“My what?”
“Your bedroom. The room with all your computer stuff. All the weird pictures on the wall. The room you keep locked.” Arvo sat forward, lowered his voice and rested his hands on the table. “See, we know all about you, Mitch. Maybe you’d like to talk about that now, the pictures, the little altar to Sarah Broughton? Want to tell us about that now, Mitch?”
Cameron turned pale and his jaw dropped. “You guys went to my house, broke into the bedroom?”
“We had a legal search warrant.”
“And you broke into the bedroom, the room with the lock on?”
“Yes. Like I said, we had a warrant. We had to break in. There was nobody there to let us in.”
Cameron shook his head. “Look,” he said, “I don’t understand any of this, and I don’t care about your fucking warrant. Is this what this is all about? All that stuff about me and Sal?” He glanced back and forth between Arvo and Maria. “You saw the photos on the wall?”
“More than that,” said Arvo. “You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty weird, Mitch: the altar, the fanzines, all those collages. Pretty bizarre. Want to tell us about it?”
Cameron started to laugh.
“Want to tell us about it?” Arvo repeated.
“Sure, I’d love to tell you about it. Problem is, I don’t know much about it. I’ve hardly even been past the door.”
Arvo frowned. All of a sudden, he felt his heart lurch and his mouth go dry. “What do you mean?”
“What I say. The room’s not mine, and unlike you assholes, I respect people’s privacy.” He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table.
“Mitch, you’re feeding us a line. What do we look like, Boy Scouts? It’s your house, Mitch. You rent it.”
“Sure I rent it. But I sleep on the sofa-bed in the front room. That other room’s Mark’s. He lives with me. And the lease is in his name, too. You guys should do a bit more investigating before you come around rousting innocent people, maybe losing them their jobs.”
“Mark? Your half-brother.”
“Yeah. Mark Lister. I don’t fucking believe this, man. I don’t believe it. Are you trying to tell me you think Mark’s been killing people because he’s a fan of Sal’s? No way. Sure, the kid has an active fantasy life. What’s wrong with that? It’s harmless enough, a few photos on the wall. All kids do that. He never had much else going for him except computers. He’s a real whiz with those.” He shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“Are you saying that you didn’t rent a silver Toyota from Dollar Rentals out at LAX?”
“Sure I’m saying that. What are you talking about?”
“Because we talked to the rental company and they told us it was you, Mitch. Mitchell Lorne Cameron rented that car on January 2 and returned it January 3. You saying that’s not you, Mitch? You saying you didn’t rent a car just like Sarah’s bodyguard’s, run him off the road, then stab Stuart Kleigman out in Brentwood?”
“The fuck I didn’t. Little asshole must’ve borrowed my driver’s licence again.”
“But he’s blind.”
“Who’s blind?”
“Mark.”
“Like fuck he is. Listen, I’m telling you, man, I didn’t rent no car. Mark doesn’t have his own licence so he does that sometimes, even though I told him he could get us in trouble.”
Arvo felt it slipping away from him. Martha, back in San Francisco, had told him she thought Mitch’s brother had some physical disability, but she had only guessed that it was blindness. Arvo had swallowed the assumption. “What does Mark look like?” he asked.
“We’re only half-brothers, but we both take after our mother. And Mark sort of looks up to me and copies me, you know, like dyeing his hair blond, working out, wearing the same kind of clothes and shit. I guess we look sort of alike. Enough so he can get away with using my driver’s licence. Look, this is really crazy, man. I can’t believe that Mark—”
“You’ve been taking care of him since Eureka?”
“You know about that, too? Yeah, since then. I mean, he’s a really bright kid, special schools and all that. They said he was a computer genius. He just has a problem communicating.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t speak.”
“You mean he’s mute?”
“I mean he doesn’t speak. Hasn’t for years. Give him a modem and he’s off and running, but the kid never opens his mouth. Shit, Mark’s just a computer nerd. That’s all he does. He works out of home. Desktop publishing, customized programs for small businesses, that kind of thing. Does pretty well, too. Look, this is obviously ridiculous. Mark wouldn’t hurt—”
Arvo felt a shiver run up his spine. He stood up. “Where is he, Mitch?” he asked “Where is Mark right now?”
“How should I know?”
Arvo could think of one place he might be.
Joe was already opening the interview-room door yelling for backup and a police helicopter. Arvo and Maria followed him as fast as they could go down to the car.
45
He parked his car by a restaurant on the coast Highway. No point following any further and risking getting caught by the cop. He knew where they were going.
His heart leapt as he walked down to the beach. She had come home! Just for him! She had finally convinced them to let her go after all this time. Let her go and meet her destiny.
Earlier that evening, keeping watch on the hotel, he had been mystified at what was happening. First he saw the detective pull up in his tan convertible and a wave of hatred surged through his blood. He knew he should have killed him when he had a chance, lit a bigger, better fire. This was the man most responsible for keeping Sally prisoner, for trying to turn her against him. Maybe he should still kill him? But no. Concentrate on the here and now. Remember the True Purpose.
Next he had seen a black-and-white pull up and watched Sally come out with the detective and get into it.
She was going home! To him.
She had finally told them she didn’t want to be a prisoner any more; she wanted to be free to come to the one who loved her. They wouldn’t like it, he knew that, but they had to respect her wishes. This was America, after all, land of the free.
And she had come to the place where she knew he would find her. Their first real home together. He thought of it like that even though he hadn’t even been inside the beach house.
And now, as he walked along the quiet shore toward that same house, the fine sand shifting under him, he felt a little sadness mingled with his joy. After all, he knew it was too late. Too much had happened.
Maybe the police had let her go, but they would probably start watching her; they certainly wouldn’t stop looking for him. He wasn’t a fool. He knew he’d broken some of their petty rules and they would punish him if they could.
If only he could make them understand about love, how it must be bought with blood, how it could only end in blood. But they would never understand the glory and the holiness of his vision. Dull, plodding, pedestrian minds.
The waves broke at the shoreline and smashed into a million pieces, each one shouting her name.
No. It was too late for earthly happiness. Could there ever be such a thing, anyway? Through his love for Sally, he had discovered that to find true happiness one had to push further and further beyond the petty human boundaries. It was the only way. Through his love for her, he had learned not to fear the unknown but to embrace it openly.