Linger: Dying is a Wild Night (A Linger Thriller Book 1) (9 page)

“What’s the brother’s name?”

“Emilio. Supposedly some kind of computer geek, designs porn websites. Soriano showed a couple to the neighbor one time and told her she should think about modeling.”

“Classy,” Kate said.

Had he done the same to Bree Branford?

“It’s been a few months since he left the location, so there’s no guarantee he’ll be at Emilio’s.”

The fear, of course, was that Soriano had skipped town altogether. And if that was the case, they’d have to cast a wide net and maybe even get the press involved—which Kate would rather avoid.

“If he isn’t there, put some pressure on the brother. We need to find this guy.”

“How much pressure?”

“Use your best judgment,” she said, “but don’t get carried away.”

“You got it, lieutenant. We’ll be in touch.”

∙ ∙ ∙

A moment later, the door opened and Dan escorted Christopher inside and sat him in the same chair Kate had occupied earlier. He looked smaller than she remembered, and a bit forlorn, reminding her of one of those
Save the Children
commercials full of kids with soulful, hungry stares.

Except that wasn’t quite right, was it?

This particular kid had a stare as vacant as a dormant computer screen, and gave no indication whether he wanted to be saved or simply left alone. His gaze was fixed on the window behind her desk as he quietly rocked, and she wondered what he saw.

Light and dark? Indistinct shapes? Nothing at all?

“I assume you want me to stay,” Dan said.

“Absolutely.”

He nodded and perched on the edge of her desk as Kate moved around it to the chair next to Christopher.

As she sat, Dan made a gesture with his hand as if to say,
be gentle,
which—as he well knew—wasn’t a state of being that came naturally to Kate. She thought of the most gentle person she’d ever known and channeled the spirit of her mother.

“Good morning, Christopher. I’m Kate. I came to your motel room last night, remember?”

The boy rocked, giving no indication she existed.

“Dr. Brennan says you were very cooperative during your check-up this morning, so I know you can hear me. Can you nod for me? Show me you’re listening?”

Still nothing. She may as well have been talking to an animatronic robot.

She looked up at Dan.

“Give him time,” he said. “Let him warm up to you.”

Kate nodded and was about to try again when a thought struck her. Getting to her feet, she crossed to a corner of her office where she had stowed the boy’s suitcase. She unlatched it and pulled it open, taking out the small pink photo album with the name
Lucy
scrawled across it.

She went back to her chair, sat down, and placed a hand on Christopher’s knee. He flinched again—just as he had last night—but he still didn’t acknowledge her presence.

“I’ve got something of yours, and I’m thinking you may want it.” She took hold of his hand and placed the album on his palm. “I’ll bet you’ve been missing this.”

His reaction was swift. He stopped rocking, grabbed hold of it with both hands and smiled, pulling it to his chest. Then he brought it up to his nose and breathed it in as if it gave him life.

And in a way, it had.

“I’m sure Dr. Brennan told you there’s nothing to be afraid of, but I need you to listen to me like you did to him. Can you do that? Can you listen?”

She half expected him to ignore her again, but he lowered the album and nodded.

Relieved, Kate smiled. “Good. That’s really good.” She glanced at Dan, who gave her a thumbs up. “Now I’m going ask to you some questions. And since I know this is hard for you, all you have to do is nod your head or shake it. Yes or no. Can you do that for me?”

Another delay, then another nod.

“Excellent,” she said. “I know all this must be very confusing for you, but—”

He shook his head suddenly and Kate paused.

“Are you saying it
isn’t
confusing?”

He nodded.

“Then you know why you’re here?”

He nodded again and she again looked at Dan. “What did you tell him?”

“I just assured him he wasn’t in any kind of trouble and that we were only doing what we felt was best for him.”

She turned. “Do you understand that, Christopher? That we’re only trying to do what’s best for you?”

He nodded. And though she couldn’t explain the near trancelike states until now, she suspected he was neither autistic nor mentally challenged.

He was smart. And very aware.

He knew exactly what was going on.

“Have you been through something like this before?”

Another nod.

“With Mr. Weston? Have the two of you been in trouble with the police?”

This time he shook his head, but then he did something that startled Kate.

Leaning forward slightly, he opened his mouth and wiggled the pink stub of his tongue at her. The sight was both horrifying and heartbreaking and she knew immediately what he was trying to say.

“You spent time with the police after you were hurt.”

He nodded, then closed his mouth and sat upright. Message sent.

She paused. “Who hurt you, Christopher? Was it Mr. Weston?”

He shook his head, vigorously this time, but she wasn’t all that surprised. She’d already come to this conclusion herself. If Dan was right about the timing of the injury, Weston would’ve had to have done it a couple of years before he slaughtered his own family—which made little sense. And while she had humored Dillman in his belief that Weston was a murderer, her gut told her he was wrong. Sure, the man was infuriating and evasive and wired a little differently than your average human being, and yes, that sketch on her desk indicated that they’d been to Tacoma, but the more she considered it, the less she was willing to tag him with that particular label.

“Can we talk about what happened to you, Christopher? About how you got hurt?”

The boy hesitated, and she knew this had to be difficult for him.

“Would you rather we talk about Mr. Weston instead? Maybe you can help me understand why the two of you were at my crime—”

The boy reached forward and pressed his fingers to her lips.

With another vigorous shake of his head, he swiveled in Dan’s direction, then took his hand from her mouth and made a quick gesture, bringing his fingers down to touch his thumb as if he were closing the mouth of a sock puppet.

Kate had no idea what this meant, but Dan’s expression said that he did. “He’s using sign language. He wants me to leave.”

Kate frowned. “But he’s blind. How does he know sign language?”

“He’s also speech-impaired, so someone must have taught it to him.”

Kate thought about the labor intensive task of teaching sign language to a boy who couldn’t see, but didn’t pursue any of the questions this brought to mind. Instead she simply said, “Is that what you mean, Christopher? You want Dr. Brennan to leave?”

He nodded and made the gesture again.

“But if he leaves and you use sign language, I won’t be able to understand what you’re—”

He gestured a third time, making it clear that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Kate didn’t know why this was so important to him, but she wasn’t sure sending Dan away was a good idea. Allowing yourself to be left alone with a witness or a suspect was a recipe for disaster. All kinds of claims could be made that might derail your career.

Especially by eleven-year-old boys.

And after their stunt at the Branford house last night, Kate didn’t know if she could trust Christopher any more than she trusted Weston. There might be another surprise waiting for her the moment Dan stepped out of the room.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dan said, “but I doubt it’s anything to be concerned about. And if my absence will help our young friend here open up even more, then it’s worth the risk.”

Easy for you to say
,
Kate thought.

But he was right. Curiosity was not the only thing driving her now. She wanted to get to the truth.

“All right,” she said. “But don’t go too far.”

Dan stood up, patted Christopher’s shoulder and headed for the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thanks,” she said, then watched him exit and close the door behind him.

As she turned to face Christopher again, she was struck by the thought that something about him had changed—and abruptly at that. He sat in the same position, his milky eyes fixed in her direction, but there was a sudden stillness to him that hadn’t been evident before.

He wasn’t ignoring her like before. Just the opposite, in fact. He was very much present in the room, rendered immobile by a kind of fixed concentration, as if he were centering all of his focus outward.

Toward
her
.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, when a voice inside her head—a voice that was clearly not hers—said:
Etak, su fo eno er’uoy.

K
ATE BLINKED, SUCKED IN A
breath, and drew back as if she’d been confronted by a perp with a weapon. For a moment she thought Christopher had spoken aloud, but she knew that was impossible.

She’d
seen
why it was impossible.

Yako, s’ti. Diarfa eb t’nod.

There it was again—the same voice she’d heard last night, yet stronger. More invasive. Not some nebulous radio transmission, but clear and clean as if he were whispering directly in her ear.

But this time Kate couldn’t blame stress or anxiety or sleep deprivation. This time she knew that what she was hearing was as real as the chair she sat in. The boy was speaking to her with his
mind
, for Christ’s sake, projecting his thoughts directly into her.

Em dnatsrednu uoy od?

Kate couldn’t move. Didn’t
want
to move. Sat transfixed as he continued to speak.

Dnatsrednu uoy ekam ot deen i.

And that language. Where had she heard it before? It sounded so oddly familiar. As if… As if…

As if he were speaking backwards.

Yes. That was it.

She thought of the many times she had rewound surveillance tapes on one of those old reel-to-reels, back when the department was still using equipment that had been purchased during the Nixon administration. She’d put a finger to a reel to drag the tape across the playhead, rewinding it slowly, trying to isolate a particular phrase. The sound coming from Christopher had the same strange, musical cadence and she assumed that somewhere in the transition from his brain to
hers
, the signal had gotten…

Jesus. What was she thinking?

She was acting as if this was normal. As if it was just another interview with a witness.

She knew she should have been blown away, or writing it off as some kind of parlor trick, but this was no trick, and in an odd sort of way, it
did
feel normal.

Was she dreaming?

This
was
real, wasn’t it?

As if he had been reading her thoughts, Christopher furrowed his brow, concentrating harder, then spoke again. And Kate wasn’t sure why, but this time he managed to get the words through to her unscrambled:
Do you… understand me?

She blinked at him, barely able to speak, but slowly nodded. “…Yes.”

I would’ve talked to you at the motel last night… but those policemen were there. I need you to see something, Kate. That’s why I told Doctor Brennan to leave.

He sounded young, but there was a maturity to his tone that surprised Kate. He was certainly well beyond any eleven-year-old she’d ever encountered. But then he wasn’t your average eleven-year-old, was he?

She swallowed, not sure what to do with herself. Still not completely convinced she hadn’t taken a dive into a shallow pool and smacked her head.

Just talk to me like you did before
.
That’s how Noah does it.

Kate nodded again and still had trouble finding her voice. “Promise me I’m not going crazy. Because I’ve gotta tell you, I’m on the fence right now.”

You aren’t crazy.

“But how is this even possible? How are you doing this?”

Noah thinks I was born this way. He thinks we both were.

Was that why Weston hadn’t been concerned about Christopher? Had they been in psychic contact ever since they were separated?

“So why share it with
me
?” she asked. “Is it because I’m the one who came to the house last night?”

You came there because I wanted you to.

“What are you talking about?”

You didn’t know it then, but I was calling to you.

Kate stared at him. Could that be possible?

She thought back to last night and how she’d been driving around, trying to clear her head after the unpleasant encounter with her father. She had wanted to head home but found herself driving to the crime scene.

Had something drawn her there?

We didn’t go to that house because of the people who were killed there. We went there because of you.

“Me?”

Noah doesn’t know that yet, which is why he told me to play that trick on you last night. I went along because I could see you weren’t ready to talk to me. Not then.

Not now either, Kate thought. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.

“Okay, but why me?”

Because you’re one of us, Kate.

“One of us? What does that mean?”

You were born with the gift, too.

She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

Think about the things you know. The things you feel that others don’t. The things you find that others pass by.

“It’s called intuition,” she said. “A lot of people are like that.”

But most of them can’t hear me. Most of them would think you’re talking to yourself right now.

Kate thought about this.

Was
she talking to herself?

No, I told you this is real. And there’s something else we share.

“Which is?”

It’s easier if I show you.

“What do you mean? Show me what?”

He took the pink photo album from his lap and held it out to her.