I need a shower, he thought. He rose to his feet and headed to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later he felt refreshed. As he finger-combed his hair, his mind recapped the confrontation at the Family Cupboard parking lot. He’d been going over the events in his mind since it all happened, and he still didn’t know how they’d been tracked down. It was obvious the way those guys had suddenly come out of nowhere and began casually walking toward them that they’d been watching the place for a while. We were probably followed there. I wonder if that means they watched us last night at Reverend Powell’s. It was a distinct possibility. If that was the case, why hadn’t they stormed Hank’s house last night? Maybe they knew we were armed.
That didn’t make sense, though. If they knew that Frank and Mike and Hank were armed, why did they bother with the attack at the Family Cupboard? The more Vince thought about it, the more confused and scared he got. It was as if they’d just sprung out of the ground, guns in hand, bent on killing. Thank God Frank had been aware of what was happening. He must have noticed something was going amiss. Vince hadn’t been aware of anything until Frank’s body slammed the first assassin.
As Vince exited the bathroom the fight replayed in his mind. He hoped they hadn’t been recognized. The shootout at the Family Cupboard had happened so fast that the few people that witnessed it were probably too scared to remember faces. He hoped Tom Hoffman and Reverend Powell were all right.
He also wondered if they would talk.
They won’t say anything, Vince thought, sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. Especially Reverend Powell. He sees this as a spiritual crusade. He might have been able to convince Tom Hoffman to be quiet, but suppose he wasn’t? Tom might talk. If he does, the police will be looking for us. And if that’s the case, they might eventually find us here.
Vince felt his throat grow sore. It felt as if he’d swallowed a medicine ball that had lodged in his throat. He always felt like this when he was scared. He remembered feeling this way Sunday afternoon at the Irvine Airport when that guy shot at him and Tracy. His stomach felt leaden; his head woozy. They could be here any minute. He debated staying put or leaving altogether. If he left, he might be able to put some distance between himself and police but they would catch him eventually, wouldn’t they? He wouldn’t know what to do in flight. They’d be on to him quickly.
He thought of the possible ramifications of what might happen if he were caught. They could trace him to the Marriot here in Harrisburg. If they did, he wouldn’t put up a fight. He’d go with the police willingly. And he’d talk. He’d tell them everything, beginning with the news of his mother’s murder and the attempt on his own life in Irvine. He’d tell them about Frank and Mike, tell them about The Children of the Night and how the three of them believed the cult was bent on killing him and was responsible for the shootout at the Family Cupboard. He’d urge them to find Mike and Frank. Once in custody, Mike would be compelled to call his lawyer friend Billy Grecko and finally tell him everything, right? And if so, Billy’s connections could go to work. And if they found Mary Ann and even Clint, all the better. They would have corroboration between their stories.
But then suppose the police don’t believe me? Suppose after all is said and done, Mike and Frank and I are arrested and charged with murder?
As frightening as the possibility seemed, Vince didn’t see it as very likely. Surely the police would be able to identify the three dead men at the Family Cupboard. Their guns would be traceable and that should lead the police to The Children of the Night. Even if the trail didn’t immediately lead to the cult, it would help cast suspicion away from Vince, Mike, and Frank. The police would have to believe them.
The more Vince thought of the possible ramifications of what might happen if the police found them, the more nervous he got. He wished Mike and Frank were here. It would help calm his fears. It would bring him a much needed reality check on the whole thing.
I need to talk to somebody, Vince thought. He looked at the phone as Tracy popped into his mind. I need to call her. She knows part of what’s going on. Besides, she’s got to be worried now. Vince reached across the bed and picked up his cell phone.
Frank’s warning from a few nights ago against contacting Tracy rose briefly as he dialed Tracy’s work number. What Frank doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
The phone was picked up on the second ring. “This is Tracy.”
“Tracy, it’s Vince.”
“Vince!” Tracy’s voice cracked with surprise. She paused, as if she didn’t know what to say.
“Listen, I’m sorry about a few days ago. I didn’t mean to cut you off so short, but—”
“That’s okay,” she said, her voice lowered and cautious. Vince knew that she was probably lowering it because it was the middle of the workday in California, and she wanted to keep the conversation private. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m in Pennsylvania,” Vince said, bursting at the seams to tell her everything. “Are you busy right now? I really need to talk.”
“I’m okay,” Tracy said quickly. There was a short beat, then: “Listen, maybe it’ll be better if I wasn’t here at work. Why don’t I call you in thirty minutes.”
“Okay. You going home?”
“Yeah. There’s not much going on here anyway. I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.” They hung up.
Vince sat on the bed and channel surfed again, thinking about what he was going to tell Tracy. If Laura were alive he would have told her everything. He and Laura never kept anything from each other. They’d always discussed their problems with each other. He needed that back again in his life, and Tracy had grown to be more than a lover. He felt he could trust her. After all, she already knew a lot of what was going on, and she’d almost been killed herself. She deserved to know.
Talking with Tracy would keep his mind off of what was happening with Mike and Frank.
His cell phone rang thirty-five minutes later. Vince picked it up on the first ring. “Hello.”
“It’s me,” Tracy said.
“Good. I’m glad you called. You home?”
“Yeah.” He could hear her puttering in the kitchen. “So tell me what’s going on.”
Vince didn’t know where to begin. “I hope you aren’t too busy tonight. This could take awhile.”
“Indulge me,” she said. “I don’t have a very busy social calendar anymore. Especially after meeting you.”
Vince smiled. “Neither do I.”
“Why don’t you start with the morning you called and told me you were leaving for PA again?”
Vince began with the phone call from Frank telling him to meet him at the restaurant in Irvine and the sudden revelation that they’d grown up together, to Frank’s story about The Children of the Night and his knowledge of his mother’s murder and Laura’s death. He continued with their meeting with Mike Peterson and the background story of the cult. Tracy gasped several times during the narrative, as if she were reacting to the stunning news. When Vince got to the morning they left for Pennsylvania, he apologized again. “I’m sorry I was so short with you, but Frank was standing right there. He kept insisting that I tell you nothing even when I told them you were okay. He was acting like… like some damned paranoid conspiracy theorist.”
“That’s okay,” Tracy said, her tone of voice displaying her shock and surprise at the story. “I guess I can understand his caution under the circumstances.”