Annabel was brilliant, an honor student even at MIT. I made sure she knew how to apply herself, how to turn heads…
The most important facet of the narcissistic personality is the absolute certainty of his own superiority, that he’s right and everyone else is wrong…
He’s smart, phenomenally smart. Deranged, but smart…
She made scrapbooks, just like I did as a girl. She even posted some of her art on her personal Web page…
My eyes opened.
Uniforms.
That was the key, damn it. Uniforms.
What did Helen have on the walls in her bedroom? What did she have pasted into her scrapbook, on her Web page? Not rock stars. Not TV hunks. Cops, firemen, doctors, pilots…
And what did they have in common? Uniforms. Where did she sneak out to in her black leather bad-girl getup? A biker bar? The teen stud club? No. The Army grunt hangout. Because that’s where she would find men in uniforms.
Helen had a thing for uniforms. She liked them.
She trusted them.
Tiffany admired policemen, firemen. She dreamed of one day being a cop herself, because she admired them so.
She trusted them.
There’s more, I heard a voice within me saying. Keep working it, keep digging…
Darcy had shown me the burn mark where the door had been forced, the door to the ballroom where Helen Collier was found. But why was that significant?
Because it pointed away from the room, not toward it. Because the chain had been torched from the inside.
Edgar had already been inside when he brought out his acetylene torch. He’d had access to the room. Breaking the chains andforcing the lock had been just another clever trick to throw us off his trail.
My respiration spiked. I was breathing hard and heavy, my heartbeat racing. I was getting there. I knew I was getting there.
I stormed into headquarters, taking them all by surprise. The feds appeared to be reorganizing our offices into an FBI hostage crisis center. Which wasn’t a bad idea, in theory. But I knew that by the time they were finished, it would be too late for Rachel.
Patrick was in the chief’s office, conferencing. Darcy sat silently behind O’Bannon’s desk.
“Susan!” O’Bannon bellowed. “Where the hell have you been?” He looked at me suspiciously.
“Go ahead, sniff my breath. I haven’t been drinking.”
“Then what? Damn it-this is your own niece.”
“I know that,” I said firmly. “I also know he won’t kill her. Not yet. He might… do things to her. But she’s strong. She’ll survive. I did.”
“Susan, our investigators have a thousand questions-”
“And I’ll answer them. But in exchange, I want five plainclothes answering to me and complete freedom.”
They stared at me, all of them, speechless.
“And I’d like Patrick, if the Feebs can spare him. And Darcy,” I added. “Most importantly, Darcy.”
O’Bannon stared at me uncomprehendingly. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”
“Just the opposite. Regained them, finally.”
He looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel. “Even given the bizarre assumption that I said yes, what do you think you’d do?”
“Go back to the Transylvania.”
“You already played that hunch! It was a good theory. But it didn’t pan out. None of the guests-”
“He isn’t a guest. He works there.”
Patrick stepped forward. “Susan, I looked at the employee rolls. I didn’t see anyone who-”
“Then we need to line them up and let me look. I’ll recognize the rat bastard.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It’s obvious, once you know.”
“Know what? What do you think he does?”
“I’m not sure. But I know he wears a uniform.” I paused. “I think there’s a good chance he’s a cop.”
He frowned. “A cop?”
“Or something like a cop. Don’t they have security at the Transylvania? I thought I remembered seeing some.”
“Of course they do. But they might contract the security out, like most of the big houses.” He snapped his fingers. “Which would explain why he didn’t turn up on the employee rolls.”
“I need to get over there immediately.” I turned to O’Bannon and looked him square in the eyes. “With your permission.”
He barely hesitated a second. “Consider yourself back on the case.”
“Good. I’ll stay in touch.”
“You won’t have to. I’m coming with you.” He pulled out his desk drawer and tossed something onto his desk. A gun. My gun. “I think you may need this.”
“I don’t know. If you’re not-”
He pressed it into my hand. “I insist.”
“We need to blanket the hotel,” Patrick said. “Make sure he doesn’t slip out before we identify him. How much time do we have till this Day of Ascension?”
I checked my watch. “Only a few hours.”
“Hours? Then the Day of Ascension-”
“When else?” I led the way to the door. “Today. Halloween. At the witching hour.”
35
“You think this place will be ready in time, Ernie?” Martin asked.
He was calm and confident. “I don’t see why not. The grand opening isn’t until midnight.”
“But there’s so much still to do.” Both pairs of eyes scanned the ballroom. The façade of the Notre Dame cathedral was largely in place, but some of the surrounding decorations were in pieces on the floor, waiting to be assembled. Exposed scaffolding occupied a corner of the room. “I hear the hunchback is still experimenting with his makeup. And what’s with these bells?” He gestured toward the huge six-foot bells that were being hoisted into place at the front of the cathedral. “Those mothers are huge. And heavy. Why would the hotel lay out so much for bells?”
“You can’t do The Hunchback of Notre Dame without bells.”
“Hey, I been meaning to ask-what were you doing in the ventilation shafts last night?”