Curse (Blur Trilogy Book 3) (22 page)

“I’m fine. Yeah, go ahead.”

I walk offstage to where it’s a little more private and tap in Senator Amundsen’s number.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“How did it go with Dr. Carrigan?” the senator asks me.

“I didn’t end up getting hypnotized. Tane is trying it again because he might have seen something. Alysha heard some phrases that we’re trying to figure out. She mentioned some names: Deedee and Sergei. Do those mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“She also thought she heard Petra telling you not to call Sam, back when her mouth was taped shut in the ransom video. Do you know why?”

“I wasn’t even aware she knew about Sam.”

“Okay, did your people ever figure out where any passing trains and ambulance calls happened close together?”

“It wasn’t easy, verifying it without being in touch with the authorities, but I called in some favors and from what we can tell, there were more than twenty occurrences that night, all throughout the South. It’s just not as uncommon as you might think.” Despite the fact that he seems to be trying to hide it, the strain from what’s been going on weighs down every word. “So I’m afraid that doesn’t do us a whole lot of good.”

“But that narrows it down, though, right? I mean, if you take driving time into account from when she was kidnapped. Also, maybe you can check traffic cameras in those areas to look for that minivan entering or leaving the neighborhoods. There might be a Deedee or Sergei who has a minivan registered to their name, or who owns a house with a basement near those locations.”

“Those are all interesting ideas, but I can’t contact the police, remember?”

“I know someone who might be able to help you.”

“Who?”

“My dad. He’s a sheriff in Wisconsin, but he could go through his own law enforcement channels, say he’s looking into an entirely different case. He could do the traffic camera and name searches, look into the databases. There wouldn’t be any ties back to you.”

“I don’t know.”

“I can call him if you want me to.”

He’s quiet, then says, “No. I can’t chance it.”

“Senator, I honestly don’t know that we’re going to be able to find Petra in time. I want to, I’ll do everything I can to, but right now it’s . . . This might be your best shot.”

Another pause. “Can you make certain that none of this points to me or Petra?”

“I won’t even tell him your name.”

“Alright.”

“Do you have a secure way that you can get him the info you pulled up on the ambulance calls and train whistle locations?”

“Yes. I’ll have one of my people send it through my Senate account. It’s encrypted.”

I give him my dad’s email address.

Then, as soon as he hangs up, I call Dad and tell him what we’re going to need him to do. I finish by saying, “If it gets to be nine o’clock and you have a chance to call in help, do it. We might need it.”

Adrian stopped by to see how things were going with Zacharias’s interrogation.

The man was strapped to the chair in the tattoo room. Henrik was leaning over him.

Bloody tools lay on a tray nearby.

From this angle Adrian couldn’t see Zacharias’s face.

Henrik looked up. “Doctor.”

“The general will be arriving at around seven.”

“Our guest here isn’t being entirely cooperative.”

“But you’re adapting?”

“I’m adapting.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’ve done one of his eyeballs.”

“Punctured?”

“No. Just tagged.”

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo before,” Zacharias said, unintimidated. “While we’re in here why don’t you give me a Celtic cross on my shoulder too?”

Adrian shook his head. “Mr. Zacharias, you can make this a lot easier on everyone involved if you just tell us how we can reach Sam.”

“Sam wouldn’t want me to do that.”

Adrian assessed things, then said to Henrik, “How soon can Sergei and Deedee be here?”

“I’d say by eight. Why?”

“Alright. Have them bring Petra over. If Mr. Zacharias has decided that his own life isn’t worth protecting, perhaps he’ll be more willing to share with us when someone else is sitting in the chair.”

Petra was still yanking at the wire, trying to get it loose from the bucket, when she heard heavy, clomping footsteps on the stairway leading down to her room.

Sergei.

But then, lighter steps followed.

Okay, so this would be the first time both of them had come down to check on her together.

She torqued at the handle—

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

All at once it snapped off the plastic.

She stared at it, dumbfounded that the wire was resting in her hand.

How long have you been working on this and it waits until now to come off?

Whatever. Hide it. Quick!

It was too stiff and curved to slide down her pants leg, so she stuck it under her shirt, then shoved the bucket to the corner of the room so her kidnappers wouldn’t notice the missing handle.

The door popped open.

Deedee stood there holding a blindfold. “Hello, m
y
dear.”

Sergei had his roll of duct tape.

His nose was broken and he had a butterfly bandage across the bridge of it.

“What happened?” Petra asked him.

“The same thing that’ll happen to you if you don’t behave yourself.”

“Don’t make this difficult now,” Deedee said. “We need to take a drive, and you can either be tied up or simply blindfolded with one leg cuffed to the floor. What’ll it be?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To get you ready to be reunited with your father.”

“You’re going to let me go?”

“That’ll depend on him.” Sergei held up the tape. “Now, are you going to struggle or are you going to behave yourself like I said?”

“I won’t struggle.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Petra let them put the blindfold on her and lead her up to the garage, and then into the back of the minivan.

When they got inside it, they didn’t tie her up, but they did attach her ankle to a chain so she couldn’t climb out.

She didn’t fight them.

No, she did not.

And they hadn’t noticed that the wire handle was missing from the top of the five-gallon bucket.

Alright, Petra. Let’s see where things go from here.

PART III

CONVERGENCE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

6:00 P.M.

3 HOURS UNTIL THE DEADLINE

I take a seat beside Alysha again.

“Any news on Petra?” she asks. “Do they know anything yet?”

“Not yet. No.”

“How’s the senator doing?”

“It’s been tough on him. What about
yo
u? How are
yo
u?”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath. “Better. Thank you for being there for me.”

“Of course.”

“And also, I never properly thanked you for stepping in front of me in that elevator when the guy was shooting at us this morning.”

“You thanked me.”

“Not properly. You might have been killed doing that.”

“I’m just glad those doors closed in time.”

“And that they stopped the bullets.”

“That too.”

“I like this habit of yours.”

“What’s that?”

“Looking out for me.”

“Well, I don’t know if I—”

“So, thanks. Officially.”

“Sure.”

“I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

In the stillness that follows, I realize that I must be getting used to the smells of the old theater because they’re not bothering me as much anymore.

That slipstream of reality.

Truth passing us by every moment while we only notice a sliver of it at a time.

“Daniel,” Alysha says quietly, “you have me at a slight disadvantage here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can see me, but I still have no idea what you look like.” She holds her hand. “May I?”

“Do what?”

“If you let me touch your face . . . if you’re okay with that, it’ll help me picture you.”

Though it makes me a little uneasy, I don’t like the idea that she thinks of herself as being at some sort of disadvantage around me, so I take her hand and place her palm against my cheek.

She moves her fingers slowly down to the line of my jaw, then pauses and lifts her other hand. “Is this alright?”

“Go ahead.”

I close my eyes so she won’t accidentally poke them.

Using both hands, she brushes her fingers lightly across my cheek, up to my forehead, then over my eyelids and my nose, and then down, momentarily grazing one finger over my lips.

At last, she trails her hands past my chin and down my neck, to its base, where she finally rests both of them.

“So how do I look to a blind person?”

“You’re one of the cutest guys I’ve ever felt.”

“Well, no one’s ever told me that before.”

She still has her hands on the downward slope of my neck.

I catch myself looking at her and I have the sense that, if she could see, she would be gazing at me as well.

Eye contact.

It’s powerful.

I think of Nicole, and how—

“I’m guessing it gets weird after a while doesn’t it?”
Alysha says.

“What does?”

“Seeing me and not knowing what I’m thinking. I mean, most people get pretty good at reading other people’s eyes, right? Or at telling things about them by how long they hold your gaze or how quickly they look away?”

“How do you know all that?”

“I may be blind, but I’m not stupid. And I am a girl.” A tiny smile. “Besides, I do the same thing with words, with silences, with reading between the lines of what people say.”

She lowers one hand to her lap, but leaves the other where it is. “Because of that, though, I’m afraid you still have me at a disadvantage, Daniel.”

“How’s that?”

“When it’s quiet, when we’re not talking, you can tell so much more about me than I can about you. But there’s one way we can be on an even playing field.”

“What is it?”

“Let me feel your heartbeat.”

“Alysha, I, um . . .”

“Oh, don’t be shy.”

“It’s just that I—”

“Trust me. It’s okay. Let’s see how well I do at reading between the lines.”

After a brief internal debate, I position her hand on my chest, over my heart.

She presses her palm more firmly so that she can find the rhythm. “You can tell a lot by a person’s heartbeat.”

“What can
yo
u tell from mine?” Despite m
ys
elf, I can feel m
y
heartbeat quickening. Nicole comes to mind again.

That and—

“Just a moment.” Alysha slides her hand slightly to the side. “Hmm. I believe I’ve narrowed it down. You’re thinking one of two things.”

“And what are those?”

“First: You might be afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Well. Me.”

“Why would I be afraid of you?”

“Of being here with me right now.”

“I don’t—”

“Of where it might lead.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that, but I start reaching up to remove her hand. However, it’s almost like she can read my mind, because she pulls it back and rests it on her other one before I can touch it.

“Do you want to know the second thing?”

“Yes.”

“That you aren’t afraid at all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I . . .”

“Let me have your hand.”

“For what?”

“Trust me.”

She holds out her palm, and I place my hand on it.

“Now,” she says, “close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just close them.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Trust me.”

I close my eyes.

“Are they closed?”

“Yes.”

She lifts my palm to her cheek. “Go ahead. See what I would look like to you if you were blind.”

“Alysha—”

She gently flattens it against her warm skin, but lets her hand linger there. “It’s okay.”

But I open my eyes and draw my hand back. “Alysha, I have a girlfriend.”

“And?”

“And this . . . I mean . . .”

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

“What?”

“Your heartbeat. It was either fear or, well, just the opposite, and I’m not sure what to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your heartbeat or your words. The first one is telling me that you do want to kiss me, the second, that you don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“But do you
want
to?”

It’s a tough question.

Because despite myself, the answer is both no.

And yes.

“If you didn’t have a girlfriend?” she says.

“But, I do, so I—”

The door to the Great Carrigini’s office opens and he and Tane appear.

“So, we can talk about this later, then?” She is whispering so that only I can hear her. “Okay?”

I don’t want to betray Nicole, but Alysha is right about one thing—this is not the time to sort this out.

“Okay.”

All of this gets me thinking about Nicole again, and, though I’m tempted to call her and let her know I’m okay, I remind myself that Dad is taking care of that.

Tane has Malcolm’s phone in his hand and is reviewing the video of what happened during their session.

“Well?” I ask him, glad to not be alone with Alysha anymore.

He looks up and studies the mountain vista photographs Dr. Carrigan has taken over the years, then walks to a picture of an old building with massive vines crawling up one side of it.

“This place,” he sa
ys
to the Great Carrigini. “What is it?”

“The old Estoria Inn.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Closed down in the fifties. You hear stories about it. I took that photo nearly a decade ago. Why?”

“What kind of stories?”

“The word ‘haunted’
gets thrown around. Supposedly, there’s a malevolent spirit in room 113 that possesses anyone who stays in there for more than one night. People say a boy was murdered in that room. It’s all just folklore, though. I don’t think any of it’s ever been verified.”

“That’s the place.” Tane taps the picture. “That’s where we need to go.”

I look at him curiously. “Why?”

“That’s where they’re taking Petra.”

“How do you know?”

“Malcolm told me.”

“Malcolm? When?”

“Just now.”

“What?”

He turns the phone’s screen toward me and replays part of the session.

In the video, he’s in a trance and Dr. Carrigan is asking him about Malcolm. Suddenly, he starts describing a building that sounds remarkably like that hotel.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “How is it possible that Malcolm could communicate that with you?”

Being psychic? Is that Tane’s gift? His instrument?

But is it Malcolm’s gift too?

“It only happened once before, when I was in L.A. Remember that story I told you about the drug dealer and how I helped find him? It wasn’t Malcolm speaking to me then, but I heard something that there was no way I should have been able to know about that location. And the voice was right.”

I give the hypnotist back his phone and Tane hands me Malcolm’s, then he turns to Dr. Carrigan. “Can you get us up there?”

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing there. It’s just an old deserted hotel.”

“No. This is it,” Tane insists. “This is where we need to go.” His firm tone leaves no room for argument. “What’s the fastest way up there?”

“From here? It would take a while—there’s no direct route. But I couldn’t drive you anyway. I’d never make it back in time for my show.”

“What about the helicopter?” I ask.

“I’m not sure there’s really anywhere for him to land up there.”

“You’ve hiked all over those mountains—
y
ou said earlier that you know them like the back of your hand. There must be somewhere with a flat enough field.”

“Well, there are some meadows, but . . . wait . . .”

He hurries into his office and when he returns, he’s carrying a large topographical map of the Smokies. He unfolds it on the floor and studies it, tracing hiking trails with his finger.

“This is Mount Dreyfus.” He points to a peak on the map. “There was a forest fire there a few years ago. I think the area is still clear enough to get a chopper in. From there it’s probably an hour-and-fifteen-minute hike along the ridge to the Estoria.”

Alysha speaks up. “What if it’s too overgrown to land?”

“Well . . . Then you’d need to fly to Spider Peak—maybe land at the base of it, here. It might be closer as the crow flies, but the trail is a little steeper and you’d have to cross Little Bear Creek. There should be a bridge, but it was pretty dilapidated the last time I was up there—and that was five years ago. I’m not sure if it’s still even intact.”

“Will flying a helicopter around draw attention if there are people at the Inn?”

He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t. This is a tourist area. There are half a dozen companies that provide helicopter flight excursions and tours up in those mountains. Anyway, I’m not sure what you expect to find up there.”

Tane taps the photograph one more time. “We’re going to find the person we’re looking for. Just like I did in L.A.”

“Alright,” I say. In the past I’ve had to trust the mysterious voices I’ve heard, now it was time to trust one of Tane’s. “Let’s go.”

We find the pilot at the diner.

He brings a couple slices of pie to go and we return to the chopper.

The Great Carrigini speaks with him for a few minutes, pinpointing on the map where to drop us off. “If you can’t land here on Mount Dreyfus, try the base of Spider Peak.”

“So from there, how do they get to the Estoria?”

“The trail should be clearly marked. They’ll cross the creek and then head uphill toward the Inn. It’s not that far. I’m guessing it’s about an hour-hike from the meadow where you’d be landing.”

He offers me the map. “Here. Take it.”

“We can use the GPS on Malcolm’s phone.”

“Oh, that won’t work up there. No reception. Take the map. Believe me. If the trails are overgrown or that bridge is washed away, you’re going to need it.”