Unspeakable (31 page)

“No, before you read that piece, what did you know about the Seattle World's Fair?”

“Not much,” he replied, shrugging. “I knew it was a very big deal fifty years ago, and they built the Space Needle for it. But that's all.”

“No one in your family or extended family told you about attending the fair?”

“No. My grandfather was away at military school when the fair was going on, and my grandmother is from Houston.” He straightened up a little. “But you just made me remember something that happened when I was a kid, visiting here with my mom. I think she was here for another stint in rehab. It was about a year before I made
The Night Whisperer
. My grandparents took me to the Seattle Center, and I asked my grandfather why the Space Needle wasn't orange. He told me, no, that it had been white for years.”

“Well, it was originally orange-gold,” Olivia said. “Maybe you saw a photo of the Space Needle from 1962, and that was how you still thought of it.”

“Or maybe that's how Wade Grinnell remembers it,” Collin said.

“Should I ask him?”

Gaping at her, Collin nodded. He grabbed his backpack and unzipped it. “I dug these out of storage last night,” he said, showing her a pair of handcuffs. “Just to make sure he can't do anything like last time. They're real. We used them in a cable movie I made about six years ago. The cops slapped them on Harry Hamlin when they arrested him at the end of the movie. The prop man let me keep them.” He glanced around the room and pointed to a radiator pipe in the corner. “You can cuff me to that.” Standing up, he reached into his pocket. “Here's the key.” He handed it to her.

Ordinarily, Olivia would never restrain a client, but considering what she knew about the real Wade, she wasn't giving Collin an argument. She took the key, and then moved a hardback chair over to the corner of her office. Collin set his iPhone on her desk and looked through it to make sure he had the area in frame. He didn't seem to like the height of the camera phone, and retrieved some books from his school bag to prop the phone up higher.

He joined her in the corner of the room, then cuffed his wrist and slapped the other cuff around the radiator pipe.

“It's not too hot, is it?” she asked, positioning her chair so it was out of his reach.

“No, I'm fine,” Collin said, breathing harder now. He seemed nervous again. He sat down in the chair with his right arm outstretched.

“Are you comfortable? Are we filming?”

He nodded a few more times than necessary.

Grabbing her notebook again, Olivia sat down in front of him. She glanced back to make sure she wasn't blocking the camera. Suddenly she was nervous, too. “All right, Collin,” she said, trying to steady her hand as she held it in front of his face. “I want you to think about that little shack near Shilshole Bay. . . .”

It took longer than last time to work him into a deep sleep. Olivia figured he couldn't have been very relaxed with his hand cuffed to the radiator pipe. But now he was slouched in the chair, with his eyes shut. His breathing was steady and deep.

“Collin, can you hear my voice?”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, barely nodding.

“I'm talking to the man inside Collin right now,” she said.

A low, menacing cackle came from his mouth. “You make it sound like I'm fucking him,” he said. It was the same voice she'd heard on the old tape two hours ago—the voice of the young sociopath who had murdered eighteen people.

“Wade?”

He opened his eyes and grinned at her—but only for a second. He noticed his shackled hand. He gave it a tug, and the metal handcuff clanked against the radiator pipe. “What is this shit?” he growled.

“You weren't very gentlemanly toward me last time,” Olivia said. “So we took some precautions. I'll consider taking off the handcuffs if you answer some questions for me.”

“Goddamn you, bitch,” he muttered, glaring at her. He rattled the cuffs again, and then glanced around. Olivia wasn't sure what he was looking for—maybe something to break the handcuffs or something to throw at her. She wasn't sure.

“This will only be for a little while, Wade,” Olivia said. She wondered if that was what he'd told his victims while tying them up—before he'd killed them. “First, you need to know that you're under hypnosis right now, and you can't lie. With that understood, did you set fire to the Pelhams' house last Tuesday morning?”

“I'm no firebug,” he grunted. “I didn't set fire to any houses. Who the hell are the Pelhams?”

“Gail Pelham was the girl who hypnotized you last time, the girl you spoke with.”

“The fat girl?”

Olivia sighed. “Yes, she was a big girl. She and her family were killed in a house fire early Tuesday morning.”

He laughed like he knew some dirty little secret. “Well, don't look at me, honey.”

“So you had nothing to do with the fire?”

“Nope.”

“And I suppose you had nothing to do with the fires at the Hotel Aurora Vista or the Pioneer Motor Inn,” she said.

He chuckled again, and then straightened in his chair. “Well, that's a different story.”

“What about Collin's friend, Fernando?” she asked.

He squinted at her.

“Collin's Latino friend, he's dead, too. Someone slit his throat.”

He burst out laughing, and slapped his knee with his free hand. “Shit, no, that's news to me. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Why is it so funny?” Olivia asked.

He smiled—the same smirk from the mug shot. “I'm just surprised, that's all. Could I have a glass of water?”

“In a minute,” she said. “You said you've known Collin for a long time. Did you know his mother, Piper Cox, and her boyfriend, Chance Hall?”

He frowned. “Nope, don't know them.”

“Then you don't know who killed them?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “You're asking the wrong guy, honey. Maybe the kid did it, and he's pretending he doesn't remember.”

“You mean, you don't know everything Collin does?” she asked. “You aren't aware of his actions? What is it—like you're asleep inside him while he's awake?”

He slouched lower in the chair, and scratched his crotch. “I can't answer,” he whispered. “My throat's too dry. I need some water.”

“Last time, when I asked why you were doing this to Collin, you said something about wanting to drive him crazy—before killing him. Why? What has Collin done to you? Who is he to you?”

Shaking his head, he pointed to his mouth. “Wawa . . .”

“All right, I'll give you some water,” she said. “But you have to answer some questions first. They're easy. You can keep the answers short—so as not to strain your parched throat. What color is the Space Needle?”

“They say it's gold, but it's really orange.”

“What color was it before?”

“Before what? They painted it orange when they finished building the stupid thing earlier this year.”

Olivia bit her lip for a moment. She scribbled a note down:

She glanced up at him and caught him trying to manipulate the lock to the handcuffs. It dawned on her that she and Collin hadn't tested them.

“Don't bother trying to do that,” she said coolly. “I've got the key and I'll unlock the cuffs in a couple of minutes. You'll get your water, too. Just a few more questions—and they're easy. Who is the president of the United States?”

“Kennedy. Duh.”

“Who's the vice president?”

He tapped his foot and had to think for a moment. “Nixon.”

Olivia didn't let on that he was wrong. “What's the last movie you saw in the theater?”

“
Lawrence of Arabia
.”

“What's today's date?”

He rolled his eyes, and then twisted around in the chair. His cuff knocked against the pipe. “October something. How the hell should I know? I don't have a calendar with me.”

“Okay, just give me the year.”

“1962,” he growled. “Now when the fuck are you gonna take these cuffs off me, bitch?”

“In a minute. Do you know who Loretta Pollack is?”

“Never heard of her,” he grunted.

“How about Rebecca Holleran—or Becky? Did you meet her at the fair, Wade?”

“You've got nothing on me,” he muttered, eyes narrowed at her.

“What about Cynthia Helms? She came up here from California with her parents. She was a freshman at the University of Washington. Are you going to tell me that you've never heard of her either?”

“I want some goddamn water. . . .”

“Why won't you answer my questions?”

“Screw you, bitch!” he yelled. Suddenly, he kicked and his shoe flew off. It sailed right past her head.

Startled, Olivia dropped her notebook.

He lunged at her, knocking his chair out from underneath him. His free hand swiped at the air just inches away from her face. Grunting, he tugged and tugged at the handcuff. It made a loud clatter against the radiator pipe.

Reeling back, Olivia tried to keep calm. “Collin?” she called in a shaky voice. She spoke over all his clanking and cursing. “Collin, I'm talking to you now. When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up. Collin?” She snapped her fingers three times. “Collin?”

He suddenly stopped and slumped down to the carpet. The cuff made a scratchy whine as it slid down the radiator pipe. He leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

All at once, everything seemed so quiet.

“Collin?” she whispered. “Can you hear me, Collin?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, opening his eyes. He started to move his shackled right hand and winced in pain.

Grabbing the key off her desk, Olivia crouched down beside him and unlocked the cuff.

Suddenly, his other hand grabbed her arm.

She screamed and fell on the floor.

“What?” Collin asked, panicked. “What'd I do?”

It took her a moment. “Nothing,” Olivia said, catching her breath. “You just scared the hell out of me, that's all. I thought you were still him for a second.”

Olivia picked herself up. She put a hand over her heart and felt it pounding furiously. “Are you all right?” she asked him.

Still sitting on the carpet, Collin rubbed his right wrist and grimaced again. He nodded.

She helped him to his feet. “We should get some ice on that wrist right away,” she said. “Otherwise, it'll be black and blue and all swollen tonight. There's a convenience store across the street that sells their version of Big Gulps. We can get some ice from them.”

Collin picked up his chair. “Good. Maybe I can get something to drink, too. I—I'm so thirsty.”

Olivia retrieved her notebook. She looked at him and nodded. “So was he.”

 

 

“I didn't take you for a smoker,” Collin said, sitting beside her on one of the benches in Knudsen Park. The fenced-in, small urban park was tucked away one block behind all the stores and restaurants along Madison Street. An artful balance of pavement, trees, and plants, it had become Olivia's own peaceful safe place. She often took her lunch from the Essential Baking Company or the teriyaki joint nearby and ate it in this little oasis. She'd never come here at night before. The park was well lit, and empty—except for them. Collin had Madison Val-U Mart's version of a Big Gulp in his left hand. The guys behind the counter knew her by now and gave them free ice. Olivia had loaded it in a handkerchief, which she'd tied around his wrist.

“Aren't you supposed to help people
quit
smoking?” Collin asked.

“Okay, so I'm a big phony,” Olivia grumbled, puffing gratefully on her first cigarette of the day. “I'm trying to cut back. I only had six cigarettes yesterday. Between my dealings with Wade Grinnell and my soon-to-be-ex-husband, I'm finding it harder and harder to give it up.”

“Sorry,” Collin muttered, sipping his drink through a fat straw.

She nudged him with her elbow. “Don't sweat it.” Taking a final drag from her Virginia Slim, she carefully put it out and tossed the extinguished stub in the trash can.

She hadn't let Collin watch the video of the session yet. “Okay, first the good news,” she said. “Wade—and therefore you as his host—didn't have anything to do with the fire that killed Gail and her family. And he wasn't involved in Fernando's death either. Subjects under hypnosis usually can't lie, so I believe him. But you'll see in the video that he seems to think it's all kind of amusing—and I'm not sure why.”

“Did he say what he was doing right before dawn on Tuesday?” Collin asked anxiously. “Did he explain where he'd been? I mean, why were my shoes all muddy? Why did my clothes smell like gasoline?”

Olivia shook her head. “I didn't ask him about that. I'm sorry. But you can let yourself off the hook about your friends—and about your mother and Chance, too. He didn't know them and didn't know about the murders.”

With a sigh, Collin sagged against the bench-back. He took another sip of his Big Gulp.

Olivia reached into her purse and fished out a copy of the 1964
Seattle Times
article. “Now brace yourself,” she said, handing him the two pieces of paper. “That's an old newspaper feature. As you can see, Wade was a lot busier than we thought. His picture's there on the second page. I don't see any resemblance. So I'm not sure what Mrs. Pollack was talking about.”