The door creaked open, fell to again with a sharp little thud, and he was alone again.

He almost sagged to the ground. From the adrenaline rush, from dumb relief for having gotten rid of her so easily, but mostly from blank, jaw-dropping shock, at having actually done that to a pretty woman.

He’d never turned down a cute girl before. No matter what was going on in his life. No matter how double or triple or quadruple booked his dick was. He had always, always managed to slot them in somehow.

Jesus. He hadn’t even gotten her phone number.

And his improvised excuse made him snicker. Dinner with his fiancée’s family, his ass. Talk about wishful thinking. They’d only shoot him on sight, and bury his carcass in the municipal dump.

He gripped the big book, lifted it out and peered into the shadows. Nothing. His heart fell. He groped. Still nothing. His heart thudded, his stomach clenched. He reached further, scrabbling with his fingers.

There was a niche in the wall. Something loose tucked into it.

He pulled out two dusty videotapes. Saw Kev in his mind’s eye, clapping. About time, Einstein. Give yourself a medal, why don’t you.

August twenty-third, Kev? What in the fuck…?

No. One thing at a time. If he let himself think of Kev’s post-death appearances on earth, he’d blow a fuse. He stowed the tapes, and pulled out the book with the fateful call number, leafing through it, just in case. It was titled The Founders of Endicott Falls: A True and Faithful Chronicle of Those Heroic Personages Who Forged Our Fair Township from a Savage and Ferocious Wilderness. By Joseph Ezekiel Bleeker.

Huh. Some ass-kissing scholar type, trying to score points with old Augustus. Probably wanted to marry the guy’s daughter.

He shoved the tome back into its space and beat hell out of there.

He had to call Liv, tell her he’d found the tapes. Thank her for being a genius, a goddess. Tell her that he wasn’t worthy to lick her perfect feet, and he was sorry he’d been such a rude dickhead.

And that he loved her, madly, till the end of time. Why hadn’t he said that last night, instead of all his macho, blustering bullshit?

Strawberry Red discreetly turned her back so she wouldn’t have to see his apologetic smile. Classy chick. He appreciated her delicacy.

He had his cell out before he was out the door. Liv’s phone rang, and rang, and rang. He got into Davy’s SUV, tossed the briefcase onto Con’s lap and ignored the questions while he pulled up Tam’s number.

She picked up instantly. “Sean,” she said crisply. “Brace yourself.”

“What?” he yelled. “What happened? Where is she?”

“I have no idea. She deactivated my alarms, took the car and left.”

“When? Oh, fuck. No. When?”

“Stop yelling in my ear. My alarm was deactivated almost four hours ago. Leaving me wide open in my studio, wearing head phones. I’m going to have a talk with her about that.”

“You were supposed to keep an eye on her!” he bellowed.

Tam snorted. “I was her host, not her jailor. If you’d asked me to confine her, I would have told you to go fuck yourself.”

“I do not have time for your crap, Tam—”

“So don’t call this number. I bet you were oh-so-masterful last night, right? Put your foot down, did you? Liv’s a real woman, not a dance club sex doll. A real woman has her own agenda. Get used to it.”

Sean hung up on her, tried Liv again. No luck. “Shit!” he hissed.

“Don’t you just hate it when they do that?” Con slanted a sympathetic glance over his shoulder.

Davy let out an eloquent grunt. “Tell me about it.”

Sympathy was not what he needed. He needed to see Liv, scream at her for scaring the shit out of him, and kiss her until she passed out.

“Is she wearing a beacon?” Davy inquired.

“There’s one in her cell,” Sean said through his clenched teeth, drumming his fingers. “Where’s the nearest X-Ray Specs set-up?”

“I’ve got an old Specs receiver Seth told me I could mess around with in my folk’s basement,” Miles offered. “I think I can make it work. I’ve got the software, too. I can install it.”

“Good,” Sean said curtly. “Let’s go.”

She parked the car outside the sliding glass doors, and bolted. So she’d pay the fee if they hauled it away. Um, yeah. Right. With what?

Ah, what a happy dream, to be capable of dealing with her own parking violations again. She scurried into the bustling lobby, looking for signs for the north wing. Wondering if Daddy was…no. Stop.

One thing at a time. One thought at a time.

She started out walking, but anxiety kicked her into a clumsy lope, and by the time she hit a straight stretch, it was a dead run.

Everyone shrank away from the crazy blonde sprinting down the hall in spike heels and the scanty, sexy red halter dress. She was too anxious to wait for the elevator. She dove for the stairs. Screeched to a halt outside the nurse’s station when she saw Dr. Horst, her family doctor from Seattle. Oh, God. His being here could not be a good sign.

“Dr. Horst?” she called out, gasping for breath.

He frowned, no recognition in his eyes. She yanked off the diva sunglasses. “It’s me. Liv. How’s Daddy? Is he—is he—”

“Liv. My dear.” He walked towards her, giving her a gingerly embrace. The grave look on his face terrified her.

“Tell me quick,” she begged. “Say it, if it’s bad news.”

“Come on in here,” he said. “Try to calm yourself. We have to talk.” He towed her towards the doorway of a small waiting room.

“Please, just tell me if Daddy…” Her voice trailed off.

Her father was standing right there. Fully clothed, looking very much as he always did. No life support, no IV drip, no oxygen mask. He looked fine, but for the nervous, hangdog look on his face.

Her mother stood beside him. Her chest was puffed out, chin high, her face flushed. Blair stood there too. Wearing his pompous face.

“Mother?” Liv looked around at them. “Daddy? What’s going on?”

“Lord,” Amelia said. “You look like a hooker in that silly wig.”

Her father mumbled something inaudible, and stared at his feet.

“I’m sorry it came to this, Livvy, but you left me no alternative,” her mother said.

Hot anger flooded through her. “No alternative but what? To put me in danger for nothing? To put me through hours of hell thinking that Daddy was dying? You think you can actually justify that?”

“Try to calm yourself, Liv,” Dr. Horst soothed. “Your mother truly does have your best interests at heart.”

“As if.” Liv looked around. “I don’t see any policemen here. You didn’t take me seriously. Why am I not surprised?”

“Liv, please,” Dr. Horst said gently. “I promise that you will be absolutely and completely safe where we are taking you.”

“Taking me?” Alarm bells jangled in her head. She backed away. “No way. You’re not taking me anywhere.”

“I know you’ve had a terrible ordeal, Livvy, but it’s over now. And we’re going to see that you get the help you need,” her mother said. She grabbed Liv’s wrist, her long red nails digging in with nervous strength.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying!” Liv wailed. “I was attacked four days ago! A man tried to kill me! Sean saved me!”

“You see?” Her mother fixed Dr. Horst with big, imploring eyes. “It’s something like Stockholm Syndrome. She’s so broken down, she’s actually bonded and identified with her abuser. God, Livvy, just look at you. Bruises on your arms, your face. You’ve been beaten!”

“Mother, I told you—hey! What are you doing?”

“You’re right.” Dr. Horst had grabbed her arm, and was frowning at it. “Rope burns, knife cuts, hematomas. It will be necessary to document all signs of sexual violence for when you press charges.”

“Oh, dear God.” Her mother let out a theatrical sob of anguish.

“Press charges? Against who?” Liv stared wildly around herself.

“Oh, please, honey,” her mother said. “Don’t tell me you really believe these silly stories about an attacker. It’s just a fantasy, to justify your unhealthy obsession with that horrible man.”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean, you still think the bad guy is Sean? But I’m telling you right now that it wasn’t! Mother, listen to me—”

“What is this?” Her mother lifted the blond curls off her neck, and gasped. “Oh! God! Livvy? What has that person done to you?”

“A human bite.” Horst’s mouth tightened with distaste. “You did the right thing, Mrs. Endicott. We probably got her back just in time.”

“No. Wait. That wasn’t Sean. He didn’t do that. You’re all crazy.” Liv backed towards the door. “To hell with this bullshit. I’m leaving.”

She bumped into Blair, who had sidled around behind her. He looped his beefy arms around her waist, pinning her arms.

“Livvy,” Amelia said. “The police searched McCloud’s apartment, and guess what they found? Look at this. Just look, honey.”

“Let go of me!” she shrieked, struggling, but Blair’s arms were strong. Her mother came over with a folder, and opened it up.

“Look,” she said triumphantly. “Hundreds of photos of you, Livvy. They span years! This man has been stalking you for over a decade!”

Liv stared at the folder. Her mother leafed through the photos, displaying them in quick succession. Liv in college. In New York. Outside the library where she’d worked in Baltimore. Outside the apartment where she’d lived in Madison. She stared at them, stunned.

“See?” her mother said. “He’s obsessed, Livvy. Face the facts.”

Not. The pictures were startling, but she was almost immune to shock by now. Sean’s passionate interest in her was intense and unusual, but not criminally violent. Not crazy. Not T-Rex. She knew the difference.

She shook her head. “The man who attacked me was not Sean, Mother. You have to believe me. I’m not crazy. And neither is he.”

Her mother looked sadly up at Dr. Horst. Shook her head.

Blair’s arms tightened. “Sorry, Liv. Remember, I am your friend.”

She struggled, panicked. “Like hell you are. You guys can’t do this to me! It’s not legal!”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that.” Amelia’s voice had a taunting tone. “We can prove you’ve been kidnapped and brainwashed. That you’ve been physically and sexually abused. You are a danger to yourself and to those around you. The paperwork is drawn up. It’s incredibly painful for us, but we have to do what’s best for you, honey. All that remains is to get that person behind bars, where he belongs.”

“You idiots!” she shrieked. “Sean didn’t kidnap me! He saved me! Let go!” She flailed, stomped, tried to knee Blair in the groin.

She felt a sting in her arm. Horst was pushing down the plunger of a hypodermic. The effect was instantaneous, cutting her loose from her frantic desperation. She floated, detached. She couldn’t remember why it was so important to keep her knees locked, so she let them sag.

Blair hoisted her up against his chest, with considerable effort.

“Put her into this wheelchair,” Dr. Horst directed. “We’ll let her rest in the examining room while I go over some details on this paperwork with you. I want to get her settled into Belvedere by evening.”

Belvedere? The mental health clinic for depressed, drug-addicted socialites? The rich bitch looney bin? Part of her wanted to shriek with laughter, but it wasn’t a part of her that had any motor control.

Blair tucked her into the wheelchair, straightening her lolling head. She stared into his eyes, in silent pleading. He lifted her fake blond hair, looked at T-Rex’s bite. He shook his head, and left.

Under the influence, she watched the wall grow wider, until it was as big as the sky.

She floated in the blue, longing for someone whose name she couldn’t remember. She remembered his face, though. How he shone.

The door to the main corridor opened, letting in a slice of light and noise from outside. A large cart with big canvas linen bags creaked in. She saw its bulk approaching. She could barely keep her eyes open, or her mouth shut. Let alone turn her head to look at it.

And then she smelled him—T-Rex. That bitter, awful stench.

Fear bloomed inside her, faraway but terribly real. So was the grief. Sean. The name came to her. She clutched at it, desperately.

So sad. That all of Sean’s heroic efforts should come to nothing, because she’d been so stupid, so credulous. The monster had come, and she’d never even thanked Sean for what he’d done. For his bravery, his passion, his sweetness. The lovely, shining truth of him.

The monster bent over her, dressed in hospital scrubs. His foul breath washed over her face. He bent close, gave her face a sloppy lick with his meaty red tongue. She was paralyzed, unable to flinch away.

“Oh, Olivia. I’m so glad to see you.” His voice was a raspy whisper.

He scooped her out of the wheelchair. Dumped her headfirst into the canvas bin, half full of dirty sheets. Wrenched one over her body.

The sound of the wheels creak-creaking below her head was the last thing she heard as she faded away, buried alive in the airless dark.

Miles’s Specs revealed that Liv’s phone was in the Chamberlain Clinic. Sean was baffled, but glad that it was a public building where she would be relatively safe. At least the icon wasn’t blinking forlornly in a ditch somewhere. “Give me your keys,” he said to Davy.

Davy looked dubious. “If things go the way they usually do, you’ll get hauled off by the cops, and I’ll have to bail your useless ass out before I can retrieve my car keys. Don’t you want to see the tapes?”

“I’ve waited fifteen years to see the tapes. I can wait another half hour. Hand ’em over.” He waggled his fingers imperiously.

Davy sighed, flung the keys at him. Sean caught them, and bolted up the stairs and through Miles’s mom’s kitchen, deftly evading her as she tried to flag him down and stuff a sandwich into his face.

He called Liv’s phone repeatedly, as he speeded through town. His nerves were crawling so bad, he could barely keep from screaming.

Answer it, he willed her. For Christ’s sake. Have mercy on me.

He was so startled when a voice answered, he practically rearended the vehicle ahead of him. He screeched to a stop just in time.

“Liv?” he bellowed. “Where in holy hell are you?”

After a moment, an acid voice replied, “She’s right where she should be, Mr. McCloud. Safe with her family, and away from you.”

“Who is this?” he roared, and then realization hit, like an anvil in his face. “Oh, Christ, no. Don’t tell me. Is this Liv’s mom?”

“I am Olivia’s mother, yes. Please do not try to get anywhere near my daughter, ever again. The police are ready to intercept you.”

“I cannot believe this,” Sean hissed. “What did you do? Lure her in by saying that one of you was sick? Is that why she’s at the clinic?”

“My husband’s frail health is none of your business.”

“Frail health, my ass. I can’t believe she fell for it, but then, she always cared more about you guys than either of you ever deserved. Put Liv on the line. Let me talk to her.”

“No,” the woman said, her voice triumphant. “She is resting. She’s had a terrible experience. I will not let her talk to you. Ever again.”

“How do you intend to stop her?” Sean asked. “She’s thirty-two.”

“Yes, and very fragile. Easily led by a dominating personality.”

An image of Liv charging through the forest topless, screaming bloody murder as she emptied the clip of the Beretta at T-Rex, came to him. “Uh, yeah. Right,” he muttered.

“Wait. Just a moment, Dr. Horst, I’m on the phone with that person, and I’ll be with you in a…what? She’s what?”

Crack. The phone had dropped to the ground.

A hole of fear yawned open in his belly. He listened to the still open line. People were yelling in the distance. Amelia was screaming.

Already. He’d fucked up. He should have stuck to Liv like glue.

“Mr. McCloud?” Amelia shrieked into the phone. “What have you done with my daughter? Where is she?”

Relief made him giddy. T-Rex had nabbed her, had not simply murdered her. There was still a chance. He laid on the gas.

“Nothing,” he said. “Don’t tell me. She’s disappeared, right? Someone abducted her. You mean you’re surprised? Where have you been for the past four weeks? Jesus, lady! Hello! Wake up!”

“It’s not possible! She wasn’t—you’re not—”

“I’m not the one!” Sean yelled. “Bet she tried to tell you, huh? Bet you didn’t listen. You’ve never listened to her in her entire life.”

Her incoherent response suddenly diminished in volume. “Mr. McCloud?” said a gruff male voice. “Where did you take my daughter?”

“Nowhere,” he snarled. “I’m trying to keep her alive, and you and your stupid wife are making it hard. How long ago did she disappear?”

“We saw her just fifteen minutes ago—”

“Tell the cops to block all the roads leading to the clinic. Stop everyone from leaving.” He hung up the phone, and gunned the engine.

The cops would be all over his ass in no time. He had to catch up with T-Rex before they caught up to him. Think, goddamnit. Think.