47

“What are you doing?” It didn’t sound like Taggart, but I recognized the voice.

“I’m checking on something for Mr. Monroe,” Lilac said.

“Well, get out.”

“Okay,” she said. “Just let me log back out.”

“Forget that. I need the room.”

“Sure. I apologize, I was just—”

“I like that dress.”

“Thanks, Mr. Walsh.”

“Call me Jeb.”

“Thanks, Jeb.”

“Are you the redhead Frank was telling me about, the one who wants to be in movies?”

“That’s me.”

“I heard you’ve got some demons in you, girl. The kind that need to be exorcized.”

Lilac said nothing. I’d closed my eyes now and was literally praying she wouldn’t give me away.

“Sometimes,” she said.

“Next time you get you a demon up in you, let Taggart know. I’ll let you come over to my place and we’ll tie you down on the bed, see if we can work it out. You like being tied down?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’ll bet you do. God almighty, I’ll bet you do.”

There was a smack and the sound of the door closing. I was pretty sure he’d slapped her ass on the way out. Jesus, I wished so badly that I could crawl out from under the table to confront him.

But I couldn’t. I’d never get out of this party alive if I did that. Hell, I might not get out of it alive anyway.

I listened as Walsh paced across the room, going back and forth. He mumbled to himself, the words unintelligible. Finally, I heard the chair by the computer groan as he sat down in it.

There was a knock on the door.

“Shit. He would get here as soon as I sit down,” he muttered. The chair groaned again and Walsh walked over to open the door.

“Mayor.”

“Jeb.”

“Thanks for taking a minute to talk.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“It’s about tomorrow night.”

“You should have plenty of police protection, Jeb. They’ll be deputies on every street—”

“I ain’t talking about that.”

“Well, what are you…? Oh. That.”

“Yeah, Taggart’s getting a little out of control. We agreed he’d only film if there was no heat.”

“Well, to be fair, Sheriff Patterson has directed all the deputies to stay away from the cornfield. He managed to get the Atlanta police to finally stop sniffing around when he showed them the skull. And there’s going to be a counterprotest, just like we hoped, so the whole area will be free of disruptions.”

“Who was responsible for killing Jason?”

“Jason?”

“The kid. The kid that got mauled outside of the abandoned house at the edge of the cornfield. The one Tag just had to have to film some kind of scene at.”

“I don’t know who killed Jason.”

“I liked that kid. He had potential. If it was Jefferson … shit. He’s gone too far. All of this Old Nathaniel stuff has gone too far.”

“Well, I think Lane believes that something supernatural is at work.”

Walsh laughed. “Supernatural? Goddamn, what kind of idiots am I working with? So you mean to tell me he thinks Old Nathaniel is real? I thought he was the one dressed up?”

“He was … once. Now, I think he’s got somebody else. I don’t know. But that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”

“What is the damn point, then?”

“Tag and Lane’ve got the niggers believing it. They’re scared shitless. Not only that, people have been downloading the scenes they’ve already filmed like crazy. According to Tag, he’s already sold over ten thousand downloads, and once he gets the finale done, that’ll triple.”

There was a pause, and I wondered if Walsh was trying to do the math.

“How much per download?”

“That’s the thing. Because it’s a cop, a black female cop who is also very attractive, he thinks he can charge ninety-nine dollars a download for the last part.”

“People will pay that?”

“Absolutely. Think about it. How often do you get to see a real person hunted and killed? And not just any person either. This is an uppity mulatto bitch with a hell of a nice rack. And a cop. It’s pure gold.”

I was squeezing my knees to my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. In my entire life, I didn’t think I’d ever been so angry and not been able to act. It was killing me.

I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out. The only thing keeping me from coming out, 9mm blazing was that I’d never get out of the house alive afterward.

“That’s almost three million dollars,” Walsh said. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you. And, Jefferson’s sure that if the product’s good—which it will be—we’ll have a lot of repeat customers.”

“I still say he should wait until things calm down. The longer she’s missing, the less people will think she might still be alive. And that would give us time to take care of her boyfriend.”

“Marcus.”

“He’s been poking around. Based on Frank Bentley’s description, the man who attacked him the other night was probably Marcus.”

“And Sheriff Patterson had a run-in with him today.”

“He did? I ain’t heard that one yet. Did he arrest him?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not? I told him to arrest him the next chance he had.”

The mayor was quiet.

“Answer me, damn it.”

The mayor made a squeaking sound in the back of his throat, and I thought he was about to break down. “Lane wanted to try to film Old Nathaniel killing him.”

“Jesus. Lane and Taggart are going to fucking blow this.”

“They’ve got some kind of thing in their mind about needing one more murder to make the movie complete. It’s like the full moon shit.”

Walsh paced the room. I saw his polished shoes under the tablecloth, drawing closer. He stopped at the table and pivoted. “Tell your boy that if he does something stupid like that again, I’m shutting the whole thing down. I’ll talk to Tag tonight.”

“Got it.”

“Anything else?” Walsh said.

“Well, Marcus is still out there somewhere. And his damned blind friend. Shit, he’s leading the counterprotest.”

“That’s okay. The counterprotests are good. Makes it more important for the police to be there and ignore everything else.” Walsh hesitated. “I don’t like that blind bastard, though. After the rally, I’m going to get Press on him.”

“Make it clean,” Mayor Keith said. “Please.”

“He’ll just vanish,” Walsh said. “The same way I’m going to make Marcus vanish. Hell, Press is supposed to be over at his place right now. I’ll feel better about everything once we’ve snuffed out that jackass’s candle.”

“Me too.” Mayor Keith hesitated. “Well, do I need to talk to Sheriff Patterson about anything?”

“Tell him I still don’t understand why he let the Thrash kid go.”

“He said it would increase the chances of Marcus breaking the law, which would mean he could arrest him.”

“Damn it!” Walsh exploded. “That’s the problem with all of you! You take the hard way every damned time. You want to arrest somebody, fucking arrest them.”

“But the DA—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the DA. I’ll handle the DA. Just tell Patterson to go arrest him. Next time he sees him. Either shoot his ass or arrest it.”

“Okay. It’s going to work, Jeb. I’m telling you it will. And once it does, we’ll have enough to fund your campaign for the House.”

“It’ll take more than three million.”

“Your cut is only half of that.”

Walsh laughed. “Well, that’s negotiable. Now, get on out of here and tell that little faggot to wrap this party up. Everybody needs their sleep tonight. And, Mayor?”

“Yeah, Jeb?”

“Tell that little queer I’m going to borrow his secretary for the night. I don’t think he’ll miss her.”

I waited until I heard both men exit the room before leaning forward and lifting the tablecloth enough to see. They were gone. I stood on shaky legs. My hip screamed with pain as I limped over to the computer chair and sat down, trying to get my breathing under control.

I felt a little dazed by everything I’d just heard. At the forefront of it all was the knowledge that Walsh wanted me dead, which meant going back downstairs was rife with danger. I looked at the window above the computer.

I reached around the monitor and raised the window. The cool October air came in, and I let it flow over me like a salve. I felt a little more relaxed, tasting the cool mountain air. Even Sommerville Chase hadn’t been able to corrupt that.

I climbed on the desk and stuck my head out the window, craning my neck to see what was above me. The roof. I twisted around and tried to reach it. I was close enough. Just barely. When I was ready to go, I’d climb onto the roof. From there, surely I could find a safe way down.

Or I could jump and take my chances. Even that felt safe compared to heading back down the stairs. I was beginning to realize just how lucky I’d been that no one had recognized me earlier.

I slipped back into the room and slid off the desk. Sitting back in the chair, I wriggled the mouse until the monitor came to life.

A clean blue desktop with two file folders on it greeted me. One was labeled “Paperwork” and the other “Cuts.” I looked around for a flash drive to save them on but didn’t see anything. Suddenly, I remembered the safe.

I slid out of the chair and turned the handle. I felt a rush of relief when it opened. Lilac had managed to enter the entire combination. Inside the safe was a heavy, solid steel orb-like paperweight with Taggart’s name engraved on the side, two metal boxes, and a small stack of one hundred dollar bills. I moved the paperweight and the cash aside, placing them on the floor next to the safe, and opened the smaller of the two boxes. There were two Ziploc bags filled with white powder. I moved them out of the way to make sure there was nothing else. Placing the bags back inside, I closed the box and reached for the next one, which was larger and blue. It was locked. I sat it on the computer table and looked at the combination lock. I tried one-zero-zero-five, and it opened.

Thank God, Taggart used the same damn combination for everything.

When I saw the contents, my breath caught in my throat. It was a stack of DVDs in clear slipcases. The one on the top had writing on the shiny surface.

It read “Master: Sept. 27, Scenes 1–5.”

My hand shook as I removed the DVD from the slipcover and inserted it into the DVD drive of the computer. I waited as the disk spun loudly. I clicked “Play” when the icon appeared.

Two phrases flashed across the screen: Old Nathaniel followed by Part I, a film by Taggart Monroe.

Faint banjo music played in the darkness, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a nod to Deliverance, but then the tempo of the music shifted dramatically, and electric guitars cut through the rhythm, two strands of screaming feedback. The black screen gave way to a campfire in the woods.

Several kids sat around the fire, drinking light beer and laughing. One of them had a joint. Another—a pretty girl in her late teens—was wrapped in a blanket. A bearded man sat in a lawn chair. He was a little older than the others, and he seemed to be the center of the camera’s zooming attention.

He reached down and clicked off a tiny speaker. The music stopped. At least most of it did. What was left was the music of the woods. Frogs and crickets and night birds pulsed in rhythm to the ghost of the song. It was really well done and made me hate myself for appreciating the artistry of it.

“You know what we’re near, don’t you?” he said in a deep growl.

All of the kids were still. The girl with the blanket pulled it up to her neck, her eyes shining. The camera panned from the gleam in her eyes, up through the trees, and into the open sky, where it moved slowly toward the full moon.

“It’s called Skull Keep. It’s where Old Nathaniel buries his skulls. I saw it once, when I was hiking back here in my younger days. Never been able to find it since, but that’s okay.” The camera dropped back through the trees, a little too fast, shifting slightly on the way down as if jostled by the branches. It landed back on the older, bearded man. He tapped his head. “I got the memory of it. Those skulls…” He shook his head and closed his eyes, breathing the night air. The camera crept closer, and I realized then that Taggart Monroe was subtly making the camera a character, or at least the eyes of a character.

“… Those skulls,” the bearded man continued. “They were only half buried in the hillside. The tops were uncovered, and they glowed in the moonlight, like little lights.”

“Yo,” the kid smoking the joint said, totally interrupting the flow of the story and the film, and I saw right away one of the problems with Taggart’s films: besides being racist filth, of course—was that the actors were low quality. Of course, acting wasn’t really the point in movies like this anyway, I reminded myself.

“Where did all these skulls come from?” the kids said.

“Old Nathaniel. He lives in the farmhouse not too far from here. He’s so good at killing, nobody messes with him. Even the sheriff has him on speed dial when he needs to get rid of a thug.”

A beep sounded outside the room again. I nearly jumped out of the chair. I reached for the eject button on the disc drive, but in my haste, I pressed it once and then again, confusing the machine. It began to eject, but then stopped, pulling the disc back in.

Footsteps were coming toward the door. I pressed eject a third time, this time steadying my hand so that I only hit it once.

The drive whirled, as if trying to decide what to do.

On the other side of the door, the footsteps stopped, and I heard the soft beeps as whoever it was entered the code. One beep, two beeps, three …

The disk was still stuck.

Four beeps.

Come on!

But the drive only spun, not releasing the disc at all.

The door buzzed, and I grabbed my 9mm out of my waistband and turned to greet whoever it was.

The door swung open to reveal Jeb Walsh. Neither of us spoke for a long second. He looked utterly confused by my presence. I hadn’t exactly been expecting him to return, either.

“How’d you get in here?” he said.

“Shut the door.”

He looked from the gun in my hand to my face, trying to read me. In the bathroom at Jessamine’s, he’d correctly determined that I wasn’t going to shoot him, gloating afterward that I’d missed my one opportunity and that I’d never get another one.

Now, I saw he wasn’t so sure.

Because neither was I.

The thing was, I’d just heard the truth from him. I knew the kind of man he was. Before, I’d strongly suspected. Now there could be no doubt.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure you’re making a mistake.”

“No mistake,” I said. “I was right under that table earlier. I heard the whole thing. Heard how you were going to ‘snuff out my candle.’” I lifted the gun a little so that the muzzle was aimed directly at his forehead. “Seems like you had that wrong,” I said.

He held out his hands. “This is a complicated thing you’ve stepped into. That particular conversation was more show than anything else. See, I’m trying to infiltrate this whole ring. It’s what my next book—”

I laughed. “You’re pathetic.”

He winced. “Okay, okay. I won’t insult your intelligence. You’re a bright man. You know what you heard.” He reached for his pocket. I jabbed the gun in his direction.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not armed,” he said. “I’m going for my wallet.”

“Leave it be.”

“I can pay you. More than you can imagine.”

“That’s the thing about morally bankrupt people. They naturally assume everyone else is the same way.”

He sighed. “What do you want then?”

“I want Mary. I want you to tell me where to find her.”

“You think I know? I’m only overseeing this operation. Helping with manpower and some of the finances. I don’t know where they’re keeping her. That’s Lane’s department. And that little queer, Tag.”

“You have their numbers, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“On your phone, goddamn it. You can call them can’t you?”

He nodded.

“Call Taggart. Get his ass up here. I want him to tell me where she is.”

“I’m going to reach for my phone now, okay?”

I nodded, watching his hand closely as he moved it toward his pocket. He was almost there when I heard something behind me, a clicking sound, followed by high buzz.

The sound was just enough to give him the opportunity he needed. My attention was pulled away for an instant, and by the time I realized it was the sound of the disc drive finally opening, it was too late. He fired the snubnose twice, and one slug grazed my right shoulder. I managed to get off one shot myself before the pain became too much and I dropped the gun.

Walsh laughed, a cruel, cackling sound, and stepped closer to me until he was standing directly over me, the snubnose aimed at my face.

“Two chances to shoot me, and you failed both times. I heard you were the kind of man who liked to make noise but didn’t actually know how to get anything done.” He leaned closer, so I could see his face, the leer that was plastered on it like a frozen hook. “Only thing I regret is that I didn’t teach that black bitch some manners.”

I kicked out at him, but he stepped away, still leering.

I moved my hand slowly by my side, patting the carpet for something that I might be able to use as a weapon. My fingers touched something cold and metallic. Smooth and round. Not my gun, but maybe just as good if I could get my hand around it and make the throw count.

I slid my body up just a little, so I could reach the object more easily.

“Would have felt good, but I’m a man who knows he can’t have everything. I reckon I’ll settle for watching her get her head chopped off by Old Nathaniel.”

He stepped forward again, just as the door behind him beeped. Someone was entering the code. Shit, I had to do it now.

I got my hand on the metal orb and threw it as hard as I could at his head. He fired off another shot just as the ball hit him in the right eye, but the shot went wide. I struggled to my feet and grabbed the DVD from the disc tray. The door swung open. One of the angry young men from downstairs stood there, stunned. For a moment, we were both frozen. Then his eyes went to the floor. I followed them and saw my 9mm. I lunged for it, scooping it up just before he could.

I pointed it at him and inched back toward the computer. I climbed up on the computer table, and I leaned out and tossed the DVD and then the gun up onto the roof. Then I swiveled at the waist until I had a good grip on the gutter. I pulled myself up and out of the window, just as I heard the young man start to yell.

I lifted myself up, my feet now dangling in the air as the gutter groaned and bent. A hand reached out from the window and grabbed onto one of my boots. The gutter groaned again. I managed to get one elbow up on the roof and then another.

He still had my boot. I made my foot straight and the boot slipped off.

I got one leg up, then the other.

On the roof, I lay flat for a moment, catching my breath, waiting. Hoping the man would be foolish enough to follow me.

A second later, I saw that he was. Two hands gripped the gutter as he tried to pull himself up. I waited until he’d twisted around and swung his legs free from the inside of the window. Then kicked his knuckles as hard as I could with my one good boot.

Two kicks was all it took. He fell silently until he hit the ground. Then there was only a dull, barely audible thud.

Grabbing the DVD and my 9mm, I stood on the slanted roof and moved toward the peak, looking around for a nearby tree limb that would allow me access to the ground. There had to be some way down. I couldn’t accept that I’d made it this far only to get stuck on top of Taggart Monroe’s roof.

When I saw it, my stomach sank. The best branch was a good seven or eight feet from the side of the roof. I’d never reach it without a death-defying jump. At least it looked sturdy.

I decided not to overthink it. That would just cause me to chicken out and waste time. I holstered my gun and tried to slide the DVD into my pocket, but it wouldn’t fit, so I stuck it in my mouth and bit down on it. Then I took off.

Making the leap was no problem. If anything, I jumped too far. Still, I was able to grab the thickest part of the branch and hang on. The rest of my body collided with the tree trunk, and I felt a hot pain in my knee.

I held on. The DVD was still in my mouth, and I sucked air in around it. From this branch, I made my way carefully to another and then another until I was only about ten feet from the ground. I looked around, realizing I’d have to jump because there were no more branches …

Ten feet feels like thirty when you’re falling and fifty when you hit the bottom. I rolled with it, and ended up going down a steep hill. The last thing I remember seeing before hitting my head was the moon, spinning in and out of my view, and each time I saw it, I realized how close it was to being full and how little time I had to do anything to save Mary, or myself.