“What?”
“I think that house may have enjoyed scaring the hell out of you personally, and I can see by your eyes you don’t like being scared. So now I guess you know how Kennedy felt all those years ago.” Julie raised her brow as she said the words. “After all, the house may have just sought you out…on a more intimate basis.”
Julie moved off to join Gabriel outside. Jackson watched her go, then turned and slid the sugar dispenser away so hard that it broke against the wall fronting the booth. He closed his eyes. The tables had been turned on him by both Reilly and Kennedy, and he knew exactly why. The reporter’s theory had been spot on.
He was indeed scared, for the first time in his career.
Jackson stood to the side in the one-cell constable’s station. Kennedy stood in front of the bars and as Julie tried to join him, Gabriel gently pushed her back. She held up the recorder and Gabriel reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. Julie placed the recorder on the locking mechanism on the cell door and then backed away to stand beside Jackson in the dark. Outside, the last of the storm was passing by and all that could be heard was the gentle falling of the rain. The lightning was now far off to the east.
“Kyle, can I speak to you a moment?” Kennedy asked.
Pritchard was sitting on the lone uncushioned cot that occupied the cell. His long hair was a tangled, wet mess. His head hung low, buried between his raised knees. Kennedy could see the shaking of his shoulders.
“Mr. Prichard, Mr. Kyle Prichard, my name is Kennedy. I would like—”
Pritchard’s head shot up and he scrambled into the corner, as if he wanted to crawl up, around, or through the wall.
“I had no message for you!”
Gabriel didn’t miss a beat. “That’s why I’m here, Kyle, to understand the message you brought to—”
“Jackson, big, strong buck nigger!”
To Damian’s credit, he didn’t react to the racial slur in the slightest. He raised his right brow at Gabriel, wanting him to continue. These were the only words that Damian had heard the man utter since he was taken into custody.
“Yes, that’s the man,” Gabriel said. Kyle Pritchard lowered his head and started weeping again.
“Who gave you the message to give to the detective?”
“I…don’t…know…”
The answer was almost an extended whine.
“Why was it necessary to kill Paul Lowell?”
Pritchard looked up just as if he had been given a reprieve from his execution. His eyes were wild and he actually smiled.
“It….it…said that I would free myself if I allowed Lowell to escape. I did, didn’t I? I kept my part of the bargain. Now I don’t have to go back there, do I?” Prichard jumped from the cot and slammed himself into the bars, striking his head hard enough to get a good flow of blood running down his forehead. Jackson took a step forward but Gabriel held out a hand, staying him before he reached the bars. “I… don’t…have…to…go…back…there — right?” he yelled into Kennedy’s face. “You know it, Kennedy. You know it better than anyone. It keeps its word, right? I don’t have to go back?”
Julie saw a man who had gone totally insane. She knew that Gabriel would receive no useful information from Pritchard.
“No, Kyle, you never have to go back. Not ever.”
“I knew it. I knew as soon as you said your name. It’s satisfied,” Pritchard slid down the set of bars until he was on the cold concrete of the cell.
Kennedy was about to turn away when Pritchard spoke again.
“They tried to protect us, but that…that…thing would have none of it. It found us and…and…” he turned, twisting his neck until he could see Kennedy, “and…and…Paul was the lucky one. I wanted to be the message, but it chose Paul. It wasn’t fair. Now Paul will never be afraid again. It’s just…not…fucking fair.”
Pritchard lowered his head and sobbed.
“He’s not making any sense at all. He’ll be away a long time before he goes to trial for murder.”
Gabriel shook his head. “You didn’t understand a single thing this man said, did you? All you heard was the rambling of a terrified man, just as you didn’t hear me all those years ago. You stupid bastard, he told us everything.”
“For instance?” Damian asked.
“Show up on October thirty-first. Summer Place can explain it to you better than I ever could.”
Kennedy walked out of the cell area. Julie started to follow, but then remembered her recorder. She reached back to pick it up and stopped in front of Jackson.
“I guess Summer Place is the place to be, huh?”
“I’ll be there, all right. You bet your ass I’ll be there. I guarantee all of this bullshit will be laid to rest.”
Julie turned at the door.
“Let’s just pray that’s all that’s laid to rest on Halloween.”
Julie laughed as Damian glared at the empty doorway.
“You don’t believe all of this shit, do you?” he yelled after her.
“No,” she called back, “but it sure is going to be good television, one way or the other.”
When Jackson turned back around, his heart fell through to his stomach. Kyle Pritchard had stood up and was staring right into the detective’s face, smiling a maniacal grin that made Damian step back another foot.
“Don’t worry, Detective. If it has its way, they won’t be showing up for any TV special. It’s hungry now.” A blank look crossed Pritchard’s features. It was as if something had reached out and switched him off.
“These fucking people,” Jackson hissed as he turned away from the cell. “I’m going to nail them all!”
Outside the last of the lightning and thunder faded from the small valley as the storm worked its way toward the place that was calling the shots — Summer Place.
Gabriel listened to the call from New York and the dire warning from John Lonetree. The rental car was pulled off to the side the road while Julie Reilly made her field report with the assistance of a very disgruntled affiliate team from Philadelphia. Their own field reporter glared from underneath an umbrella. Kennedy could understand the affiliate’s distaste for Reilly; it seemed the UBC woman was used to stealing the spotlight from people. As he watched, he came to the realization that Julie didn’t even know she was doing it. Gabriel didn’t know if that was a factor of her arrogance or if it was from a natural ability to lead. He watched her wrap up the report outside the diner. Maybe she had been climbing the ranks of reporting for so long that she had become insensitive to others trying desperately to do the same thing.
“Well, maybe we should get Leonard to break a few laws and get the information through the historical society database. We can do the same with the New York and Pennsylvania state records on the deaths of the children. Then we can do the research from Summer Place, if need be. I’m inclined to take John’s warning seriously, if he thinks we’re being separated for an attack. Listen, Jason, keep everyone together at the Waldorf, Leonard is the only one allowed out of the hotel to work with the UBC engineers. He needs access to their equipment, but see what you can do about getting a guard on him.”
Gabriel listened and then closed the cell phone. He watched through the misting rain as Julie thanked the UBC affiliate crew. Then he saw Reilly take the frustrated young woman reporter by the arm and walk with her, steering her toward the covered entrance of the diner. It looked as though they were in serious discussion. Julie smiled, and when the Philadelphia reporter lowered the umbrella, she was also smiling. Julie handed her a business card and the younger reporter looked not only grateful, but outright giddy. Julie shook her hand and then made her way back toward the car. Kennedy shook his head as he started the vehicle. Reilly opened the door, tossed her bag inside and then followed, snapping her seatbelt and looking straight ahead. Kennedy watched her a moment before placing the car into gear. The reporter was tired. He could see that much through the dim dashboard lighting.