It seemed Gervase had been forced by circumstances to improvise. What circumstances?
Whatever had happened, Gervase had been scrambling ever since to cover up. And he’d been abandoning plans nearly as fast as he came up with them. First he’d come up with making Rebecca’s death look like part of the earlier pattern; then he’d thought about fobbing the murder off on Tony McEnroe; then he’d directed them to Rexford, again trying to make the Return of the Huntsman scenario work…
Round and round Jason’s thoughts went while the sedan’s tires ate up the miles.
When his cell phone rang, he was as startled as if the call was coming in from outer space. He glanced down and was unsurprised to see Kennedy’s name flash up.
“West.”
Kennedy said in a voice markedly unlike the one he’d last used on Jason, “Where are you?”
“Is Chief Gervase with you?”
“No. Listen, West. Jason. I realize I may have been a little abrupt earlier. I apologize. We need to speak as soon as possible.”
A little abrupt. That was almost funny.
Jason spotted the turnoff up ahead. “I’m en route to Rexford. I’ve just reached the overpass.”
There was a very loud silence on the other end of the line. “Say again.” Kennedy spoke in the tone of one who was determined not to get a little abrupt again.
“I’m going back to look for the mermaid charm I dropped when I fell through the floor.”
There was a strange noise on the other end. “No,” Kennedy said. “No, you’re not doing that because everything I’ve seen so far indicates you’re a smart and careful guy. And going back to Rexford on your own would be fucking insane.”
“If you thought I was so smart and careful, maybe you should have taken the time to tell me what the hell was going on.”
Silence.
“Anyway, I’ve got to find that charm. It’s the only way I can prove my case.”
“Your case? This is our case—”
“Oh, then you did notice.”
“—and I’m telling you, no. Don’t go back there. For God’s sake. We can get divers.”
“Divers? It’s a few inches of water. A foot at most.”
“You know what I mean. We have recovery specialists for this kind of thing. You splashing around in the basement of a condemned building is a bad idea. Stop and think. That place is liable to come down on top of you. And I don’t know where Gervase is.”
“There we go,” said Jason with bitter triumph. “That’s the part of our case you didn’t feel like sharing earlier. Chief Gervase is our guy, and you’ve known it for how long?”
Another of those pauses. Kennedy said, “I had a pretty good idea when we found Davies alive and unhurt. I’ve known for sure since this morning when you said you’d lost the mermaid charm.”
Yes, looking back, Chief Gervase had seemed almost jovial at Jason’s admission. In fact, looking back, a lot of his emotional cues had been just plain wrong.
The car bumped down hard in the grass and dirt. Jason had driven as far as he could go. He parked and turned off the engine. He reached down to unlatch the trunk, got out of the car, and went around to the back, still listening to Kennedy who was saying, “We don’t need the charm to make our case.”
Jason unlocked the lockbox and shrugged into a bullet-proof vest. “That charm is the only piece of evidence that can’t be explained or argued away. Everything else is circumstantial. We both know it.”
Kennedy’s voice dropped.
Jason stopped, listening. Kennedy said with quiet sincerity, “I would rather lose the case than lose you.” He added gruffly, “And I don’t say that to all my temporary partners.”
“I’ll bet you don’t.” Jason sighed. “And thank you. For the record, I’m not doing this because I’m angry or need to prove anything to you. We require that piece of evidence. And we both know this is our sole window of opportunity.”
“Have you not heard a single word I’ve said?”
“Sam, I’ve heard every word you’ve said to me since the day we met.” A bird warbled, filling the stricken pause that followed. Jason said, “I’m going to have to hike in from here.”
Kennedy groaned. “Goddamn it! You stubborn bastard. You’ve got maybe three hours of good daylight left. That village is going to get very dark, very fast.”
“I know.”
“I’m hoping Gervase isn’t as crazy as you, but if he is, you could have company before I get there.”
“Hopefully, he’s not that crazy.” Jason didn’t want to acknowledge how much that before I get there cheered him up.
Kennedy’s voice grew urgent. “Yeah, but Jason, listen. Gervase went this far. He’s not going to go down without a fight. Don’t misread the fact he let the Davies girl live. It’s a totally different dynamic with you. You’re the enemy as far as he’s concerned, and if he is coming after you, it’s to kill you. Whether you find that charm or not, he figures you know too much. He may regret it later, but he’s not going to be rational. Stay out of his way.”
“Okay.”
“And he’s familiar with the territory. The advantage is all his.”
“Got it.”
“Jason.”
“Yep?”
“He’s a good shot. A marksman.”
“Roger that.” Jason clicked off before Kennedy weakened his resolve any further.
The silence that followed was so complete he felt like he was standing on another continent, millions of miles from everything he knew, everyone he cared about.
He shook off the feeling, found the high-powered flashlight in the lockbox and slammed shut the trunk of the sedan. He did one quick final weapon check—better OCD than sorry—and set off at a jog down the trail leading into the trees.
It took him about twenty minutes to reach the old mill. He was making excellent time, and there was still no sign of pursuit from behind. And no sign of life ahead.
Either way he was past the point of return.
He continued down the trail, still moving fast but now extra alert to his surroundings. The sun was starting to slide, but there was still warmth to the afternoon and plenty of daylight. A few blue swallows swooped down to investigate, then swooped away.
He thought of Jeremy Kyser and wondered suddenly, uncomfortably, whether he might be lurking somewhere nearby. The idea was a bizarre one, but the whole interview with Kyser had been so strange…
However, after returning to Kingsfield, Jason had run Kyser through the system, and nothing alarming had flagged. Kyser seemed to be just what he appeared: a weird but talented guy who had managed to build a lucrative career out of studying people even weirder than himself.
By the time he reached Rexford, Jason had worked up a good sweat and was slightly out of breath. The good news was he’d given himself a healthy lead on any possible pursuit. The bad news was if he got into any trouble in the basement of the lyceum, help would be at least an hour in coming—and it was unlikely help would arrive first.
He walked north, scanning the hollow-eyed, peeling faces of the buildings falling down along Main Street, and came at last to the Lyceum of the Aquatic.
He’d have liked to know what the story was behind this now defunct institution, but then every building in Rexford had a story.
Crime scene tape was stretched across the entryway. Jason went around the building to the back entrance.
More crime scene tape; black and yellow warnings bobbing in the breeze.
He ripped the plastic tape down and pried opened the tall blue door. The hinges screeched a protest that was going to carry for miles. Especially on such a quiet, clear day.