Deadly Visions (11 page)

Joe nodded. It was true. Whenever a spiritualist or psychic suddenly gained widespread popularity, there was an upswing in the number of successful charlatans emulating their techniques.

“Has there been anything unusual about Monica's life lately or the people she's been associating with?” Carla asked.

Tess considered the question. “Like I said, she's a private person. To tell you the truth, I don't think she has much of a personal life. She's all about work. But there has been something unusual in the past few months. Between each production cycle, Monica has disappeared.”

Howe grinned. “You don't mean literally, as in thin air, right?”

“No,” Tess said. “At least, I don't think so. Monica goes away for weeks at a time and no one can reach her. She doesn't post updates to her website and we don't have a clue where she goes.”

“Well, we know she has three residences,” Howe said.

“We know that too,” Tess snapped. “We once needed her to meet with a station group president to close a syndication deal and we sent people to each of her homes. She wasn't at any of them. Even her immediate family had no idea how to contact her.”

“Has she ever given you any idea what she's doing?” Carla asked.”Health spa? Plastic surgery? Maybe a married lover?”

Tess smiled.”I know her, and I don't think she'd be especially discreet about any of those things.”

“I'll talk to her about this,” Joe said. “In the meantime, can you give us the exact dates when she was unaccounted for?”

“Sure. My organizer is out in my rental car. Do I take it that you're not arresting me?”

Howe turned toward Bonafas. “Does the hotel management have any special desire to press charges?”

Bonafas shook his head. “I think they'd like to avoid any more publicity right now.”

Tess frowned. “I guess getting a copy of that security tape for tonight's show is out of the question, huh?”

Joe shook his head. Unbelievable.

“Take a look at this, will you?”

In the observation center they had set up in the building across the street from Monica Gaines's hospital room, Paul and Donna joined Gary at his video
monitor. It offered a view of an open window in the hospital.

“What's this?” Paul asked, staring at the monitor.

Gary adjusted the brightness. “Monica Gaines's room blinds are closed, so I've been shooting the room next door. This one has glass walls to the corridor, and I've been seeing a lot of people coming and going down the hallway. One guy has been going back and forth all day, but he's been wearing two different disguises.”

Paul shook his head.”Dude, you've been looking at this thing too long.”

“I'm serious. Look.” Gary pushed a button on his console and displayed a still-frame image of a tall man wearing a lab coat and a thick beard. “Okay, this guy walked past Monica's room nine times in the space of two hours.”

“Yeah, him and about a hundred other guys,” Donna said.

Gary pushed another button and turned a dial. “Okay, look at this one.” Another image appeared on the screen, this time a man in a green scrub suit and a matching cap. There was no beard; just high cheekbones and a strong jaw.

The group stared blankly at the screen.

“Can't you see?” Gary said.”It's the same guy.”

Donna shook her head. “There's a similarity there, but I think you're reaching. Why don't you take a break?”

Gary glanced between the team members. “I'm telling you, this is the same guy. He's scoping out Monica's room for some reason.”

“And he likes to adopt funny disguises and pace hospital corridors.” Paul chuckled.”I just don't buy it.”

Gary opened a leatherette case and produced an official-looking ID badge attached to a thin chain. He picked up a thin watch battery and placed it into a black receptacle behind the badge.

“Is that what I think it is?” Paul asked.

“It's a wireless video camera.” Gary flipped another switch on the console and aimed the badge at Paul, whose face suddenly filled the monitor. Gary put the chain over his neck and squarely positioned the badge.”I'm going in.”

Donna shook her head. “No. Wait for Haddenfield to get back.”

“I'm tired of waiting.”

“If a cop or security officer catches you, it could bring down our entire operation,” Paul said.

Gary picked up his jacket.”Our operation, such as it is, has accumulated zero useful data so far. Maybe we need a closer look.”

“With that thing?”

“Sure. If I can get into the room or even the hallway outside, I can pop this camera out and position it toward Monica Gaines's bed. That's what we really want, isn't it?”

“I thought all we wanted was a fat paycheck,” Donna said. “You really don't even know what you're sticking your neck out for.”

“Sure I do.” Gary held up the tiny camera again. “For the chance to use these cool toys. Haddenfield will thank me. This is exactly what we've needed.”

Paul jammed a finger into Gary's chest. “Don't get caught. Because if you do—”

“—you'll disavow any knowledge of my existence. Gotcha. Will this room self-destruct in ten seconds?”

“Be careful,” Donna said. “I wish you'd wait for Haddenfield. He should be back any minute.”

“I'm not waiting.”

She sighed. “If there's any chance of getting caught, get your ass back over here.”

“Don't worry.” Gary tapped the monitor. “You can watch it all on TV.”

Dylan stepped into the hospital stairwell and pulled off the itchy fake beard. Surely, in the thousands of years since Sophocles'time, someone could have come up with a stage beard that didn't make him want to scratch his goddamned face off. Time for another disguise.

Dylan reached for the black plastic garbage bag he'd wedged under the metal stairs. He took out a pair of spectacles, a blond toupee, and a brown blazer, then shoved the beard and scrub shirt into the bag and stowed it. He donned the new disguise. He didn't need a mirror to know how it looked; he'd used it a few times before. He pulled open the door and walked down the corridor, adopting a stooped posture. Jesus, how much longer would he have to spin his wheels here?

He passed a curly-haired young man with a thick beard. Was the kid staring at him? The kid looked away. Okay, maybe not.

Dylan walked by Monica Gaines's room, glancing at her through the glass windows that faced the corridor. She was unconscious now, alone in the dim
room. A private security guard was standing watch outside, shifting uncomfortably in his cheap polyester suit. The guy was probably a local hire accustomed to watching bowling alley parking lots. If Monica Gaines's people were concerned about her well-being, they'd do well to get a real bodyguard, he thought. Not that anyone could stop him if he decided that Monica was a liability.

The curly-haired kid quickly walked past and paused at the end of the corridor. He turned and held up a sheet of paper as if he were studying it intently.

Curly wasn't looking at that paper, Dylan realized. Curly was looking at him.

Dylan walked past Curly again, quickly scanning him for any clues that would reveal who the hell he was. Ragged tennis shoes, no handgun bulge, generic ID badge, and—

Oh, shit. The badge. It was one of those $799 hidden cameras sold at big-city “spy shops” and mailorder stores, aimed at corporate executives who fancied themselves the next James Bond. This idiot hadn't even bothered to change the stock ID card and logo that surrounded the tiny black lens.

Who the hell was he? Curly was obviously more interested in him than in Monica Gaines or anyone else on the floor. Dylan glanced up at the large circular mirror mounted high in the corner of the corridor, put there to keep orderlies from ramming gurney carts into one another. Curly, still holding the paper, was following him.

“What the hell is Gary doing in there?” Hadden-field stared at the black-and-white monitor image.

Donna shook her head.”We told him not to go. He wants to get a better look at this guy who's been hanging around there. He's also going to try to plant his little camera someplace that will give us a better look at Monica Gaines.”

Haddenfield squinted at the screen. “
What
guy hanging around?”

“We'll see him in a second,” Paul said.”Gary insists he's been there on and off all day, wearing different disguises.”

“Disguises?”

Paul nodded. “That's what he thinks. You might consider replacing Gary. He's losing it.” Paul pointed to the screen.”There's the guy.”

Haddenfield gasped. It was Dylan. He coughed in an attempt to hide his involuntary reaction.

Donna didn't take her eyes from the monitor. “Maybe this guy is a private security officer, or a reporter.”

“We have to get Gary out of there now,” Haddenfield said.

Paul studied him.”Why? Do you know this guy?”

Haddenfield shook his head. “It's not that. It's just—a security risk. Is Gary carrying his cell phone?”

Donna shrugged. “Probably.”

Haddenfield quickly picked up his phone and punched Gary's number. He listened to the ring tones.”Come on, you prick. Pick up.”

Donna pointed to the monitor. “No reaction here. He's still on the other guy's tail.”

For a moment Haddenfield thought that Gary had
answered, but it was just his outgoing voice-mail message. Haddenfield cut the connection. “Christ.”

Paul frowned. “You know, I think it
is
the same guy. Gary may be right. Who do you think it is?”

Haddenfield backed away. “I'm going in. I need to get his ass out of there.”

“Good idea,” Donna said. “I don't like the idea of—” She leaned close to the monitor. “Where's he going?”

She was looking at a dark, shadowy set of stairs. Gary had followed the man into a stairwell.

“You goddamned idiot!” Haddenfield shouted at the monitor.

All onscreen movement stopped.

“He's trying to stay quiet,” Paul said.

“It won't help. Gary is so busted,” Donna said. “That dude would have to be blind and deaf not to know he's being followed.”

The camera turned toward the stairs leading up, then to those leading down.

They watched as the camera slowly traveled downward, catching the institutional green walls and cracked stairwell lighting fixture. It moved to the landing and began the turn.

The picture jerked violently and went black.

“Hey, I didn't know we'd gone to casual Fridays.” Howe grinned at Joe as he sat down behind his desk in the squad room.

Joe was wearing a white terry-cloth robe over his shirt, tie, and slacks.”You're the first person here who
has said anything to me about this,”Joe said.”I was beginning to wonder about you homicide guys.”

“Aaah, they probably thought you were going undercover at a bathhouse. So what's with the robe?”

“I picked it up from housekeeping before I left Monica Gaines's hotel. It's standard issue for all of the guests. Monica was wearing one just like it when she ignited.”

“Okay And exactly how does that require you to prance around the squad room wearing it?”

“I'm trying to get an idea where a trigger mechanism may have been placed. And I really don't think I was prancing.”

“Sashaying?”

“Strolling.” Joe flipped up the back of the robe. “The thing is, any kind of trigger mechanism would have to completely destroy itself. There was no trace of it at the scene, and the guys down in the lab said it wasn't on what was left of the robe.”

Howe considered this.”And we know that no one could have removed it from the scene since there was a security camera trained there.”

“Right.” His cell phone rang, and he answered it. “Joe Bailey.”

“Daddy?” It was Nikki. Her voice quavered.”Daddy, can you come home?”

Joe yanked off the robe, keeping the phone pressed against his ear.”Honey, what's wrong?”

“Mommy was here again today.”

L
ess than twenty minutes after Nikki's call, Joe and Howe rushed down the third-floor hallway of Joe's apartment building. Sam was waiting outside the door.

“Where is she?”Joe asked.

Sam gestured inside the apartment.”In there. She's pretty shaken up. This must be someone's idea of a sick joke. I took her out for a frozen yogurt, and when we came back, this is what we found.” Sam opened the door wide for Joe and Howe to enter.