This was precisely what a responsible, reliable, not alcoholic or drug-addicted individual would do-look at all they’d done, take some pride in what they’d uncovered, give themselves a pat on the back, and then walk away, leaving it in the hands of professionals. Then they could look forward to the day it all landed in court, or perhaps the day they were interviewed by some heavy-handed reality-based television show that hyper-focused on cold crimes. Nancy Grace would have a field day. It would no longer be about his uncle’s murder. It would become a part of lowbrow culture: a news story. “Determined young students uncover thirty-year trail of murder and revenge! Footage at eleven!”
This thought stabbed him. He looked up and saw that Andy Candy had rotated back toward the computer screen.
I’m going to lose it all, he realized. Andy. Uncle Ed. Sobriety. Everything seemed tied together, knotlike.
But what he said contradicted everything he felt: “You’re right, of course, Andy.”
He dragged more words from a dark spot within him. “I think we should put it all together, everything we’ve found out, and I’ll take it to Miss Terry. I’ll hate doing that. I mean, I got into all this because it was up to me to get to the truth of Uncle Ed’s murder…” His voice trailed off, then returned with energy. “That would be the right thing to do.”
“You’ve done a lot,” Andy said.
“Not enough.”
“And you know the truth,” Andy Candy said.
“You think that’s adequate?” Moth asked, sounding very much like some professor.
“It will have to be,” Andy replied.
Neither of them believed this.
“Okay. Susan Terry,” Moth said. “She will know what the next step is.” He did not trust Susan Terry. He did not even like her. But he did not see an alternative, because he realized that if he had said something else to Andy Candy right at that second, then the moment that he’d feared from the beginning just might arise. It was one thing to say, I’m going to kill when he didn’t know whom he was talking about. It was a different thing to say that now.
What did I tell her at the start? As soon as she thinks I’m crazy she should walk away.
He wanted to keep her near him for a little longer-and the word kill threatened that.
The two of them worked hard the remainder of the day preparing what seemed a little like a term paper or a junior high school science project. They listed everything they’d done, and everyone they’d spoken to. They included numbers, addresses, descriptions, and every detail they could remember from every conversation. They wrote a time line and printed out newspaper articles. They were as organized as a pair of top-notch students could be. They worked hard for a just the facts approach-otherwise, as Moth kept saying, Susan Terry would immediately dismiss the entire narrative.
Late in the afternoon, Andy Candy stretched her arms wide. “We should take a break, Moth,” she said. “I haven’t worked this hard since school.”
“We’re almost done,” he replied.
“Well, clear our heads a bit, then finish strong.”
“Is that what you would do at college?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He smiled, too. “So would I. A little walk, then?”
“Some fresh air would be good.”
The two of them pushed away from the computers and papers. Andy glanced down as she stood. She pointed at the yellow legal pad filled with Jeremy Hogan’s scribbles. “We haven’t really gone over these,” she said.
Moth shook his head. “We’ll just turn it over to Susan and see if she can see something.” He shrugged, and added, “And we haven’t used that, either.” He pointed at the.357 Magnum and a box of hollow-point bullets that he’d put on a kitchen counter. “I should get rid of it,” he said.
Andy Candy nodded. Guns, depression, loneliness, and alcoholism created a potent mix. Leaving the gun with Moth was a scary thought. “Just chuck it,” she said. “Some Dumpster somewhere, or maybe throw it into one of the canals when no one is looking.”
“I can do that,” Moth said. “I bet half the canals in Miami are cluttered with guns that bad guys have tossed.” He did a couple of deep knee bends and grinned. “I haven’t gotten much exercise. Stiff as all get-out.”
Outside, the sun was still warm, but the breeze had picked up. There were some gray-black thunderheads collecting to the west, over the Everglades-but the threatened storm seemed to be a few hours away, even with the strong winds rattling the palms.
They walked fast, stretching their legs. They did not speak much, until Andy Candy asked Moth, “Are we going to Redeemer One tonight?”
And Moth answered, “Yes.”
“If you see Susan Terry…”
“I’ll tell her I want to come to her office to see her. She’ll be okay with that, I guess.”
In the distance, they could hear the afternoon rush-hour traffic starting to build. They crossed a busy street and started down a deeply shaded residential area. The sidewalk was uneven-some of the slabs of concrete had been pushed up and sideways by the roots of trees. They picked their way forward gingerly, making sure they didn’t trip. The street was shadowy. It was a little like walking amidst variations of black.
“Do you think it’s over, Moth?” Andy suddenly blurted out.
He felt a disjointed sadness. “Almost,” he said.
Logic would have suggested that they then talk about themselves, but they did not. Neither of the two of them felt like that was a subject it was safe yet to pursue.
Nor were either of them alert to the person trailing a safe fifty yards behind them, shadowing every turn they made.
Remarkable, Student #5 thought as he easily kept pace. One can learn an immense amount about people simply by close observation.
Of course, he knew that was an inherent tenet of the career he was once precluded from joining, but he was inordinately pleased that the capabilities he’d displayed so many years earlier hadn’t disappeared. Indeed, he happily realized, they’d been honed and sharpened to a truly razor point.
28
He watched as Andy Candy waited in her car and Moth went into Redeemer One.
Student #5 thought: Serendipity. It’s almost as if some totally wayward, completely badass, and decidedly psycho-killer deity absolutely wants me to kill them.
He had been following the two of them since they’d unexpectedly emerged from Moth’s apartment earlier that afternoon, only a few minutes after he’d arrived at the same location, which was a short time after his plane touched down in Miami, and before he’d even checked into the four-star hotel where he’d made a reservation. He was certain they remained unaware of his presence.
He scrunched down in his rental car seat and settled in to watch. Eyes firmly fixed on Andy Candy, once Moth disappeared inside Student #5 made his mind as much of a blank as possible. He told himself to clear aside preconceived notions, prejudices, and opinions. Curious college dropout and lost kid with a drinking problem. That’s what he knew, and he didn’t think it was much. People always talk about important, accurate first impressions. Bullshit. He shifted about, trying to find a comfortable position to keep watch. He was about twenty yards away from Andy Candy, not far from the entrance to the church. If anyone were to notice him, he had decided to say that he was there for the meeting, but had second thoughts about going inside-which would be enough to satisfy any curious sort. But he did not expect to need this explanation. Drug addicts and alcoholics are inherently unsteady and unreliable.