Heartsick (41 page)

“There’s not a lot of time,” Anne cautioned Archie. Her braids were whipping in her face and she held them back with one leather-gloved hand. “He’s going to want to end this.”

“How close can you get to him?” Archie asked Rick.

“Close enough to board.”

“Do it.”

Henry, Claire, and Archie had their guns drawn as the Hornets slowed the engine to a crawl and they made their way next to the Chris-Craft. Two of the men secured lines around the patrol cruiser’s cleats and stood at the starboard side of the boat. When the cruiser got close, Rick shut off her engines, and they drifted the last few feet to the Chris-Craft. When they were close enough, the two other deputies grabbed her railing and secured their lines to her cleats.

The two boats bobbed and knocked together. No one spoke. It was cold on the water and Archie brought his cupped hands to his mouth, blew warm air on them and then flexed them a few times to keep the blood flowing. His cheeks burned from the wind that blew over the river. There was no movement on the Chris-Craft. Archie scanned the river. No other lights on the water.

“I’m going aboard,” he announced.

He handed his gun to Henry, butt-first.

Henry wrapped his fist around the gun but placed his other hand firmly over Archie’s so the gun was locked between them. He leaned forward, his big face pinched. “You going in there because you think it’s the smart thing to do,” he whispered to Archie, “or because you’ve been feeling sorry for yourself?”

Archie looked his friend in the eye.
You can’t save me
, Archie thought. “Don’t come in unless you hear a shot. I’ll try to signal you if I think SWAT needs to take him out.”

“Take a vest,” Henry said.

The vest. Archie had taken it off when they first got on the boat. It seemed counterintuitive to wear something heavy when you were supposed to be wearing something buoyant. He pulled his hand away, leaving his gun in Henry’s fist. “Hurts my ribs,” he said, and he turned and heaved himself over the railing of the cruiser and onto the old Chris-Craft before anyone could stop him. The rubber soles of his shoes stuck to the fiberglass deck of the boat and he managed to scurry, knees bent, hunched, a few yards to the door of the cabin.

“Reston!” he shouted. “It’s Detective Archie Sheridan. I’m going to open the hatch so we can talk, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer. What was he going to do if Reston said no? Just keep moving. Keep talking. Keep him off guard. Archie fumbled with the latch; it was unlocked. He swung the square wooden hatch open. A sign on the doorjamb warned:
WATCH YOUR STEP
.

Archie could make out part of the interior of the wooden cabin—a small corner galley and a dinette. But no Reston. No Susan. No Addy Jackson. “I’m unarmed. I’m going to come in so we can talk, okay?” He waited that time. Nothing. That was a bad sign. Maybe they were all already dead. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for any coming scenes of carnage. He wasn’t sure he could take that. “I’m coming in.”

He squeezed in through the hatch and lowered himself down the four steps that led straight into the main cabin.

He squinted in the light. It was what passed aboard a boat for a living room. A small floral sofa and a rattan chair with a matching floral cushion sat in front of a small round rattan coffee table that was painted white and topped with glass. The carpet was the color of AstroTurf. The ceilings were low and the space was cramped, but the walls appeared to be paneled with teak and the wood shone warmly in the yellow interior light. A large wood and brass barometer hung decoratively above the sofa. Just beyond the sitting area lay the small dinette and corner galley he had seen from above.

Reston stood next to the sofa, in front of an entryway that led deeper under the hull. He was wearing khakis and a T-shirt. His eyes were black holes. He had one arm firmly around Susan Ward’s waist and he held a gun underneath her left jaw. A brown leather belt hung loosely around her neck. Archie had no doubt that it would match the ligature marks around the dead girls’ necks. Susan’s forearms and ankles were bound with duct tape. But she was alive. And awake. And, judging by her drained but withering expression, pissed.

“Ahoy,” Archie said.

“Addy’s in the back—” Susan managed to spit out before Reston snatched the end of the belt and wrenched it tight, choking her. He kept the gun flush against her head as she fell to her knees.

“Shhhh,” he said ferociously. “Why did you have to do that? Why won’t you be nice to me?”

Susan flailed at the belt with her bound hands but couldn’t get her fingers behind it to loosen the noose. Her face was distorted, blotchy, her eyes frozen wide, mouth wider, sputtering. Archie had about two minutes.

It was all he could do to stop himself from rushing Reston. He had a gun to Susan’s head. If Archie lunged at him, he might shoot her. Her weight was on the floor, so Reston probably wasn’t going to break her neck. A successful strangulation was harder than it looked. It wasn’t the lack of air alone that killed you; it was the compression of the vascular structures of the neck. If Archie did nothing, she was going to die. But that would take a few minutes. And a few minutes was a long time. That gave Archie a chance.

He turned away from Reston and Susan and walked the few feet to the corner galley. There was a small stove and a steel sink set in a green countertop. The cupboards were painted white. Archie opened a few of them until he found some glasses. He took one out and poured himself a glass of water. He couldn’t hear Susan struggling anymore. Had she lost consciousness? Had he blown this, too? And then, at once, there came an enormous choking gasp. Reston had let go of the belt. Susan was breathing. She coughed, hoarse and rasping. Archie closed his eyes, feeling his blood rush to his fingertips. It had worked.

“What are you doing?” Reston asked him.

Archie waited a few breaths before he answered. Let the bastard wonder. “I have to take some pills,” he explained, his back still turned. “I can take them without water, but they work faster if I wash them down with something.” He turned back to Reston and gave him a courteous smile. Then he sat on the tan upholstered bench at the green fold-down dinette table, careful not to slide his knees under the tabletop, so that he could move quickly if he had to. He set the glass of water on the table. Archie could see the lights of the Coast Guard boat through the tiny porthole over the dinette. Which meant that they could see him. Good.

“I’m going to reach into my pocket now and get the pills,” he said, and before Reston could respond, he reached slowly into his pocket and retrieved the brass pillbox. He opened it and counted out eight pills and lined them up one by one on the dark green tabletop. Even in this environment, he felt a surge of endorphins just looking at them. “I know it looks like a lot,” he said to Reston. He raised his eyebrows wryly. “But I have a high tolerance.”

Reston had Susan by the waist again. She was still coughing as her airway tried to convince itself that it was clear. But she had managed to pull the belt off her neck and it now lay in a heap at her feet.
Good girl,
thought Archie.

“Susan,” he said pleasantly. “You okay?”

She nodded, raising her head to look at him, eyes flashing with defiance again. Reston pulled her tighter toward him. Archie picked up a pill, put it on his tongue, and washed it down with a drink of water from the glass. Then he set the glass back down on the table. “You got Addy to come to you,” he said to Reston.

Reston nodded. “She needed someone who made her feel special.”

“But you took the other girls,” Archie said. “So how did you fake your alibis?”

“It was easy,” Reston said. “I watch rehearsals from the light booth. The kids can’t see inside. We’d do a run-through. I’d give notes. Then we’d do another run-through. They’d see me go into the booth before they started and out of the booth when they were done. I would leave a few minutes into the first act.” He smoothed Susan’s tangle of hair like one would a doll’s, and she recoiled at his touch. “I could find them, talk to them, and kill them and be back by curtain. The girls would be dead under blankets in my car and I would be giving the actors notes I had made up. I didn’t even need to see the run-through. They made the same fucking mistakes every time.” Reston looked down at Susan and then back up at Archie. “I’m not going to let you take her out of here,” he said.

So Reston was an overconfident asshole in addition to being a rapist-murderer. Maybe Archie could use that to his advantage. Archie glanced around the cabin. “This is a nice boat.”

“It’s Dan McCallum’s.”

“Right,” Archie said. “Dan McCallum. The suicidal serial killer.”

Reston gave Archie a fleeting smile. “I just wanted to buy some time.”

Archie picked up another pill, tossed it in the air, caught it on his tongue, and washed it down with more water. He set the glass back on the table.

“I could kill you if I wanted to,” Reston said, his voice hollow and tremulous. “I could shoot you and her before they got inside.”

Archie ran a hand through his hair and tried to look bored. “You’re not scary, Paul.” Then he added, “I’ve seen scary.”

Reston was unraveling before Archie’s eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot and squeezing his eyes shut in a hard blink, an involuntary tic. He grappled with Susan, continually adjusting his grip on her, fidgeting with the gun, moving it a fraction of an inch in Archie’s direction, then back, not wanting to waver from Susan. Susan kept her eye on the gun. Her whole body was shaking, but she appeared to be keeping it together. The tears had stopped. Reston leaned his head close to hers and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “It’ll be quick.” She flinched, and Reston squeezed her tighter. Then Reston turned to Archie. The pits and neck of his shirt were stained with sweat. He stank of it. “Do you recognize me?” he asked Archie. His expression was pleading, hungry.

No question. Reston was definitely losing it. “From yesterday on the porch?” asked Archie.

Reston’s eyes narrowed. “Think back.”

Reston looked so serious, so certain, that Archie actually found himself searching his memory for what he might be talking about. Had he arrested Reston before? No, he didn’t have a record. A witness he’d interviewed? Lord knew, he interviewed thousands of witnesses in connection with the Beauty Killer case. He shook his head blankly, coming up with nothing.

Reston was growing increasingly unwound. “I’ve killed four people,” he announced.

That meant that Addy was still alive.

Archie heard the engine of another boat approaching. The helicopter. Bright light glowed beyond the cabin’s portholes.

He picked up another pill. Washed it down. Put the glass back on the table. His own twisted Japanese tea ceremony. “Did you like it?” he asked.

Another involuntary blink. “I had to do it. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t have a choice.” Reston’s jumpiness worried Archie. Reston wasn’t nervous enough about what was going on outside. The other boat. The lights. He wasn’t worried about being arrested, and to Archie, that meant one thing: He’d already decided to die.

And if SWAT rushed the boat, the first thing Reston would do would be to kill Susan Ward.

“But did you like it?” Archie asked again.

“The first one was hard. After that, it got easier.” He worked his mouth into a sick grin. “I didn’t like having to kill them. But I liked it afterward.”

“How did you choose them?” Archie asked.

“They all auditioned for the district-wide musical last year.” Reston laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “They’re expensive, musicals. Because of budget cuts, none of us could afford to launch one on our own, so the high schools got together and cosponsored one.”

That was the connection, thought Archie. Henry was right—they had all been freshmen last year. A district-wide musical? How could they have missed it?

“I was the director,” Reston continued. “I didn’t cast any of them. They weren’t good enough. But I remembered them. And they remembered me. They all wanted to be stars. I told them I wanted them each in my next play.”