“But that’s not what he thinks. He holds himself responsible. He is carrying enormous guilt. Something like that held inside long enough starts to take on a life of its own. It manifests itself in unexpected ways. Depression. Hallucinations. Split personality. All it took was a trigger.”
“And what was the trigger?” Lauren asked.
“Could have been anything. Some obvious ones are the man he saw killed by lightning. Could be because of Max Dahl’s daughter having a terminal illness. Could be he saw a pick-up truck the same color as the one in the accident. What I’m trying to say is that it could have been anything.”
Dr. Mansfield stood up. “Thank you, Scott, for coming to us. Why don’t we let Lauren think about this for a moment?”
Scott Moran took his cue, slid his chair from the table, and stood. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more. I really am.”
Lauren tried to smile but felt as if she would lose control again. She remained seated and nodded her acknowledgement. Dr. Mansfield lowered himself to her level. “I have to talk to Scott about a few other things. Will you be all right?” Lauren nodded, not at all sure if she would be or not. The doctor patted her on the shoulder and told her he would be back shortly.
Across the room Janney saw the meeting with Lauren Tremont breaking up. He still seethed at missing whatever Scott Moran told her. How was he supposed to handle the situation if he didn’t have all the information available? Before he could work up a real rage about being excluded, Deputy Sorenson appeared in the hallway. Janney dragged him to a private corner for an update. “What do you have?”
Sorenson stared at the floor. “Nothing. Not a trace. The guys are still out looking.”
“Godammit!” Janney ran his hands through his hair. “We need to find Tremont and Lonetree. We’re running out of time.” He steadied himself. He made it a rule never to look concerned around his men, never show weakness. He was used to dealing with situations like this, but this one had him worried. Janney had intended to use this problem to make a case for being the number two guy instead of that idiot Huckley. Maybe even to argue to the Boss that Huckley was a liability. But for that to happen, he needed to contain this problem quickly. It would boost his stock and, more important, give him a chance to make Huckley look worse. But the Tremont woman made things difficult. If he hadn’t faked the phone call to the FBI earlier, he was sure she would have called them herself. And that would have complicated things.
“What do you want me to do?” Deputy Sorenson asked.
“Set up outside. They might be heading this way.”
Sorenson leaned in close and whispered, “What about the other thing? Do you want me to do anything with that?”
Janney looked up and down the hall, impatient with the deputy’s lack of discretion. “No, let it alone. I’ll take care of it. Just get outside and keep your eyes open.” He watched as the deputy turned and strutted down the hall, one hand resting on the handle of his gun. “Goddamn cowboy,” Janney muttered.
If he was right about Lonetree, this might be the last time he had to deal with Sorenson. He felt a tinge of regret, but not because he felt any affection for the man. Sorenson had been a mistake. Like always, Janney had recruited him from out of state. The fewer local ties the better. Criminal record, ex-military, the man had seemed the perfect addition. And in the past year Sorenson had done everything asked of him. Of course, the kid thought he was involved in nothing more than old fashioned police corruption. A little drugs. A little prostitution. He didn’t have a clue what he was really mixed up in. They never did until the very end.
But Sorenson was too cocky for his own good and Janney knew that would eventually lead to mistakes. The same way Huckley’s arrogance kept driving them to the brink. He decided to retire Sorenson after the current problem was cleaned up. That is if Lonetree didn’t take care of him first.
Janney headed back toward the cafeteria where Lauren sat waiting for her husband to appear. With any luck, Janney thought, this whole mess would be resolved by the end of the night. If only the resolution could include getting rid of Huckley, permanently. Even if the Boss didn’t agree to it, it didn’t mean it was impossible. He pushed the thought around in his head, savoring its implications. Life without Huckley. Life without the hassle and complications that followed the man. Life without the risk that he put them all through. Just imagining it brought smile to his lips. Suddenly he felt a new sense of promise and opportunity. He whistled a little tune as he walked back to the hospital cafeteria, the seeds of a plan to destroy Huckley taking root with each step.
SIXTY-ONE
Even through his shirt, Jack felt the cold metal of the gun against his stomach. He reached down to his belt line to make certain it was still secure after his sprint across the lawn. The downward angle of the gun pointed the business end of the weapon straight into his crotch, so he had checked a dozen times to make sure the safety was engaged. He pulled back his sweater and felt for the safety catch again. Just in case.
He tried to control his breathing. He was panting far harder than he should have for the small exertion he’d made. He had to relax. A couple of deep breaths as he crouched in a shadow against the brick building and his pulse started to slow and even out.
I’m going to kill a man.
The thought didn’t startle him, it just oozed its way into his mind. I’m going to kill a man. The simple statement had replayed in his mind since he and Lonetree had worked out their plan. These six words formed the soundtrack to his actions, looping around his brain until they dissolved in the background and made way for the other voices that clamored for attention in his head. Angry voices, angry because they knew Jack held out hope that killing would be unnecessary, that mercy would ultimately prove a better strategy than revenge.
Especially to this enemy.
The voices insisted the man Jack hunted was not really a man at all, but a monster that killed women and children. Tortured them in bizarre rituals. Had these victims been shown mercy? Of course not. So then, why shouldn’t such a monster be killed? Why should he be afraid to do it?
The voices were compelling, but Jack still hoped he wouldn’t have to take the safety off the gun.
Jack ran down the length of the building, careful to check each window for watchful eyes before he passed by it. The grass crunched beneath his feet, frozen by the cold. Each footstep sounded impossibly loud in the still air, like he was sneaking around with a string of empty soda cans tied to his feet. But he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him. No one could hear him. He hoped.
A door around the back was unlocked, just as he expected. He turned the knob slowly, careful not to make a sound, and inched it open to minimize the creak of the hinges. The room was dark so he walked in and eased the door shut behind him.
Forward through the room, down the hall, he moved on the balls of his feet. It reminded him of playing hide-and-seek as a kid, tip-toeing through a dark house, not knowing who was going to jump out of a shadow to scare him. The difference was that as a kid it was fun to get scared. He wasn’t having any fun tonight.
With sudden clarity, he realized that his prey might not go quietly. Until that moment he hadn’t fully appreciated the possibility that the man might find him first. That on turning the next corner, a tire iron might crush into his face. Or a flash of light from a gun could be the last thing he saw before being enveloped in darkness forever. Jack had the uneasy feeling of a hunter whose role has been reversed, that the panting beast no longer running ahead of him trying to escape, but now stalked him from behind waiting for the moment of ambush. Some of his resolve melted into fear and paranoia, but he kept moving through the house.