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She tore up and flushed the packaging materials for the knife and the receipt down the toilet in the staff bathroom.
Determined, yes. But nervous as hell.
And where is the fucker? Did he leave?
No, he wouldn't, of course. Because Kayleigh, the center of his universe, had called him a half hour ago--from a pay phone at the hospital where Sheri had been examined and released. She'd asked to meet him here. The stuffed redwood tree that Edwin and Mary-Gordon had bought for her at the museum had sported a label, on which Edwin had written a phone number. And the words, "Call me."
She'd nearly thrown it out yesterday but had decided not to--because this plan had begun brewing in her mind the moment she saw his number.
Standing at the grimy window in the service door to the dock, she now wiped her hands on her jeans. Then, finally, Edwin Sharp appeared, walking in that eerie gait of his, not a care in the world. As if the murders and kidnappings were nothing to him.
He made a beeline for the auditorium, carrying his camera with him. He paused and began to take some pictures. If he snapped one of her she'd have to steal his camera and get rid of it.
Remember that.
Kayleigh took a deep breath. Through the thick denim of her jacket, she felt the knife in her inner pocket. Against her belly, the gun.
Not you, not him, not her, not them. In the end we're all alone
Whatever's needing to get done, I can do it on my own.
That's all I need, just me.
Chapter 39
FROM THE WINDOW, she could see the flash from his camera as he took pictures of his shrine. Coming to Fresno, she realized, would be a pilgrimage to Edwin Sharp.
More sweat spreading on hands and forehead, heart pounding in vivace tempo.
Steady girl, you can do this. Think of everybody at risk.
Think of Mary-Gordon, think of Sheri.
He's a rabid coyote. That's all he is.
She paused. No, don't do it. Get the hell out of here! Before you fuck up your life forever.
But Kayleigh Towne decided:
I can do this, I can do this. For my sister, for Mary-Gordon, for anyone else who'd be at risk.
For me.
Your shadow ...
She stepped out onto the loading dock and looked toward Edwin. He turned, that skewed smile contorting his face. She gave a cautious nod and looked down at the asphalt, crumbling and cracked and sprouting dry weeds. Another brief nod. As if shy, as if uncertain.
As if innocent.
"Well, lookit this." He glanced behind her and around. No Darthur Morgan. "You're alone?"
"Yeah. Only me."
"Where's Darthur?"
"Up the street. I gave him the slip."
He said, "Good." He looked up at the theater. "You know, I wish that concert of yours'd been recorded.... Thirteen years old and you had the whole house in your hand. Nobody cared about the other students. It was just you. Only you, Kayleigh."
