AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do it.”
I downloaded the third video.
The on-screen location had changed dramatically. Blackout was neither in the warehouse nor the alleyway. He was in a living room at an unknown location, looking at a well-worn beige sofa. In front of the couch was a plank board coffee table with nothing on it, also no artwork or carpet or any sign that this place was occupied. There was no time stamp, no skylight, no clock on the wall. I had no sense of time or place. And if Cindy was in that room, I couldn’t see or hear her.
And then Blackout did something completely unexpected and totally shocking. He took off his glasses, causing crazed zigzags and gyrations on my monitor. Then he turned theglasses around and pointed the lenses at his face. He was showing us his face! I took screenshot after screenshot, saving the pictures to a new file.
A hand fluttered in front of the lens. One of the fingers of the dark-haired white male was tattooed with the Marine Corps Eagle, Globe, and Anchor emblem, less than an inch wide.
My line rang again. Bobby, manning the desk outside Brady’s office, called the radio room. He motioned to me, spinning a finger like a reel of tape on a spool. I understood.They’re on it.
Blackout said, “Sergeant?”
“Yes.” And I rephrased my last question to Blackout. “How’s Cindy?”
“She’s not talking,” he said. It was an ambiguous answer, and I didn’t like it.
I gave Conklin’s arm a reassuring squeeze.
“She’ll talk to me if you let her,” I said.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he talked about Cindy. “I read the book she wrote with Evan Burke. I read her first book, too. She was a remarkable writer.”
Was?The past-tense usage was either deliberate or unconscious. Or both.
“What are you saying?” I asked, as Conklin lunged toward the screen.
“I envied her, you know,” he said. “I would have liked to be with Evan all those months she spent with him. What a lucky thing for her. Anyway. I’ve got to go.”
There was the click of the phone hanging up, but the video still rolled. Blackout put on his glasses, looked at the shabby sofa. I caught a glimpse of Cindy but then she disappeared from the frame.
Music came up, a dressed-up symphonic rendition of a pop song I remembered from childhood. My father sang it at odd times, in the car, around the house; singer Peggy Lee’s version of “Is That All There Is?” The lyrics were about disillusionment after important personal events. House fire. Circus. Falling in love. The second line of each chorus: “If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing.”
I’m a literal person and I wanted a literal answer, not an enigma wrapped in an old-time tune. Was Blackout saying he’d killed Cindy and that it was a big disappointment? Or that every life is a disappointment and that included Cindy’s?
I looked at Alvarez. She shrugged sadly as the video feed cut out. A title card appeared on-screen. It was in a large bold Arial font, white letters centered on a black ground.
It read, “Blackout out.”
CHAPTER 65
IS THAT ALL there is?
Brady called out, sharply. “Boxer. Conklin.”
We looked up. Brady had moved from beside me and now stood at the front of our three-desk work pod, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans.
“Rich, I’m not gonna pad this. If you want, go down the hall and I’ll find you after.”
“I’m staying right here.”
He said to us all, “Okay. We don’t know what Blackout did with Cindy, but we do know this. In every one of his earlier videos, Blackout made his kill video for you, Lindsay. He made them to shock you. To show you his ruthlessness. To make you crazy with no-clue clues. Am I right?”
“Make this good,” I said.
“Okay. I’m saying that he hasn’t killed Cindy. He’s fucking with us. My opinion, but I trust it. I’ve been saying all along, Blackout is in love with himself. If he kills Cindy he’s going to send you the video, Boxer, all dressed up with his show-off music.”
Bobby called out, “Lieutenant, Chief calling for you.”
