So why am I here? Buzz was either gone or dead. Either way, Janus could not help. He turned on the doorstep and prepared to walk away.
And then a crash came from inside the house.
Janus stood at the doorway for a minute.
“Buzz?” he yelled from outside the door. “Are you fucking in there, mate?”
There was silence. Janus wet his lips with his tongue. Reluctantly, he tried the front door. It was locked. Janus sighed in relief.
“Buzz? You there?” he called again.
He took a step backward. Well, there was nothing he could do, he thought. He should get in the car and get the hell out of dodge.
But he knew he should check the back of the house as well. He should be sure that Buzz was not just lying somewhere, bleeding, maybe getting his guts ripped out even now…
Janus worked to get the image out of his head.
He looked around. There was no one in sight. I have to be sure, he thought. Besides, it’s a bright sunny day out. He should not be this spooked.
Moving carefully, he looked through the front windows and saw nothing. With a longing glance back at his car, Janus disappeared around the side, stopping for a second to look in the garage window. He saw only Buzz’s brown BMW.
Janus continued around the house and stopped on the back patio. There were a few rust-covered chairs there, but the yard looked overgrown.
Janus’ heart stopped when he saw the back door, however.
It was wide open.
Shit, he thought.
“Buzz?” he called moving cautiously to the door. “Look, are you in pain? Do you need help? It’s me, Janus.”
But there was no answer. Janus could see clearly into the kitchen and there was no one there. He should go, he realized. The thought of Buzz in there hurt, or tied up, kept him from running away.
Janus walked through the doorway tentatively. He tried to look around corners. But he could not see anything.
“Buzz, are you in here?” he asked again. “Listen, man, don’t blow my head off ‘cause you think I’m someone else. I’m just trying to make sure you are alright.”
He took another step forward into the house. He saw nothing.
This, Janus decided, was rapidly becoming the dumbest move he had ever made. He reached for his cell phone and realized he had left it in the car.
Here he was, with a murderer on the loose, walking around in a deserted house. He was like one of those idiots in a horror movie. That thought stopped him from moving forward.
If Buzz was in trouble, the police could help him.
“Buzz, I’m coming in, okay?”
But Janus wasn’t going to. Instead he backed slowly up, preparing to turn and run if he had to. Fuck this, he thought. He wouldn’t do anybody any good if he got picked off so easily.
He walked back out the door and then turned and ran around the house to his car. He had left Buzz’s back door open, but the police could deal with that.
Janus dug into his pocket for his keys and pulled them out. He kept looking behind him waiting for something to come out of the house.
But nothing did.
He flipped the key on his ring and practically jumped inside the car, keeping his eyes very carefully on the house. He turned on the car, shoved it into drive and tore out of the cul-de-sac.
It was only as he looked back at the house in the rearview mirror that he saw it. There in his rearview mirror was a single yellow piece of paper-a post-it note stuck right on the glass. Still driving forward, Janus read it as a feeling of dread washed over him.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Janus,” it said.
Kate pulled up outside the building and Quinn rushed outside.
(Gas it.) Quinn thought as he jumped into the car.
Kate tore through the streets of Leesburg and they both hoped the police had better things to do than watch for speeders.
(It’s Buzz.) Quinn thought, as the car turned on to Route 7 toward Ashburn, where the business editor lived.
(He was at the hotel) Kate thought. (But that doesn’t mean he’s Lord Halloween.)
(It means there is a damn good shot he is. And Janus was heading right towards him.)
(PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME)
The voice in their heads jarred them both and nearly caused Kate to drive off the road.
(What was that?) Quinn thought.
(That was Janus.)
In her mind, she could see him. He was being moved from his car and he was in incredible pain. There was blood. She had to fight to keep her own car on the road.
(He’s dying.)
Janus turned around while driving and looked at the back seat, bracing himself for a blow. But there was nobody there.
“Fuck,” he said, and faced the road again as he continued driving. His heart was pounding in his chest. He immediately reached around for his cell phone.
But it was not there.
“Fuck me,” he said again.
The bastard had taken it. Janus could not remember locking his car, he had been so concerned about what was going on in the house.
He pulled the note off his mirror and slammed on the accelerator again. He would head straight for the police station. If someone was going to jump out at him from his trunk or somewhere, let it be there.
He looked in the rearview mirror and felt his heart skip a beat.
A car was behind him. And not just anyone’s. It was Buzz’s beat-up BMW and it was gaining on him. The sun reflected off the car’s windshield, so Janus could not make out who was behind the wheel, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be someone who wanted to stop and chat.
“Fuck you, then,” Janus said and sped up. He flew through a stop sign and turned right abruptly, narrowly missing a parked car on the street.
The key is to stay calm and get to the police station. There was no way whoever was behind him would think of going there. He hoped.
He rounded another corner and noticed that while the car behind him was gaining, it did not seem to be trying to overtake him. For the life of him, Janus could not figure out why.
Janus tried honking his horn-though he did not see other cars on the road. Everyone was hiding from the guy that was behind him. But maybe someone would hear the noise and call the police. No sense stopping at any of the houses on the way. There was no guarantee they would be home, and even if they were, no guarantee they would let him in or not be killed as well.
Without even attempting to brake, he swung out onto Reservoir Road and started to pray. He had gas, he thought, looking at the meter.
The key was to stay ahead of him and to stay calm.
But the BMW had gained on him and was now very close. If he braked at all, the car would ram into him. Janus floored it. If a cop pulled him over for speeding, that would be a good thing.
He had just six miles to Route 7. There were bound to be other cars on Rt. 7-someone who could help him.
With new fear, he saw the curve ahead. Since he came to this county, he had hated this curve. It was the kind where you had to slow down a lot or risk flying into the ditch. Janus had covered at least four accidents here and none of them were pretty.
But if he had to slow down, so did his pursuer, right?
He reluctantly pressed the brake.
Nothing happened.
“Fuck a duck,” he said. He hit the brake again. The car didn’t slow. He felt no resistance and instead saw the curve coming up at a rapid 60 miles an hour.
Behind him he noticed that the BMW had dropped back.
And then Janus knew what had happened. The killer had cut his brake lines. In his mind, he saw the image of a man underneath his car cutting his brake line as Janus stood on Buzz’s back patio.
Janus pumped the peddles and watched the speedometer crawl down. It was 45 miles an hour now on a curve recommended at 15. He would just have to hope he was slow enough.