The Watcher in the Wall (27 page)

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101
>

They commandeered
a Cessna Citation Mustang, took off from Tampa Executive Airport, ten miles east of Madison Mackenzie’s house.

“This is a teenage girl in jeopardy,” Windermere told Drew Harris when she called to request the jet. “We need whatever you can get us. Jets, tactical, helicopters. SEAL Team Six, too, if you happen to have the number.”

Harris okayed the private plane. Told her he’d call Agent Wheeler in Louisville, set up a welcoming committee. Kick-start the search for Madison Mackenzie on the ground. Told her he’d do his utmost to help them, however he could.

Windermere thanked him. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

The flight was supposed to take two hours. Felt like seven or eight, the way the night sky never seemed to change through the Cessna’s porthole windows, the way Windermere kept thinking about Madison Mackenzie out there, somewhere far below.

This would be a hell of a lot easier if we could call her,
she thought.
Track her through GPS, or something.

But they couldn’t. They’d had the thought already, after Paul Dayton pointed them to Louisville.

“Like the last case, right?” Stevens had said. “Triangulate Madison’s location through her phone, find her and Gruber both.”

But Paul had overheard them, interrupted. “She sold her iPhone,” he told them. “Even with my savings, she didn’t have enough for the bus ticket. She sold that phone for fifty dollars to some dude at the Greyhound station.”

“Sold her phone?” Windermere repeated. “How’d she expect to meet this Brandon character with no phone? He was just going to show up at the bus station?”

“She bought a burner,” Paul said. “So they could be in touch. He’s the only one with the number.”

Windermere ran her hands through her hair. Let out a long, frustrated breath.
Come on, honey,
she thought.
You gotta be smarter.

“I tried to get the number from her,” Paul said. “She wouldn’t give it. Said she was afraid I would sell her out. I gave her my number, though.” He ducked his head a little, looked hopeful. “So, you know, maybe she’ll call?”

Stevens was already turning for the door. “Forgive us if we don’t wait around.”

•   •   •

Now Windermere stared out the window as the plane shuddered its way toward Louisville. It was a cloudy night, visibility limited, and she
couldn’t see much outside, just condensation on the windowpanes, and an inky deep blue quickly turning black beyond.

They’d talked to Agent Wheeler in Louisville, sent him to the bus station. Told him to call the plane the moment he found Madison Mackenzie. But so far, Wheeler had been silent. Madison was still missing.

“Could be Gruber doesn’t have the balls to do it in person,” Stevens said from across the cabin. “Or maybe Madison freaks out when she sees it’s him waiting for her, and not some pretty-boy teenager.”

“And, what?” Windermere replied. “Gruber just lets her go? He has to know that she’s going to flip out when she finds a thirty-something man waiting in the bus terminal where her dream boy is supposed to be. He has to have planned for this.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “No,” she said, “he’ll have her, partner. And he’ll kill her, too. He didn’t come all this way for a freaking tea party.”

The plane shuddered again, dove into the clouds, night settling in, the day pretty much over, and Windermere could see nothing but her own reflection in the little porthole window.

Where are you, Madison?
she wondered.
We’re coming, honey. Just keep yourself alive a little while longer.

<
102
>

The police were already there
when the bus arrived in Louisville. There was a young cop in uniform waiting at the gate; Madison watched him as the bus pulled in, felt a fear growing in her stomach as he lingered by the door. The police were here, and that meant what, exactly? Had Paul sold her out already?

What the hell, Paul? You had one job.

She sunk low in her seat as the bus stopped at the gate, tried not to stare at the young cop. Pulled her hood over her face, tucked her hair underneath, hid her face as best she could. Filed off the bus in a crowd, her head down, stuck close to the people in front of her. They were a young couple, in their twenties, tattoos and piercings and band logos on their duffel bags. Madison shadowed them, close as she could, nudged the girl ahead of her as they reached the step down.

“Excuse me,” she said, pasting a smile on her face, like they were all longtime friends and they’d traveled together. “Are you guys from around here?”

The girl stepped down to the pavement, then glanced back at Madison, matched her smile. “Sure we are,” she said. “Well, I am. He’s from down in Knoxville.”

“Oh, cool,” Madison said, eyeing the cop over the girl’s shoulder as she stepped off the bus. “That’s awesome. Are you guys, like, together?”

“Four months,” the girl replied. “I’m trying to talk him into moving
here, but—” She reached ahead, hit her boyfriend’s shoulder. “He keeps saying he likes Tennessee too much.”

The cop was staring straight at them. Madison turned away quickly, laughed, loud, like she and this girl were all-time BFFs. Kept her face hidden from the young cop until she was past him and headed toward the terminal doors.

“You know anywhere good to eat around here?” Madison asked the girl.

The girl thought about it. “I mean, there’s the big entertainment center on Fourth Street. There’s, like, a Hard Rock Cafe and a bunch of other things, if that’s what you’re into.”

There were more cops inside the terminal. Madison could see them from the door. Patrol cops in uniforms, and plainclothesmen, too. Madison could see their cruisers parked in front of the building.
Shit.

“Awesome,” she told the girl. “Thanks so much. Have a nice night!” Then she ducked away from the doorway, slipped between a baggage handler and a bus, hurried down the driveway toward the street, didn’t dare to look back, imagined the young cop was right on her tail.

She made the end of the driveway. The cop hadn’t followed, hadn’t picked her out. Amazing. She turned, fast, away from the bus station, and started running toward the lights of the skyscrapers downtown, the traffic, searching for a place to meet Brandon, somewhere the police wouldn’t find her.

She ran three or four blocks. Then she slowed, ducked into the shadows alongside a hotel. Pulled out her phone.

Good thing you’re running late,
she wrote to Brandon.
That bus station is swarming with cops.

<
103
>

The sun was gone
when Gruber left the quarry, the last light of day all but slipped away. He kept the Lincoln roaring as soon as he hit open road, the gas pedal to the floor. Came in hot on Interstate 64, made New Albany and kept on driving, across the Sherman Minton into Louisville.

He’d wasted too much time on the mopes from Cleveland. The second one had died slow. Gruber had watched him struggle in the water, fighting to stay afloat, thought about shooting him, but decided against it. No sense wasting ammunition; it was a tough shot from the lip, and, anyway, Gruber had never watched a man drown before. He could still hear the mope’s last strangled pleas before the water took him under.

The trip to the quarry had been exhilarating, a worthy digression. But there was no time to deal with Earl now. Madison’s bus had arrived ninety minutes ago, and the girl would spook and bolt if he didn’t get to her soon. He’d intended to take her with him, somewhere safe, when Earl was gone and dealt with. He would have to deal with Earl later. He decided that was fine. He had somewhere special in mind for Madison.

His cell phone buzzed as he came off the Sherman Minton and into downtown Louisville. Another text message from Madison.

I ducked the cops. I’m down the block now. Fourth Street, some crazy covered mall thingy. Are you almost here?

Fourth Street. The entertainment complex, bars and chain restaurants, spanning an entire city block. Gruber put the phone down. Steered
the Lincoln down Liberty Street, the complex in the distance, lights and music, heavy traffic, a crowd. Madison would blend in there. Too many faces. Good girl. Good thinking.

Gruber parked the Lincoln as close as he could. Typed a response to Madison.
Car’s still effed up. Sent my friend to pick you up. He shouldn’t be too long. XO.

He climbed out and started toward the canopy that spanned all of Fourth Street. Pictured DarlingMadison somewhere in the mix, knew she’d be waiting for him. Knew she’d be grateful for what he had planned.

Almost there
,
darling
.
I’ll see you very soon.

<
104
>

Madison sensed
the guy before she saw him.

She’d found the entertainment complex a few blocks east of the station. Gaudy neon lights, crowds, a million restaurants. An easy place to disappear. She found a bench by the restrooms, a secluded corner, wishing that Brandon would come faster, and dreading his arrival all the same.

She wondered if she should be worried. Maybe the police caught up to him, or his parents. Maybe they took his phone away and dragged him back to Iowa. Or maybe he’d gone and done something awful. Maybe he’d bailed and hurt himself before she could convince him he didn’t have to.

She pulled out the burner phone and the bus tag with Paul Dayton’s number on it. Typed the number into her phone and debated calling Paul, telling him he was right, that Brandon was a weirdo after all, that she’d come all this way for nothing. Thought about how pleased with himself Paul would be if she called, how cocky and insufferable he’d be about it. She was still trying to decide what to do when her phone buzzed, a text message from Brandon. Madison saved Paul’s number and opened the message.

Car’s still effed up,
Brandon said.
Sent my friend to pick you up. He shouldn’t be too long. XO.

Madison felt her body relax a little. He was coming. He hadn’t abandoned her. The car trouble thing was a bit worrisome, but at least he was close, right? This crazy scheme might work after all.

Then the guy appeared. Madison couldn’t have explained why she noticed him; people had been walking in and out of the restrooms since she’d sat down. But this guy—it was like when the sun moves behind a cloud and all of a sudden there’s a shadow, a chill. This guy was the sudden chill. She looked up and saw him and shivered.

He was a middle-aged guy, in his thirties, probably. A bad haircut, huge glasses, a tragic attempt at a mustache. Creepy eyes, and they were pointed her way. He’d caught her staring. Now he was coming over.

Madison studied her shoes, pretended like she hadn’t noticed the dude. That her instincts weren’t on high alert, that whole fight-or-flight thing, like she wasn’t preparing to choose the “flight” option. She could feel him coming like they were the only two people in the whole place. He stopped a couple feet away. “Madison?”

Oh,
shit
.

She didn’t know this guy. Figured he was a creeper, some kind of
weirdo, another lonely old man who was going to try to hit on her. But he knew her name, and that meant, what?

“Madison Mackenzie, right? You’re here to meet Brandon.”

It meant this strange old guy was Brandon’s friend, apparently. But why would Brandon be friends with this dude?

Madison wasn’t dumb enough that this whole scenario wasn’t setting off alarm bells in her head. But she was tired, too, and she’d come a long way. Hell, she’d
talked
to Brandon on the phone, and this guy sure didn’t sound like him. She’d seen Brandon’s profile on Facebook, all his friends. This was crazy, sure, but what about the entire situation wasn’t?

“Where is he?” she asked.

The man smiled, and it was creepier than when he wasn’t smiling. “He’s nearby. He sent me to come get you. Didn’t he tell you? He’s . . .” Gruber paused. “Well, he’s not in great shape, with what’s going on in his life lately. He just really needs to see you, you know?”

Well, shit.
“But he’s here, right?” Madison said. “He’s in Louisville?”

“Of course,” Gruber said. “He’s not far. I’ll take you, but we have to hurry. I didn’t feel great about leaving him alone, the way he was talking.”

This was exactly the kind of situation people were always warning you about. Strange men. Internet friends. Shady scenarios. Madison knew she was gambling if she went with this man. Knew it wasn’t the smartest play in the book. But what else was she going to do? She had no money, no way to get home. And anyway, if Brandon needed her and she walked away, well, hell, he might actually kill himself, and that was on her. She couldn’t take that chance, she decided. She just couldn’t.

She would go with the guy. Cautiously, though, like if he looked at her funny, or tried to put a hand on her, she’d run. Kick him in the
balls first, so he knew who he was messing with. She would be smart. This creepy old man wouldn’t get her.

He held out his hand. Stared down at her with hungry eyes, the kind of look Madison had been warding off since she’d hit puberty. She shivered, chased the scary thoughts away. Ignored Gruber’s hand and pushed herself to her feet.

“Let’s do this,” she told him. “Take me to Brandon.”

<
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>

Gruber led Madison
to where he’d parked the Lincoln down the street. The girl hesitated just a fraction of a second, when she saw the car, and Gruber knew she was worried. Knew this was the crucial moment, the girl’s mind wavering between acceptance and fear. She could join him, or she could run, and he wouldn’t know which until it was happening.

“I know how strange this must seem,” Gruber said, pasting on his friendliest smile. “Brandon said you traveled a long way to get here. You must have been expecting to see him, not some weird friend of his.”

Madison relaxed a little. “Yeah,” she said. “I was. My bus ride was twenty-two hours long. I just want to see him, you know?”

“He wants to see you,” Gruber said. “He really needs it. He’d be here, if it wasn’t for the breakdown. His parents’ car made it this far, but . . .”

He shrugged, mimed helplessness.

“He’s fixing it now,” he told her. “He’ll have it running again soon, he said. Then you guys can be on your merry way. In the meantime”—he gestured to the Lincoln—“I’m afraid my old beater is the best I can offer.”

He stood back and waited, let Madison take in the car and the street and the city around her. It was dark, getting cold. The car would be warm at least.

“I already said I would go,” Madison said, reaching for the passenger door. “I just really want to see him.”

“You will,” Gruber told her. “Soon.”

<<<

Madison climbed into
the passenger seat of the big old white car. Buckled her seat belt as the old guy—Gruber—circled around to the driver’s side. He got in behind the steering wheel, gave her another of those appraising looks, and then he turned the key in the ignition and shifted into gear, driving slowly away from the mall.

They drove in silence for a while, a classic rock radio station playing through intermittent static, the city passing by around them. Night was falling, and the city was all empty buildings and lonely shadows. They drove over a long freeway bridge across the river, got off on the other side, ducked under the freeway and followed the river. It was cold in the car, and Madison shivered, hoping Brandon’s car had a better heater. Assuming there was a Brandon’s car.