Twisted (5 page)

“Crazy?”
finished Gaia.

“That wasn't what I was going to say.” Ed stopped in his tracks and looked up into her eyes, rubbing his gloved hands together. Early November in New York City. Almost time to put away the cotton gloves and whip out the leather. “But since you said it—yeah, it seems more than a little Looney Tunes.”

Gaia was silent for a moment. She walked a few steps away and stood next to the fence that bordered the playground. Ed followed.

As usual, the equipment was overrun with bundled-up kids. Anytime between dawn and sunset the
playground was packed with screaming children. A little thing like
someone getting killed
in the park wasn't enough to empty any New York jungle gym. They were too few and far between. The sound of laughter and shouting mixed together with traffic around the park until it was only another kind of white noise
– the city version of waves and seagulls at the beach
.

“This is important,” Gaia said at last. “I have to get this guy.”

Ed stared at her, trying to read the expression on her beautiful face. Usually that was easy enough. On an average day Gaia's emotions ran from
mildly disturbed to insanely angry
. But this expression was something new. Something Ed didn't know how to read. “Does this have something to do with Sam's kidnapping?” he asked. “Why exactly do you have to . . . get him?”

Why
and
you
being the operative words.

Gaia pushed at her tangled hair to get it out of her face but only succeeded in tangling it further. “Because I do,” she said, looking down at him. “And I don't think this has anything to do with Sam. This guy is killing blond girls, not college guys. But this also isn't just some loser snatching purses or some asshole junkie waving a knife to feed a crack habit. This is serious.”

“Some of those assholes kill people,” Ed pointed
out, tucking his hands under his arms. “Stopping them is important, too.”

“Yeah, but not like this. This guy, this
Gentleman
he's killing people because he wants to do it.” She stared out at the kids on the swing sets, and Ed saw that her ever-changing eyes had turned a shade of blue that was almost electric.
“This guy likes what he's doing.”

Ed was chilled to the bone. He blamed it on the sudden, stiff breeze that picked up dead leaves and general city debris all around them. But he knew it was more about Gaia's words.

“What do you know about this guy?” he asked.

Gaia shrugged, hooking her bare fingers around the metal links of the fence. “Nothing, really. He kills blond girls. I'm not sure how many.”

“Why is he called the Gentleman?” Ed asked.

“I don't know that, either. I don't really know anything about him . . . yet.”

There was one
particularly loud playground scream
, and Gaia's eyes darted left, searching for possible trouble.

Ed ignored the kids and stared at Gaia's profile. Looking at her was something he always enjoyed, but this time he was looking with a purpose. He hadn't known Gaia for that long, but he had never seen her back away from anything she set out to do. From what he could read of the expression on her face, Gaia was
determined to stop this killer. Ed could either get behind her or
get out of the way
.

“Maybe I could help you”, he said.

Gaia shook her head. She didn't even look at him. “I don't want you getting hurt.”

Ed tried hard not to be insulted. “Hey, we've been through this before. I'm not going to be out here playing Jackie Chan. That's your job. I just thought I could help you fill in the holes.”

“Holes?”

“Holes.” He tilted his head in an attempt to catch her eyes.
“Like I did with Sam.”

She blinked, and her grip on the fence tightened. There. She couldn't deny he'd been indispensable when Sam was kidnapped. He'd figured out where they were holding Sam—not that the information had played a role in rescuing him. But he'd helped Gaia get the key to Sam's room from Heather—not that they'd needed it. But he
had
caused a distraction so that Gaia could sneak into the dorm. Of course, if he hadn't been there, she probably wouldn't have needed a distraction in the first place, but—

“Ed—”

“Let me at least read up on the guy,” Ed interrupted before she could shoot him down. “Maybe I can figure out what he's about. What he's got against girls with pigment-challenged hair.”

Gaia turned away from the kids and knelt down
next to the chair. It was a move that usually made Ed angry—he didn't want people bending down beside him like he was a three-year-old—but
anything that brought Gaia Moore's face closer to his own was an okay move
in Ed's book.

“Okay,” she said. “But you do research.
Only
research. I do the . . . other. Maybe together we can exterminate this guy.”

We.
Together
. Ed liked the sound of that. It wasn't just Gaia going after a killer. It was Gaia and Ed. Batman and Robin. Partners.

“All right,” he agreed. “I'll dig into the Net. Maybe stop by the library.”

“Good,” Gaia said. She smiled. In a strained way.

Forced or not,
two smiles
in one day from Gaia Moore had to be a record. Still, something about this whole thing had Ed moderately wiggy.

“Want me to call you tonight?” he asked.

“I'll call you,” Gaia said. She started walking again, and Ed hurried to keep up. “If you can get some info in the next couple of hours, maybe I can
bag this loser
before he moves on to a different neighborhood.”

She made a sound that might almost have been a laugh and ran the long fingers of her right hand through the heavy mass of her tangled hair. “Besides, I'm busy tomorrow night.”

“What's tomorrow?” Ed asked.

“I've got a date.” Gaia glanced over at Ed. For a split second she looked small, vulnerable.
Like what he was about to say mattered
. Unfortunately, Ed's heart was in his mouth, temporarily making speech impossible.

“A date,” Ed replied finally. “Wow.” Articulate, it was not, but he was pleased to hear that his voice sounded normal. He even managed to keep a smile on his face.

But if the serial killer came for him, Ed wouldn't have to be afraid. He felt dead already.

Girls I have liked:

Jenn Challener

Aimee Eastwood

Raina Korman

Ms. Reidy

Jennifer Love Hewitt (Okay, I was fourteen)

Storm, Rogue, Jubilee, Jean Grey

The lady behind the counter at Balducci's

Girls I have loved:

Heather Gannis

Gaia Moore

Girls who have ripped out my
cardiovascular muscle and
squashed it under their feet:

Heather Gannis

Gaia Moore

Anyone besides me sensing a pattern around here?

One glance from afar was all he needed. But he needed it like he needed oxygen.

THE PARK WAS JUST A SHORTCUT.
The fastest way from point A to point B.

Besides, cutting through the park would take Sam past the chess tables. Not that he had time for a game, but it never hurt to see who was playing. He had to keep up on the competition. See who was new. Check out who was winning, who was losing. It wasn't like he was looking for anyone in particular. Nope. Not at all.

Except that he was
.

Truth? Sam was sneaking through the park, looking for Gaia. Not to meet her, not to talk to her, just to
see
her. One glance from afar was all he needed. But he needed it like he needed oxygen.

Before Sam met Gaia, the park had seemed like the one safe place in his life. Sure, it was a hangout for muggers and junkies, scam artists, aging hippies, and gang members. If you wandered off the path on the wrong day or stayed too long on the wrong night, you could be beat up, maimed, or even killed. Every place had dangerous people, but Washington Square Park had more than its share.

Sam knew about that firsthand.

But none of that stopped him from loving the place. When he was hanging out in the park, he could
relax. Nobody at the chess tables cared if he wore the right things, said the right things, or hung with the right people. Playing chess in the park was one situation where Sam could lean back and let his
inner geek
rise to the surface.

Gaia had ruined that.

From the first time they played, Sam had developed this weird kind of
spastic tick
. No matter who he was playing, every ten seconds Sam had to look up from the board to see if he might catch a glimpse of blond hair flying loose in the wind or a beautiful face centered around a scowl.

Sam had seen plenty of stories about obsessive-compulsive people. People who can't leave the house without locking the door ten times or who wash their hands a hundred times a day. He just hadn't expected to become one of those people. Glance at the chessboard, look around for Gaia. Move a piece. Check for Gaia. It was more than sick.
It was pathetic
.

What was worse was that he had no idea how he really felt about Gaia. Sam had good reasons to hate her—had once even told her he hated her—and the kidnapping should have only made him hate her more.

The kidnapping. Something Sam was trying so hard not to think about even though the questions kept flashing through his mind at warp speed.

Why me?

What did they want?

Did they get it?

Who were they?

Why did they let me go?

And, of course,
what
did
Gaia have to do with the whole thing?

He'd been chasing Gaia when it happened. And he had the vague, possibly imagined memory of Gaia's named being mentioned by one of the kidnappers while he was semiconscious and
half dead
on a concrete floor. That was the thought that always gave him pause.

Kidnappers mentioning Gaia = kidnappers knowing Gaia = Gaia having something to do with the torture he was put through = Sam should hate Gaia.

But Sam was pretty sure that wasn't how he felt. If it was hate, it was a weird kind. Still, this obsession couldn't be love. It was more like an illness.
The Gaia flu. Gaia-itis.

If she had anything to do with what happened to him, she must have been just as much
a victim
as he was. That had to be it.

Suddenly Sam found himself carefully scanning the park.

He was looking for her now—going out of his way and looking. This wasn't just the possibility of a random encounter anymore. And he was supposed to be on his way to meet his girlfriend.

Sam tucked his chin and kept walking. Eyes down. Hands in pockets. Too bad he didn't have side blinders like the horses that drew carriages through Central Park.

He needed a cure for this disease. Brain surgery.
Strong anti-Gaiotics
. At the very least, a good psychiatrist.

When he got to the chess tables, Sam found them almost deserted. Only a handful of regulars were playing, taking money from the usual mix of naive college students and overconfident businessmen who strolled through the park. A couple of would-be players were sitting across from empty seats, hoping for fresh victims.

No Gaia.

Sam felt
a swirling mixture of disappointment and relief
. It was kind of like the feeling he got when someone else took the last scoop of Ben & Jerry's. It was probably good for him to skip that ten zillion additional calories; it just didn't feel good at all.

Zolov was at his table, of course. He was in the middle of a game, so Sam didn't stop to talk. Not that talking would have bothered Zolov. Zolov might be a little crazy, but he knew how to concentrate on chess.

A middle-aged Pakistani looked at Sam with a hopeful expression. “You want a game, Sam?”

He shook his head. “Not today, Mr. Haq. Sorry.”

“Oh, sit down and play,” the part-time taxi driver, full-time chess hustler said. “It won't take long.”

When Sam considered the way he'd been playing lately, that part was probably true. “Sorry, I really don't have time.”

Since Sam had become Gaia infected, he had become
Mr. Popularity at the chess tables
. Everyone wanted to play him. He had lost money to people he used to put down in ten minutes.

Past the chess tables, Sam picked up the pace. Heather wasn't the kind of girl who took well to waiting.

Sam slipped through the not-so-miniature marble Arc de Triomphe at the center of the park and was almost out of the park. Then he saw her.

Gaia was thirty feet away, talking to a guy in a wheelchair. He recognized the guy. It was Ed Fargo, Heather's ex. But Sam didn't spend any time looking at Ed.
That would be a waste of Gaia time
.

Her hair was light and golden in the sunlight. Sam couldn't tell what Gaia was saying, but her face was incredibly animated. Even from where he was standing, Sam imagined he could see the deep, shifting blue of Gaia's eyes. A little gray in the center. Streaks that were almost turquoise. It was only imagination, but he had a very good imagination when it came to Gaia.

For just a moment another image of Gaia started to seep into Sam's mind. An image of Gaia in the dark,
leaning over him, urgently whispering to him. Sam's heart froze in his chest.

The kidnapping
.