“Hope you got paid up-front,” jokes the cop.
“You think this is funny?” I say.
He doesn’t hear me. No one does.
“So, who’s the girl?”
The cop is pointing at me. When is this strangeness going to stop? Actually, when I think about it, I don’t want it to stop, do I?
“The nanny,” answers the Ponytail. “That’s who I discovered the husband was involved with.”
“So you were following her? If I’m following you so far?”
“Yeah, you got it right. Mrs. Turnbull wanted to see if I could dig up any dirt on her, I guess for the divorce. I kind of felt sorry for her, though. Kristin’s her name. She was young, in way over her head. I even tried scaring the shit out of her, hoping she’d back off the relationship with the husband, who’s a real scumbag.”
“Instead, here she is with a gun,” says the cop. “She had to be in on it with the husband, right?”
“I’m not so sure,” says the Ponytail. “I lost her at first when she entered the hotel, but the way she ran here, I think maybe she was trying to stop this from happening.”
The cop sighs. “Damn shame either way. There’s two little kids now with no mommy and daddy.”
“Or even a nanny. I could tell the kids liked her a lot.”
“That would explain it,” the cop says with a nod and a shrug.
“What’s that?”
“We sent a patrol car over to their school to get them, and the daughter was missing. Seven years old. I got word a minute ago, though, that they found her.”
“Alive?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s fine. In a manner of speaking.”
“Where was she?”
“Home. The little girl said she ditched school because she was worried about the nanny. She wanted to be with her.”
“Her name’s Dakota. Did she know something?”
“She claims she didn’t. Just had a bad feeling. Of course, when she arrived home, no one was there. They were all here. ”
As the two of them walk away, all I can think about is Dakota and Sean. I need to be with them. Someone does. Little Sean’s going to have so many questions.
I scream out again to no avail. Why can’t anyone hear me? I continue to scream, just like in the dream.
Am I already dead? I wonder.
But I can see. I can hear.
What the hell’s going on?
“Exactly,” comes a voice that I recognize.
Chapter 108
I SEE HIS WARPED reflection in the exit sign, and it makes me shudder. He’s standing in the doorway right next to me. Looking like the creep of all creeps.
Frank Delmonico.
He steps into the hallway. Behind him, in the room he came out of, is nothing but darkness.
And the music from my dream.
It’s the same room! The one I was banging on the door of yesterday.
But nobody answered.
The music engulfs me now, it’s so intense. And for the first time since the song took root in my head like a horrible weed, there’s something more.
Words.
And the seasons they go round and round,
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We’re captive on the carousel of time.
Delmonico stands directly over me, wearing the same gray suit. Cops walk by, but they don’t seem to notice him.
“Hello, Kristin,” he says. “I know, I know, you’re innocent. You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
“This is impossible,” I blurt out. “You’re dead.”
“So they say. I’ve been sent to look after you anyway. To talk to you. Kind of an interview. What do they call them in the business world – exit interviews?” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
And go round and round and round, I hear the music continue.
In the circle game.
Delmonico lights up. He winks at me before blowing out the match. Except there is no match, just the flame. How did he do that?
I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s all a dream, I tell myself. It has to be.
“No,” says Delmonico. “It was never a dream, Kristin.”
“Then there’s been a mistake. I’m not like you. You killed people.”
“You killed too. Don’t you remember?”
“That was different.”
“You’re right. That’s the thing about life; it’s not always so black and white.” He takes a long drag off his cigarette.
I feel something on my leg. It’s moving up my thigh, across my stomach.
“Get it off of me!”
Whatever it is, it climbs up my neck, onto my face. It crawls right past my mouth, over my eyes. Now I can see it! I’m screaming, terrified. It’s the biggest cockroach ever.
Delmonico raises his foot high. The heel of his shoe comes crashing down next to my head.
Crunch!
“As I said, Kristin, this is an interview.”
“An interview for what?” I ask.
“Well, to see where you fit in. You say you’re innocent, and yet you had that terrible affair with a married man. You’ve been self-centered for most of your life. And then there’s your poor little baby boy. Dead. Your fault. Yours and Matthew’s. Right here at the Fálcon. How could you?”
I stare at him, horrified that he knows everything. “What is this place, anyway?”
He sighs. “It’s where I died, for one thing, so that gets me a little sentimental, y’know. It’s a portal, Kristin, a gateway. To you-know-where. There are several of them in this big, bad city of New York. But listen to me rattle on. I’m doing all the talking here – and this is your day, Kristin.”
Chapter 109
I’M STARTING TO FEEL very afraid now, and I’m nauseated as well. I smell something burning again. Hives all over my body? Who knows? I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start.
I hear this slap, slap, slap – and I see that Delmonico is tapping his foot beside my head.
“I don’t have all day for this, missy. I should say, you don’t have a lot of time left.”
“For my interview?”
“Exactly. So talk to me. It’s almost time to go. We have to leave these hallowed halls.”
“Go where? Where am I going?”
“Oh, you know as well as I do. What is this you’re trying -the stupidity defense? ‘I’m not accountable because I’m dense?’ You’re not so dumb, Kristin. Boston College. Prelaw. Well, that wasn’t such a great choice, was it?”
“So the Fálcon Hotel is the portal, one of the gates – to my destination?”
Delmonico isn’t pleased. “I believe we’ve covered that ground already. But yes. ”
I can barely speak. “Because?… I’ve made some terrible mistakes?”
“To put it mildly, yes. You’ve been a bad, bad girl. Like so many of your kind.”
My throat feels as if it’s closing up on me, but I still manage the next few words.
“Am I… a devil?”
At this, Delmonico has a hearty laugh. “Oh, you wish,” he says.
He sighs out loud, then starts to talk again.
“Here’s a way that might help you understand what’s going to happen to you. Growing up, in Brooklyn this was – near where you met up with the guy with the ponytail, actually – I went to Catholic grade school. I’ll never forget this one. Parish priest gives an inspirational talk to our class. Sixth grade, I think it was. The talk is all about eternity, eternal damnation, and how to comprehend it, as if that’s possible. The priest says, ‘Imagine there’s this tiny little blackbird, lives on a huge mountain in upstate New York or some other godforsaken place. And every thousand years, that little bird fills its beak with whatever it can carry and flies down to Brooklyn and deposits its mouthful in our school parking lot. Now, imagine that the blackbird does this until the entire mountain has been transported there. Andthat, ladies and gentlemen, would be just the beginning of eternity.’