“Why not?”
“Because its crazy, that’s why,” he retorted sharply, but upon seeing her expression he decided to take another tack. “Look,” he said more gently, “just think about this rationally for a minute, okay? You’ve been under a lot of stress, everyone has. This killer is making everyone nervous.”
“So it’s making me see things, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. I told you yesterday afternoon about the body we found at Stonemoor and that night you dreamed about Hudson Blake. It stands to reason that your subconscious would twist what you learned earlier into your dreams at night as you slept.”
“But something happened to him, just as I saw it in my dream.”
Jake shook his head. “Not really. Think about it. In your dream you say you saw Hudson Blake, yet we didn’t discover Blake’s body at the estate, we found his butler’s. And tonight you saw Gabriel, but as far as we know he is perfectly all right. We don’t know that anything has happened to Blake—he’s just disappeared. It’s just your subconscious taking the things you know and twisting them up with your fear and your nervousness over the fact that the police haven’t caught the killer yet.”
Katelynn wasn’t convinced. “How do you explain tonight then?” she challenged him.
“What about tonight?”
“How do you explain the Ouija board or what happened to Dana.”
Exasperated, Jake replied, “It could have been any number of things. Sam could have been moving that pointer purposely. He could have been lying when he said he wasn’t, just to pull our legs. Or it could have been moving on its own, a result of a buildup in static electricity between Sam and me. Hell, there are a thousand reasons it could have been moving around. And the least likely one is that we were really speaking to the dead. It was simply coincidence that Dana suffered an epileptic attack when she did. It was probably brought on by all of the excitement of the party.”
“So what happened to Sam? Why did he rush off like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he just freaked out over Dana’s fit.” Finding the pitcher empty, Jake half turned in his seat, searching for the waitress.
“Come on, Jake. Doesn’t that all sound just a bit too pat to you?”
Without stopping his attempts to signal a waitress, Jake answered, “Nope. It certainly sounds far more reasonable than that garbage you’re spouting.”
Katelynn had had enough. Whether it was her fear or her annoyance at how much Jake had drunk in such a short time, she was less tolerant than usual. Having Jake brush her off so cavalierly infuriated her. She slid out of the booth, grabbed Jake by the chin, and turned his head to face her. “Do you know what a shithead is, Jake?” she asked, then continued without giving him time to answer. “I’ll tell you. A shithead is someone who can’t see the truth even when it’s right there in front of him. Thanks for your help. I guess I’ll figure it out on my own.”
Jake could only stare.Just what the hell is wrong with everyone tonight? His beer-addled mind just couldn’t put two and two together.
Without another word, Katelynn turned and stormed across the room, disappearing out the door.
For a moment Jake considered following, but quickly decided against it. She probably wouldn’t talk to him, and if she felt like being a bitch, then it was best if he just left her alone. She’d cool down after a while.
And then maybe she’d talk some sense. He went back to trying to signal a waitress and did his best to forget about what had been happening lately.
It was more than he wanted to think about at the moment.
24
THE LAST OF A NOBLE RACE
Something terrible had happened to Gabriel.
Sam was certain of it and as he sped through the streets, his fear grew with every mile passing beneath his wheels.
Sam could see the flashing blue lights as soon as he turned onto the long, tree-lined drive that led to the main building of the complex. His heart froze at the sight. As he drove closer he made out the forms of the individual sheriff’s cars that were parked haphazardly in the small cul-de-sac fronting the building. An ambulance was also there, its rear doors thrown wide, its red strobes mingling in eerie symphony with the blues.
Sam jerked the car to a stop, jumped out, and was running toward the front door even before his engine had grown silent. A uniformed deputy saw him at the last minute and tried to prevent him from entering, but Sam ducked beneath the man’s outstretched arms and pushed through the glass door.
The main lobby was full of residents, most of them from the third floor, each in an assortment of pajamas. Deputy sheriffs were milling here and there amongst the patients. It seemed to Sam as if the sheriff’s men were trying to interview some of patients, but for what reason he couldn’t guess. Most of them were senile and would prove of little or no use in whatever investigation they were conducting.
The confusion in the room had brought him up short just inside the door, and when he realized he was no longer moving, Sam cast an anxious glance back over his shoulder. He was relieved to see that the deputy he’d sneaked past was still outside, prevented from following him by a sudden swarm of spectators who were likewise trying to get inside.
Ignoring the masses of people moving all around him, Sam walked over to the elevators, his thoughts on Gabriel. The presence of the police and the emergency medical team confirmed what he’d previously only suspected. Something had happened there that night, and he was all but positive it had something to do with Gabriel.
A sense of evil lingered in the air, like a gas that had been only partially dispelled. He wasn’t the only one who felt it; others in the room were constantly looking over their shoulders as if they, too, could sense some presence in the room—a grim shadow that crouched behind them. In that instant Sam knew the object of Gabriel’s fears had come for him. All that was left to do was to find out if the old man had survived.
Sam had a hunch he already knew the answer to that question and had to force himself to keep moving forward. He had forcibly to ignore the reluctance that suddenly settled about his shoulders like a mantle of lead, threatening to bend his back beneath its great weight.
He was afraid.
Afraid of what he would find upstairs.
As he reached out for the elevator call button, a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.
“Sorry. Elevators are off-limits. Nobody leaves the lobby until we’re finished,” a gruff voice said from behind him.
Sam turned and found himself face to face with another deputy. The man glared at him with eyes as hard as stones and heavy with suspicion.
“Oh,” Sam said, a bit flustered by the man’s sudden appearance. “I’ll just use the stairs then.” He moved to step past the man.
The other’s broad bulk blocked his path. “Are you deaf?” he asked with ill-concealed hostility. “I said nobody’s allowed upstairs.”
“Look, Deputy. I work here. These people are more than my responsibility. Many of them are my friends. If something has happened to one of them, I’ve got to do what I can to help.”
“You can help out by staying the hell out of the way of the professionals.”
Sam willed himself to stay calm.Humor the guy, an inner voice said.
“Okay, okay,” Sam said in a resigned voice, and moved off into the crowd again. Several minutes later, when he was certain the deputy was no longer watching him, Sam drifted slowly to his right in the direction of the stairwell.
Damn!he thought, once he had the stairwell in sight. Another deputy was stationed there, blocking the way to the upper floors. He was stuck. There was no other way to the upper floors unless he came through the walkway that connected the nursing home to the rest of the hospital complex, and if they had this end covered, Sam was certain they would have that guarded as well.