Hold Tight (29 page)

NASH kept his hold on either side of the girls’ necks.

His grip was light, but these were pressure-point-sensitive areas. He could see Yasmin, the one who had started all the trouble by being rude in Joe’s class, grimacing. The other girl-the daughter of the lady who had stumbled in on all this-quaked like a leaf.

The woman said, “Let them go.”

Nash shook his head. He felt giddy now. The crazy was running through him like a live wire. Every neuron had been switched into high gear. One of the girls started crying. He knew that should have an effect on him, that as a human being their tears should move him in some way.

But they just heightened the sensation.

Is it still crazy when you know it’s crazy?

“Please,” the woman said. “They’re just children.”

She stopped talking then. So maybe she saw it. Her words were not reaching him. Worse, they seemed to give him pleasure. He admired the woman. He wondered again if she was always this way, brave and feisty, or had she turned into the mother bear protecting her cub?

He would have to kill the mother first.

She would be the most trouble. He was sure of it. There was no way she would stand idly by while he hurt the girls.

But then a new thought aroused him. If this was going to be it, if this was going to be his final stand, would there be any greater high than making the parents watch?

Oh, he knew that was sick. But once the thought was voiced in his head, Nash couldn’t let it go. You can’t help who you are. Nash had met a few pedophiles in prison and they always tried so hard to convince themselves that what they did was not depraved. They talked about history and ancient civilizations and earlier eras where girls were married when they were twelve and all the while Nash wondered why they bothered. It was simpler. This was how you’re hardwired. You have an itch. You have a need to do what others find reprehensible.

This was how God made you. So who was really to blame?

All those pious freaks should understand that if you really thought about it, you were criticizing God’s work when you condemned such men. Oh, sure they would counter about temptation, but this was more than that. They knew that too. Because everybody has some itch. It isn’t discipline that keeps it in check. It is circumstances. That was what Pietra didn’t understand about the soldiers. The circumstances didn’t force them to relish in the brutality.

It gave them the opportunity to.

So now he knew. He would kill them all. He would grab the computers and be gone. When the police arrived, the bloodbath would occupy them. They would assume a serial killer. Nobody would wonder about some video made by a blackmailing woman to destroy a kind man and good teacher. Joe could very well be off the hook.

First things first. Tie up the mother.

“Girls?” Nash said.

He turned them so that they could look at him.

“If you run away, I will kill Mommy and Daddy. Do you understand?”

They both nodded. He moved them away from the basement door anyway. He let go of their necks-and that was when Yasmin let out the most piercing scream he had ever heard. She darted toward her father. Nash leaned that way.

That would prove to be a mistake.

The other girl sprinted straight for the steps.

Nash quickly spun to follow, but she was fast.

The woman yelled, “Run, Jill!”

Nash leaped toward the stairs, his hand outstretched to grab her ankle. He touched the skin, but she pulled away. Nash tried to get up but he felt a sudden weight on him.

It was the mother.

She had jumped on his back. She bit down hard into his leg. Nash howled and kicked her away.

“Jill!” Nash called out. “Your mommy will be dead if you don’t come down here right now!”

The woman rolled away from him. “Run! Don’t listen to him!”

Nash rose and took out the knife. For the first time he was not sure what to do. The telephone box was across the room. He could knock it out, but the girl probably had a cell phone.

Time was running out.

He needed the computers. That was the key thing. So he would kill them, grab the computers, and get out. He would make sure that the hard drives were destroyed.

Nash looked toward Yasmin. She jumped behind her father. Guy tried to roll, tried to sit up, tried to do anything to make himself something of a protective wall for his daughter. The effort, what with him hog-tied with duct tape, was almost comical.

The woman got up too. She moved toward the little girl. Not even hers this time. Brave. But now all three were in one spot. Good. He could take care of them quickly. It would take very little time.

“Jill!” Nash called out again. “Last chance!”

Yasmin screamed again. Nash moved toward them, knife raised, but a voice made him pull up.

“Please don’t hurt my mommy.”

The voice came from behind him. He could hear her sobs.

Jill had come back.

Nash looked at the mother and smiled. The mother’s face collapsed in anguish.

“No!” screamed her mother. “Jill, no! Run!”

“Mommy?”

“Run! God, honey, please run!”

But Jill didn’t listen. She came down the stairs. Nash turned toward her and that was when he realized his mistake. He wondered for a second if he had intentionally let Jill make it to the stairway in the first place. He had let go of their necks, hadn’t he? Had he been careless or was there something more? He wondered if somehow he had been directed by someone, someone who had seen enough and wanted him at peace.

He thought that he saw her standing next to the girl.

“Cassandra,” he said out loud.

A minute or two earlier, Jill had felt the man’s hand press down on her neck.

The man was strong. He didn’t seem to be trying at all. His fingers found a spot and it really hurt. Then she saw her mom and the way Mr. Novak was tied up on the floor. Jill was so scared.

Her mom said, “Let them go.”

The way she said it calmed Jill a little. It was horrible and scary, but her mother was here. She would do anything to save Jill. And Jill knew that it was time to show that she would do anything for her.

The man’s grip tightened. Jill gasped a little and glanced up at his face. The man looked happy. Her eyes moved toward Yasmin. Yasmin was looking directly at Jill. She managed to tilt her head a little. That was what Yasmin did in class when the teacher was looking but she wanted to get Jill a message.

Jill didn’t get it. Yasmin started looking down at her own hand.

Puzzled, Jill followed her eyes and saw what Yasmin was doing.

She was making a gun with her forefinger and thumb.

“Girls?”

The man holding them by the neck squeezed and turned a little so that they would have to look at him.

“If you run away, I will kill Mommy and Daddy. Do you understand?”

They both nodded. Their eyes met again. Yasmin opened her mouth. Jill got the idea. The man released them. Jill waited for the diversion. It didn’t take long.

Yasmin screamed and Jill ran for her life. Not her life, actually. All their lives.

She felt the man’s fingertips on her ankle but she pulled away. She heard him howl, but she didn’t look back.

“Jill! Your mommy will be dead if you don’t come down here right now!”

No choice. Jill ran up the stairs. She thought about the anonymous e-mail she’d sent to Mr. Novak just earlier today:

Please listen to me. You need to hide your gun better.

She prayed that he hadn’t read it or if he had, that he hadn’t had time to do anything about it. Jill dived into his bedroom and pulled the drawer all the way out. She dumped the contents on the floor.

The gun was gone.

Her heart fell. She heard screaming coming from downstairs. The man could be killing them all. She started tossing his things around when her hand hit something metallic.

The gun.

“Jill! Last chance!”

How did she get rid of the safety? Damn it. She didn’t know. But then Jill remembered something.

Yasmin had never put it back on. The safety was probably still off.

Yasmin screamed.

Jill scrambled back to her feet. She wasn’t even down the stairs when she called out in the littlest, baby-est voice she could muster: “Please don’t hurt my mommy.”

She hurried down to the basement level. She wondered if she would be able to apply enough pressure to make the gun fire. She figured that she’d hold the gun with both hands and use two fingers.

Turns out, that was pressure enough.

NASH heard the sirens.

He saw the gun and smiled. Part of him wanted to make a leap, but Cassandra shook her head. He didn’t want that either. The girl hesitated. So he moved a little closer to her and raised the knife over her head.

When Nash was ten, he asked his father what happens to us when we die. His father said that Shakespeare probably said it best, that death was “the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.”

In sum, how can we know?

The first bullet hit him square in the chest.

He staggered closer to her, keeping the knife raised, waiting.

Nash didn’t know where the second bullet would take him, but he hoped it would be to Cassandra.

MIKE sat in the same interrogation room as before. This time he was with his son.

Special Agent Darryl LeCrue and U.S. Assistant Attorney Scott Duncan had been trying to put together the case. Mike knew that they were all here somewhere-Rosemary, Carson, DJ Huff and probably his father, the other goths. They separated them out, hoping to cut deals and file charges.

They’d been here for hours. Mike and Adam had yet to answer a single question. Hester Crimstein, their attorney, refused to let them speak. Right now Mike and Adam sat alone in the interrogation room.

Mike looked at his son, felt his heart break, and said, “It’s going to be okay,” for maybe the fifth or sixth time.

Adam had gone nonresponsive. Shock probably. Of course, there was a fine line between shock and teenage sullenness. Hester was in crazed mode and it was getting worse. You could see it. She kept bouncing in and out and asking questions. Adam just shook his head when she demanded details.

Her last visit had been half an hour ago and ended with her saying two words to Mike: “Not good.”

The door burst open again now. Hester walked in, grabbed a chair, pulled it close to Adam. She sat down and moved her face an inch away from his. He turned away. She took his face in her hands, turned it toward hers, and said, “Look at me, Adam.”

He did so with great reluctance.

“Here is your problem. Rosemary and Carson are blaming you. They say it was your idea to steal your father’s prescription pads and take this to the next level. They say you sought them out. Depending on their mood, they also claim that your father was behind it too. Daddy here was looking for a way to pick up extra cash. The DEA officers in this very building just got themselves wonderful ink for arresting a doctor in Bloomfield for doing the same thing-providing illegal prescriptions for the black market. So they like that angle, Adam. They want the doctor and his son in cahoots because it makes a media splash and gets them promotions. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Adam nodded.

“So why aren’t you telling me the truth?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Adam said.

She spread her hands. “What does that mean?”

He just shook his head. “It’s my word against theirs.”

“Right, but see, there’s two problems. First off, it’s not just them. They got a couple of Carson ’s buddies to back up their story. Of course these buddies would back up the claim that you performed anal probes on a spaceship if Carson and Rosemary asked them to. So that’s not our big problem.”

Mike said, “So what is?”

“The firmest piece of evidence is those prescription pads. You can’t tie them directly to Rosemary and Carson. It’s not a nice neat package. But they can tie them directly to you, Dr. Baye. Obviously. They are yours. They can also pretty much tie how they got from point A-you, Dr. Baye-to point B-the illegal market. Via your son.”

Adam closed his eyes and shook his head.

“What?” Hester said.

“You won’t believe me.”

“Sweetheart, listen to me. It’s not my job to believe you. It’s my job to defend you. You can worry about your mommy believing you, okay? I’m not your mommy. I’m your attorney and, right now, that’s a whole lot better.”

Adam looked at his father.

“I will believe you,” Mike said.

“But you didn’t trust me.”

Mike was not sure how to reply to that.

“You put that thing on my computer. You eavesdropped on my private conversations.”

“We were worried about you.”

“You could have asked.”

“I did, Adam. I asked a thousand times. You told me to leave you alone. You told me to get out of your room.”

“Uh, fellas?” It was Hester. “I’m enjoying this touching father-son scene, really, it’s beautiful, I want to weep, but I bill by the hour and I’m damn expensive, so can we get back to this case?”

There was a sharp knock on the door. It opened and Special Agent Darryl LeCrue and U.S. Assistant Attorney Scott Duncan entered.

Hester said, “Get out. This is a private conference.”

“There is someone here who wants to see your clients,” LeCrue said.

“I don’t care if it’s Jessica Alba in a tube top-”

“Hester?”

It was LeCrue.

“Trust me here. This is important.”

They stepped to the side. Mike looked up. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but certainly not this. Adam started to cry as soon as he saw them.

Betsy and Ron Hill stepped into the room.

“Who the hell are they?” Hester asked.

“Spencer’s parents,” Mike said.

“Whoa, what kind of emotional trick is this? I want them out. I want them out now.”

LeCrue said, “Shh. Just listen. Don’t talk. Just listen.”

Hester turned to Adam. She put his hand on his forearm. “Don’t say one word. Do you hear me? Not one word.”

Adam just kept crying.

Betsy Hill took a seat across the table from him. There were tears in her eyes too. Ron stood behind her. He crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. Mike could see the tremble in his lips. LeCrue stood back in one corner, Duncan the other.

LeCrue said, “Mrs. Hill, can you tell them what you just told us?” Hester Crimstein still had her hand on Adam’s forearm, readying to quiet him. Betsy Hill just looked at Adam. Adam finally lifted his head. He met her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked.

Betsy Hill finally spoke. “You lied to me, Adam.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Hester said. “If she’s going to start with accusations about deception, we’re going to stop this right here and right now.”

Betsy kept her eyes on Adam, ignoring the outburst. “You and Spencer didn’t fight over a girl, did you?”

Adam said nothing.

“Did you?”

“Don’t answer,” Hester said, giving his forearm a little squeeze.

“We are not commenting on any alleged fight-”

Adam pulled his arm away. “Mrs. Hill…”

“You’re afraid they won’t believe you,” Betsy said. “And you’re afraid you’re going to hurt your friend. But you can’t hurt Spencer. He’s dead, Adam. And it’s not your fault.”

The tears kept coming down Adam’s face.

“Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. You had every reason to get angry with him. His father and I missed so much with Spencer. We’ll have to deal with that for the rest of our lives. Maybe we could have stopped him if we had kept a closer eye-or maybe there was no way to save him. I don’t know right now. But I know this: It is not your fault and you can’t take the blame for this. He’s dead, Adam. No one can hurt him anymore.”

Hester opened her mouth, but no words came out. She stopped herself, pulled back, watched. Mike did not know what to make of this either.

“Tell them the truth,” Betsy said.

Adam said, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does, Adam.”

“No one is going to believe me.”

“We believe you,” Betsy said.

“Rosemary and Carson will say it was me and my dad. They’re already doing it. So why drag someone’s name through the mud?”

LeCrue said, “That’s why you tried to end it last night. With that wire you were telling us about. Rosemary and Carson blackmailed you, didn’t they? They said if you told, they’d put it on you. They’d say you stole the prescription pads. Just like they’re doing now. And then you had your friends to worry about. They could all get in trouble too. So what choice did you have? You let it go on.”

“I wasn’t worried about my friends,” Adam said. “But they were going to put it on my dad. He’d lose his license, for sure.”

Mike felt his breathing go funny. “Adam?”

He turned toward his father.

“Just tell the truth. Don’t worry about me.”

Adam shook his head.

Betsy reached out and touched Adam’s hand. “We have proof.”

Adam looked confused.

Ron Hill moved forward. “When Spencer died I went through his room. I found…” He stopped, swallowed, looked at the ceiling again. “I didn’t want to tell Betsy. She was going through enough and I fig- ured, what difference did it make? He was dead. Why put her through any more? You were thinking something like that too, weren’t you, Adam?”

Adam said nothing.

“So I didn’t say anything. But the night he died… I went through his room. Under his bed, I found eight thousand dollars in cash-and these.”

Ron tossed a prescription pad onto the table. For a moment, everyone just stared at it.

“You didn’t steal your father’s prescription pads,” Betsy said.

“Spencer did. He stole them from your house, didn’t he?”

Adam had his head down.

“And the night he killed himself, you found out. You confronted him. You were furious. You two fought. That’s when you hit him. When he called you back, you didn’t want to hear his apologies. He had gone too far this time. So you let his calls go into voice mail.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut. “I should have answered it. I hit him. I called him names and said I never wanted to speak to him again. Then I left him alone and when he called for help…”

The room pretty much exploded then. There were tears, of course. Hugs. Apologies. Wounds were ripped open and closed. Hester worked it. She grabbed LeCrue and Duncan. They all saw what happened here. No one wanted to prosecute the Bayes. Adam would cooperate and help send Rosemary and Carson to prison.

But that was for another day.

Later that night, after Adam had gotten home and had his cell phone back, Betsy Hill came over.

“I want to hear,” she said to him.

And together they listened to Spencer’s very last message before ending his own life:

“This isn’t on you, Adam. Okay, man. Just try to understand. It’s not on anyone. It’s just too hard. It’s always been too hard…”

ONE week later, Susan Loriman knocked on the door of Joe Lewis- ton’s house.

“Who is it?”

“Mr. Lewiston? It’s Susan Loriman.”

“I’m pretty busy.”

“Please open up. It’s very important.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Joe Lewiston did as she asked. He was unshaven and in a gray T-shirt. His hair jutted up in different directions and there was still sleep in his eyes.

“Mrs. Loriman, this isn’t really a good time.”

“It’s not a good time for me either.”

“I’ve been dismissed from my teaching post.”

“I know. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So if this is about your son’s donor drive…”

“It is.”

“You can’t possibly think I’m the one to lead this anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do.”

“Mrs. Loriman…”

“Has anyone close to you ever died?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind telling me who?”

The question was an odd one. Lewiston sighed and looked into Susan Loriman’s eyes. Her son was dying and for some reason this question seemed very important to her. “There was my sister, Cassie. She was an angel. You never believed anything could happen to her.”

Susan knew all about it, of course. The news had been full of stories on Cassandra Lewiston’s widowed husband and the murders.

“Anyone else?”

“My brother Curtis.”

“Was he an angel too?”

“No. Just the opposite. I look like him. They say we’re the spitting image. But he was troubled his whole life.”

“How did he die?”

“Murdered. Probably in a robbery.”

“I have the donor nurse right here.” Susan looked behind her. A woman came out of the car and moved toward them. “She can take your blood right now.”

“I don’t see the point.”

“You really didn’t do anything that terrible, Mr. Lewiston. You even called the police when you realized what your former brother-in-law was doing. You need to start thinking about rebuilding. And this step, your willingness to help here, to try to save my child even when you have all of this going on in your real life, I think that will matter to people. Please, Mr. Lewiston. Won’t you try to help my son?”

He looked as though he was about to protest. Susan hoped that he wouldn’t. But she was ready if he did. She was ready to tell him that her son, Lucas, was ten years old. She was ready to remind him that his brother Curtis had died eleven years ago-or nine months before Lucas’s birth. She would tell Joe Lewiston that the best odds now of finding a good donor was via a genetic uncle. Susan hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. But she was willing to go that far now. She had to be.

“Please,” she said again.

The nurse kept approaching. Joe Lewiston looked at Susan’s face again and must have seen the desperation.

“Sure, okay,” he said. “Why don’t you come inside so we can do this?”

I T amazed Tia how quickly life went back to normal.

Hester had been good to her word. No second chances, professionally speaking. So Tia handed in her resignation and was currently looking for another job. Mike and Ilene Goldfarb were off the hook for any crimes involving their prescriptions. The medical board was doing a for-show investigation, but in the meantime, their practice continued on as before. There were rumors that they had found a good match for Lucas Loriman, but Mike didn’t want to talk about it and so she didn’t push.

During those first few emotional days, Tia figured that Adam would turn his life around and be the sweet, kind boy… well, that he never really was. But a boy doesn’t work like a light switch. Adam was better, no question about it. Right now he was outside in the driveway playing goalie while his father took shots on him. When Mike got one past him, he would yell, “Score!” and start singing the Rangers goal-scoring music. The sound was comforting and familiar, but in the old days, she would hear Adam too. Now, today, not a sound came from him. He played in silence, while there was something strange in Mike’s voice, a blend of joy and desperation.

Mike still wanted that kid back. But that kid was probably gone. Maybe that was okay.

Mo pulled into the driveway. He was taking them to the Rangers versus Devils game down in Newark. Anthony, who along with Mo had saved their lives, was going too. Mike had thought Anthony saved his life the first time, in that alley, but it had been Adam who’d delayed them long enough-and had the knife scar to prove it. It was a heady thing for a parent to realize-the son saving the father. Mike would get teary and want to say something, but Adam wouldn’t hear it. He was silent brave, that kid.