Don’t wait for the Last Judgment. It happens every day.
—Albert Camus, The Fall
Cat heard the flaps moan down. Newport Beach’s lights once again gazed up at her beneath the plane’s black wing. Seven hours after their journey had begun, it was over. She heard the landing gear lock with a rumble, then a thud. Cat and Dr. Marsh were back in “the OC.” She leaned forward, rubbing the tension out of her muscles, wishing the tightness out of her chest.
Coming back.
She’d taken a risk, losing time on this journey. But by losing time, she had gained power. It was as if every cell in her body was focused now on finding her boy. She had the power to bring her son home. Alive.
From the terminal, Cat called ahead to Hoag, asking them to recite the last address they had for Dr. Charles Dupont. They gave her an address in Laguna Beach, just off the Pacific Coast Highway. She thought about Joey being there, hands bound, gagged, the madman playing mind games with him, waiting for her. She put the images out of her mind.
Cat dropped Dr. Marsh off at his car. The parking lot was half empty, night working its way over the Back Bay. “You don’t have to do this alone, Cat. We can bring in the police.”
“We can’t bring in anyone else. He wants me, not the damned police.”
“You can’t handle this by yourself. You’re in no frame of mind—”
She cut him off. “It’s not your son out there.”
It took less than fifty minutes for Charles Dupont to drive through the light evening traffic to Newport Beach. The black Cadillac SUV pulled through the outpatient pavilion parking area and came to a stop as he waited for Catherine. She wasn’t in the hospital—somehow he knew that—but she’d be coming for him. He’d baited her well.
He parked across from the pavilion in an open lot next to the parking structure, listening to sweet violins. Above, the clear sky gave way to a faint image of the moon. He watched each car going by, looking for the auburn hair, the outline of her face.
Only a few lights on in the hospital.
A small rented Ford went by and he knew her in an instant. She passed by, halfway across the lot, but there was something wrong. Dupont’s forehead creased.
There was someone with her.
There wasn’t supposed to be anyone with her.
Dupont could see the outline of Marsh’s face as the Ford drove around past admissions. He heard voices; one of them was Marsh’s, he was sure of it. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be with her.
Dupont froze as the Ford’s headlights reflected in his direction as it pulled around to the physician’s parking lot. Marsh opened the passenger door, got out, and stood there. Dupont could hear a loud exchange. They were angry with each other; he was angry with her for bringing Marsh here.
He was angry with her for going back to find him.
He knew that she knew who he was.
She knew about Eric.
Dupont moved fast, the Cadi’s tires soft on the blacktop pavement. Got to move quickly now, but quietly. He put his eyes up at the rearview mirror and scanned the area behind him. No movement behind him. Good. No car lights. No one was following. She had not seen him.
He drove the Cadi down to the bottom of the hill onto Newport Boulevard and pulled over. There was no place to hide. His movement illuminated by a streetlight, he brought his face down to the steering wheel and let himself feel the full rush of his emotions. He rolled down the car’s window, taking in gulps of the sea air, glancing back at the rearview mirror, ready for flight or fight. Nothing moved behind him but traffic. The Ford did not follow. All right. He sat up in the seat, leaned across it, and put a full clip in the automatic.
He wished the boy was still trapped in the back, but he’d left him at La Blanca. The SUV sat at the curbside.
He had to think this out.
Catherine wasn’t coming to him alone. If she brought others, he’d have to plan more carefully. He had not calculated for the possibility of others—he wanted only her.
Talking to Marsh, she must have figured it out. She’d know by now who he was. Carl had said as much, not to underestimate her. Carl had said a lot about her.
She knew about Eric. She knew the who, but she didn’t know the where. On the other hand, a match of Eric’s personnel file would also yield an address. She’d already be heading to La Blanca. She wasn’t stupid enough to come alone, or was she?
We play this your way.
And what was she doing with Marsh here, now? Dupont thought long and hard. Access, yes that’s it. Access to the personnel records, to his office. By now she’d figured out he wasn’t at the conference, had confirmed the appointments on the dates Eric had killed were all falsified. The appointments had been made, but none kept. He’d been absent those days. Doing Eric’s work…work he loved.
He laid the automatic on the dashboard, covering it with a towel. All right then, Catherine, we play this out your way. Dupont put his hands on the volume button of the radio and turned it up. Violins filled in the questions in his mind.
Slowly he drove away from the curbside, heading toward the ocean, to La Blanca.
“For Christ’s sake, Cat, what makes you think you can manage this alone?” McGregor was furious with her.
“Joey,” she snapped back into the cell phone.
“And if you go in alone, what makes you think you’ll come out of this alive?”
“He wants me. He’ll trade Joey if it’s just me. If there’s police, the best I can hope for is another damned body bag.”
“Think about this. He’s been planning this for a long time. You really think you’re going to catch him by surprise or talk some sense into him.”
“I don’t know what I think, but what choice do I have?”
“You can choose to let us help, Cat. That is the choice you can make.” McGregor could tell he wasn’t getting through.
“What if it’s the wrong one?”
“It’s not.”
“What if he runs?”
“We won’t give him the chance. Give me what I want, Cat.”
“No.”
“I admire what you did today. Putting the pieces together. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me. And you know he’ll kill you.”
“Shut up.”
“He’ll kill you, is that what you want?”
“That’s better than Joey being murdered.” She almost couldn’t say it.
“You can’t save him by yourself.”
“Then I’m going to damned well die trying.” She hit the disconnect button on the cell phone, listened to it ring back twice and go to voice mail, and turned it off.