Linger: Dying is a Wild Night (A Linger Thriller Book 1) (17 page)

“Downtown?”

“At the police station.”

“Why do I have to go
there
? I didn’t
do
anything.”

“Yeah, you said that. But if you withhold information, that’s what’s known as obstruction of justice and it can land you in jail. Is that what you want?”

She looked alarmed. “No.”

“Then lose the attitude and tell me what you know about the girl in the photograph. Because you know something.”

“All I know is I’m losing a lot of money right now.”

“The sooner you say something useful, the sooner I’ll leave and you can go back to work.”

Natalie studied Kate, weighing her options, then made a gesture with her fingers. “Let me see that picture again.”

Kate knew it was a stalling tactic, but she pulled out one of the photographs and handed it to her.

Natalie made a show of studying it. “You know, when I look at this now, I think you may be right. I do remember her. She was a regular here for awhile.”

“Imagine that,” Kate said.

“But she only did weekends. I think she went to school during the week.”

“So you knew she was underage?”

The eyes widened. “I didn’t say that.”

“You haven’t said a whole lot, but I have a feeling you knew her better than you’re letting on. You two were friends, weren’t you?”

“We talked to each other sometimes, but—”

“But nothing,” Kate said. “You’re no better at hiding it now than you were five minutes ago. Something’s going on inside that head of yours, and I want to know what it is.”

Kate waited for a response and was surprised when the hardness in Natalie’s eyes abruptly disappeared and they began to fill with tears.

“Oh, God…” she said. “Oh, God…”

Kate waited.

“I warned her like a hundred times. I told her he was a creep.”

“So you and Barbi
were
friends.”

Natalie wiped at her eyes, her lower lip trembling. “Not like BFFs or anything, but we used to talk a lot and we did a couple of group shows together and I swear to God I didn’t know how young she was until a lot later. She didn’t
act
like a kid…”

“Who’s the
he
you warned her about?”

“Chucho Soriano.”

“What about him?”

“He’s the creep who owns this place. He and his brother. He used to hang around a lot when Barbi was here and I told her he was trouble and that she should just do her job and stay away from him, but she thought he was cute and wouldn’t listen to me. And he’s the reason she’s dead. I know he is.”

The news of Soriano’s murder hadn’t reached the airwaves yet, and Natalie was operating on the notion that he was still alive.

“What makes you think that?” Kate asked.

“Because he’s crazy, that’s why. He told her he loved her, but he made her do all kinds of terrible things.”

“Like what?”

“He started pimping her out to her chat buddies even though he knew she was underage, and they were planning something bad. She used to brag about how they were gonna get rich and live in a big house and I figured it was just talk, but then they started messing with the wrong guy and I knew something terrible would happen.”

“What guy? Who were they messing with?”

“One of her regulars. She used to do a lot of one-on-one cam chats with him, then Chucho arranged for them to meet and… and…” She started to cry again. “I knew I should’ve told someone, especially when I found out how old she was, but I was afraid Chucho would try to hurt me, and—”

“What was his name, Natalie? The man he wanted her to meet?”

She sniffed and wiped her wrist across her nose. “I don’t know. She only told me his chat name.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure. Kogo or Kojo or—”

“Kojak?”

“Yeah. I think that was it. I remember she put him on her high tipper list and the guy got mad and wanted her to take it off.”

“Have you met this man?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve never even seen him. All I know is what Barbi told me.”

“Not even a picture or a video?”

“
No
,” Natalie said.

“Then I don’t get it. How did you know he was the wrong guy to be messing with?”

Natalie hesitated, looking as if she’d just made a very bad bet and wanted to take it back.

“Natalie?”

“Why should I trust you? Look who you came here with.”

“What do you mean?”

“That guy in the reception room, interviewing Crystal.”

“Which one? The big guy?”

She shook her head. “No, the other one.”

Linkenfeld. She was talking about Linkenfeld.

“What about him?”

The girl got quiet again and Kate softened.

“Look, Natalie, you’re not in trouble, okay? And you won’t be, if you tell me the truth. Just say what you want to say.”

Natalie considered this, then nodded. “It’s just he comes off all smooth and stuff, but he’s a complete creep. I’ve got a friend who works a corner a couple blocks over and he threatened to arrest her if she didn’t give him a blow job.”

“And you know this how?”

“She pointed him out to me one night. He’s always harassing her and her friends.”

Kate felt something shift inside her. Could this be true? Linkenfeld had always struck her as one of the good guys.

“Are you saying you think he might be the one Bree shouldn’t have been messing with? That he might be Kojak?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is what Bree told me.”

“Which was what?”

“That the guy they had on the hook was a cop,” Natalie said. “She told me he’s a fucking cop.”

∙ ∙ ∙

A cop.

Chat name Kojak.

Confirmation that Christopher’s “feeling” had been dead on.

Confirmation Kate didn’t
want.

Especially if that cop was Jake Linkenfeld.

Because, until now, she’d been able to pretend that Christopher had somehow gotten it wrong. That it was one of his misses. A scrambled transmission. A guess that had grown out of the confusion of his surroundings.

Kate wasn’t forgetting that she herself had put Bob MacLean on the suspect list, but she’d never truly believed it.

And now that Linkenfeld’s name had been floated, she couldn’t believe that either. Even if he was doing what Natalie’s friend had accused him of—as disgusting as it was—that didn’t make him a murderer.

Did it?

Whatever the case, Kate had been forced to confront the idea that he or MacLean or one of a few dozen other policemen—someone she knew, someone in the very building she inhabited for a good part of the day—could well be the killer she sought.

So what was she supposed to do now?

∙ ∙ ∙

After questioning Natalie for several more minutes and failing to get anything new out of her, Kate let her dry her tears and switch her camera back on, then went outside to the reception area, where Linkenfeld and MacLean were waiting.

She couldn’t help looking at them both in a different light.

“Any luck?” Linkenfeld asked.

Confirmation or not, Kate was no more inclined to share Natalie’s accusation than she had been when Christopher had made it. Especially if one of these men was her suspect.

She shook her head. “What about you guys?”

“Blonde’s name is Crystal Hatcher,” MacLean said, “And either she’s a pathological liar or we both read her wrong. She swears up and down she never saw or met the Branford kid, and we pushed her pretty friggin’ hard.”

“Okay, so maybe we’ll get lucky with the data on the website server. It has to be here somewhere.” Kate looked around. “What happened to the girl with the tattoos? Dark Angel?”

“I think she had a date with a demon vibrator,” MacLean said. “But don’t sweat it. Crystal showed us a closet in the employee break room that she says houses the main computer. Problem is, it’s locked tight and the manager, Freddie, is the only one with the key. I tried calling her, but got no answer.”

“And apparently she’s a real stickler about warrants,” Linkenfeld added.

Kate sighed. “This time of day, I was hoping we’d be able to finesse that part. So it’s a waiting game at this point.”

MacLean spread his hands. “Isn’t it always?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Linkenfeld said. “I know a guy who’s clerking for Judge Takane, and I can probably twist his arm into expediting a search and seizure. We can be back here by tomorrow morning when Ms. Freddie walks in the door.”

Kate considered this and wondered if Linkenfeld’s willingness to go the extra mile was a sign of his lack of culpability.

Then again, maybe he knew there was nothing incriminating on that server.

This situation was screwed up in more ways than she could count, but without any concrete evidence, what could she do but wait to see how it all shook out?

“I guess that’ll have to do,” she said. “I just wish it were tonight.”

MacLean snorted. “And I wish my new friend Crystal would park that cute little butt of hers on my bed.” He headed toward the elevators. “But like they say in France, wishes don’t fill the bag.”

I
T WAS DARK BY THE
time Kate reached the Circle Eight motel.

As she pulled into the lot she noted with some concern that there was no sign of the Rambler and wondered if it hadn’t yet been delivered from the impound garage, or if Weston had decided to ignore the boy’s wishes and take off anyway.

She went to the room she’d left them in—number 148 this time—and didn’t see any lights in the window.

Shit.

She tried knocking on the door anyway, not expecting an answer, but was surprised when Christopher’s melodic voice filled her head.

I’m here, Kate.

Then the door opened and Christopher stood in the darkness, no sign of Weston anywhere.

Kate stepped inside and flipped on the light. “He
left
you?”

Just for a little while. They brought our car and he went to get us some food.

“I can’t believe he left you alone.”

Why shouldn’t he? Because I’m blind?

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I’m not a baby, Kate. The Haneys used to leave me all the time.

“Based on what I’ve heard about them, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” She closed the door and dropped her bag on the dresser. “He shouldn’t have left you alone, and when he gets back he’s gonna hear about it.”

Chris crossed to a chair in the corner and sat.

You need to be nicer to Noah. He takes good care of me. And I don’t like it when you guys fight all the time.

She again felt like a chastised parent, and thought about her conversations with Dan and Rusty. “If people just did what I want them to, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

Nobody does what we want them to.

She laughed and sat on one of the beds, a little unsettled that she’d accepted this unorthodox form of communication with Chris so easily. Less than a day ago, the idea of telepathy—for lack of a better word—had been a joke to her.

“I guess that’s true,” she said.

But I’m glad Noah left me here, because I knew you’d be coming soon and I wanted us to be alone.

“How did you know I was coming?”

I felt it. Just like I feel the change in you.

“Change?”

You didn’t want to believe me before about the man who killed those people. Even though you know what I can do, you were starting to doubt it, and you were hoping I was wrong.

“Can you blame me?”

No, but that’s changed, hasn’t it? You believe me now.

“And wish I didn’t,” Kate said. “Life would be a lot less complicated that way.” She looked at him. “But why do you want us to be alone?”

Because I didn’t tell you everything.

“About what?”

I told you before I was born this way. But that isn’t true. What I was born with was more like what you and Noah have. A strong sense of intuition.

“Okay,” Kate said. “So then how did you get like this?”

“It happened the night I died.”

∙ ∙ ∙

Kate felt a draft of cold air and had no idea where it was coming from.

She shivered involuntarily. “Died?”

Yes.

“What the hell are you saying?”

I know Noah told you about what happened to me and all of my friends. At the home we lived in.

“Yes, but he didn’t go into much detail.”

Because he didn’t know that many. And what he didn’t know until tonight is that the man with the tattoo didn’t just leave me for dead. I
was
dead. He strangled me and threw me down and when he was sure I was gone, that I had no heartbeat, he cut out my tongue.

Images of Christopher being thrown to the floor filled Kate’s mind and she closed her eyes and tried, without success, to will them away. She couldn’t be sure if they were products of her imagination or were coming from the boy himself.

While the Beast was busy cutting me, I went to a place that was dark, and warm, and safe… And there was someone waiting for me.

Kate opened her eyes. “Who?”

A stranger. A woman I didn’t know, but who said that we were bound together by this man’s violence. Connected by our shared experience. I couldn’t see her, not even in death, but I felt her. And I heard her voice.

“Who was she?”

Someone you love, Kate, and who loves you with all her heart. She told me her name was Cassie.

Kate’s throat went dry.

Cassie was a name she knew all too well. What everyone had called the beautiful young cop’s wife, the police dispatcher who had been taken from them far too early.

Cassandra Messenger.

Kate’s mother.

∙ ∙ ∙

The room around Kate began to sway.

No. No. This was too much. Too much for any human being to absorb in a single day. She gripped the edge of the bed, hoping she wouldn’t teeter to the floor.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

I knew you’d resist, Kate, but it’s true. I can feel her in you. And she’s in me, too. She’s who I look for when I go into the haze. And she helps me see the pictures when I’m gathering. That’s why the signal is so much stronger when I send them to you.