WEBCAM (12 page)

Roy spoke with Breach, and Hector was still in the police van, parked in front. Roy asked them to stay put for a moment, and they waited for a CRT member to come up for a spray and light.

“He said he was in bed?” Tom asked Roy. “When he lost his fingers?”

“Yeah. This whole area here,” Roy told the techie.

The crime scene guy began to spritz luminol on Valentine’s bed and the floor around it. Then he used an alternate light source to search for blood. If any was there, it would fluoresce.

There was no telltale glow. Tom and Roy exchanged a glance.

They went back downstairs. The night seemed to have gotten colder, nipping at Tom’s cheeks and neck. He turned up the collar on his wool pea coat and shoved his hands into his pockets, and they walked to the police van.

Hector brightened at seeing Tom again. “You’re letting me go?”

“You told us that you couldn’t do anything, even if you wanted to. What did you mean by that?”

Hector went sheepish. “I mean I been staying out of trouble.”

“Roy, what is this gentlemen’s rap sheet like?”

“He’s been a rapist since he turned eighteen. Probably earlier, but his juvee records are sealed.”

“So why did you stop, Hector? Because you feared going back to jail? Because you lost a few fingers?”

Hector stayed silent and went back to his signature move; studying his shoes.

“When you lost those fingers, did you go to the hospital? You know, to get stitched up?”

More silence.

“There would be a record if you did. Happen to have a doctor bill lying around, Hector?”

“I want my lawyer,” he mumbled.

“You’re free to call your lawyer, Hector. But I’m trying to help you here. You told me you lost your fingers while you were in bed, but there was no blood in your room. Did your maid service come by afterward, mop it all up? Or are you leaving something out?”

Silence.

Tom pressed. “Did you cut your own fingers off, Hector? Cut them off to cover up a murder?”

Valentine moved so fast that Tom’s hand automatically went for his gun. Hector Valentine stood up, his face twisted in rage, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You think I did this to myself, you stupid pig?!” he yelled, hands cuffed behind him, thrusting his pelvis out like he was in a Nicki Minaj video.

Tom looked down, and saw that the place between a man’s legs that normally sported a bulge had no bulge at all.

“Darkness came to my bed, knocked me out. I woke up I was missing three fingers, and my junk. You hear what I’m saying? Darkness took my dick and balls. Cut that shit off and sewed me up. All I got is a goddamn tube down there. Now why don’t you get on your knees and suck it, you asshole.”

Tom elected to pass on the offer. He and Roy got into Tom’s car to get out of the cold. Tom noticed that he was subconsciously cradling his privates, as was Roy.

“I’ve seen some shit, but that’s messed up,” Roy finally said.

“Rapist gets castrated. There’s a warped kind of justice there.”

“Ain’t no justice in cutting up webcam models. Rapist is a rapist. Model ain’t hurting no one.”

“Flaunting her body. Making men want her.”

“Asking for it? You victim-blaming, Tom?”

“I’m trying to figure out why The Snipper neutered Valentine and left him alive, but tortured two women to death. It seems disproportionate. Like it isn’t the same person.”

Roy looked at Tom. “What if it isn’t?”

“You mean…?”

Roy nodded. “Two perps. What if The Snipper has an accomplice?”

CHAPTER 23

Kendal couldn’t sleep.

She was exhausted, but when she closed her eyes she started to freak out. That led her to counting every blink, restarting each time she reached a hundred.

Counting blinks made her think of her father. It was something Kendal once did to distract herself, when he came to her room at night. Lie perfectly still. Count to a hundred. Don’t scream, or it will get worse. It will all be over soon.

She didn’t want to think of that. But she couldn’t stop blinking, and one thought led to the other.

It was the lights. Kendal was afraid to turn them off, but couldn’t fall asleep with them on. She’d turned off all the cameras, unplugged her computer, put her Kindle and cell Linda had given her in the bedside drawer, but still didn’t feel safe in the dark.

So she blinked. And counted. And tossed. And turned. And blinked. And counted.

Sometime around two am she felt like clawing her own eyes out. She stared at her bedside lamp, needing it and hating it at the same time, finished her hundredth count to one hundred, then crept out of her bed and counted the steps to Linda’s room. Predictably, her sorority sister was awake, video chatting with clients.

“Come on in, slut.”

Kendal froze. She felt the cameras on her. Like X-rays, tearing away her robe and underwear. She wanted to start blinking again, but people were watching. They’d think she was a freak. She might get kicked out of the house. Kendal wouldn’t be able to afford college without the webcam income.

Not giving in to her counting was like trying not to scratch a gigantic itch. Her brain and body wanted so badly to do it, even though Kendal knew it was neurotic and wrong. She could resist for short periods, but the neuroses always won. But Kendal didn’t want it to win in Linda’s room, with the cameras on.

“Can you come here a sec?” Kendal asked. She was opening her eyes as far as she could, and probably looked insane, but she was able to control the blinking.

“Sure.” Linda rolled out of bed and met her in the doorway. “Sup?”

“I can’t sleep,” Kendal whispered. “Can I use your vape?”

Linda’s face glowed with delight. “You never want to get high. You sure?”

“Yeah. Something that will relax me.”

“I just got some wicked indica juice that’s sticky as hell. Lemme get it.”

Linda bounced over to her bedside drawer, waved at her appreciative fans, and told them she’d be back in a minute. Then she took Kendal by the hand and led her back to her bedroom. They sat on Kendal’s bed, and Linda held up an electronic cigarette. The base was black metal, attached to a clear plastic cartridge that had fluid inside.

“This shit is crazy sticky.”

“I’ll be careful not to spill it.”

Linda smiled. “Dummy, sticky means it makes you stick to the spot. A few hits and you can’t move.”

“Will it put me to sleep?”

“This would knock out Snoop Dog.”

Linda lifted the e-cig to her lips, pressed the round button on the side, and inhaled. She held it a moment, then blew out sweet smoke. The smell of marijuana washed over Kendal. Marijuana, mixed with something else. Strawberry or watermelon.

“I get this from a boy in Biology. Has glaucoma or some other eye bullshit. Lucky bastard got a medical ID. Can you believe the luck?”

Kendal wasn’t sure having glaucoma qualified as lucky, but she gratefully took the offered e-cig. She’d smoked before, and always found it to be harsh and unpleasant. But when she inhaled the vapor, Kendal was surprised that it didn’t hurt her lungs. She blew it out without the usual accompanying cough.

“That’s smooth,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound stupid.

“Have you ever vaped before?”

Kendal shook her head.

“It’s just water and sugar, along with THC. Smooth as a virgin’s tit.”

They passed it back and forth two more times, and Kendal was surprised she’d forgotten to count her blinks.

Then things got really slow.

Linda was talking about the boy in Biology class, and she seemed to be talking forever, on and on, but when Kendal looked at the clock not even a minute had passed.

“You feel it?”

Kendal nodded, her head heavy. She might have been smiling, but couldn’t really feel her face.

Linda launched into another endless babblefest, and Kendal stared at her hand, wondering how millions of years of evolution culminated in cashmere matte nail polish. For some reason that seemed like an extremely profound thought. She started to share it with Linda, but forgot what she was going to say.

An hour passed, which in sober-time was really just two minutes, and then Linda was saying something about going back to her room and suddenly she was gone and Kendal was alone.

But it was okay being alone.

In fact, it was great.

Kendal was great.

She knew she was stoned, but she also felt like she hadn’t been able to see things so clearly. The cameras around her room were off, and Kendal vaguely remembered being afraid of them for some reason, but that seemed silly now. Everything that had happened to her in the past few days seemed silly. Silly, and somehow far away.

“Maybe I’m stalking myself,” someone said. Someone who sounded a lot like her.

Kendal locked the door to her room out of habit, and thought about turning the cameras back on. Then she thought about ice cream. Then she thought about a movie she saw when she was younger, about some people who went to the center of the earth and were in some kind of boat on a river of lava, which seemed like a really fun thing to try.

The lights in her room were bright. Too bright. Kendal shut them off, and then laughed because she didn’t touch the switch three times like she always did. In fact, the whole concept of counting seemed ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was the idea that marijuana was still against the law when it was without a doubt the greatest thing
ever
.

She laid back on her bed, in the dark, listening to herself breathe but not counting her own breaths, and fell asleep feeling like all was peaceful in the world and everything was going to turn out okay.

•          •          •

Kendal dreamt of spiders.

A big spider with eight red eyes and long hairy legs was perched on her foot, stroking her sole. Kendal was afraid to move, because it had two large, curved fangs, sharp and shiny like hooks, poised above her big toe and if she moved she knew it would bite her.

So Kendal stayed completely still. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t want to do anything that would provoke the spider. It crawled up her leg to her knee, stopped there, and began to whisper to her.

“The eetsy… beetsy… spiiiiiiiiider… went… up… the… waaaaaaater spout.”

Kendal startled herself out of sleep, jerking up to a sitting position, slapping at her bare knee. It took her a moment to get her bearings.

I’m in bed. I was asleep. It was a dream.

She squinted, looking around the room. Moonlight slivered in through the crack in the window drapes, enough for her to see she was alone. The only thing in her bedroom was her, and the darkness.

Kendal plopped back down into bed. Her brain was still fuzzy from the weed. She looked at the clock. A little past four-thirty. She blinked, three times, then let sleep claim her again.

The spider came back.

This time it was on her neck. Stroking her cheek with its leg.

Singing to her in a soft, low voice.

“Down… came… the… raaaaaaaaaain… aaaaaaaaand… washed… the spiiiiiiiiiiider out.”

Kendal flinched, pushing away the tickling spider with her hand—

—and felt it.

Again Kendal bolted awake. The spider might have been a dream, but when she reached out she was sure she’d touched something. Something soft, with a stiffness to it.

She also sensed something else. Something far worse than any spider nightmare.

There’s someone in the room with me.

Kendal peered into the dark, not sure what she was looking for. There was nothing to see. The room was empty.

But it didn’t feel empty. It felt like there was someone nearby. Moving through the same space. Breathing the same air.

Standing next to her and staring.

“Hello?” she whispered.

The darkness didn’t answer.

Kendal held her breath, listening.

She didn’t hear a sound. The room, the whole house, was still.

It was a dream. Or the weed. I’m being paranoid. There’s nothing—

Then the floor creaked.

Right next to the bed.

Kendal reached for the bedside switch, flicking it on.

The light didn’t work.

She turned it a few more times, and in her panic knocked it off the nightstand. It hit the floor with a thump. Kendal reached over, seeking the lamp, finding it and again seeking the switch and twisting it.

No light.

Kendal slapped her palm on the nightstand, finding the drawer, taking out her cell and powering it on. It took a few seconds, but the phone flickered to life. Kendal pressed the flashlight app and jerked the tiny cone of light around the room.

As far as she could see, her room was empty.

She turned to the lamp, set it back on the nightstand, and noticed that the cord was unplugged.

Did I do that?

Maybe when I was high?

Kendal couldn’t remember. She plugged the lamp back into the wall and when it came on the intensity blinded her for a moment. She shielded her eyes with her hand and again searched her room.

Empty.

She no longer felt like someone was standing next to her. In fact, Kendal wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. Maybe it had been no more real than touching the nightmare spider on her neck. She was dreaming. Or tired. Or still stoned.

Or having a psychotic break.

When Kendal was younger, rational thought helped her keep the hallucinations under control. If she thought she saw something that wasn’t plausible, she knew to dismiss it.

A spider on her neck, singing to her?

Implausible.

Someone in her room?

Also implausible. The sorority house had good security locks and deadbolts on all the doors. Kendal had also locked the door to her room. She turned to check it, to make sure it was still closed.

The door was open.

Just a crack.

Kendal had one of those lame privacy locks that could be opened with a fingernail. But she had locked it.

So she either misremembered locking it earlier—

Or someone had gotten in.

Another spike of adrenaline, and Kendal clutched her cell to her chest. She took another nervous look around the room, wondering if there were any places for a person to hide.