Spectrum (The Karen Vail Series) (23 page)

He answered on the second ring—and she hesitated for a second as she asked herself if she really wanted to do this.
Yes. I want to. I have to.

“Agent Safarik, it’s Karen Vail. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I was wondering if you could walk me through the process of applying to the FBI.”

VAIL STOPPED IN TOWN to pick up a pizza for a very late dinner. As she stood outside dragging on a cigarette and waiting for the pie to come out of the oven, she glanced in at the counter where she had been sitting when Deacon walked into her life. He was so happy then, with a career full of possibilities. Now? She was not sure what the future held for him.

First on the agenda would be getting him some counseling. Perhaps that could help him recapture the promise he was poised to achieve not that long ago.

She was sure Deacon had not eaten dinner—or if he had, it would’ve been a peanut butter sandwich. Not that pizza was anymore nutritious, but it seemed like a more substantial dinner. Besides, given everything that had happened, she was craving salty, fatty, as-unnutritious-as-you-can-get comfort food.

She pulled up in front of her house and sat in the vehicle for a few moments, then gathered up the box and kicked the door closed with a foot.

When she walked in, Deacon was at the kitchen table—a bottle of Jif open with a knife sticking out of it.

So much for a sandwich. Too much work.

Third Eye Blind’s “How’s It Going to Be” was blasting from the radio. Vail reached over and switched it off.

Deacon was asleep, his head resting on his forearms, which were crossed atop the butcher block table. Once Vail set the pizza down, Deacon lifted his head, flared his nostrils, and licked his lips.

“Karen. You’re home.”

“A late dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”

He sat up and shielded his face from the bright incandescent lights. An empty bottle of Merlot was on the counter, a glass by his elbow showing a residual drop of red liquid at the bottom.

His eyes were bloodshot. No surprise. “You been drinking again?”

“A little bit.”

Bullshit. You drank the whole bottle. It was sealed when I left this morning.

“My mom’s gonna be by in a bit with Jonathan. She’s gonna spend the night so she doesn’t have to drive back to Westbury. You might want to be upstairs in the bedroom when she comes.”
I don’t want her to see you like this.

“Oh.” He looked around, as if he was trying to remember something. “Someone came by, dropped something off for you.”

“Yeah?” She pulled open the cabinet door and removed a couple of plates. “What was it?”

“I put it somewhere so you’d see it if I was asleep.” He lifted some papers on the table, then got up—and after steadying himself against the counter, made it across the room where he found a white envelope next to the toaster.

Vail pulled open the cardboard box and served the slices on plates. “Who brought it by?”

“Don’t know. Some guy.”

She unfurled the typewritten note:

Detective Vail


Sorry to hear about your troubles. And to think I’m responsible. No fears. We’ll meet again. I promise.


Yours VERY truly


The Hades Slasher (I kind of like that name!)


Oh my God.
“Get me a paper towel!”

“There are napkins—”

“Now, goddamn it. Just—give me something clean.”

Deacon handed it to her and Vail placed the letter atop it. Next she found a large Ziploc and, using a pair of rubber dish gloves, inserted the document and sealed the bag.

The odds of getting prints from paper were not good, and what’s more, this killer was not careless. He was not one to leave latents on a note he gave to a detective. Still, she followed procedure.

“What is it?” he asked, his words running together slightly.

“What time did this guy come by?”

Deacon squinted. “Well shit, I don’t know. I didn’t look at the clock. Not long before you got here.”

Vail rose from her chair.
Holy shit. Was he there when I was sitting out front in the car?

She walked to the living room and peered out the miniblinds. Nothing.
Is he watching our house?

“What’d he look like?” she called into the kitchen.

Deacon took a moment to answer. “I—don’t know. I wasn’t really of sound mind. If you know what I mean.”

“You were shitfaced. Of course I know what you mean. Can you tell me anything about him? Short, tall, fat, thin, black, white?”

“Average height—well, maybe he was tall. Medium build, I think. White.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “He had a beard. And he was wearing an Islanders hat, dark glasses.”

“At night?”

Deacon shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly ‘with it.’ But they were at least tinted, I’m pretty sure.”

“What exactly did he say? Did he ask for me?”

“He seemed to know you weren’t home.”

My car wasn’t in the driveway. So he knows what kind of car I drive, and that I drive to work each day. Has he been watching me?

She went back into the kitchen and dialed Russo, told him what had happened.

“I’ll be by in about forty-five minutes. We’ll pick up the letter and get it over to the lab. And I’ll have a patrol car sit on your house tonight. I’ll see what I can do about a longer-term basis, until we catch this bastard.”

“If he wanted to hurt me, he could have.”

“I’m not putting my trust in a serial killer. You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not. It’s the right thing to do.” She massaged the bridge of her nose. “Russo, I also … I’ve got some news.”

“Yeah, what? Tell me.”

“I’ll wait till you get here.”

“Karen, I’m sitting in a car, driving. I’ve got time to waste. Tell me now.”

Vail hesitated. This was something she preferred to discuss with him face-to-face. But did it really matter? “I’m leaving the department. I’m going to apply to the FBI.”

Deacon threw his head back and looked at Vail through glazed eyes.

After a long pause, Russo said, “I understand. Smart move. You know you’ve got my full support. Use me as a reference.”

“Of course.”

“See you ASAP.”

Vail hung up and sat back down in her seat, staring at the plastic-wrapped letter. Worrying about Jonathan.

He didn’t hurt me. Would he hurt my son?

“You’re quitting your job?” Deacon asked.

“Looks that way.”

“Why?”

Vail closed her eyes. “I’ve had a really long day. A shitty day. I lost a colleague. My partner on this case.” She took a deep breath and looked at Deacon. “Can we discuss this tomorrow?”

“Be better anyway. Maybe I’ll be sober.” He chuckled, as if that was somehow funny.

Vail turned her attention back to the letter.

He knows about my problems at the precinct today. How can that be? And he left it at my house. He’s sending me a message. Well, bring it on, asshole. You’ve found me. Now I’m gonna find you.

38

>ELLIS ISLAND

Saturday, April 22, 1978

Livana was on a ladder using Windex and a rag to clean the dirty windows. The rain and wind made the task an ongoing job. But the view was so rewarding it was a shame to look out of muddy, streaked glass.

She climbed down off her ladder and had started toward the kitchen to get a towel when something caught her eye several paces off to her right: an animal of some kind lying on its back atop a downed tree trunk.

As Livana approached, she could see that it was a squirrel, its belly sliced open and its organs removed. Bugs were crawling across it and—

She cupped her mouth as bile threatened to explode from her stomach, then turned and ran into the house.

“Fedor! Fedor, where are you?”

“In here. Fixing the fireplace in your bedroom.”

She headed up the steps and locked eyes with him as she walked into the hallway.

He tossed his screwdriver down and ran toward her. “What’s wrong?”

Livana found it difficult to form words. “An animal. Outside. It’s—some-one cut it open, cut out its organs, there’s blood all over the tree, bugs are all over the place. Right outside the kitchen window.”

“Someone cut it open? You mean another animal attacked—”

“No, not an animal. Someone … took a knife and sliced it open.” She shuddered. “Surgically.”

“Show me.”

Livana took him downstairs, around the house to the fallen tree.

Fedor examined the corpse with detached curiosity. He backed away and joined Livana, who was doing her best to avoid seeing it.

“Why would anyone want to do that?” he asked.

“There are only a few people on the island. The other family keeps to themselves. They never come over this way. And those weird guys that live in the big hospital building, we hardly see them, and when we do it’s only when we go by the dock.”

“So then who?”

Livana thought of the books she had found in her son’s bedroom. “Dmitri?” She said it at a near whisper, but Fedor heard her—or he had reached the same conclusion.

“Dmitri!” Fedor yelled. “Niklaus! Come around back.”

A moment later, the boys ambled over, followed by Cassandra.

“Cassie,” Livana said, “go back in the house.”

“But—”

“Please, just listen to me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Cassandra frowned, then turned and huffed off.

“Boys,” Fedor said, “Either of you know anything about this?”

Dimitri pulled his hood back and looked at the ground. Niklaus, his gaze fixed on Dimitri, waited a moment before turning to Fedor.

“Well? Who did this?”

Niklaus looked at his father, then turned toward Dimitri.

“Did you both do it?” Livana asked.

“Nik did it,” Dimitri said, keeping his head down.

“What?” Nicklaus stepped back.

“Niklaus!” Fedor said.

“Dad, that’s not true.” He turned to Dimitri. “What are you doing?”

Dimitri did not respond.

“Dmitri, look my dad in the eyes and tell him to his face that I did it.”

“Not my fault,” Dmitri murmured. “Not my fault.”

Fedor glanced at Livana. “Dmitri, go wait in the kitchen for me.”

He trudged away, swiping his sneaker at a rock as he walked. It skipped along the ground and struck a tree trunk.

Fedor turned to Niklaus. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t do it.”

“Did Dmitri do it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are you telling me the truth or are you covering for him again?”

Niklaus looked away, then glanced up, then found his father’s face. “I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“He’s already in trouble,” Fedor said. “Now answer the question, son, before you join him.”

Niklaus frowned. “He told me he saw this squirrel out back and he threw a rock at it and missed, so he picked up a stick and cornered it by the stoop. It started to go up the wall but he swung and hit it in the head.”

“You didn’t see this?”

“That’s what he told me. No, I didn’t see it.”

“And then? The damn thing’s cut open.”

Niklaus licked his lips, lowered his voice. “He said he wanted to see what was inside. When I saw it, he’d already … well, he’d done it.”

Livana recoiled. “That’s gross. How could he do such a thing to a little animal?” She glanced at the bloody squirrel. “I have to go talk to him.”

“I’ll do it,” Fedor said. “Probably should come from me.”

Livana knew what was left unstated: this kind of talk needed to come from a father. Dimitri’s father was gone, so Fedor filled that role.

“I’ll get this mess cleaned up. Nik, go fetch a bucket of water and some bleach. You’ll help me.”

“But it’s gross. Do I have to?”

“You have to. Now.”

“Be stern with him,” Livana said after Niklaus walked off. “He needs to know this is … it’s just an awful thing to do.” She shot a glance at the squirrel. “I’m concerned about him, Fedor. I mean, what kind of child kills defenseless animals and cuts them open?”

Fedor chewed on his lip a moment. “The kind of child who’s fascinated by how people die, by killers and other kinds of deviants. The kind who’s been kidnapped and beaten and …” He looked away. “A child who has problems, Liv.”

She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a wail. Tears filled her eyes. “How did this happen to us?” she said. “We didn’t deserve this.”

“No. But in life, we don’t always get what we deserve. Or want. Or need.”

Livana looked up at the sky and took a long, deep breath. “You’d better go talk to him.”

Fedor rubbed his forehead. “Yeah.”

“You sure you want to do it?”

“How many times have we talked about this?”

They had indeed been over it multiple times. Realizing they both had to fill voids in their children’s lives and knowing the importance of having mother and father figures, they operated as a family unit, even if it was not something official or legal.

Fedor gently cupped the side of her head. “I’ll take care of it.”

39

>ELLIS ISLAND

Wednesday, July 4, 1979

Livana was readying their makeshift barbecue on the interior of the island in a spot that would not be visible from the mainland or Liberty Island. Using other buildings, tree cover, and angles as a shield was a precaution they had been taking since they moved there, something they had discussed with their cohabitants shortly after arriving.

Fedor felt strongly that they should take steps during daylight hours to prevent people from seeing them. Although it was no secret that drifters were living on Ellis Island, he thought that if they kept to themselves, stayed out of sight most of the time, and did not cause any trouble, the authorities would probably leave them alone.

The same went for nighttime fires, which would be visible for a distance, possibly all the way to Manhattan. Any possibility of a blaze would send the FDNY scrambling to control it before it scorched the entire area. It was easy enough to choose specific locations where line of sight to the mainland was difficult, if not impossible. It was common sense, Fedor explained. No one objected.

Despite their precautions, however, a couple of months after Niklaus and Dmitri had snuck aboard the ferry, Fedor saw men wearing construction hats arrive on Island 1. He had watched them enter the main immigration building at 8:00 AM, but how long they remained and what they did were a mystery, because the crew was gone when the family returned from the city later that evening. The workers, however, returned every weekday morning for a month.

Three weeks later, Niklaus was home ill from school. Using a pair of binoculars he had purchased at a thrift shop near Dmitri’s used bookstore, he spied a ferry arriving with several dozen people aboard.

The glasses weren’t powerful but they were good enough for him to see larger objects such as approaching ships. Dmitri liked to borrow them in the summer and watch the bikini-clad women on speedboats, especially when the vessels hit a wave and bounced.

Despite a fever, Niklaus left the house and hid in the brush by the main hospital building, watching as the ferry pulled into the inlet and docked. It soon became apparent the people aboard were tourists.

In the ensuing weeks, Livana determined that these ferries launched from Battery Park and followed a twice weekly schedule. The signage at the pier spoke of guided tours of a new National Park Service museum commemorating the time when Ellis Island was a portal for prospective US residents.

Fedor sat at the kitchen table chewing his sandwich. “These ferries aren’t going to be stopping anytime soon.”

“And what does this mean for us?” Livana asked.

He took a moment to answer. “For now, it doesn’t affect us. They come on weekdays when we’re gone. If we draw the shades before we go to work and don’t leave anything scattered around outside, I think we’ll be okay.”

“What if they want to do tours of our—
this
island?”

Fedor chuckled. “Of the old hospital? There’s nothing to see here.”

Livana wondered if the park service would want to tear down these abandoned buildings to build something new. She did not bother asking Fedor about it because if that happened, they would have to leave their home. There was no point in worrying about it.

But she did worry. However, as the months—and then the years—passed, Livana began to feel secure, confident that their island home was not in jeopardy.

Until yesterday. They had both gotten off early from work for the Fourth of July holiday. When they arrived home, they noticed that construction workers had returned. Like a few years ago, the men wore hard hats and looked official.

Fedor walked into his bedroom and came up alongside his son, who had the task of using binoculars to observe the workers from his father’s second story window. “What do you see?”

Niklaus sat back from the edge of the shade he had been using for cover and detailed what he had observed: the men were carrying tripods, tape measures, and other types of equipment in long toolboxes and caddies. They walked the length of Island 1, doing a lot of pointing as they surveyed the grounds around the main building. Before leaving, they gathered in front, conferring with one another in small groups.

“Sounds like they were checking the place out this time, not just cleaning it out and fixing things up.”

Niklaus turned back to the drawn shade. “I think they’re planning to build something. Or tear something down.”

Fedor rubbed his temples. “I hope you’re wrong.”

“But if I’m right, and they’re building
there
, we may be next.”

Fedor chewed on that a moment. “Don’t say anything to your brother and sister. It’ll only worry them and there’s nothing we can do about it. Just let me know if you see them come back.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of
if
they come back. It’s when.”

THE FOLLOWING DAY, as they stood around the barbecue, Fedor took the metal poker from Livana and shifted the coals around to cultivate the flame. “We’ve got pretty clear weather. We should be able to see the fireworks tonight.”

“That would be a real treat. Last year it was so overcast I felt like it wasn’t really the Fourth because we couldn’t see anything.” She fell silent for a moment. “I miss barbecues in the old neighborhood. Going to movies, block parties. Going to church.”

Fedor’s response was matter-of-fact: “That hasn’t been our life for a long time.”

Livana knew this to be true. But that did not make it any easier to accept.

She reached over and slapped a mosquito that landed on her forearm. “I’m gonna run in and get some bug spray or we’ll get eaten alive. You need anything?”

“Bring the hamburgers I bought this morning. They should be defrosted now. I think we need about ten more minutes and the fire’ll be ready to go.”

Livana walked into the house and removed the meat from the cooler and set it on a plate, but couldn’t find the repellant. She had given it to Cassandra to use yesterday and that girl, bless her … she never put things back where she took them from.

As Livana neared the door, she heard the shower going. She stepped into the bedroom—and saw Dmitri standing outside the partially opened bathroom door, his pants down, and his penis in his hand—”

Livana let out a scream and dropped the plate in the same instant.

Dmitri quickly pulled up his pants but had difficulty tucking away his erection. A second later, Fedor and Niklaus came running in—as did Cassandra, wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping wet.

“What’s wrong?” Fedor asked.

Livana was crying, her right hand clamped over her mouth. She turned and pushed past Fedor, then ran up the stairs.

A moment later, Fedor was knocking on her door. But he did not wait for an answer to enter. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what happened.”

Livana related what she had seen.

Fedor closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s thirteen. He doesn’t see many girls outside of school, and I’m sure he doesn’t see them showering.” He swallowed. “Naked.”

“You think that’s all it is? Cassie’s his
sister
. I don’t think—I don’t think that’s … normal. There, I said it. Oh my god. I finally said it. My son’s not normal, Fedor, and I … ” She buried her face in his chest and began sobbing. A moment later, she got control of herself. “I don’t know what to do to help him. I don’t know what to do for him.”

“Tomorrow,” Fedor said, “we’ll see if we can find a doctor in the city. Maybe he can tell us how to handle this.”