The Messenger (2011 reformat) (32 page)

The blond
newscaster looked absolutely shell-shocked, her hand around the microphone
shaking.

"-in yet
another inexplicable tragic crime said to have been committed by a Danelleton
postal employee. Witnesses claim that Danelleton native Sarah Willoughby
delivered a mail bomb to police headquarters at approximately nine o'clock this
morning."

The screen cut
to a bright portrait photo of Sarah: the pretty girl-next-door face, shining
blond hair, beaming white smile. The greatest anomaly was its obviousness: This
was anything but the face of a bomber and murderer.

The newscaster
spoke over the picture. "Three Danelleton officers were killed, and four
injured in the blast. Ms. Willoughby, an employee in good standing, was
recently promoted by branch station manager Jane Ryan."

The scene cut
again, to a sunny suburban street lined with nice houses on well-kept lots.
Several police cars were parked, doors open and lights turning, askew on the
street. Also parked there was a standard white mail truck. The camera roved
from the vehicles up to the nearest house, where several uniformed police,
along with Chief Steve Higgins, were marching away from the front door, hauling
a delirious and handcuffed Sarah Willoughby. She squirmed and kicked, the
police holding her up so that her feet wouldn't touch the ground. The camera
zoomed chillingly to Sarah's twisted face; she was screaming and grinning at the
same time. She looked insane. The whites of her eyes had hemorrhaged red. The
next cut showed the police propping Sarah up while an EMT injected her with a
sedative, after which she was strapped down on a gurney and driven away in an
ambulance.

"Ms.
Willoughby was apprehended shortly thereafter by police officers under the
charge of Chief Steve Higgins. She was later checked into the psychiatric wing
of the Pinellas County Detention Center, for evaluation and treatment."

"This is
just beyond belief," someone said.

Jane and
several employees sat stunned around the TV in her office. It was like watching
news footage of a bombing in the Middle East but then the worse reality set in.
Every detail was familiar. This was a place they'd all seen before, and these
were people they'd seen before. This was not the Middle East. It was their
hometown.

"It's the
craziest thing I've ever seen in my life," someone else muttered. "I
can't believe what I'm seeing with my own eyes. Christ, I was at that police
station a few days ago to pay a parking fine. Look at the place now."

On the TV, the
police station was a blown-out blackened hulk. The newscaster continued her
grim report. "-and county fire investigators suspect the use of an
incendiary bomb, a device specifically designed to burn fast and do as much
fire-damage as possible before firefighters can arrive."

Closer shots
of the blackened building.

"And
we're supposed to believe that Sarah-little tiny bubbly Sarah-did that? Killed
all those people and did all that damage?"

"She was
so nice," someone else said. "But in that footage? She looked demented,
totally out of her mind-"

Yeah, Jane
thought. Out of her mind. A satanic cult member. Her face was drawn and pale.
It was everyone's consensus. This could not be happening here...but it was.
"It's got to be a mistake," she muttered lamely.

"It's no
mistake."

The additional
voice in the room startled them. Jane turned, saw Steve standing grim-faced in
the doorway. Everyone got back to their duties when Jane asked them to, leaving
her and Steve alone. But Jane couldn't have felt more uncomfortable either way.
Don't even mention the bit with the blonde, she told herself. You're not
involved with him anymore, you're not even friends. This is strictly
professional, so act the part. "I think I should go see her-Sarah, I mean.
I need to talk to her."

Steve had
helped himself to some coffee and sat down. "That's not advisable, Jane.
She's delirious. She's stark-raving mad."

"I don't
care. I've got to see her, find out why she did this. I've known her for years.
She'll sure as hell talk to me before she'll talk to some psych-ward goon, and
she's not going to talk to the police. I need you to get me a visitor's
pass."

"No way.
Jane, she's in the psych ward of the county prison. That place is a freak
show."

Jane wasn't
sure what was compelling her. Perhaps it was just the need to feel like she was
doing something rather than sitting around and watching it all happen. Maybe if
I'd been closer to Marlene and Carlton, and kept a closer eye on Martin-maybe
none of this would've happened. She looked right at Steve and in her most
stolid voice said, "If I ever meant anything to you, you'll do this for
me."

"Jane,
you do mean something to me. You mean a lot."

"Yeah, I
saw how much yesterday, when you were making out with your sister."

Steve shook
his head. "You're being paranoid, Jane. I wasn't making out, for God's
sake. It was a hug and a peck on the cheek. And she is my sister. I haven't
seen her in a year; she lives with her husband and two boys in Bellingham,
Washington. Why is that so hard to believe?"

Jane supposed
it wasn't that hard to believe, really. Nevertheless, she didn't.

"Would
you please just get me into the detention center to talk to Sarah? You should
want me to anyway. You'll want information, right? I know her better than
anyone there or in your department. It'd be to your advantage too."

"I can't
do it," he insisted. "It's too dangerous. And let's not talk about
that now, let's talk about our relationship-"

"Steve,
there is no relationship-"

"Let's at
least talk about it..." He reached across the desk, touched her hand,
which she instantly pulled away.

"There's
nothing to talk about," she said again.

Steve sighed
in frustration. "All right, look, I'll get you a cred pass so you can see
Sarah. I'll pick you up tonight and take you there myself. And on the way,
we'll talk about our relationship."

Jane felt
tugged by opposing horses, about to be pulled apart. "Steve, even if there
was a relationship between the two of us, we've both got a lot more to worry
about, don't we? Good Lord, people are getting killed, and several of my
employees are responsible. Not to mention one of my DPS handlers didn't show up
for work today, and I've still got no idea what happened to Martin."

Steve was
suddenly reminded of something. "Oh, jeez. With the explosion at the
station and all, I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"We found
Martin Parkins, Jane. We found his body this morning in the woods behind Bowen
Field."

"His
body? You mean he's-"

"He's
dead, murdered. Someone jammed a pen in his eye and drove it straight through
to his brain."

Pen, Jane
thought. In the eye.

"That's
horrible," she said stonily.

"All too
often, horrible things happen to horrible people," Steve said. "What
goes around comes around. It may have been a prostitute who did it. At his
apartment we found Polaroids of a lot of local prostitutes. We took the
pictures into the county sheriff's department and they told us that a few of
the girls have been reported missing. Could be that he was killing some of
these girls, and it could be that-"

Jane made the
morbid conclusion on her own. "That last night he picked one up, tried
something violent, but she defended herself."

"Exactly.
It's impossible to say for sure but it's starting to look like that."

Jane felt bad
for Martin's tragedy; it didn't matter that she'd never liked him. But in the
back of her mind, the coincidence heckled her. That weird dream I had last
night... She'd dreamed that Martin had been molesting her and-and I stuck a pen
in his eye...

"So what
about Sarah Willoughby?" Steve asked.

The comment
snapped her train of thought. "Well, I just asked if you could get me in
to see her, and you said you would."

"I'll get
you in." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'll be back around seven
when I'm off duty, to pick you up."

Steve drove in
his unmarked police car, the scanner turned way down. Jane rode next to him, in
silence. She didn't know about this at all, yet it was her own doing. Don't
complain, Jane. You're the one who asked. She simply felt compelled to see
Sarah, to talk to her. Maybe she could get some answers that no one else was getting:
about her state of mind, about her connection to Marlene, Carlton, and
Martin-who were all dead now-and about the cult or whatever it was.

She had to
take Steve into consideration, too, which only made the situation more
stressful. He had an awful day, too, she reminded herself. His station house
was bombed and he lost several men.

"Looks
like all we've got right now," he said ironically, "is each
other."

In a sense, he
was right. One tragic puzzle after another was falling on them both. And
neither of them knew what was going on. Only guesses, only speculations that
weren't doing either of them any good.

"The
woman you saw me with is my sister; her name's Ginny," Steve said, breaking
into her concerns. "Believe me. I'll prove it."

Jane felt bushwhacked.
"How?"

"She's in
town for another week. I'll take you to meet her. We'll go out to dinner, the
three of us. I told her all about you-she wants to meet you anyway"

She didn't
know what to say. Could it be true? It has to be. Something like that would be
too easy to verify.

She took his
hand. "I'd like that. I'm sorry I overreacted. I guess the past
week-"

"The past
week has been too much for both of us. We never saw it coming; how could we?
Things will be fine."

Suddenly Jane
felt content and wonderful. She'd simply overreacted to a landslide of stresses
and hadn't managed herself well once she'd become involved with him. His hand
over hers tightened.

Oh,
Jesus...Then she remembered the reason she'd come to see him at his office in
the first place. "I forgot to tell you. That man... He came to see me
yesterday."

"What
man?"

"Alexander
Dhevic."

His expression
turned stern. "Christ, Jane! I told you that guy was a flake! He's
dangerous! You should've told me. If that guy ever comes to your office again,
you call me right away. The guy's a nut. He's either playing the murders up for
his next book or documentary, or he's part of it himself."

"It's
just what he said, and maybe even the way he said it-"

"He's an
actor, Jane. He's a con man. Don't listen to him, don't let him get to
you-"

"He said
the murders were demonic too. He had a picture of the bell; it was an engraving
from a very old book-"

"And let
me guess, he told you it was the symbol for some demon."

"Yes.
Aldezhor, the Messenger of hell. I mean, come on, Steve, the devil's equivalent
of the Archangel Gabriel. A demon messenger, working through postoffice
employees? What are post-office employees?"

"Messengers,
I know. He laid the same bunch of jive on us twenty years ago. It's a crock of
shit. He's trying to make himself famous as some renowned expert on the occult.
Any time there's a series of bizarre murders in the country, he acts like he
knows all about it so he can get big fees on these tabloid shows."

Jane couldn't
believe what she said next. "I think he's psychic or something-"

"He's a
shaman! He's a fake! Guys like Dhevic know how to get under people's skin-it's
their profession. Don't fall for his crap!"

She knew he
was right, but the details of Dhevic's visit kept pecking at her. She recalled
what he'd said, just before he left: He will manipulate you through your fears,
your weaknesses, and your dreams. "He said something about dreams, that
this demon-er, actually a fallen angel-exploits people through their
dreams."

"So does
Freddy Krueger, but I don't believe in him either-"

"No, no,
you don't understand. At my office, you told me that Martin was killed by
someone stabbing him in the eye with a pen. Well, last night..."

Steve was
getting testy. "Last night, what?"

"Last
night I dreamed that Martin was trying to rape me, but...I defended myself by sticking
a pen in his eye."

"It's a
coincidence, Jane! Forget about all this!"

She squeezed
her memory harder, to remember more of the nightmare. There'd been two men with
her, hadn't there? Martin.

And someone
else.

Someone else
with features so hideous it made her sick to think of them. And Dehvic had told
her that Aldezhor was hideous to look at.

"Then
another thing," she went on. "He knew about Matt, my husband. He mentioned
him-it was almost like he showed me a vision-"

"Come on!
Dhevic's playing you!"