He knew who it was.
Lee's hand twitched, and he almost reached for the call button to summon the nurse, but something stopped him. Curiosity, maybe-or perhaps an instinct to submit to whatever fate held in store for him. The figure in the corner sat very still. Lee reached over and pulled the string on the Venetian blinds, letting in light from the street outside. As he did so, a gleam of moonlight reflected off the high, pale forehead. The room was still too dark to get a good look at his face, but he could tell that the man was thin and pale.
Lee ran his tongue over his parched lips. "How did you get in here?" he croaked.
His visitor laughed nervously. "I'm very good at getting into places-but you should know that by now." The voice was young, high pitched, and raspy, and there was a soft wheezing sound when he breathed, as if his lungs were worn and tattered bellows, stiff and dried with age. Lee couldn't resist feeling a sense of triumph. So I was right about the asthma. He also had the feeling he had heard the voice before, but where? In their brief encounter in Hastings, no words had been exchanged between them.
"What do you want?"
"What does anyone want? Money, power, immortality-but I'm not interested in those things."
"What are you interested in?"
"Love. Like the love I feel for God: unconditional love and devotion."
"Is there a difference? Between love and devotion, I mean?"
"I guess it depends on who you are. But there's really no such thing as unconditional love-not in this life, anyway."
"So why are you here?"
His visitor leaned forward in his chair. "To let you know that He tells me to do what I do."
"God, you mean?"
"Yes. It's His work I'm doing."
"Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"
"The righteous cannot afford to feel fear."
"But don't you feel it anyway? To know all those people are out there looking for you?"
The pursuer becomes the pursued.
"I have God to protect me."
"Is that what you think? That He'll keep you from getting caught?"
"Until His work is finished, yes."
"What about the girls? Don't you feel bad for them at all?"
His breath became more hoarse. Lee heard the wheezing from deep within his chest, lungs struggling to pull in enough air.
"I have to save them."
"From what?"
"Eternal damnation. I always ask their forgiveness, but it must be done."
There was a pause. "I don't want to kill you too, you know. I feel close to you."
"Why do you keep going?"
"I couldn't stop if I wanted to now. You should know that." The voice was half ironic, half sincere.
"Why don't you turn yourself in? Then you could rest-you could finally be at peace."
His visitor inhaled, making the deep, rattling sound of congested lungs.
"I don't think so. Why is it that cops always seem to think people are going to go for that one? Has anyone in the history of law enforcement ever actually fallen for that?"
Another pause.
Then Lee said, "Why did you have to kill Eddie?"
"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that. And now I have to go-I have an appointment with death," he said, rising from the chair. He was out the door before Lee could find the call button. As the door clicked closed behind him, Lee imagined he was already on his way to Seventh Avenue, perhaps slipping into a stairwell to avoid being seen in an elevator.
Lee shivered and stared out the window as the moon slid behind a looming cloud. He wouldn't forget that voice. It carried the buried rage of a life gone sour. He couldn't shake the feeling he had heard the voice before, but he couldn't quite place it.
To his surprise, Lee recognized some of himself in this man. Like most civilized people, Lee was forced to swallow his rage-but this man had given into it, punishing innocent young women for the sins of a careless and indifferent God.
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chuck Morton arrived the next afternoon with Detective Butts in tow. Butts was even more rumpled than usual, and he looked around the room uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. After a brief greeting, he lurked at the far side of the room, inspecting the idle hospital machinery at the end of the empty bed across from Lee's.
"We just came by to see how you were doing," Chuck said, but Lee sensed that was not the real reason for their visit.
"I'm ready to get out of this place," Lee replied.
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"They can't keep me here against my will."
"Don't you think you should listen to your doctor?"
"Aw, what do doctors know anyway?" Butts interjected, lowering his bulk into one of the plastic chairs and fanning his face with a packet of sterilized towelettes.
Lee began to get out of bed.
"Look, there's no need to punish yourself because we haven't caught this guy yet," Chuck said.
"I'm not punishing myself," Lee answered, even though he knew Chuck had a point.
"Okay, fine," Chuck replied. "Don't you think you should listen to your doctor anyway?"
Lee looked at his friend. He seemed ill at ease.
"Hey, I'm dyin' for some coffee," Butts declared. "You want some?"
"No, I'm fine," Chuck replied.
"Uh, sure," said Lee. "Sounds good."
"I'll be right back," Butts said, leaving the room as though he couldn't wait to get out.
"I don't think he likes hospitals," Lee remarked.
"Yeah-right," Chuck answered, but he sounded distracted.
There was an awkward pause, and then he put a hand on Lee's shoulder.
"Look, Lee…"
Something in his tone of voice caused a thin trickle of dread to seep into Lee's veins.
"What is it? Was there another victim?"
Chuck avoided looking at him. "No, it's not that."
"What, then? What's wrong?"
Chuck bit his lip and studied his shoelaces.
"The mayor's been hounding the DA, you know, and he's been coming down hard on us."
"So? What are you saying?"
"Well, they're pressuring me to bring in the Feds."
"You mean bring in an FBI profiler?"
"Yeah."
"I'm all for it-if they can spare the manpower."
"And you really need to rest-"
"Look, Chuck, I'm fine now! I'm ready to go-"
"No, you're not. Dr. Patel says you should stay in bed for at least another week."
"Dr. Patel is a professional pessimist."
"The thing is, we don't have the manpower available we once did, since-"
"I know-we're all stretched thin since September eleventh. But even if the FBI can spare someone, you'll need help filling them in. I'm getting out of here right now."
Lee struggled to get out of bed, but Chuck kept his hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, Lee, don't be like that."
"Like what, Chuck? Like what? What am I supposed to do? Stay in bed and take my medicine like a good boy? To hell with that!"
Lee pushed Chuck's hand away and struggled out of bed, fighting not to show the dizziness the sudden activity caused him. He dug his clothes out of the bureau next to his bed and stuffed them into the leather satchel Kathy had brought him.
Chuck smacked a hand onto his own thigh. "I knew it-I knew this was too close for you!"
Lee wheeled around to face Chuck. "Do you want to know how close it is? Do you? He came to me last night!"
"What do you mean?"
"He was here-sitting in that chair!"
"What are you talking about? Did you have some kind of fever dream or something?"