F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (34 page)

           
Two
more nights
, she told herself as she slipped the key into the vestibule's
inner door.

           
She had promised herself that if the
next two nights proved uneventful, she would abandon Kelly's apartment and
begin sleeping at Ellen's. That would be easier for herself, and especially
better for Jill.

           
As she turned the key, she glanced
at the row of mailboxes to her right. She noticed the envelopes through the
window of the
2C/K. Wade
box.

           
Probably bills.

           
Which reminded her of Ed Bannion's
offer to help her become administrator of Kelly's estate. It was sounding
better all the time. Good to know that a seed of kindness you had planted while
alive could reap benefits after you were dead. Even in New York.

           
Kara wondered where the mailbox key
was. Probably on Kelly's key ring which was still in the personal effects—evidence
bag at the Midtown North precinct house.

           
As she entered the apartment she
realized that she no longer felt like some sort of graverobber whenever she
walked through the door. She was getting used to it. She was almost comfortable
here.

           
She hid the apartment key in the
same place as the other night—in the rear of the oven—and then made a quick
search for the mailbox key. No luck. She'd ask the super for a duplicate in the
morning.

           
As she toweled herself off after her
shower, she realized that she hadn't heard from Rob all day, which was a bit
strange. But he had said he was loaded down with work.

           
She sat on the edge of the bed and
debated taking the Halcion tonight. What if she didn't really need it.

           
Don't
be a jerk. Take it as directed. Kelly didn't and look what happened to her.

           
Kara swallowed one and turned out
the light.

           
Ed Bannion stood in the lobby of the
Waldorf shaking hands with the very tanned Murray Weiss and Jay Delano,
accepting their thanks for a wonderful dinner and wishing them in turn a safe
flight back to the coast in the morning. Weiss and Delano were producing a
feature that was to be shot entirely on location in Manhattan and this had been
one of many trips to firm up budgets and leases and contracts and permits and
the myriad legal documents necessary for a location shoot.

           
They were turning in early tonight—they
had an early flight out of JFK tomorrow.

           
The three of them had started off
first thing this morning and crunched numbers all day long. After that it was
drinks and a long leisurely dinner at Le Cirque with three wines and
after-dinner cordials. Ed was feeling loggy. They seemed fine.

           
Different metabolism. Or because
they were still on L.A. time. That had to be it.

           
As Weiss and Delano headed for the
elevators, Ed glanced past them and caught sight of a familiar blond haircut
just entering an elevator; it belonged to a slim, shapely woman in a leather
mini. She was on the arm of a swarthy man wearing a business suit and a turban.
Ed froze for a moment. She looked just like Kelly Wade—no,
Kara
Wade!

           
And then the elevator doors closed.

           
Ed shook his head to clear it. He
felt dizzy, frightened. It was like seeing a ghost. Too many after-dinner
snifters of Irish Mist. That was it. The liquor was affecting his vision.

           
He turned and hurried outside for a
cab.

 
 

           
Kara made it back to Kelly's
apartment before Ed showed up.

           
Another good morning, right from the
start: bright sunshine, the apartment key just where she had left it, and no
writing on walls or mirrors. She'd had breakfast with Jill, tutored her in math
and reading, and had a nice long talk with Ellen.

           
She had vague memories of another
sex dream. Only tiny, tantalizing fragments remained… a Hindu… all sorts of
weird positions…

           
She wondered if it was the Halcion.

           
And once again she was left with the
vague impression that Dr. Gates had been there. Not visible, not a participant
in the dream, but
there
.

           
She guessed that wasn't so unusual.
Dreams were supposed to be subconscious rehashing of the day's events. She'd had
a session with Dr. Gates yesterday, and he was playing an important role in her
life right now, so it wasn't surprising he'd be a presence in her dreams.

           
But where had the Hindu come in?

           
As she passed the mailboxes in the
vestibule, she noticed that Kelly's seemed even fuller than last night. She'd
asked the super about a key earlier this morning and he said he'd get her a
replacement—for five dollars. Fine. She'd paid him.

           
Back in the apartment now, she found
that a small envelope had been slipped under the door. It was the new mailbox
key.

           
At that moment the buzzer from the
vestibule rang. It was Ed. Instead of buzzing him in, she went down to meet
him. She had to get the mail anyway.

           
Ed was looking dapper in a Burberry
coat and a cashmere scarf. His brown hair was slightly windblown but otherwise
he looked perfectly put together. He carried a slim briefcase that appeared to
be polished cordovan leather.

           
"You're looking great!" he
said with a smile as she opened the vestibule door.

           
"A bit of an
exaggeration," she said, "but thanks anyway."

           
She felt shabby in her jeans and
sweater, but she hadn't taken much time to pack on Monday morning. Her mind
hadn't been on her wardrobe.

           
Ed held the door for her while she
opened Kelly's mailbox and pulled out a stack of envelopes.

           
"Bills?" Ed said as they
headed for the stairs.

           
Kara took a quick look at the return
addresses.

           
"That's the way it looks."

           
"Then I'm just in time.
Legalman to the rescue."

           
Kara gave him a smile. He was trying
very hard to be nice.

           
In the apartment he set his
briefcase on the floor and said, "Want to have lunch first and then get to
the paperwork?"

           
"Why don't we—"

           
Kara stopped when she spotted Dr.
Gates' return address on one of the envelopes. She pulled it out and stared at
it.

           
"What's the matter?" Ed
said.

           
"This envelope…"

           
Dr. Gates' name was on the return
address sticker in the upper left corner, a West 21st Street address. Probably
his home. But the rest was strange. It was a Consolidated Edison payment return
envelope, but the Con Ed address had been heavily scratched out with pencil and
the address of Kelly's apartment written below it. But even stranger was the
new addressee.

           
"… it's addressed to me."

           
It wasn't sealed. The flap had been
torn open and then tucked back inside. Within was an electric bill, folded
around a check. Kara was baffled.

           
"What on earth—?"

           
"There's writing on the
back," Ed said, pointing to the reverse of the bill.

           
Kara turned it over and stared at
the hasty scrawl. She felt her throat constricting as she read.

           
Kara
Wade
—

           
Get
away from Dr. Gates, as far away as you can. He takes over your body while you
sleep and uses it for his own pleasures. You cannot fight him. Run far away or
you will end up like your sister. RUN!!!!

           
Kara felt as if the temperature in
the apartment had plummeted forty degrees. Gooseflesh broke out along her arms.
She shook her head in wonder. "This is the craziest thing I've ever
seen." And it was precisely because it was so very crazy that it bothered
her so. Some nut knew her name and address, and knew she was one of Dr. Gates'
patients. Great. This was just what she needed.

           
But worse than that—the words struck
a responsive chord within her—as if she had half suspected the same thing. She
shivered.

           
Ed reached for it. "May
I?"

           
His brow furrowed as he read it. He
looked up at her, questioningly.

           
"What's this all about?"

           
"Dr. Gates was Kelly's
psychiatrist. I've had a few sessions with him myself, lately. I haven't the
faintest idea who this is from, but I'd assume it's one of his patients."

           
"Yeah. But why write on the
back of an electric bill?"

           
"I don't know, but I'm going to
find out."