The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel (25 page)

“Just one,” Bud answered. “Did you ever communicate with Rachelle Robinson on Twitter?”

“I sent her a couple of tweets, but she never replied.”

“What did the tweets say?”

“They were questions about how she was feeling after the shooting.”

“That’s all for now,” Cronin said.

As Patty was taken away, Simmons looked at Cronin and said, “A productive day.”

“Yes,” Cronin answered back. “Thank you, and I’m sure we will be seeing you soon.”

Cronin then turned to Paul and Bud and said, “OK guys, it’s been a long 24 hours. Give me a call tomorrow and let me know what you’re working on.”

When Paul and Bud got to Z Pita, Paul’s dad and Allan were catching up on old times. Before Paul could sit down, Joey Z came up to him and showed him the Twitter column from Rachelle that was in
Newsday
. The message of the day read, “You didn’t have your way, it may have been yesterday, not counting the cop there have been five, but I’m still alive.” Paul couldn’t believe what he was reading. Joey Z was clearly upset.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but we can’t let her back here while she is antagonizing the crazies. Is she going to see someone for help?”

Paul dropped the paper and said, “I will be speaking to her about this.” He sat down at the table and greeted his dad with a kiss on the top of his head. For one hour they were able to forget about the magnitude of the case. Brie cheese fondue at Z Pita with Joey’s famous Greek salad and eggplant skordalia had a way of helping you forget about world events for a while.

The elder Powers mentioned that he noticed, on the way into the restaurant, a car completely in the design of the Yankees uniform. Paul explained to him it was owned by Barry Dubin and was a common sight in the Village. He rode around often in it with his father, George Dubin, who was well known in the Village for wearing his World War II Veteran hat.

“In fact,” Paul said, “the Yankees would have used it for promotional purposes if it had been a Toyota or Ford instead of a Hyundai.”

Deborah was released earlier in the day, but she hung around for a while because she wanted to meet Rachelle in her room. She had fallen asleep, and Deborah wanted to wait until she awoke. When she entered the room, it was as if they had a bond that would never be broken. Deborah’s eyes met Rachelle’s, and she leaned over the bed so they could hug before they even said a word to each other. She looked over at Madison, and they greeted each other with a tear in their eyes.

“Have a seat,” Rachelle said. “We may have much to talk about.”

Madison got up to excuse herself for a bit to give them privacy. “I’ll be back in a couple hours to make sure you get some sleep,” she said as she kissed Rachelle.

Deborah and Rachelle talked about everything they could think of and how their lives had become intertwined. Deborah expressed appreciation that she believed it was Rachelle’s articles and tweets that brought out the kidnappers and delayed her execution. Rachelle agreed modestly with her but wondered if she was responsible for the death of Officer Davis and of course the attempts on her own life. Regardless, Deborah expressed appreciation. The conversation even turned to the men in their lives. The betrayal of Robert and Patty was too much for Deborah to comprehend.

When Madison walked back into the room two hours later, they couldn’t believe the time had gone by so quickly.

“Where is Robert staying now that he’s not at the mansion?” Rachelle asked.

“I don’t know,” Deborah said. “Probably at Patty’s while she’s in jail. Where else would he go? It’s almost deserved, from the Pink Mansion to the Fairfield Apartments. It really doesn’t matter anymore. I need to go home and clear my head on this. Here is my number. I would like to get together when this is over, if you’re interested.”

“Yes,” Rachelle answered. “I think it would be nice.” They exchanged numbers before saying goodbye.

D
eborah woke up at 8:07 am and yelled, “Dad! I’m hungry!” He could hear her from his office, and it made him laugh for the first time in about 10 days. Deborah used to yell from bed when she woke up when she was a child growing up. It was really sweet to hear her say it again after all these years.

William Lance walked into her room and sat beside his daughter with her head on her pillow and arms tucked underneath on her side. He could tell by her staring into space that the chain of events was a bit much for her to take in a week. “Talk to me, my sweet daughter,” he said to her.

Deborah rolled over on her back and expressed herself as she stared up at the ceiling. “Dad, I’ve had such a great life. I could not have asked for more growing up. We didn’t have Mom, but you took such good care of me. I tried to be a good person. You taught me well. I know I was young when I fell for Robert, but it was like he was family. He took care of me, and he respected you and me ’til I expressed my desires to him at 18. We had everything. I mean, I tried to give him everything. We were so happy.”

William Lance listened intently as she continued to talk to him as her eyes looked at the ceiling as if she was watching a movie. “I loved him, and I loved Patty. When you sold the business, I had mixed feelings. Part of me wanted to have the challenge and another part of me wanted the freedom to do what I wanted to do. I let Patty vent about how she was betrayed by it. I had a few drinks one night, and she asked me to trust her. I didn’t know what she was going to do. If she told me she would break the law or hurt someone, let alone have me kidnapped, I would have never let this happen.”

There was silence from her father, and Deborah turned her head to look at him, saying, “Dad, never ever. I love you too much and would have never hurt you this way.”

“I know, baby,” William Lance replied as he pulled her toward him and held her tight.

Paul woke up with a
bang
at his back entrance and ran down to open the door. It was Thursday’s paper with the cryptic message for the day taken from Rachelle’s Twitter account at 2:20 am, just in time for
Newsday
to print it. Attached to the highlighted column was a note from Joey Z that said, “I’m scared for her.”

The tweet for the day said, “Listen to what I say. It may be Thursday, but if I had my way, I will make you pay.” Paul got up and rushed into the bathroom to wash up. He was on his way to the hospital to visit Rachelle. On the way to Mather, he called Bud and asked him to meet him there. Bud declined and said he would meet him back at the precinct. Paul arrived at the hospital at 9:10 am only to find out Rachelle had checked out 10 minutes earlier. He went to see Sherry in her room to say hello and check in with her. He was surprised to find out that Detective Lieutenant Cronin had been there earlier. As he left the hospital, he asked the nurse for the list of visitors Rachelle had had since he left her. Deborah and Madison the previous night and Detective Lieutenant Cronin was with her this morning when she checked out.

Paul was scratching his head as he left the hospital to drive to Prospect Street to speak to her. Rachelle answered the door and walked away, yet she left the door open to allow Paul to walk in the house. He noticed when he drove up that there was an unmarked car parked in front of the Mather Museum two houses down.

He walked in and broke the silence, saying, “Rachelle, I’m very worried about the tweets you are sending out that are being published in
Newsday
.”

“Don’t be!” she answered without turning around to look at him. “Why?” he answered. “You have been a victim twice, and now this, antagonizing animals to come after you. Why?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it. I’m sorry.”

“Rachelle, did you leave the hospital with Detective Lieutenant Cronin today?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Did he ask you questions?”

“Yes.”

“What questions?” he replied.

“Maybe you should ask him,” she answered as she looked at him. There was silence as they looked at each other, and he could see the pain in her face.

“OK, OK,” he answered. “I will leave you alone. You don’t need me to give you more stress.”

He left her, and for the first time in years, it was without at least a hug. Paul walked toward the unmarked car.

Before driving to the precinct, Bud decided to drive to the Lance Mansion to check on and speak to Deborah Lance. As he drove all the way to the end of Cliff Road, he noticed a 1999 Honda parked outside the gates on the side of the road. He parked alongside it and noticed it was Robert Simpson. He got out to walk over to him as Robert was shaking his head.

“What brings you here?” Bud said as he looked in the driver’s window.

“Listen,” Simpson replied, “I haven’t had a chance to speak to Deborah. I need to speak to her. I know she loves me, and I need her to know I had nothing to do with this.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Bud replied. “Did you know that I checked last week on you, and you have failed to pay a parking ticket you had with full payment?”

“What?” Robert answered.

“Yes, it’s true,” Bud answered. As he raised his forefinger to point at Robert, he spoke again, saying, “I could arrest you for a misdemeanor, and not too long ago I could strip-search you for it.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Robert answered.

“Listen,” Bud said, “I want you to leave.”

As he spoke those words, Allan, who was on his shift for security in Belle Terre, pulled up to see what was going on.

“Allan,” Bud yelled, “would you please escort Mr. Simpson off of these premises?”

“Follow me, Mr. Simpson,” Allan said.

“Before you go,” Bud said, sticking his head in the window, “as for your involvement in all of this, it’s not over yet, so I just want to let you know that you don’t want me to find out that the butler did it. You know what I mean? Because it will not only disappoint me in this little adventure, it will piss me off. OK, now you can go,” he said as he patted Simpson on the shoulder.

Simpson turned on the ignition and followed Allan down Cliff Road toward the front entrance. Bud got back in the unmarked cruiser and drove up to the gates and pushed the buzzer. They opened after he identified himself.

When Bud was let inside the mansion, Deborah fixed her hair and put some makeup on before she went downstairs to greet him. He watched her come down the stairs. He was so enthralled in how good she looked that he was ashamed of himself for thinking,
Please don’t fall, I might have to come to your rescue.
He snapped out of it when she stuck her hand out to greet him.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” he asked.

“Sure, let’s go outside on the back deck. We can look at the harbor as we speak. The view is breathtaking.”

“Deborah, I need to ask you a difficult question. Did you know of Patty’s plan to have you kidnapped?”

Deborah looked toward the harbor then back at Bud before saying, “No, I did not. I just told my father everything this morning. She said she had a plan, but I thought it was some way to convince Dad not to sell the business, but it never happened.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, he went through with selling the business and nothing happened, so I never thought about it again. This happened after he sold it, so I would have never thought Patty was involved.”

“OK,” Bud answered. “Did you know Robert Simpson has been trying to reach you?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I have not been able to bring myself to speak to him yet.”

“I noticed you have three or four pictures of the Statue of Liberty in the foyer. What’s that about?”

Debbie was surprised by the question but answered it, saying, “I’ve always loved the history of it. It’s so beautiful and represents so much. It’s such a beautiful piece of history. Maybe someday when we have time, I can give you a history lesson on it.”

“Sounds good,” Bud replied.

“Did you know what anagram you get from Statue of Liberty?” he asked.

“No, but I bet you are going to tell me,” she replied.

He took out a piece of paper from his notebook and wrote as he spoke the words, “Built to stay free.”

She looked at him and said, “You’re a funny guy, Bud Johnson.”

“I know,” he answered. “That’s what they tell me. I’ll be in touch, but I don’t want you leaving the house without a police escort until this is over. Understood?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said. “The way I feel right now, I won’t ever leave.”

“Things will be fine. I promise you,” he said as he left the deck. She followed him to the front and thanked him.

“Here’s my number, Deborah,” he said. “Call me anytime if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

She put her hand out, but when he took it, she gave him a hug. As he left the house, her father said, “I saw that hug.”

Deborah laughed, saying, “Can’t help it; he’s like a cuddly koala bear.”

They both laughed as Deborah went back upstairs to her room. When she reached her bedroom, she pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote
Statue of Liberty
. She slowly wrote the letters of “built to stay free” underneath the words of her favorite historical symbol, crossing out each letter of “Statue of Liberty” as she wrote down the letters. It worked, Bud was right.

When Bud got to his car, he sent Deborah a text that said, “See, I told you.” He smiled and drove down to the security office to speak to Allan. He didn’t see the amazed look he put on Deborah’s face when she read his text, but he imagined it and enjoyed the thought of it, from the way he was smiling as he got behind the wheel and drove over to the Belle Terre security building.

As Cronin sat in his office, he played out the sequence of events over the past week in his mind. The only thing he was having trouble understanding was why Bud was on the hit list. The scenario wasn’t clear to him, unless it was to cause confusion in the first place. He called Gina to find out the locations of both Bud and Paul.

His thoughts turned to all the different versions of the mask being used. He blinked his eyes a few times, thinking maybe he was hyperanalyzing the meaning of it. He sipped his coffee and wrote down a list of people that Bud has had contact with during the past seven days when all of this started. After he wrote down the list, he made column headings that read
good/bad/maybe
. It took him about 15 minutes to write the list. He had only two people under the
bad
heading and one person under the
maybe
heading. He folded up the paper and put it in his wallet. His office phone buzzed, and Gina said that Bud was in Belle Terre and Paul was on his way to the precinct. Cronin pulled out the paper again and circled three names on the list. He tapped the paper a few times with his pen as he thought again about the names.

“What’s going on, Allan?” Bud said as he walked into Allan’s office.

“All’s quiet, Officer,” Allan said with a laugh.

“Did he give you any trouble leaving?” Bud replied.

“Not one peep,” Allan replied. “What do you expect him to do? Shoot the place up with guards at the gate, you poking around, security driving the premises? I guess you take him for a real dumbass.” Bud helped himself to a cup of coffee as Allan looked at him for a response.

“Well,” Bud replied between sips, “he’s either a dumbass or a ruthless killer playing a hell of a game for the moment. We have no evidence on him other than that he had an affair with Patty Saunders, who was behind the kidnapping.”

“So she says,” Allan replied.

“What? What?” Bud replied. “What are you thinking?”

Allan got up to refill his cup and said, “How do you know she is not taking the fall for someone?”

Bud shook his head, saying, “Don’t say Deborah Lance. Please don’t say it.”

“OK,” Allan replied, “I won’t say it. But how do you know she’s not protecting this asshole Simpson?”

“I don’t,” Bud replied. “The whole mystery is the killings of the Winters brothers and Starfield. It only makes sense that it’s Phil Smith.” As Bud made the statement, he wanted to mention the letter addressed to Rachelle from Phil Smith but kept it to himself as Cronin wanted. Not even Rachelle knew about it. She evidently had been handed a stack of mail at the
Now
newspaper and hadn’t looked through the pile before the attempt on her life.

“Bud,” Allan replied, “whatever happens, keep an eye out for Paul. I’ve known him since high school. He’s going to need your support and trust on this one. I’m worried about him on this one. He won’t admit it, but his heart is conflicting with his head. Just be there. I’m restricted to Belle Terre while I’m on duty. He’s going to need you.”

“Don’t worry,” Bud replied, “I will be there for him.” Allan held up his coffee cup as if to say cheers to Bud. “As for Deborah Lance,” the detective continued, “I know she has protective detail, but I want to know when she leaves the house and where she is going. It’s OK. Just tell her I requested it.”

“No problem,” Allan answered.

“OK, my friend,
you were always on my mind
.”

“Oh, shit!” Allan laughed. “Don’t start singing that shit to me.” Bud giggled and said, “I’m off, my friend. Later. I’m sure we will have dinner soon.”

They hugged each other as they said their goodbyes, and Bud drove to Prospect Street to speak with Rachelle. He radioed in to his partner, who was almost at the precinct to check in, and Paul brought Bud up to date, including Rachelle leaving the hospital with Cronin.

“Paul, when you get to the precinct, check on why we didn’t bring in Simpson on the misdemeanors for the parking ticket. Someone squashed it.”

“Will do,” Paul replied. “I hope you have better luck with Rachelle. She won’t really speak to me anymore.”

“You are too close, my friend,” Bud laughed.

“I wish,” Paul replied as the transmission ended.

Bud knocked on the door, which Rachelle answered. He looked around to be sure there was security as he entered.

“Where’s Madison?” he asked.