The Gift of Illusion: A Thriller (13 page)

“And he had a cowboy hat on.”

Not until this moment had the feeling he
expressed back at the gas station made any sense, but now he was
sure that he was right. He stood up and walked over to Simmons.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, I think she’ll be all right,” Isaac
said. “But guess what? She said the man who attacked her was
wearing a police uniform and he had a cowboy hat on. Who does that
sound like to you?” He looked over at a couple of policemen
examining the broken window. “And that’s not all. He took the
statue. Now how do you think Deputy Howers knew that I had it?”

Simmons sighed. “How do we deal with
this?”

“I'm gonna find him and deal with it. This
shit has gone on long enough. That son of a bitch hurt my daughter,
and for that he’ll pay.”

Isaac sat back down next to Amy.

“He had something in his hand,” she said.
“He took it from your office.”

“I know, honey.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know," he replied. "I really don’t
know.”

6

Isaac cleaned up the glass from the dining
room floor and sealed up the window with some duct tape from the
garage. He put a few towels down near the window to mop up some of
the water from the carpet. Most of the officers left shortly after
Isaac cleaned up the mess, and Randy was already gone before Isaac
had a chance to talk to him. Simmons stayed around a little longer,
talking to Isaac in the kitchen while Amy took a shower upstairs.
When she was done, she changed into a pair of purple pajamas and
threw the bloody nightgown in the trash.

A half an hour later Isaac bid Simmons
farewell, locked the door, and then headed up to his bedroom. He
stripped off his clothes, pulled on a clean pair of red and white
boxers, and was about ready to lie down on the bed, when Amy opened
his bedroom door and stood in the doorway.

“Dad.”

Isaac thanked God that he at least had his
weapon concealed. Whew, close one.

“There was something else I forgot to tell
you.”

Isaac looked up, curious. “What’s that?”

Amy seemed reluctant to tell him, her eyes
shifted around the room. Perhaps that’s why she had waited till
everyone else left the house. “Well, I don’t know how important
this is, but I thought I should tell you anyway.”

“Okay. Spill it.”

“Just before he left, you know, with the
statue. He told me to warn you to stay out of his way.”

Chapter Nine

1

At a quarter past eight in the morning, a
woman named Virginia Maples entered the Elmwood Police Department.
She had a book in her hands, a biography called
The
Immortal.
She had come to give the book to the detective she
had seen on the news not even an hour ago.

Yesterday investigators found yet another
body, this one at the A-Plus gas station off of Highway 41. This is
the fourth body in two days. The victim was in his mid to late
forties and had been the manager of the gas station, though the
police department has yet to issue his name. Many local residents
have viewed their concerns regarding a possible killer on the
loose. Phone calls and e-mails have flooded into the station, as
well as the police department, but the Chief of Police Donald
Stevens issued a formal reply stating that the matter is under
control, and that there is nothing for the public to worry about.
Still, many believe that investigators aren’t doing enough, and
that more bodies will soon be discovered.

Virginia had been paying close attention to
the continuing mystery of the strange deaths occurring around town.
Cause for concern, not really. But then—

On a related note, Detective Isaac
Winters, one of the investigators working the case, had his house
broken into last night while he was away. The perpetrator broke
through a window and assaulted his sixteen-year-old daughter. The
police department has yet to identify the individual responsible
but has stated that they are working on a few leads. So far, there
appears to be no motive for the break in, and only one object, a
small statue
(at this point a crudely drawn sketch of the
statue had come on the screen)
that is believed to be the
property of the late James Ackerman, was reported missing from the
house.

Crudely drawn, but unmistakable. Virginia
knew the statue. She had photographs of it. She knew where it had
come from, where it was made, and who the figure was. It was all
inside the
The Immortal
, a book she had written.

The receptionist was typing on a computer
when Virginia approached the front desk. “How may I help you?”

“Is Detective Winters on duty today?”

“I’m not sure,” said the receptionist. “Hold
on. Let me check.” She picked up the phone and punched in an
extension. No response. Then she dialed a different extension.

Virginia set down the book she had brought
on the counter and opened the front flap. Then she took a pen from
a clipboard nearby and began to write on the title page. The
receptionist was now chatting with someone on the phone.

“Okay,” she said to the person on the other
end of the line. “Not a problem. Thank you.” She hung up the phone
and turned back to Virginia. “I’m sorry. Detective Winters is not
in at the moment.”

Virginia set the pen back on the clipboard
and closed the book. “I was afraid of that.”

“Was he expecting you?”

“No. I just needed to talk with him. Do you
know if he’ll be in later?”

“I really don’t know. He's had some personal
issues. Perhaps I could leave a message for him?”

“Yes, if you could give him this.” Virginia
picked up the book and handed it to the receptionist.

“What kind of book is it?”

“It’s a biography.”

“Oh I see,” she said. “Well, I’ll be sure he
gets it.”

“Thank you so much.”

And that was that.

She reached out.

Chapter Ten

1

Isaac had been on the phone for most of the
morning talking to Simmons, and the high school principal. This
time, however, the Chief of Police Donald Stevens had called him,
mostly just to see how he was holding up.

“What time did you say the service was
again?”

“Two o’clock,” Stevens said. “At Rose Hill
Cemetery.”

Sixteen years ago, Isaac had buried Linda
there. His plot was next to hers, waiting for him.

“But like I said, if you decide not to come
I’ll understand. By no means should you feel obligated.”

“I don’t,” said Isaac. “But I’ll be there. A
little fresh air couldn’t hurt. It’ll be a good chance for me and
Amy to get out of the house for a couple of hours.”

“Sounds good,” said the chief. “Oh, and I
almost forgot. A woman came in this morning asking for you.”

“What did she want?”

“Don’t know. But she brought you a
book.”

“Okay. Did she say anything?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t speak with her. My
understanding is that she just wanted to give you the book. Then
she left.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. It’s on your desk.”

“I’ll pick it up before the service”

Isaac hung up the phone and hurried out of
the house. He walked across the lawn and fished the morning
newspaper from a two-inch puddle of water. On his way back to the
house, as he brushed away the water from the plastic newspaper
covering, he noticed that Randy’s red Ford F-150 wasn’t in the
driveway.

Amy met her father at the front door. “Are
we going to a funeral?”

Isaac passed by his daughter and set the
damp newspaper down on the kitchen counter. “Yes.” Then he tried to
squeeze some of the water out of the newspaper and into the
sink.

“Whose funeral?”

“The two officers who died yesterday.”

“In the crash?”

“Yes.”

“What were their names? Did you know
them?”

Isaac gave up on salvaging the newspaper and
tossed it into the trash. “Deputy Keith Randall and Deputy Jonathan
Bryant. And no, not really.”

“What time are we leaving?”

Isaac looked at his watch. It was a quarter
past twelve. “Well, the service is at two.” He tried to guess how
far Rose Hill Cemetery was from the precinct, knowing that there
would surely be a police escort of the caskets (as well as the
families), and that the motorcade would probably originate from the
department. “We’ll leave at one,” he finally said.

Amy went upstairs to get ready, while Isaac
headed to his office across the living room. The destruction of
last night looked much worse in the natural light. He picked up his
computer monitor from the floor and carefully set it back on the
desk. He wanted to start it up to see if it would still work but
didn’t feel like going through all the trouble of reconnecting the
ports. After cleaning up some papers and hooking the desk drawers
back on to their rails, Isaac left the office and went upstairs to
shower.

Thirty minutes later, he hustled down the
stairs wearing a dark blue suit and tie, and holding a pair of
Oxfords in one hand. He dropped the shoes off in front of the couch
and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed the cordless from the wall
and dialed Randy.

Lizzy answered. Her southern accent sounded
even thicker over the phone.

“Lizzy, this is Isaac next door.”

“Isaac,” she said, surprised. “How ya doing?
I heard about last night. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not the first time my house has been
broken into, though you’d think by now I would have built a cage
around the damn thing.” Lizzy laughed a little, an uncertain laugh.
“Anyway, I called because I wanted to talk to Randy.”

“Oh, he’s at work.”

“What time do you think he’ll be home?”

“Probably around seven. Do you want me to
have him call you?”

“No, I’ll just call back sometime after
seven.”

“Great, I’ll let him know when he gets
home.”

“Thanks.”

“And I hope everything is all right. Do you
know who did it yet?”

“Yeah, I have a pretty good idea.”

“That’s a relief,” said Lizzy. “I was
wondering if I should be worried.”

“No, there’s nothing to worry about.
Everything will be fine.”

2

Shortly after one o’clock, a yellow taxi
turned on to Hampton Lane and passed a black Charger waiting at the
end of the road for the turn of the light. The cab drove down the
street and stopped in front of mailbox number 7882. A faded tan
Corolla was in the driveway, but no red truck. The passenger in the
back seat opened the cab door and stepped out on to the sidewalk.
He tossed his wallet through the window, landing on the cab drivers
lap. The grubby cabbie looked down at the wallet, confused, and
then looked out at his fare. The officer nodded his approval,
lighting up the cabbies face like bitter sunshine. The taxi turned
around at the following street and dashed back down Hampton Lane
just in time to clear the yellow light.

It took Deputy Howers over twenty minutes to
reach Hampton from home, and by the look of the street, he showed
up right on time. The neighborhood was quiet. Most people were at
work, some were mourning the dead, and yet others felt safe to stay
home.
Oh, what a mistake,
he thought, gazing up at the
quaint tan house in front of him.

What a terrible mistake.

3

Elmwood Police Department.

Isaac sat behind his desk scanning the solid
black cover of a book called
The Immortal.
Simmons stood
across from him reading a note that was left with the book. The
note simply said that a woman came in this morning and dropped off
the book for him to read.

"What's this about?" Simmons asked, setting
the note on the desk.

Isaac was now flipping through the pages.
"Beats me."

"Where's your daughter? She not come?"

"Amy's around somewhere. Check the
bathroom."

"No, that's okay. I was just curious how she
was doing?"

Isaac set the book down flat on the desk and
stared at the cover again. "I suppose she's as good as can be
expected. Neither one of us got much sleep last night." He opened
the cover. On the backside someone had scribbled in pen
any
questions? call me
and left a number. He held the book up and
showed Simmons. Then he picked up his office phone from its cradle,
found an open line, and dialed the number. A woman picked up after
one ring.

“Hi, this is Detective Isaac Winters. I got
the book you left.”

"Great. I'm glad you decided to call."

"I have questions."

"I figured you would. So you read the
book?"

Isaac tried to associate the female voice
with someone he knew, but nobody immediately came to mind. “First
question, who are you?”

“My name is Virginia Maples. I understand
you’ve been investigating the—"

"Second question, what's with the book? And
no I have not read it. I'm a little stressed for time at the
moment. So if we could keep this brief."

“I'm sorry. I promise my intention isn't to
waste your time. I’m not exactly sure how much you know. That's
what the book is about. I think it might contain some useful
information that can help you in the investigation."

“This book can tell me what's causing these
bodies to burn?”

“Sort of. If you could free up a time when
we could meet, I think I may be able to explain it to you. It's a
lot to say over the phone.”

Isaac now felt like the woman was trying to
pull him into a trap, tempting him with a piece of cheese only to
leave his head locked between a metal brace and a wooden block.

"And I won't lie, it might sound crazy at
first," Virginia continued. "You'll have to trust me."

Isaac smiled and sucked back a laugh.
Even if I knew you, I probably still wouldn’t trust you,
he
thought. She could be playing with his head, messing with an
already messed up investigation.