Scars (Nevada James #2) (Nevada James Mysteries) (16 page)

Chapter 25

My motel
room phone rang at two in the morning. I hadn’t heard it in so long that at
first I thought it was some kind of demented alarm clock rousing me out of
sleep. When I was conscious enough to stop hitting the handset like a snooze
button, I picked it up. “Yeah?”

“Ma’am?”
a man’s voice asked. “This is the front desk. I’m sorry to bother you at this
hour, but you have a caller asking to be transferred over. He said it’s an
emergency.”

I took a
deep breath. There was little question about who this was going to be. “Do you
have caller ID on that phone?”

“It says
the number is blocked.”

“Fine,”
I said. “Put him through.”

There
was a clicking noise and then I heard the sound of the caller breathing through
his mask. Somehow I wasn’t surprised he’d wear it even for just a phone call.
“Hello, Nevada,” the Laughing Man said.

His
voice was a tenor, musical, and just slightly distorted by the mask. “It’s a
little late,” I told him. “Or early, I guess. Whichever.”

He was
silent for a long moment. I might have thought he’d hung up if not for his
audible breathing. “You still there?” I asked.

“I need
to be very clear with you about this,” the Laughing Man said. “This is not part
of our game. This was a personal matter that had to be taken care of.”

“Yeah. I
get that.”

“He
was…an imitator, and a poor one at that. His work was an obscenity. I couldn’t
allow it to stand.”

I didn’t
need to ask what he was talking about. I knew what he’d done. “You don’t have
to explain it to me,” I said. “I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”

“Good.
I’m glad. You need your sleep. Sleep keeps the mind sharp, and I like you
better when your mind is sharp.”

I
sighed. “Let me ask you something?”

“Of
course.”

I
hesitated, not sure how to word the question. “Why haven’t you started the game
yet? Back in my house you told me how much you’d missed it, but that was three
months ago and you’ve done nothing. I was starting to think I wouldn’t hear
from you again.”

“No,”
the Laughing Man said. “Not at all. It’s just that we can only play once. It
will be our last game. When it is over, at least one of us will be dead. So the
stakes are quite high, you see?”

“Are you
afraid of me?”

He
chuckled. “Maybe a little. I don’t long for death, and you’re certainly capable
of killing me. But that wasn’t what I meant. If we can only play once, don’t
you think it’s important that we should have a very
good
game?”

“I don’t
think I can answer that without sounding like a sociopath.”

“No?
Tell me you wouldn’t be disappointed if I walked into the police station right
now and turned myself in.”

“I
would
be disappointed,” I said. “It would mean I don’t get to shoot you.”

“And it
would mean I don’t get to put you in a still life. What a waste that would be.
I’ve had some very interesting ideas along those lines.”

“I’m
sure you have.”

“Anyway,
I should be going. This is a burner phone and as much as I’m sure you’re not
tracing me, I’d have to be stupid to take the chance.”

“Aw,” I
said. “I was hoping we’d have some time to catch up. Talk about old times.”

“Believe
it or not, I’d like that, too. There really is nobody else who would
understand. But I’ll have to pass. Tonight, anyway. Maybe not the next time we
talk.”

“I’m
looking forward to it,” I said. “Anyway, you know I’m not getting out of bed to
go look for the body. You called to give me a location so I could go see it.
Tell me where it is.”

He
chuckled, gave me an address, and hung up. I stared at the phone’s handset for
a moment before hanging up myself. The cops could try to trace the number
later, but even if they managed to work out a location the phone would probably
be in the ocean five minutes from now. The Laughing Man wasn’t one to take any
chances. He was in the wind. Again.

I picked
up my cell and called Dan Evans. It went to voicemail. I tried again. On the
third try he picked up. “Are you all right?” he asked sleepily.

I gave
him the address. “Get a team over there.”

“What am
I going to find?”

“A
body.”

I hung
up, dressed, and strapped on my Glock, then went outside. The address the
Laughing Man had given me was in Ocean Beach. I’d be there before Dan and
anyone else he was going to roust for this could make the drive. A voice in my
head whispered to me that this could be a trap; maybe
this
was the game
the Laughing Man had waited so long to play. But he’d never have done it this
way. He’d think of it as cheating.

The
address turned out to be that of an elementary school I’d probably passed a
hundred times back when I’d lived in Ocean Beach, but had never paid much
attention to. I wasn’t surprised to find a side door unlocked. It led into a
long hallway with classroom doors on either side. The fluorescent lights
overhead were on, but only every third light was illuminated. It made the
hallway dim and full of shadows, but there was enough light to see by.

I took
the Glock out of its holster and held it by my side, then started down the
hall. Each classroom door had a rectangular Plexiglas screen above the handle.
I looked through the first one and saw only an empty classroom with desks and
chairs. The same was true of the next two. The fourth classroom I came to had a
light on inside. I looked through the Plexiglas and a chill ran down my spine.
This was what I’d come here for.

The
classroom door was unlocked. I opened it and went inside, letting it swing shut
behind me. I hadn’t been in a room like this in ages, but it was more or less
what I’d have expected to see. Twenty small desks were laid out in a
four-by-five square facing a larger teacher’s desk and a blackboard. A row of
cubbyholes for jackets and bags stood against the wall near the door. And in
the rear of the classroom, in the corner, sat a man on a plastic chair with his
back to me. A conical paper hat about two feet tall sat on his head. He wasn’t
moving. I already knew he wasn’t ever going to move again.

I took a
step closer, noting that the man’s hands and feet had been lashed to the chair
to keep his body in place. His forehead was just barely touching the wall. Part
of me knew I should wait, and through the classroom window I could see red
lights flashing now. The cops would be inside any second. I wanted to have a
look for myself first, though. He’d been placed here for me to find, after all.
It seemed like something I should do.

The word
“dunce” had been printed in block letters on the dead man’s paper hat. Looking
closer, I could see that the hat had been stapled into place on the man’s head.
The Laughing Man hadn’t wanted to risk it falling off and ruining his piece.

I put a
hand on the back of the man’s head and pulled it back. His eyes were still
open, but his lips were gone and the skin sliced perfectly back toward the ears
to form the wide smile the Laughing Man carved into all his victims. It was Brad
Ellis, just as I’d known it would be the moment my phone rang back at the motel.
I wondered if the Laughing Man had figured it out before Sarah had. Maybe. That
was something I could ask him the next time we met.

I put
Ellis’s head back against the wall and went to sit at the teacher’s desk. The
cops would be inside any second now. Dan would barge in here like a charging
elephant and I’d be getting a barrage of “are you okay” questions for the next
few days. I’d probably have cops staking out my motel with detectives hoping
the Laughing Man would put in an appearance. He wouldn’t, of course, and
eventually I’d get sick of the constant surveillance and move.

I could
hear voices in the hallway now. I put my elbows on the desk and tented my
fingers. What should I do next? After the questions that would be coming,
anyway. I was no closer to the Laughing Man than I had been three months ago.
The game hadn’t started; this was just a distraction he’d wanted to get out of
the way. When were we going to finally
play
, for God’s sake?

They
said patience was a virtue. I’d never been much good at it. But I’d wait. I’d
wait, and I’d watch, and one of these days it would be game over.

One of
us was going to die when that happened. I knew that. The Laughing Man knew it,
too. And just like me, he knew our last meeting might well mean the end of both
of us.

The
truth was, I didn’t care. As long as I took him with me, it would be worth it.

Come
on
, I thought.
Let’s play
.  

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

Matthew Storm
lives in Anchorage, Alaska.

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ALSO BY MATTHEW STORM

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Interesting Times

Interesting Places

Nevada James Mysteries

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Scars

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