Disembodied Bones (32 page)

Gideon knew that he had been one of the
fortunate ones. Whitechapel hadn’t touched him sexually. From what
the pedophile had said to him in the hours that he had been his
captive, when Whitechapel was able, he liked to draw out his
relationships with the boys he took. He played with them, catered
to their likes, before abusing them. Then, when he could, he kept
them for weeks or months, until he tired of them, or until
something else happened. Fear had been Gideon’s childhood companion
and it had accompanied him into adulthood. For a shining solitary
moment, the adult Douglas understood that he had never let it go,
and it made him shake with anger.

Leonie’s face blanched. “God, all that fear
and emotion tied up into a knot. It’s tied up in your very being,
part of you forever.” One of her hands reached up tentatively, as
if she might touch the side of his face as she had touched her
own.

Turning away with a hostile shrug, Gideon
said furiously, “He’s dead. Dead. And I’ve never ceased to be glad
that you killed him. I’m only sorry I didn’t get there first.”

Another voice cut through the heavy silence
that ensued. “Leonie.”

With a controlled move that visibly strained
her, Leonie rotated her head and saw that Scott Haskell was
standing in the front doorway. Dressed in his pristine uniform, he
was turned halfway toward them, with one of his hands behind his
back, and a carefully neutral expression concealed his intent.
Apparently, she had forgotten to lock that door as well. In their
combined, emotional states, neither of them realized the sheriff
had opened the screen door and pushed the front door wide. One of
his booted feet propped the screen door open, even while his astute
eyes never wavered away from his intended objective.

Gideon’s head swiveled slowly toward Scott.
Leonie couldn’t see the look on his face, but she realized abruptly
that Gideon’s shoulders suddenly went as tense as a board and his
mind went into a remarkably calm state.

Scott stared at Gideon. He didn’t look away.
He didn’t even blink.

Leonie’s mouth opened in puzzlement. “Scott?
What is it?”

“Step away from him, Leonie,” Scott rumbled
from deep inside his chest.

He’s holding his weapon behind him
,
thought Leonie.
As if he’s going to arrest someone.

I know. He wants me. He thinks I’m the one.
He thinks you’re in danger. From me.

Leonie shook her head with a little gasp of
horror. “It’s not him, Scott.”

“Step away from him,” Scott repeated slowly,
each word excruciatingly deliberate. “This isn’t the time to debate
who or what he is or isn’t. Mr. Lily, if you’ll just put your hands
up and link your fingers behind your neck.”

“It’s not him,” Leonie said again, more
urgently.
Why would Scott think you’re the one?

Leonie, get out of the way. The riddle man
put the pack on your porch. He’s pointed a finger at me. Jesus God,
don’t get in their way or you’ll get hurt.

“Scott, how did you know Gideon was here?”
Leonie asked the question even while Gideon’s hands went up and he
complied with what the law enforcement officer was asking of him.
Then she perceived movement behind her and realized that one of
Scott’s deputies was standing behind her, his weapon out and
pointed at the floor. He had come silently through the back, while
they were caught up listening to Scott.

There was a charge of movement. Leonie got
shoved out of the way and Gideon made a noise as her knee hit the
floor hard, causing her to cry out. He began to lower his arms but
Scott already was tumbling him to the floor in a controlled rush.
Leonie could only stare as Gideon’s face was shoved to one side and
a knee pinned his neck while Scott’s nimble hands expertly attached
handcuffs. The other deputy managed Gideon’s legs and held on while
Scott finished. After a moment, Scott brought his knee up and kept
one hand on the cuffs, directing Gideon’s body position.

Leonie ended up sitting on the floor,
helplessly staring at the three men that made her living room look
like a children’s playhouse. They all seemed to stop at the same
time. The deputy looked at the sheriff and Scott looked at Leonie
with his expressionless face betraying nothing. “Who told you
Gideon was here?” she asked again.

“There was…ah…anonymous phone call,” Scott
admitted with the same deliberation he had used previously.
“Someone knew we were looking for him. It came in after we put out
an APB for him.” He sighed and thumped Gideon lightly on the back.
“Do you know who he is, Leonie? He’s a big fan of yours. Got a
whole wall of clippings and photos. We haven’t found any of your
underwear yet, but I reckon it’s a matter of time.”

Gideon said something under his breath.
It’s not like that, Leonie.

“A whole wall of clippings and photos?” she
said. A little stream of horror began to trickle through her. He
protested again in his thought, denying there was any such
wall.

“Photos of you taken with a telephoto lens.
Nothing of you coming out of the bathroom buck naked, but maybe
you’re in the habit of closing your curtains. I figure he wanted to
repeat childhood experiences.” Scott paused. “He’s Douglas Trent,
Leonie. He’s the kid you saved all those years ago.”

Leonie stared at Gideon. He had turned his
head and stared back at her, silently willing her to listen to
him.

“Christ almighty, Leonie. He came here to be
near you. You’ve seen him in the Gingerbread House and the
neighbors say he’s been watching your house at night lately. One of
my deputies called me on the way in here. She found the roll of
duct tape that matched the bit that was used on Olga. On his
property.” There was a slight hesitation. “And there’s evidence
that he kidnapped his own nephew.”

Leonie made a noise and covered her mouth.
Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Ice began to form within
her veins. A mental rush of emotion told her that Gideon was
vehemently denying it. Her voice was just a thread of sound. “What
evidence?”

“Pajamas with blood on it. The boy’s name is
Keefe Grant,” Scott said it gently and rose to his feet. He
motioned at the deputy and together they took Gideon by his arms
and brought him upright. “A book of riddles. The one used for Olga
is marked. He hid most of it.”

“There isn’t a security system in any of the
out buildings, which must be where the guy hid the stuff,” Gideon
said in a rush. “And you won’t find any of my fingerprints on your
so-called photos and clippings. Don’t let him fool you, Leonie.
It’s you he really wants. Without me to protect you, then-”

“What the hell is he talking about, Leonie?”
Scott demanded irately. They walked Gideon to the door and Leonie
watched from the floor as they escorted him to the patrol car and
put him in the back. When the door was shut Scott returned to
Leonie and found her still sitting on the floor. “I’m sorry, but
whatever he’s said to you is complete crap. I think he’s obsessed
with you and that he orchestrated the kidnappings to get you back
into action.”

Leonie stared out the door. “And the boy?
Keefe? Have you found him?”

“No,” Scott let the word out like a sigh.
“Did he tell you where he’s at?”

“No,” Leonie said. “He said there’s someone
else doing it. Someone who wants to get even with me for some
reason. I don’t think I can find him either. I’ve tried already and
he’s beyond me somehow.”

Scott frowned at the deadened tone of
Leonie’s voice and focused on what she had said. “Why would anyone
want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” She wiped the back of her
hand across her face and discovered that trails of tears were
running down her face.

Scott looked around the tiny place. “You
hurt, Leonie? Did he touch you?”

Leonie finally found the energy to get to her
feet. “No, I’m not hurt.”

It’s not true. It’s not true, dammit
.
A rush of angry thoughts obliterated everything else and Leonie
went to find something for her resurgent headache.
Leonie, he’s
still out there. You have to be careful. Are you listening to
me?

Scott took the back pack with him, encasing
it carefully in a paper bag and sealing it for evidence. She was
supposed to go to the Sheriff’s Department and fill out some
reports later, but she felt as numb as an ice cube. Even when
Vinegar Tom came in and lay purring on her lap, she couldn’t shake
the anesthetized feeling that threatened to overwhelm her. It was
harder to keep her mind blank than she would have guessed and it
took a concentrated effort to do so.

When visitors came a few hours later she was
curled up on the couch with only the black and white tailless cat
as company.

-

As I was going to St. Ives,

I met a man with seven wives;

Every wife had seven sacks,

Every sack had seven cats,

Every cat had seven kits:

Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,

How many were there going to St. Ives?

Only one person was going to St. Ives.

Friday, July 26th

Looks like water,

But it’s heat.

Sits on sand,

Lays on concrete.

People have been known,

To follow it everywhere.

But it gets them no place,

And all they can do is stare.

What is it?

“Leonie,” Dacey muttered. Brushing the
tangled web of black hair off her friend’s forehead, she tried to
hold back the burgeoning flow of disquiet that threatened to engulf
her when she had seen just how still and quiet Leonie was as she
lay on the couch. Dacey perched on the couch’s edge and looked down
at Leonie expectantly. “Scott called me a while ago. He said you
might be a little upset.”

Vinegar Tom shifted uncomfortably from his
curled up position behind Leonie’s bent knees. His head went up and
he balefully regarded Dacey with piercing green eyes. Leonie
stroked the cat twice before moving slowly to sit up, careful to
not jar the animal. “I wasn’t upset,” Leonie denied. “I’m not sure
what I was, am. Whatever.”

“You’re not coming to work today,” Dacey
announced definitively.

“I should go. Today’s usually a busy day.”
Leonie made a face and abruptly changed the subject. “Did Scott
tell you who it was?”

Dacey’s eyes skittered toward the floor,
silently telling herself to not come across as I-told-you-so, but
the words seemed to produce themselves out of thin air. “Yeah,
honey. G. Lily.” Dacey managed to say the name like it was a vile
curse. “I told you he wasn’t to be trusted. Scott said he’s got a
fingerprint that proves the guy was the one who took Olga. He was
in the store right before Olga came in.”

“He was going out when she came in,” Leonie
corrected dully. “Oh, God, Dacey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Dacey embraced her friend with firm arms and
Vinegar Tom hissed a complaint, before he got up and fled toward
the kitchen and the kitty door there. Leonie heard Tom hiss again
louder this time and she almost pushed Dacey away to see what the
problem was. But Dacey whispered in her ear, “Elan came with me.”
She gave Leonie another brief hug. “But it wasn’t your fault. You
didn’t know it was him. Of all people. He turns out to be the kid
you saved from a stinking murderer. Real grateful fella.”

Elan’s smooth voice came from behind Dacey.
He was soothingly contemplative as he spoke. “It must have been
traumatic for him. As a child. Taken by that man. So young and
helpless, not knowing what will happen.” The tone thickened with
nameless emotion. “Just a little kid, scared and alone. Who knows
what something like that will do to him?”

Dacey tucked Leonie’s head into her shoulder
like a fond mother, and stroked her black hair into place. She
turned to say to Elan, “It’s not an excuse. There are lots of
people who are scared and frightened, who never turn out to do what
Douglas Trent did. He’s scared Leonie half to death. And Olga too,
but I think she’ll forget about it in a matter of months. But me,
I’ll never forget, and God knows, I’ll have a harder time
forgiving.”

Leonie savored the close contact of her
friend for a moment and pulled back. She brought her body back and
managed to stand without her knees showing a distinct wobble that
would betray her vulnerability. Whatever it was, Gideon had
something, some kind of ability on a level with the family. He was
connected with her, but he was also potentially some kind of nut,
someone, by his own account, who was obsessed with her. He had
watched her. He had followed her. He had gone into her house when
she wasn’t there. He had furtively taken pictures of her. What else
was he capable of doing?

Repressing an urge to call some of the family
Leonie implicitly trusted, she wanted to ask them about outsiders
with the gift. She wanted to know if it had happened before, if
those people were distant by-blows, descendants of family who had
gone outside and stayed there. But she had been apart from them for
so many years that it was difficult to simply pick up the phone and
admit that she needed help.

Leonie wracked her own memory for the
information she needed. There were stories about outsiders with
veiled eyes, never the same as the family’s abilities.
Had
Gideon been adopted as a child? Did the family’s blood run in his
veins?

Since Leonie was thinking of him, it was like
a doorway opened. His thoughts immediately popped into hers
. I
wasn’t adopted. You’re still in danger, Leonie. You don’t have to
trust me. I’m in jail with a guy named Elliot, who has three dozen
tattoos, most of which have the words Harley Davidson in them, and
I’m not likely to get out. But you have to believe that you’re
still in danger.

Leave me alone, Gideon.

Don’t shut me out, Leonie. Don’t-