The Escape Artist (30 page)

He was hunched over his computer and didn’t look up at her as she rushed into the room.

“Dinner ready?” he asked.

“Turn on Linc’s show,” she said, reaching for the power switch on his radio. “He’s doing something weird. He’s up to something.”

“What do you mean?” Jim sat back from his desk as Peggy tuned his radio to the show. Linc was playing a song by Peter, Paul, and Mary.

“He’s been playing songs with the name ‘Susan’ in them,” she said. “And he’s playing a different type of music than he usually plays. And he’s naming the people who made requests.”

Jim seemed unimpressed. “This sounds exactly like the sort of song I’d expect to hear on his show.”

“Well, this one, yes. But before. He was playing…” Her mind went blank. “I don’t know, but believe me, I’ve been listening to him ever since Susanna took Tyler, and this show is different.” She sank into the armchair in the corner of the study. “Really, Jim, he’s up to something.”

Jim hit the save button on his computer. “What can he possibly be up to?”

She leaned toward him. “I think he’s in touch with her somehow. He’s communicating with her.”

“Hon.” With a sigh, Jim rolled his chair over to hers and took her hands in his. “I think you’re reading too much into it,” he said. “You’re making yourself nuts with this stuff. If it will make you feel better, tomorrow we can call Bill Anderson and he can try talking to Linc again.”

Tears of frustration burned her eyes. “He’ll just deny he knows anything, as usual.”

Jim leaned forward to kiss her. “You know what we need?” he asked. “I think we need a vacation. Where would you like to go? This thing with Tyler has become our total focus.”

“Of course it’s our total focus,” she said. “A member of our family is missing. How are we supposed to think about anything else?”

Jim nodded. “But worrying about it all the time is hurting us,” he said. “I think we need a break.”

Peggy pulled away from him and sat back stiffly in the chair. “Then take a vacation by yourself,” she said angrily. “I’ll let you know when I find your son.”

Jim’s jaw dropped open in surprise, and she immediately regretted her words. She leaned forward to hug him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can’t think about a vacation until we have something to celebrate. All right?”

He nodded and touched her cheek. “All right,” he said. “It’s just that…sometimes I feel as though my son isn’t the only person who’s missing. My wife is gone too.”

She winced. “Oh, Jim. Forgive me. I know I haven’t been very…attentive to you lately.” She had become not only a negligent lawyer and a helpless mother, but a lousy wife as well. “Dinner’s almost ready. You want to come down?”

“Sure.” He rolled back to his computer. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

She was quiet during dinner, but if Jim suspected that Linc and his show were still on her mind, he didn’t mention it. He talked about the case he was working on. It was high stakes, he said, and she tried to insert appropriate comments into the conversation. But she was thinking about what she would do after dinner, and she knew she couldn’t tell Jim her plan. He would try to dissuade her, and she didn’t want to be dissuaded.

She waited until after the dishes were done and Jim had parked himself in front of the computer once again before walking upstairs to their bedroom and dialing Linc’s number. She sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting. The phone rang for a long time, and she had already planned her speech for his answering machine when he picked up.

“Linc Sebastian.”

“Linc, this is Peggy Miller.”

A second of hesitation. “Hello, Peggy,” he said.

“Could you please tell me the meaning of your show tonight?” she asked.

Linc laughed. “The
meaning
of my show? That’s for each listener to decide for him or herself. A personal sort of thing, don’t you think?”

He was insufferable.

“Are you in contact with her? With Susanna?”

“Only in my dreams.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means no, Peggy. I’m not in contact with Susanna. I’ve told you and your people that a hundred times,”

“Then why were you playing all those Susanna songs tonight?”

“Pardon? Susanna songs?”

“God, you make me so angry! ‘Suzanne.’ ‘Wake Up Little Susie.’ Those songs.”

“Did I? It wasn’t intentional, Peggy. I admit she’s on my mind a lot. I was probably driven to play them by my subconscious or something.”

Peggy felt her lower lip begin to tremble, but she was determined not to cry. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. “Linc, I want my baby back,” she said. “Jim’s and mine. I want him safe and sound, here with us. I doubt very much she’ll use Jim’s health insurance anymore, so that means she has no coverage for Tyler. And very little money. How can she possibly be getting him decent care?”

“I’m sorry, Peggy. I know you sincerely care about Tyler, but he is not, no matter what the courts say, your baby. “

She gritted her teeth. He had a way of throwing you off track. She was certain he knew more than he was telling her. “Would you meet me for lunch sometime next week?” she asked.

“No, I won’t. What’s the point? So we can grouse at each other some more? Make each other feel miserable and end up with indigestion? Bad idea.”

“Please, Linc. If you’d rather not talk over lunch, we could meet at your house. Or mine. Or neutral territory. You name it. But please. I know you care about Tyler. Let’s be on the same team for once.”

She heard him sigh. “All right,” he finally agreed. “Thursday?”

“Is that the soonest you can do it?”

“God, woman, you do not give up, do you? Thursday, take it or leave it.”

“Thursday’s fine. Where?”

“Russian Cafe. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes. What time?”

“Noon.”

“I’ll be there.”

She hung up the phone, but remained on the bed another few minutes, still reeling from the conversation. Finally, she opened the bedroom door. She could hear a few beeps from Jims computer. He would be working for the rest of the evening and probably through much of the night, and she felt a wave of loneliness wash over her. She wished she could call her brother, but she hadn’t spoken to Ron since their falling out in his office, and she no longer felt as though she could turn to him with her problems. Nor did she want to call any of her friends. They would be busy with their families on a Sunday night, and besides, they had to be tired of hearing her lamentations about Tyler. What had she talked to her friends about before? She couldn’t remember.

She listened for another minute to Jim’s methodical tapping on the keyboard of his computer, then walked downstairs to lose herself in her book on one year olds.

KIM WAS FEEDING CODY
that Wednesday night when Lucy stopped by.

“Just wanted to give you a few of my magazine clippings.” Lucy set a red folder on the kitchen counter. “I thought reading them might make you feel a bit more comfortable about being featured in one of my articles.”

“Thanks.” Kim slipped the last spoonful of peas into Cody’s mouth, then looked at her neighbor. “By the way, I wanted to let you know that I’m going away for the weekend.”

It had taken her two days to come to a firm decision. Two days to weigh the possibly dire consequences of going to Philadelphia against her need to see Linc. In the end there was no contest. She had to go.

“Oh, really?” Lucy said. “Where are you going?”

“New York.” She untied Cody’s bib and wiped his face with it, avoiding Lucy’s eyes. “To visit some friends.”

“Are you taking the train up?”

“No. I’m driving.”

“Driving in New York! Ugh. Are you sure you want to do that?”

Kim gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ve done it lots of times,” she said. She had never even stepped foot in New York.

“You know,” Lucy said, “I’d be happy to watch Cody for you. Then you wouldn’t have to cart him around with you. I’d love having his company for a few days.”

Kim tried not to react with overt horror to the suggestion. “Oh, that’s sweet of you, Lucy.” She wet a hand towel and washed Cody’s hands. “My New York friends haven’t seen him for several months, though, and they’d be furious if I didn’t bring him along.”

“Okay.” Lucy gave up. “And when you come back we can do that interview.”

“Sure.” She glanced at the clock on the stove top. She was supposed to be at Adam’s in a few minutes. Lifting Cody out of his high chair, she smiled at her neighbor. “I’m going out now, Mom,” she said. “I have a painting lesson with Adam. And I may be gone overnight, so don’t worry about me, all right?”

“That’s a pretty long painting lesson.” Lucy shook her head as she walked toward the door. Then she laughed. “Don’t mind me, dear. I’m just jealous, that’s all.”

Kim gave Cody a quick bath and dressed him in his pajamas for the ride to Adam’s. Once in the car, though, she took a detour to West Annapolis. She wanted to drive past the home of Ryan Geary, the next victim on the list. She felt the need to see where he lived. It was the only way she could make herself believe that the man and his home were real, not some fictitious name and address on her computer.

The neighborhood was very different from her own. The houses were large, with spacious, tree-filled yards, and they were set quite a distance back from the street. The Geary house had the distinction of being separated from its neighbors by a small patch of woods on either side. The house was real, all right. It was big enough to hold any number of people, all of whom were in danger.

Kim finally had a plan of sorts. She would wait until November 6, exactly one week before the bombing was to occur at the Gearys’ house. If she’d heard nothing encouraging on the news about the capture of the killer by then, she would have to act. She would send the information on the list to the police, along with a brief letter of explanation, but she’d drive to a town at least a few hours away to mail it. Then she’d sit back and hope that the police would hunt for the killer instead of the messenger.

She’d considered sending the information from Philadelphia, but didn’t want to take the risk of doing so until she had no other choice. She was hoping against hope that the police would close their net on the bomber before she had to intervene. There hadn’t been any mention of the bombings in the paper in nearly a week, and she was beginning to wonder if the police even had a net to close.

She stopped at a Chinese restaurant a few blocks from Adam’s house and picked up some lo mein. Once at Adam’s, she tucked Cody into Liam’s bed while Adam and Jessie set the kitchen table. Adam was in a good mood—cheerful, hungry, and excited about a dream he’d had the night before.

“My colors are back,” he said as he dug into the lo mein. “Everything’s vivid again.”

“The bank mural looks wonderful,” Kim said. “It’s almost finished, isn’t it?”

“Finished it today, actually,” Adam said. “Now I’m starting to think about something new. The Waterfront Museum has been after me to paint a mural on one of the walls of its entryway for years. So I’ve been telling myself before I go to sleep at night to focus my dreams on the museum. I’ve already gotten a few ideas.”

“That works?” Kim asked skeptically.

“It takes some practice, but it definitely works. At least it does for me now that my mind’s freed up a bit.”

Jessie looked up from her plate where she’d been running her fork idly through the noodles. “Do you think you should start another painting right away?” she asked. “Maybe you should take a break first.”

“I’m on a roll, Jess.” He squeezed his sister’s hand reassuringly. “Everything’s under control.”

Kim and Adam talked about his dream from the night before, while Jessie continued toying with her food. She helped them do the dishes after they were finished, then excused herself.

“A friend of mine’s coming over to see the kittens,” she said. “She has two kids. I’m hoping she’ll want a couple of pets for them.”

Upstairs in the studio, Kim worked on her painting of the house across the street from her apartment, while Adam experimented with colors, hunting for the shades in his dream.

“Does Jessie seem depressed to you?” Kim asked as she worked.

“Seem?” Adam didn’t take his eyes from his canvas. “No, she doesn’t seem depressed. She is depressed. So was I until recently.”

“Well, maybe she needs some…you know…professional help.”

“She saw a psychiatrist for a while. We both did. We were both on antidepressants. Jessie still gets into a funk now and then, but believe me, she’s much better than she was. And I am much, much better.” He sidestepped toward her and planted a kiss of gratitude on her neck, then returned to his own canvas. “Listen.” He changed the subject. “I was wondering if you might like to go with me to Washington on Saturday? There’s an exhibit at the National Gallery I’d like to see.”

She bit her lip. She would have to tell him about Philadelphia sooner than she’d wanted to. “Oh, Adam, I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have plans for the weekend.” The words came out in a rush, and she wondered if he heard the guilt behind them. “Actually, I have to go out of town.”

“You do? Where are you going?”

She studied the tip of her brush, thinking. If anyone came looking for her, asking questions about her, it would be better if Adam didn’t know where she was. But she couldn’t lie to him any more than she had to.

“Philadelphia,” she said. “I’m visiting a friend there.” She hoped he and Lucy never compared notes.

“Oh.” Adam began playing with the paints again, and she almost thought the topic was finished. But it was not. He glanced over at her. “Is this friend, by any chance, the man who’s ‘still in your heart?’”

She hadn’t expected the question, and she hesitated long enough to let him know he was right. She knew that he would believe no other answer.

“There’s a possibility that he’ll be there,” she said. It was, after all, only a possibility.

Adam nodded without speaking and returned to his work, and Kim wasn’t certain if the tension she felt between them was real or imagined. They painted quietly for another twenty minutes or so before Adam set down his brush and left the room. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and figured he was going to get something to drink, but when he didn’t return after a quarter of an hour, she knew he was more upset over her plans for the weekend than he’d let on.