Hair, Greg - Werewolf 01, page 16
Carol laughed, turning to walk through the swinging kitchen door. She returned with a small piece of paper.
“Here ya go. You tell her Carol said hi.”
“I sure will. Thank you so much, ma’am. The coffee was great.”
He stood, paid for the coffee, gave her a five-dollar tip, and walked out. Carol put the bill in her apron and, reaching down to pick up the coffee cup, noticed it hadn’t been touched. She shrugged and carried on with her work.
Nicholas stood outside the diner, asking a passerby for use of her cell phone. He knew his would be traced. The New Yorker obliged, and Nicholas called information. A moment later, he handed the phone back, thanked the woman, and opened the car door.
“She’s in Greenwich Village, not far from here,” Nicholas said.
Jamie kept quiet, looking out the window during the drive through Manhattan until he felt a nudge on his shoulder as they pulled in front of the brownstone.
“This is it,” said Nicholas.
“This time I’ll go alone,” Jamie said. He exited the car and walked up the stairs. The New York sky was losing light as the sun melted on the western horizon. A hard snow began to fall. Looking through the window, he saw that the resident still had her Christmas tree up. The lights were on. Knocking on the door, he heard someone running in his direction on the hardwood floor on the other side. The locks turned, and a young looking woman with short blonde hair opened the door, letting a wave of heat out into the cold evening air.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Hi. I’m looking for Paige.”
“I’m Paige.”
“My name’s Jamie. Does the name Landon mean anything to you?”
Her green eyes grew wide, and the smile that radiated her face faded slightly. He knew what her response was before she said it.
“Yes. I remember him. Why do you ask? What’s this about?”
“I’m his son.”
Then he heard a new sound for the first time. A deafening thumping sound encircled him, at first slow, then with increasing speed. He put his hand to his chest to check his pulse, and realized it wasn’t his heartbeat— it was Paige’s. He heard the blood rush quicker through her veins and arteries, and saw her pulse throb on the side of her neck. Suddenly, the sound of a glass falling over on the kitchen table, and liquid pouring onto the floor caught his attention.
“I’m sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time,” he said. “Is your husband home?”
“No, I’m not married. That would be one of the kids who did that. Please come in.”
Kids, he thought. Landon didn’t mention anything about kids. Another of his damn secrets.
Paige led Jamie down the hall to the kitchen where two children with red hair sat at the table eating dinner. He saw the spilled liquid was milk. The refrigerator was covered with drawings and notes from school. Kindergarten pictures adorned the kitchen counter. Down the hall, Jamie saw photographs of Paige and the kids, each picture telling a specific child’s life story as they progressed through the years. Barbie dolls and Transformers decorated the living room floor.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” said the boy.
“It’s okay, honey,” Paige said, wiping up the milk with a towel. “Kids, I want you to meet Jamie. Jamie, this is Liam, and this is Mara. They’re five-year-old twins.”
The children looked up at the same time, smiling shyly at the teen. It then occurred to him that not only was he looking at Landon’s twin children—he was also looking at his own half-siblings. Looking out the kitchen window, he noticed the increasing speed of the oncoming night. He had to hurry.
“So where is Landon now? What’s he up to?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll have to answer your questions later. We need to go.” He gave a quick whistle.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Go where? I don’t have anyone to watch the kids.”
Nicholas suddenly burst through the door, picked up the children, and whisked them out to the car. Paige tried following, screaming for her children, when Jamie jumped in her path.
“No need for a babysitter,” he said. “They’re coming with us.”
Later that night, Jamie and Nicholas sat in a dark corner of a club. The flashing strobe light gave the impression of stop and go motion on the dance floor. The pair sat at their booth scanning the crowd, Jamie’s leg vibrating subconsciously to White Lies’ “To Lose My Life.” Nicholas did his best to tune out the music.
“Are you sure he’s here?” asked Jamie without yelling, Nicholas’s hearing being acute enough to hear him whisper even in this environment. “This is the fourth place we’ve been to.”
“He’s moving from club to club,” responded Nicholas. “At each previous location, the scent merely lingered, beginning to fade. The scent is strongest here, with no fading taking place. Let’s split up and move through the crowd. You remember his face from the police sketch?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Nicholas took the perimeter of the club, surveying each table of patrons as he passed. Jamie navigated through the dancing sea of people.
Then, as Jamie emerged on the other side of the dance floor, he saw him sitting at the bar. The police sketch was right on. The short, stocky man with thinning black hair and glasses sat on the bar stool, his black clothes allowing him to hide in plain sight.
Jamie gave a low whistle only Nicholas could hear. The latter turned from the other side of the club and saw Jamie standing on the floor staring at Jerry sitting at the bar, bodies dancing in acts of foreplay around him. Nicholas walked the pathway in the outer ring of the dance floor until he came to Jerry’s end of the bar. There, he stood in position, waiting for Jamie to make his way slowly up the steps from the dance floor to the bar. Jamie sat, facing the bar, as Jerry continued watching the crowd.
“Buy you a drink?” Jamie asked Jerry.
Jerry turned his head and, looking at Jamie, didn’t even attempt to hide the disgust on his face.
“I don’t go that way,” he answered.
Jamie returned the scowl of disdain.
“Well, look who’s judgmental,” said Jamie. “I would think that someone such as you would have a little more compassion for those who also exist on the fringes of acceptance by society.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to? You don’t even know me, or what I’m capable of. You should leave me alone while you can. If you’re not careful, I’ll make a scene.”
Jamie laughed.
“Oh, I know what you’re capable of, Jerry.”
The stocky man’s face flashed with panic, and he sprang from his seat, preparing to flee. Nicholas stepped quickly in front of him, shaking his head.
“You should sit back down, Jerry,” said Jamie. “You definitely don’t want us to make a scene.”
Jerry froze, searching for an exit.
“You’re not that fast,” Jamie noted, still facing the bar. “We’re not the cops. Look around. There’s no one watching us, no one waiting for a signal. It’s only us three. You really should sit down. We have a proposition for you.”
Jerry cautiously sat back down, never taking his eyes off Nicholas. Then the gentleman who blocked his path sat on the other stool next to him, so that Jerry was flanked on both sides.
“How did you find me?”
“We’ll get to that later,” said Nicholas. “For now, you only need know that you’re running out of time. The police have tied you to the murders around the country, and there’s a manhunt under way.”
“Which means,” said Jamie, “that you probably have only one murder left before you’re either caught, or you have to stop completely, and disappear. We’re offering you that final kill—one that will cement your status as one of the top serial killers of our time. You can, of course, decline, walk out of here, and take your chances. If, however, you accept, we’ll personally guarantee that you won’t go to jail.”
“Where is she?” asked Jerry.
“Not far,” said Jamie.
“What makes you think I’d be interested?”
“Because you and I have things in common, Jerry,” Jamie said with a hint of glee. “We’ve both committed, what’s that called, Nicholas?”
“Matricide,” he responded.
“I’ve also killed my sister,” said Jerry, with a hint of pride.
“No, you didn’t,” Jamie said. “I did.”
Jerry gave a look of shock that he had let one live. He turned, looked at Nicholas, then back at Jamie.
“Okay,” he said. “I accept.”
“Get up slowly,” said Jamie, “and follow us.”
A half-hour later, Jerry entered a darkened room, the only sound being the whimpering of a woman hidden from the light of the outside. A switch flipped behind him, and the center of the room lit up. The winding passageways and multiple rooms culminated in this spot. The young woman sat in the middle of the open floor, tied to a chair, her face and mouth uncovered. The pair from the bar obviously weren’t concerned with her being heard by any outsiders. Jerry carried with him his usual tools: a knife, stereo, an oldies CD, and a dress. He looked at Paige, admiring her beauty.
“She’s perfect,” he said.
“You may do what you want with her, but only after our guest arrives,” said Nicholas.
“Please,” cried Paige, “where are my kids?”
“Kids?” asked Jerry. “She has kids? I don’t kill kids.”
“Not your concern,” said Nicholas.
Jamie quickly put together the purpose of Jerry’s equipment and, looking at the CD, asked which song he typically used.
“The ladies really like ‘Mr. Lonely,’” he said. “I put it on, and we do a little dancing. I’m afraid I don’t like to share, though.”
“The acoustics in this place are astounding,” said Nicholas, taking the CD from Jamie and looking at the playlist. “When our guest arrives, I want you to play this one.” He pointed to the seventh song on the disc.
“Oh, sure, sure. That’s a great choice. May I ask why?”
“You’ll see,” said Nicholas.
24
Night had fallen on New York’s snow-covered streets when Landon and LillyAnna crossed the bridge into Manhattan. They were on the trail of a serial killer and Landon’s son, who had now killed an innocent woman. Add to that the presence of Nicholas, who had more years of experience than Landon, and there was a cocktail for trouble.
Landon parked the car down a slush-filled side street in Times Square. LillyAnna stepped out of the car and looked skyward, experiencing a slight case of vertigo at the sight of the skyscrapers. Landon put his hand to her back, helping her regain balance.
“Scared of heights?” he asked.
“Yeah. I get dizzy just thinking about it.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Scrawled on the outside was his name in Jamie’s handwriting. Opening it, he reread the message that he’d read a hundred times already since finding it at Jerry’s home: Times Square—black sedan. He crumbled the note, and threw it on the white ground.
“Oh, I know you’re not going to litter,” said LillyAnna.
“Well, not anymore,” he said, bending over and picking up the trash.
They walked down the side street, keeping incredible balance on the ice-covered sidewalks even in human form, until they emerged from the alley. Times Square glistened and danced while the natives and tourists trafficked past in the winter cityscape.
The pair scanned the area for a black sedan, seeing there were several parked around them. They split up, walking past each one, looking through the windows and inspecting the contents. Some had to have snow brushed away to see inside. They weren’t even sure what they were looking for—or who they were looking for. They only knew that the note was left at Jerry’s house knowing that Landon would be there to get it. They had examined the entire home, burning his scent into their minds. Now they were looking for a specific car, simply because they were told to in a note.
“We’re wasting our time,” said LillyAnna, meeting back up with Landon. “We could be hunting Jerry; instead, we look like some couple car shopping.”
Landon agreed. He started to call off the search and head toward a club when he spotted a sedan that wasn’t parked like the others. This one was parked illegally with numerous tickets placed on its windshield.
The car was clean, inside and out, without even a dusting of snow, looking like it had just rolled off the showroom floor. Landon grabbed the front passenger handle, pulling slightly to see if it was locked. The door came ajar. He and LillyAnna looked at each other. He reached his arm to the back door, unlocking it. LillyAnna got in the back seat and searched for another note, clue, something that would indicate that they weren’t on a wild goose chase. Landon unlocked the trunk, walked to the rear of the car, and standing back a couple of feet, opened the lid. Empty. He slammed it shut and joined LillyAnna in the back seat.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “Why want me to find this car if there’s nothing in it? I’m not picking up anything unusual.”
“I don’t know,” said LillyAnna, looking around the car.
“Let’s get outta here,” he said. “You were right. This is a huge waste of time. The only thing I learned is that they’re playing some kind of game with us, and we fell for it.”
“I don’t know,” LillyAnna repeated, this time more to herself than her partner.
Landon gently tugged on her arm, and she slid across the seat and out of the car, joining him on the sidewalk. He closed both car doors as LillyAnna stood there staring at the vehicle. Turning to her, he finally noticed her curious infatuation with the car.
“You okay?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she answered. “There’s something here. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“You wanna take another look inside?”
“No. It’ll come to me. Let’s move on. Where are we going first?”
“Well, since we didn’t get a chance to talk to Jenny, we’re going to have to do it the old-fashioned way. We pick a direction, and walk. We’ll try to pick up the scent as we go.”
They walked down the avenue, making it a block when she suddenly stopped, turning back toward the car.
“Wait here,” she said. “I need to check one more time. I think I know what it is.”
“What?” he asked.
“Let me check it again, just to be sure before I say anything. I’ll only be a minute.”
She ran back to the black sedan, opened the door, and sat inside. She closed her eyes, smelling the interior. There it was. She was right. She hadn’t smelled it in a couple of weeks, but there was no mistaking it. She got out, shut the door, and began walking back toward Landon when she heard her name called from around the corner.
LillyAnna turned, taking cautious steps toward the edge of the building. Reaching the end of the sidewalk, she looked down the alley, and saw the car that she and Landon drove. A figure leaned against it in the shadows, his breath exposed in the cold air. She looked back at Landon, who was talking to a guy running a newspaper stand. She glanced back down the side street—the figure was still there. She walked toward the car.
“Hello?” she called.
No answer. The figure simply stood there, looking at her. Even if she couldn’t see the eyes, she knew he was looking at her. As she moved nearer, the figure stood erect, casually moving into the light.
“Hello, LillyAnna.”
“Scott,” she said, gasping, though not with full surprise. “I thought I smelled your cologne.”
“My cologne? Don’t you mean my scent?”
She looked at him almost in disbelief. Did he know what she was?
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying her best to feign ignorance.
“Come here. I want to show you something,” he said.
He led her farther down the street to another alley, directly behind the building. She realized she was moving farther from Landon who, as of yet, hadn’t come looking for her. The memory of the last time she and Scott saw each other forced her to consider that perhaps she had pushed him into something that only extended his previous downward spiral.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?” he asked, turning to face her. “Sorry for trying to get me to kill you? Sorry for pushing me to drink again?”
She suddenly realized he had circled her so that she now stood between him and a dead-end. He covered the only exit.
“I’m sorry for all of it,” she said.
“Well, that’s okay. I forgive you.” He took a few steps back. “But I thought that, since we were both here, I’d finish what I started.”
LillyAnna stepped back into the wall behind her as Scott suddenly transformed into a werewolf. His large right claw ripped through her shoulder while his left caught in her thigh. He lifted her over his head and, wobbling, threw her against the wall. Her body cracked against the brick, and fell limp to the cold ground.
Scott wobbled again, seemingly off balance. LillyAnna, realizing what just happened, came to her senses enough to induce a quick change. She jumped to her feet, growling. Then she suddenly felt like she’d been drinking. A full moon, she thought. The two werewolves stood, facing each other, circling in the snow. Suddenly, Scott jumped forward, soaring above her head, and clung to the wall behind her. His sharp claws stuck into the brick as he made his way to the top of the building. LillyAnna chased after.
“Oh, yeah, I know a lot about this city,” said the newspaper vendor. “Is there someplace specific you’re looking for?”
“Well, my girlfriend and I were kinda in the mood for an authentic New York underground club scene. Something along the lines of goth. Any ideas?”
“Sure. There are a few clubs like that. There’s Albion, and Batcave on West Thirtieth; there’s Contempt on East Sixth; and there’s The Black Abbey located on Avenue B. Those are the most popular.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of person who would go to those places,” said Landon.
“I don’t,” said the vendor. “I just keep myself informed for my customers, who are mostly out-of-towners.”
