Shadow of the Past (29 page)

The police showed up about four hours
and three phone calls to Christine later. Joe was up by then, and
when Detective Prescott, another detective and a pair of uniformed
officers showed up on their doorstep with a search warrant, Mark
could see Joe’s head almost cave in under the weight of not being
able to strangle Mark right then and there.

While Mark and Joe waited in the
kitchen, David explained to them what had happened at Christine’s
house, and how she was fine, although exhausted and probably
sleeping in a hotel room somewhere.

It wasn’t lost on Mark that he didn’t
tell him where she was staying. Mark didn’t ask.

They brought down the “Bizarre Crimes
of Northern New Jersey,” and the other Detective pulled David into
the living room. Mark watched the two argue quietly as he avoided
Joe’s glare from across the table.

After a few minutes, he and David come
back into the kitchen. David hung back in the archway while the
other Detective took a seat across from him.

“Mark, I’m Detective Sergeant Lobrazzo.
I think we should talk about some stuff down at the station, don’t
you?”

“If we have to.”

“Yeah, I kind of think we
do.”

“Um, okay. Do I need a
lawyer?”

“I don’t know,” Lobrazzo said,
shrugging. “Do you think you need a lawyer?” Over Lobrazzo’s
shoulder, Mark saw David nod his head.

“Yeah, I kind of think so.”

David liked Ron Lobrazzo. He had to
remind himself of this as Ron chewed into Mark in the interview
room, leaving David stewing in the corner.

David had been given a fair amount of
leeway with the investigation, which was easy given that most of
the evidence they had did make any sense and the rest just pointed
to a teenager with no motive and little opportunity.

But when the Baker’s house was attacked
and the shitstorm up at the top worked its way down and got Ron,
the senior Detective in the Investigation Unit. When he read
David’s report of Christine’s interview, the first thing he wanted
to do was bring Mark in and grill him until he broke.

David couldn’t bring himself to admit
to him that he thought Mark was hiding something, but Ron knew
enough to read between the lines.

“Three murders, all only linked by him,
and you’re acting like it’s a coincidence. Why the hell are you
protecting him?” He’d asked him in the car on the way from the
judge’s house with the signed warrant the Chief had insisted they
get and serve immediately.

“Probably because I think he needs
protecting.”

“Cute. I felt that way about that girl
back at the hospital.”

They hadn’t said much after they argued
at Mark’s, David telling him that going at the kid hard was going
to be pointless, and Ron insisting that the problem was that the
kid wasn’t taking this seriously. “For all we know he’s one of
those crazy Columbine kids. I’m telling you we’re going to find a
gun, or plans for a bomb, or something like that and you’re going
to see this kid for the unstable, desensitized monster he probably
is. Hell, he could have some accomplice bumping these people off,
and you’re letting him off the hook because he was what, asleep?
Wake up, Dave. I expect better.”

So he sat there, keeping watch over
Mark as they waited for his lawyer to show up. Joe parked himself
in the lobby stone-faced and silent, and when Mark’s lawyer showed
up David was relieved that the kid’s Uncle had actually spent some
money and gotten a real lawyer and not the glorified accountant
he’d brought last time.

“I just don’t understand this. You get
run off the road and beaten, but you have no idea who did it or
even what they looked like. Plus, you have no idea why anyone would
want to kill people close to you. Do you have any ideas? Anything
at all that maybe will keep other people getting killed, or are you
not worried about that?”

Mark did what he’d done for most of the
interview: stare at the table and shake his head. “No, I don’t want
anyone to get hurt.”

“Really? Maybe you should tell that to
Christine and her family. They’d be thrilled to hear
that.”

Mark’s hands clenched, but he didn’t
look up.

“Mark, I just don’t understand how you
have no idea about what’s going on, especially since you were
hiding a book about murders that took place in this town up in your
room.”

“There’s nothing illegal about taking a
book out of the library, Sergeant,” Mark’s lawyer said.

“Yeah, that’s true, but I have yet to
hear why he did it in the first place.”

“I was scared.” Mark said. He stared at
Ron with more intensity than he thought the terrified kid would be
able to muster. “It was stupid, but I thought there might be
something in the book that would help me understand what was going
on. Maybe even tell me why this was happening to the people I care
about but it turned out it’s just a stupid book that didn't tell me
anything. I didn’t say why I took it out before because I was
embarrassed. Is that a good enough reason?” Tears had begun to
slide down the kid’s face.

The lawyer lifted his palms to the sky.
“Well, Sergeant? Is it?”

Ron wiped his mouth and chin, looking
past Mark and at David, who just shrugged his shoulders. Ron tilted
his head towards the door and David followed him out.

“Don’t say it,” Ron said just before
they entered the observation room. The shrug was the closest thing
to “I told you so” David would dare.

In the tiny room looking into the
interview room was the Deputy Chief overseeing the Investigation
Unit and the Essex County District Attorney. Neither of them looked
particularly happy, and in a room that small it was hard to
ignore.

“This is pointless,” the DA said. “I’m
not going to try to prosecute some kid, or open ourselves up to
some sort of harassment lawsuit.”

“He’s the only connection to this whole
thing,” Ron said. “If he doesn’t know anything, then whatever is
happening is happening because of him and he’s in danger. If he
does know something, then he’s eye-deep in it and after that
performance only god knows what he’s capable of.”

“But this is getting us nowhere,” the
Deputy Chief said. “Prescott, you’ve talked to this kid a bunch
already, what do you think?”

Ron glared back at him, and David took
a deep breath to stall while he figured how far over the line he’d
put his ass for Mark. “Honestly, I think he’s telling the truth. If
there’s something going on, what he knows probably isn’t going to
help us. According to the hospital, Howard Baker should be able to
answer some questions in a couple of days. As long as we keep him
safe, he can give us an idea of who did this to him.”

Which is what David had told Ron, but
he didn’t want to put too fine a point on it.

“Alright, let’s try to keep an eye on
this kid. Cut him loose,” The Deputy Chief said.

“What’re we going to do if there’s
another murder?” Ron said as the all walked out.

“Then we hold him,” the Deputy Chief
said, and the DA nodded. “Either for his own protection or until he
tells us something useful. This is already turning into a fiasco,
and the last thing this town needs is another Justin
Corwin.”

David stopped in his tracks, watching
the two walk off down the hall. “Hold on,” David said before Ron
opened the door to the interview room. “Who’s Justin
Corwin?”

“C’mon, Dave,” Ron said, rolling his
eyes. “I know you’re from Philly, but do your homework, would you?
He’s Cedar Ridge’s very own serial killer. He’s in that book the
kid had. Happened in the 50’s and the guy is long gone.”

“This has nothing to do with
Clara, Ms. Kennedy or Cor--”

He’d been cut off by his Uncle’s yell
at the hospital, but if that was why he’d gotten the book then
perhaps there was more of a connection than they were
seeing.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

When they got home from the Police
Station, Joe informed Mark that the lawyer cost $200 and that he’d
like to be paid back by the end of the month.

Mark spent the rest of the evening and
the next day in the garage stopping his futile repair job every
couple of minutes to make sure he wasn’t missing hearing the phone
ring.

He didn’t. She didn’t call all weekend.
Mark couldn’t tell which was worse: not hearing from her and not
knowing if she was okay, or knowing she was okay and that she
wasn’t calling him back anyway.

At school on Monday, Mark was relieved
that no one at school seemed to put together that it was
Christine’s family that the news had been talking about. The police
hadn’t confirmed that there was a connection to Clara or Ms.
Kennedy’s death, but it didn’t stop reporters from speculating
about it. Steve asked him when they met for lunch about it and Mark
reluctantly told him what details he had to share. It was the only
thing he’d ever seen that completely shut him up. Well, for five
whole minutes.

“Have you talked to her?”

“No,” Mark said. “I left messages but I
haven’t heard anything.”

He actually looked relieved. “Do you
think she’s okay?”

Mark just looked at him. “Right,” Steve
said. “Stupid question. Do you--”

“I don’t want to talk about this. If
you can’t talk about anything else but this then let’s not talk
about anything at all. And I sure as shit hope you don’t tell
anybody else about it.”

Steve opened his mouth, but then closed
it and went back to his sandwich. They didn’t say anything else the
rest of the period or the next. At the end of gym, when the bell
rang and Mark headed down the hallway, Steve followed
him.

“Mark, hold up a second.”

“I don’t want to,” he said, not
stopping.

“We should talk about stuff. I mean,
things are getting kind of fucked up and--”

“Oh,
now
they’re getting fucked up? Thanks
for the update since I hadn’t figured that out yet.”

“Mark, look--”

“Just forget it, okay?”

“I’m sorry!” Steve called down the
stairwell. “For everything.”

“Hey.”

Mark didn’t notice Christine until
she’d called to him from inside the car as he walked
past.

“Hey,” he said, squatting down on the
sidewalk to lean on the open window. “How’re you doing? I tried to
call you but all I got was voice mail.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve just been . . .
well, you can imagine.”

“I know, and I’m so sor--”

“Don’t. I need to talk to you but I
don’t want to do it here. Can we drive somewhere?”

“Sure,” he said, walking around to the
passenger’s side. “Whose car is this?”

“It’s my Aunt’s rental. My Mom’s been
staying at the hospital and my Aunt flew down from Hartford
yesterday and has been making plans all day for Ryan . . . I told
her I needed some air, and she’s been kind of a push-over since she
got here.”

They drove most of the way in silence,
finally pulling into one of the parking spaces at the park they
used to go to. Christine turned off the car but stayed where she
was. Finally, she turned to him and said, “I want you to tell me
everything.”

“What do you--”

“You know what I mean! Everything about
what’s going on with all of this! Why my brother was killed and my
father may never walk again. You tell me everything you know about
this right now or so help me I go to the police and I’ll tell them
it was you.”

“Christine, stop, please--”

“Try me,” she said.

He took a deep breath and told
her.

“Are you serious?” she said when he was
done.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know it sounds
crazy but it’s the truth. Corwin’s ghost thinks I’m this Darren
kid, and he wants me because he escaped before he could finish . .
. well, whatever the hell he was trying to finish.”

“So you’re saying it’s a ghost? A ghost
of some guy who died in the fifties killed my brother and tried to
burn down my house?”

Mark could just nod. “I’m sorry, I
wish--”

“Stop it!” she screamed, pounding her
fists on the steering wheel. After a few seconds she slapped at her
seatbelt until it let her free and then shoved her way out of the
car.

Mark scrambled to follow her. She was
standing with her back to him, a fistful of hair in each hand at
her temples. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it
away without even looking back at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just . . . I
know that if we stick together we can work this out, we can get
through this and then--”

“And then what?” She spun around to
face him, throwing her arms up in the air and letting little
threads of red hair sprinkle down to the ground. “I don’t want to
think about what happens after because I’m too terrified about
what’s happened right fucking now! I haven’t been able to sleep! I
can’t close my eyes without thinking something is going to come
into our hotel room and finish what it started! I can’t even go
back into my own house to get my things because it’s a crime
scene!”