Living with the Dead
Page 47

"She can find me, Hope. Anywhere. I've lost her over and over, and no matter where I go, as soon as I think I'm safe, she pops up – "
"Are you someplace safe now? Where you can wait?"
"Yes, but – "
"Then tell me where you are and we'll come and get you."
"You aren't listening, Hope. She'll kill you. She'll kill Karl. She'll kill anyone who gets between me and her."
"We'll handle it. Just tell me – "
Robyn hung up. Seconds later, an unfamiliar ring made her jump. Her phone.
She flicked it off and back on, then dialed 411, called the station and asked for Detective Findlay. She offered to leave her number, but when the woman heard who it was, she had her stay on the line.
"John Findlay," a voice said a couple of minutes later.
"Detective Findlay? It's Robyn Peltier. You've been looking for me."
"Are you okay?"
That wasn't what she expected and she hesitated a moment before saying, "I'm fine. I'm at a spring fair in..." She wasn't sure of the exact neighborhood, only remembering that the cabbie said it was the Wilshire Park district, so she told him that.
"Fair?"
"It's a long story. I've been trying to turn myself in but – "
"You've been having trouble."
She paused. How'd he know that?
"I'll be right there," he continued. "Stay in a public area. I'll phone when I arrive. Give me... twenty minutes."
"Okay."
"How's your shoulder? Do you need medical attention?"
"My... ?"
The bike officer. He must have lived. He'd told Findlay about her being shot and said she'd had trouble surrendering.
"I'll need it looked at, but – "
"Hang up the phone," said a voice beside her.
Robyn twisted, expecting to see the woman with the sleeping child. Instead, sitting at the other end of the bench was Adele Morrissey.
"Hello?" Adele said. "Do you speak English, Robyn? Hang up the phone."
She did, still dazed. "What do you want?"
"Duh. The same thing I've wanted for two days. We call it a cell phone. Let's see if you can do something bright for a change and hand it over before you kill more people."
"I haven't killed – "
"Of course you have. That cop friend you ran to Thursday night? That bike cop a few hours ago? Boohoo, poor me, I need a man to protect me. See what happens? You make me kill them and I'm tired of it. I have better things to do, you know."
Robyn searched Adele's eyes for some sign she was trying to be funny. There was none.
"You want my phone?" Robyn lifted the cell and waggled it. " This phone?"
Adele glowered like a child having candy waved in front of her face.
Robyn whipped her arm so fast a man ducked as if narrowly avoiding being hit.
"You – " Adele began.
"Better run," Robyn said. "You can't trust folks these days. If someone gets it before you..."
Adele glared at her, then jumped up and disappeared into the crowd to find the phone.
Robyn waited until Adele was out of sight, then slid the cell phone from her sleeve and sneaked off the other way.
 
ROBYN
 
Robyn looked out over the multicolored haze of the fairgrounds as her Ferris wheel car climbed. Was Detective Findlay on his way? If he did come, what would he do? Quietly search for her? Or commandeer the PA system, sending Adele into a murderous panic?
She dismissed the last thought by focusing on a lighter one. Tomorrow's headline: "Double Murder Suspect Apprehended on Ferris Wheel." She tried to laugh, but the sound came out shaky, whisked away on the updraft as the car descended, the swaying setting her wounded shoulder afire.
When her car dipped to the bottom, she saw Adele in the crowd by the ride's exit gate. Robyn couldn't summon even a spark of surprise. She was beyond thinking she could outwit Adele. To get through this, she had to believe the unbelievable – that this young woman could find her wherever she went. Accept it and work around it.
So when the car descended the next time, Robyn pretended to search the crowd for Adele, as if she hadn't seen her.
As it rose again, she used the cell phone and called a cab. The dispatcher said a car would be at the front gates in twenty minutes. Robyn checked her watch, calculating. She took a deep breath of chill night air. She'd been playing cat and mouse with a psychotic killer for six hours. She could survive another twenty minutes.
Robyn erased all calls from the log. If she had to hand this phone over to Adele, she wasn't taking the chance of her going after Hope when she realized she'd been duped.
Once in the cab, she'd go to the nearest police station. If Adele somehow managed to get there first, Robyn would continue on, from station to station, until she found one where the driver could drop her off right at the door. Then she'd make a run for it.
As plans went, this one sucked, as Damon would say. But it would have to do.
The Ferris wheel was unloading now. Robyn leaned over the side, making a show of searching the crowd. She'd already seen Adele slip behind a burly man at the exit.
Finally Robyn's car reached the platform. She let the operator help her out, and started toward the exit. A few steps from it, she stopped, checking her pockets, then shaking her head. She walked to the bank of cubbies where riders stashed backpacks and stuffed bears. She pretended to root around in the last cube, then darted to a nearby gap in the fencing. The attendant at the gate let out only a halfhearted "hey" as she squeezed through.
Sixteen minutes left.
Robyn didn't run – too obvious – just walked quickly, scouring the attractions for one that would whisk her out of Adele's reach for a few minutes. But the lines were now swollen with laughing, jostling teens who scared away anyone over twenty. Robyn would stick out like a sore thumb among them. What she needed was –
A profanity-laced outburst exploded behind her, and she glanced back to see Adele bowling through a knot of teens, her gaze fixed on Robyn, shouldering aside anyone who got in her path.
Okay, Bobby, browsing time is over. Pick something and hustle your ass in there.
Robyn skirted one large group. Then she saw the answer, shimmering and winking under blinding floodlights. A house of mirrors.