He left the office.
As he passed a trash receptacle, he paused and pulled the photo from his jacket. He held it above the container for what seemed like minutes, but in real clock time was probably only a second or two.
He'd lived a lot of lives. Even though the photo now represented the end rather than the beginning, he couldn't make himself pitch it.
He stuck it back in his pocket and kept walking.
Outside, the media was waiting.
Bad news traveled fast.
Chapter 40
Someone was knocking.
David tried to ignore it while continuing to pack.
The knocking didn't stop.
Annoyed, he tossed a shirt in the suitcase on the foot of his bed, went to the door, and checked the peephole.
In the dim hallway stood a woman in a black veil and long black dress.
Lady in a black veil Babies in the bed…
Strata Luna. Was she stalking him now?
He opened the door. "Come to remove your curse?"
She lifted a gloved hand and blew at her cupped palm.
He didn't see anything, but suddenly a bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth. Instantly, his tongue swelled and went numb.
Fuuuckkk.
He took two steps back and struggled to close the door.
She shoved it open, followed him into the apartment, and slammed the door.
Just the two of them.
Strata Luna. Who had probably killed her daughters. Had probably killed Enrique. Had probably killed Flora. Obsessed with death. Obsessed with killing. Playing God. It was just too easy… too obvious…
He lurched and grabbed his cell phone from the kitchen counter.
How much time did he have before he was completely paralyzed? Two minutes? Three? At the most?
But he'd snorted the shit. That would be faster.
He stared at the phone in his hand.
He knew what he wanted to do, but his brain couldn't get the message to his fingers.
Where did he fit in? What did she want with him?
Woman in a black veil Looking for something male Fuck him till his eyes turn blue Bury him when she's through.
He'd never claimed to be a poet.
The phone slipped from his numb fingers.
He began to float.
Up, up to the ceiling.
She caught him by the arms and pulled him earthward, holding him in front of her so he couldn't float away again.
His legs gave way and he crumpled to the floor and lay there, unable to move.
She swooped down and straddled him. She sank into him, the billowing folds of her gown swallowing him. Looming above, her veil fell over his eyes as she cupped his face in her hands.
She smelled like mold and mildew and damp rot. Plus something else. What? Something familiar… Formaldehyde and rotten meat. She pressed her lips to his, her breath filling him with poison. The air that came from her lungs tasted like rubbing alcohol.
He couldn't move. He couldn't close his mouth or
turn his head away.
"Little boy," she crooned against his lips. "Sexy little boy."
Chapter 41
Elise was trying not to let the situation with David interfere with her investigation of the TTX case. And the best way to help David was to try to clear his name. With that in mind, she decided to drop by the Chatham County Jail for another visit with their buddy LaRue, to see if he might be in the mood to divulge any new information.
He seemed happy to see her.
She was company. A break from tedium.
She slid a photo of Flora across the table to him. "Ever seen her?" she asked.
"Once or twice. At Black Tupelo."
"Talk to her?"
"No." He passed the photo back. "I only noticed her, that's all."
She pulled out another photo, this one of Enrique. "How about him?"
Bingo. His reaction gave him away.
LaRue stared at the photo while obviously trying to formulate an answer, trying to figure out if he should tell the truth or lie. "I sold him TTX," he finally said with resignation, his shoulders drooping as he passed the photo back.
"Earlier, you said you never sold TTX."
He didn't answer.
"Which is it? Did you or didn't you sell TTX?"
"I did."
Elise leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Tell me about it."
"He would come in a big black car. A Lincoln, maybe. Somebody was in the backseat."
"Strata Luna?"
"Probably, but I couldn't see. The windows were dark."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I didn't want to get into any more trouble. But I'm no murderer. You know that, don't you?"
At least not a deliberate one, she thought. But he'd still poisoned her.
Elise got to her feet. "I'll see what I can do to get you out of here." She'd already decided to drop the charges, but she wasn't ready to tell him just yet.
He was a scientist. A screwed-up genius. Prison would be a terrible waste.
Heading for the parking lot, Elise mulled over the new information. If what LaRue said was true, then Enrique had been somehow involved in the TTX case, at least peripherally. A big black car with tinted windows. Pretty straightforward. Both Enrique's and Flora's throats had been cut. By Strata Luna? Because they'd known something?
Elise had grudgingly liked Strata Luna. She hadn't wanted to believe she was involved. Had she allowed Strata Luna's connection to Jackson Sweet to cloud her judgment?
As Elise approached the car, her cell phone rang.
It was Seth West, Truman Harrison's coworker.
"You know how you said to call you if I thought of anything else?" he asked. "Well, I was on vacation in Disney World and we were on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and I remembered that Truman went into the tunnels under Savannah the day he died."
Elise perked up.
"We'd had a report of a possible sewer line break. Near the intersection of President and Bay. He had to go in through a grate in one of the old sealed cotton storerooms to check it out and write up a repair order if we needed it. I said no way was I going down there. I knew it would be nasty as hell, but Truman didn't seem to mind.
"He was gone a long time, and when he came back he said the place was full of cockroaches. They were crawling on him. In his hair. In his shirt."
"Did he tell you anything else?"
"Said it looked like homeless people had been living down there. Sleeping on filthy mattresses. Can you imagine?"
"Sounds horrid," she agreed.
"Does that help you at all? I kept thinking it was silly to bother you, but my wife said I should let you know."
"You were right to call."
After disconnecting, Elise immediately put in a call to Eddie, her favorite contact in the research department. He could find out anything, no matter how obscure.
"Remember that guy who was always in trouble for going into the Savannah tunnels?" Elise asked, heading for shade and a picnic table near her car. "What was his name?"
"Pascal. Adam Pascal," Eddie said. "For a while there, he was always in the paper and on the news."
She sat down at the wooden table and pulled out pen and paper. "Any idea where he is, or if he's still around?"
"Let me check." Elise heard the clicking of keys; then Eddie was back. "Lives on Isle of Hope. Was arrested about three weeks ago for his latest caper. Severely fractured a leg and is home recuperating."