The Woods

“Anything new?” I asked him.

“Do you know what time it is?”

I didn’t. I checked the clock. “It’s a few minutes after ten,” I said. “Anything new?”

He sighed. “Ballistics confirmed what we already knew. The gun Silverstein shot you with is the same one he used to kill Gil Perez. And while DNA will take a few weeks, the blood type in the back of the Volkswagen Beetle matches Perez’s. In sports terms, I’d call that game, set, match.”

“What did Lucy say?”

“Dillon said she wasn’t much of a help. She was in shock. Said her father was not well, that he probably imagined some kind of threat.”

“Dillon buy that?”

“Sure, why not? Either way our case is closed. How are you feeling?”

“Peachy.”

“Dillon got shot once.”

“Only once?”

“Good one. Anyway, he still shows every woman he meets the scar. Turns them on, he says. You remember that.”

“Seduction tips from Dillon. Thanks.”

“Guess what line he uses after he shows them the scar?”

“‘Hey, babe, want to see my gun?’”

“Damn, how did you know?”

“Where did Lucy go after you finished talking to her?”

“We drove her back to her place on campus.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I hung up and dialed Lucy’s number. It went into her voice mail. I left a message. Then I called Muse’s mobile.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Heading home, why?”

“I thought maybe you’d be going to Reston U to question Lucy.”

“I already went.”

“And?”

“She didn’t open the door. But I could see lights on. She’s in there.”

“Is she okay?”

“How would I know?”

I didn’t like it. Her father died and she was alone in her apartment. “How far are you from the hospital?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“How about picking me up?”

“Are you allowed out?”

“Who’s going to stop me? And it’s just for a little while.”

“Are you, my boss, asking me to drive you to your girlfriend’s house?”

“No. I, the county prosecutor, am asking you to drive me to the home of a major person of interest in a recent homicide.”

“Either way,” Muse said, “I’m so very there.”

No one stopped me from leaving the hospital.

I didn’t feel well, but I had felt worse. I was worried about Lucy and I realized with growing certainty that it was more than normal worry.

I missed her.

I missed her the way you miss someone you’re falling in love with. I could run around that statement, soften it somehow, say that my emotions were on hyperdrive with all that was going on, claim that this was nostalgia for a better time, a more innocent time, a time when my parents were together and my sister was alive, and heck, even Jane was still healthy and beautiful and somewhere happy. But that wasn’t it.

I liked being with Lucy. I liked the way it felt. I liked being with her the way you like being with someone you’re falling in love with. There was no need to explain further.

Muse drove. Her car was small and cramped. I was not much of a car guy and I had no idea what kind of car it was, but it reeked of cigarette smoke. She must have caught the look on my face because she said, “My mother is a chain smoker.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She lives with me. It’s just temporary. Until she finds Husband Five. In the meantime I tell her not to smoke in my car.”

“And she ignores you.”

“No, no, I think my telling her that makes her smoke more. Same with my apartment. I come home from work, I open my door, I feel like I’m swallowing ashes.”

I wished that she’d drive faster.

“Will you be okay for court tomorrow?” she asked.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Judge Pierce wanted to meet with counsel in his chambers.”

“Any idea why?”

“Nope.”

“What time?”

“Nine A.M. sharp.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You want me to pick you up?”

“I do.”

“Can I get a company car then?”

“We don’t work for a company. We work for the county.”

“How about a county car?”

“Maybe.”

“Cool.” She drove some more. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

I said nothing. I was still having a hard time reacting to that. Maybe I needed to hear that the ID was confirmed. Or maybe I had already done twenty years of mourning and didn’t have that much left. Or maybe, most likely, I was putting my emotions on the back burner.

Two more people were dead now.

Whatever happened twenty years ago in those woods…maybe the local kids were right, the ones who said that a monster ate them or that the boogeyman took them away. Whatever had killed Margot Green and Doug Billingham, and in all likelihood Camille Copeland, was still alive, still breathing, still taking lives. Maybe it had slept for twenty years. Maybe it had gone somewhere new or moved to other woods in other states. But that monster was back now—and I’d be damned if I was going to let it get away again.

The faculty housing at Reston University was depressing. The buildings were dated brick and shoved together. The lighting was bad, but I think that might have been a good thing.

“You mind staying in the car?” I said.

“I have to run a quick errand,” Muse said. “I’ll be right back.”

I headed up the walk. The lights were out, but I could hear music. I recognized the song. “Somebody” by Bonnie McKee. Depressing as hell—the “somebody” being this perfect love she knows is out there but will never find—but that was Lucy. She adored the heartbreakers. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I rang the bell, knocked some more. Still nothing.

“Luce!”

Nothing.

“Luce!”

I knocked some more. Whatever the doctor had given me was wearing off. I could feel the stitches in my side. It felt exactly like it was—as though my very movements were ripping my skin apart.

“Luce!”

I tried the doorknob. Locked. There were two windows. I tried to peer in. Too dark. I tried to open them. Both locked.

“Come on, I know you’re in there.”