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Authors: Alane Ferguson

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BOOK: The Christopher Killer
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Chapter Sixteen

IT TOOK HER ONLY SECONDS
to wriggle out from beneath the bed. She felt Jewel roughly grab her foot, pulling it so hard she thought for a moment it had separated at the ankle.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

She rose to her feet, shivering, her brain going a hundred miles an hour as she tried to figure out what to do.

“I’ll take that,” Jewel said, plucking the cell phone from her hand and dropping it into the pocket of his blazer. He stared at her with an odd expression. Worry creased his brow, although his perfect hair was still in place, combed straight back, with miniature rows left from the teeth of his comb. He paced for a moment, thinking. Finally he waved the gun in her face. “Sit,” he said, pointing the barrel to the bed. “So you heard about my car-rental return. Pretty ingenious, don’t you think?”

“I…I don’t understand. I mean, I was under the bed but I couldn’t follow what you were doing—”

“I said
sit
!”

She did as he ordered. Her arm and leg were still numb, but the feeling was coming back into them. Once she’d read that when faced with a killer, the victim needed to personalize herself. Talk to the perpetrator, the books said. Engage him in conversation. Making sure to use his name, she said, “Dr. Jewel, you don’t want to hurt me. I swear to you I don’t understand what’s going on. The thing is, Dr. Jewel, I thought you were already checked out. I work for the Grand and they sent me to clean your room. That’s all!”

“Drop the act, Cameryn. I’m sure you understood plenty—well, too much for your own good, anyway. But my problem is”—he grimaced—“what am I going to do with you now? I can’t let you go and I’m clean out of Christopher medals.”

The admission sent a cold shock through her, like a wave of ice water. So there would be no more deception, no veneer of truth covering the lie. Dr. Jewel had just admitted he was the Christopher Killer. She sat ramrod straight, her fists clenching, unclenching. As the reality of the situation hit her hard, her first impulse was to collapse into it. She couldn’t let herself. If she did, she would die.
Think,
she commanded.
Think!
But the fact was that he had a gun and there was nothing she could do; there was no way to talk her way out or to strategize. The gun was small, maybe only a .22, but she knew it didn’t take much to kill. Helpless as she watched him pace, she began to say the Lord’s prayer under her breath.

“Shut up!”
he snapped. “I’m trying to go over my options, none of which are looking too good at the moment.” He ran his fingers through his hair, destroying the sheen. “I was on my way out and now this—you’ve really put a monkey wrench into my plans, Cameryn. I’m supposed to be out of here in one hour. You look like you have something to say to me, so say it!”

She could only form one word. “Why?”

“Why!” He stopped moving. His eyes widened as he answered, “
Why?
I would think that’s pretty obvious. I was a hick kid from a town no bigger than Silverton and look at me now.
Look at me!
I’ve got everything. I’m on
Oprah
. People listen to every word I say because they think I
know
. But in this business, if your credibility slips”—he snapped his fingers—“you’re gone. Done for!” He began to pace again, a tiger in a cage. “NBC was downstairs, interviewing me for the
Today
show. Do you know how big that is?
The
Today
show!

The gun was still trained on her, a central point around which Jewel revolved. “My agent’s in negotiations
right now
for a whole new show for that network. Oh, I’ve been on cable, but to take
Shadow of Death
to NBC, maybe even international…” He stopped, his eyes sparkling with the thought of it. “We’re talking
millions
of dollars.
Ten million
a year or more!”

Cameryn spoke so softly she wasn’t sure he could hear her. “So this is about money?”

“What else? Don’t look at me like that—like
you
don’t have a price,” he spat. “No one knows what they’d do until the money’s dangling in front of them. I want you to be honest: What would you do for ten
million
dollars? Come on, Cameryn, you can tell me. At this point, you’ve got nothing to loose. Would you sleep with a man?”

She sat, silent.

“Would you cheat on a test? Would you hurt an animal? Tell me, Cameryn, I’m asking you for the truth. What would
you
do for all that money?”

“I wouldn’t kill.”

Jewel snorted. “People kill people every day for a buck. What I’m building is an
empire
! I’m famous against all the odds. And I do have the gift,” he told her. “I’m really good. But, in this business, good isn’t ever enough. There’s a pressure you can never understand. A psychic has to be
great
to land the really big deals.”

“Rachel Geller had a family who loved her. They all had families.”

“I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. But it’s been a necessary evil. Look what it got me—Raymond Jankowski, kid from nowhere, ends up on top.”

Inside, her heart was beating like mad. “It’s
wrong
, Dr. Jewel. I think deep down you know that. I don’t think you want to hurt me.”

Muscles in his neck pulled beneath his skin like wires. He was standing over her now, and from that angle his features were sharp. “You don’t know anything about my ‘deep down,’” he raged. “I keep thirty-seven people employed.
Thirty-seven
people! Do you know what kind of responsibility that is? But I do it every day, without complaint. I talk to dead people and I sing for the camera. A long time ago I made a vow to do whatever it took to keep my show going and I’ve done that. I’ll keep doing that.”

“By murdering four innocent girls?”

“There are two hundred and sixty million people in this country. Four deaths are statistically irrelevant. I mean…five.” Jewel rubbed his eyes, then blinked hard. Suddenly, his face seemed to clear, like sun flashing through a stormy sky. His features realigned and he became strangely calm. “There’s only one thing I can do. It’s time for you to cross over to the other side, Cameryn. You will walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”

Panic welled inside her. The man was serious, deadly serious.
“No!”
she cried. “Dr. Jewel, come on, don’t do this.
Please!

“You took a gamble. You lost. I guess you can go back to saying that prayer now. It’s probably a good idea, actually.”

Thoughts of her father, of her mammaw and her friends and the mother she hadn’t seen blurred together in a kaleidoscope of images.
I wish I remembered you, Hannah. I wish I’d read your letter.
But it was too late. Regret welled in her heart as she thought about what she would never know, never understand. Cameryn had always read that when faced with death, a person’s past flashed before their eyes. But it was different for her—she saw the life she hadn’t yet lived. How could it all end in a hotel room with faded carpet and a wilting mattress?

“Death is just one small step in a journey. It won’t be so bad, Cameryn. Rachel’s already there.” With his left hand he unzipped his suitcase and felt inside a deep pocket while his right kept the gun trained on her. “Where is it?” he muttered. “Ah, here it is. If you searched my things, and my guess is you did, you never would have thought to look in here.” He held up a bottle of vitamins. When he shook them, the container rattled like a tambourine. Setting it on the nightstand, he searched his suitcase again. “Aaand, one more little item…” His left hand fished another pocket until he held up a pair of long-nosed tweezers. “I want you to consider this: The reason I’ve lasted this long is because I’m always thinking. If you want to succeed, you’ve got to plan. You’ve got to think it all through from every angle but be ready for anything. That’s what happened when Adam showed up at the end of Rachel’s shift.
He
took her home, which was definitely not in the plan. But I followed them. He left her off at the end of her driveway and I just gathered her up, as easy as picking a flower.” He poured the vitamins into an ashtray and then, awkward because of the gun, stuck the tweezers into the empty bottle. For an instant she wondered if she should run, but the gun was still pointed at her head and the door was too far. Slowly, delicately, Jewel pulled out a piece of cotton. Then he shook out a handful of small white pills.

“This is my little arsenal. Roofies. I love these things. By the way, I knew all the autopsy reports would list roofies in the girls’ blood, which would prove the killer couldn’t have been your friend Adam. That’s why my ‘vision’ let him off the hook. I knew they’d have to clear him eventually. Proving once again what a brilliant psychic I am.”

Cameryn swallowed hard. “You used the DMSO to get the drugs into Rachel’s bloodstream. That’s how you did it.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead as he nodded. “So you figured that out. I guess I should have seen that coming,” he said with a wry smile. “But, seriously, I’m impressed. Really, I am. Most people don’t know a thing about DMSO. Then again, you
are
from the sticks. They use it on horses, don’t they? The great thing is that no pathologist ever runs a screen for DMSO.”

She watched him fill a glass and drop in two small white pills. “Or have things changed in that department?” he asked calmly. “I have to check out facts like that, you know, to stay ahead of the game. In a way you could say I’m in your business.” He swirled the water in the glass and held it high.

Her voice trembled as she asked, “What are you doing?”

Smiling his television smile, he replied, “Making you a little cocktail. I promise, after you drink it you won’t mind what I do to you. And I give you my word that I’ll make your transition into the other dimension a fast one.” He extended the glass to her. “Drink up.”

“Are you crazy?” Cameryn recoiled from the glass. “I’m not going to touch that stuff.”

He lowered the glass and raised the gun, resting it against her temple. “Perhaps you fail to see the dilemma you’re in. You’ve got no bargaining power. Drink it, or I’ll shoot you. Your choice.”

The barrel of the gun was cold and her skin twitched beneath it. Terror seized her, but she knew she couldn’t let it show. She had only one strategy left. One small, tenuous strategy, as fragile as a butterfly wing. Lifting her chin, she said, simply, “Then shoot me.”

Dr. Jewel took a small step back. “Wh—what are you saying?”

“I said shoot me. Go ahead.”

“Well,” he said, “this is interesting.” Eyeing her, Jewel set down the glass. He rubbed his free hand against his jeans, leaving a faint shadow of sweat on the fabric. “I would have pegged you as a girl who would fight to the bitter end.”

Adrenaline, mixed with fear, surged through her. “You want me to drink the roofies so I’ll be out of it, so you can sneak me out of the hotel like you did Rachel. I’m not drinking it.” Her voice shook, so she cleared her throat. “If I have to die, I—I won’t make it easy for you.”

“So you’re sassy,” Jewel said, grinning. “You forget, though, that shooting a bullet into your head isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘hard.’” He picked up a pillow from the bed and placed it between the gun and Cameryn’s head. “For the noise,” he added.

“You shoot that gun and there’ll be forensics splattered everywhere. I’ll be all through this room—they’ll find me! I’ll be on the walls and in the carpet. I’ll be on the bed. My blood will be evidence you can’t get rid off. They’ll know it was you.”

“Not to worry. I’ll think of something. I
always
think of something.” She could hear him cock the gun. Wincing, she squeezed her eyes tight; sucking one last giant breath into her lungs, she began to pray her last prayer.

And then the sound of the door being kicked in. Her eyes flew open; in a blur she saw Justin, his hands in front of him like a diver, his own gun gleaming.

“Drop it!” Justin screamed. “Drop the gun, Jewel.
Now!

“I’d do what my deputy says,” Sheriff Jacobs added. He stepped into the doorway just as Jewel lowered his own gun. The sheriff held his pistol differently from his deputy—with one arm extended straight in front of him. “Justin here’s from New York and the boy’s got a temper. Drop the gun to the floor, Jewel. My deputy’d shoot you same as look at you. Fact is, the taxpayers of Colorado would be saved a lot of money if you took a bullet. Our budget’s pretty tight this year.”

“This girl broke into my room. I—I was just defending myself,” Jewel stammered.

“Sure you were. That’s why you had the pillow in your hand.” His voice became deadly serious as Jacobs took a step closer. “I knew Rachel Geller. Put your gun on the floor or I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself.”

Jewel let go of the gun as though the metal had suddenly caught fire.

“Kick it to me with your foot!” Justin ordered.
“Kick it!”

With the side of his foot Jewel sent the gun spinning toward the door. In a smooth motion, Justin reached down and picked it up.

Dazed, Jewel asked, “How…?”

“Dr. Moore sent us,” Sheriff Jacobs answered, only he was talking to Cameryn now. “He ran the test for DMSO and got a hit. He tried to call you back, and when you didn’t pick up he contacted my office. He told us to hightail it to Jewel’s room. I didn’t believe you’d actually break in here, Cammie, but Moore insisted you’d be the type to do it. ‘Reckless,’ he called you. ‘And smart.’ When we found out the skeleton key was missing we really put two and two together. Looks like Dr. Moore was right….”

Cameryn began shaking violently. Her teeth chattered and her body shuddered all the way down her legs and then Justin was next to her, pulling her to her feet. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s okay now, you’re safe. Shhh. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

BOOK: The Christopher Killer
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