The Unquiet

Then the smile faded.

“You don’t need me to remind you, but I will anyway. Merrick has your gun. He used it to kill Demarcian. I was you, I’d be looking to get it back before he uses it again. In the meantime, you ought to learn to take better care of your property.”

He turned on his heel. I went over to the Johnsons to thank them. Predictably, Walter went nuts. Another hour later, my statement duly signed, I was allowed to leave. Aimee Price drove me home. The Johnsons had gone ahead with Walter, mainly because Aimee refused to have him in her car.

“Any word on Andy Kellog’s transfer?” I asked.

“I’m trying to get a hearing over the next day or two.”

“You ask him about that tattoo?”

“He said there were no dates, no numbers. It was just an eagle’s head.”

I swore silently. It meant that Ronald Straydeer’s contact would be of no help. Another line of inquiry had ended in nothing.

“How is Andy?”

“Recovering. His nose is still a mess.”

“And mentally?”

“He’s been talking about you, and about Merrick.”

“Anything interesting?”

“He thinks Merrick is going to kill you.”

“Well, he wasn’t far off the mark, but Merrick had his chance. He didn’t take it.”

“It doesn’t mean he won’t try again. I don’t understand why he wants you out of the way so badly.”

“He’s a revenger. He doesn’t want anyone to deprive him of his chance of retribution.”

“He thinks his daughter’s dead?”

“Yes. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows it’s the truth.”

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I have another lawyer to visit, then I’m going to head up to Jackman.”

“Two lawyers in one day. You must be mellowing.”

“I’ve had my shots. I should be okay.”

She snorted but didn’t reply.

“Thanks for coming out here,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m billing you. It wasn’t charity.”

We pulled up in front of my house. I got out of the car and thanked Aimee again.

“Just remember,” she said. “I’m a lawyer, not a doctor. You tangle with Merrick again, and my services won’t be much use to you.”

“I tangle with Merrick again, and one of us won’t need a doctor or a lawyer. He’ll be beyond the help of either.”

She shook her head. “There you go with the Wild West stuff again. You take care of yourself. I can’t see anyone else willing to do it.”

She drove away. I walked over to the Johnsons and had a cup of coffee with them. Walter would have to stay with them for a few more days. They didn’t mind. I don’t think Walter minded either. They fed him better than I did. They even fed him better than I fed myself. Then I went home, showered to remove the smell and feel of the interrogation room, and put on a jacket and shirt. Conlough was right. I had to find Merrick before he used the Smith 10 again. I knew where to start too. There was a lawyer down in the Commonwealth with some questions to answer. I had avoided confronting him again until now, but I no longer had a choice. As I dressed, I thought about why I had delayed talking to Eldritch again. It was partly because I believed that he wouldn’t be of much help unless the stakes were raised, and Merrick ’s killing of Demarcian had certainly done that. But I also knew that there was another reason for my reluctance: his client. Against my better judgment, and against all of my strongest instincts, I was being drawn inexorably into the world of the Collector.

Four

Into the dark night

Resignedly I go,

I am not so afraid of the dark night

As the friends I do not know,

I do not fear the night above,

As I fear the friends below

– STEVIE SMITH, “DIRGE”

Chapter XXVI

I made the call while I was slipping a speed loader for the.38 into my jacket pocket. Louis answered on the second ring. He and Angel had hit the Collector’s safe house within an hour of Bob Johnson’s call to the i

“So I figure you got busted from the joint,” said Louis.

“Yeah, it was spectacular. Explosions, gunfire, the whole deal. You ought to have been there.”

“Anywhere be better than here.”

He sounded tetchy. Spending long periods of time with his partner in an enclosed space tended to do that to him. I figured their home life must be something to see.

“You say that now. Before this is over, I’ll bet you’ll be looking back fondly on your time spent in that car. You find anything?”

“We got nothing ’cause there’s nothing to get. House is empty. We checked before we start freezing our asses off out here. Nothing’s changed since then. We still freezing our asses off. Place still looked the same, except for one small difference: the closet in the basement was empty. Looks like the freak moved his collection.”

The Collector knew that someone had been in his house; he had discovered the trespass in his own way.

“Leave it,” I said. “If Merrick hasn’t returned there by now, he’s not going to.”

It had been a long shot to begin with. Merrick knew that the house would be the first place we would look for him. He had gone underground instead. I told Louis to have Angel drop him in Augusta, then pick up a rental car and head back to Scarborough. Angel would drive north to Jackman to see what he could find out there, as well as keeping watch for Merrick, because I was certain that Merrick would head for Jackman, and Gilead, eventually.

“How come he get to go to Jackman and I got to stay down there with you?” asked Louis.

“You know when you drop a lump of coal in snow?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s why you’re not going to Jackman.”

“You a closet racist, man.”

“You know, sometimes I almost forget you’re black.”

“Yeah? Well, I never forget you’re white. I seen you dance.”

With that, he hung up.

My next call was to Rebecca Clay to inform her that Merrick was well and truly off the leash. She didn’t take the news well, but agreed to let Jackie Garner shadow her again, with the Fulcis in tow. Even if she hadn’t agreed, I would have browbeaten her into it eventually.

Moments after I finished talking to Rebecca, I received a call from an unexpected source. Joel Harmon was on the end of the line: not his secretary, not Todd, the driver who knew how to hold a gun, but the man himself.

“Someone broke into my house early this morning,” he said. “I was up in Bangor last night so I wasn’t there when it happened. Todd discovered the damage to the window this morning.”

“Why are you telling me this, Mr. Harmon?” I wasn’t on Joel Harmon’s dime, and my head still ached from the chloroform.

“My office was ransacked. I’m trying to figure out if anything was taken. But I thought you might be interested to know that one of Daniel Clay’s paintings was vandalized. Nothing else was damaged in the same way, and none of the other paintings were touched, but the Gilead landscape was torn apart.”

“Don’t you have an alarm system?”

“It’s hooked up to the telephone. The line was cut.”

“And there was nobody in the house?”

“Only my wife.” There was a pause. “She slept through it all.”

“That’s quite a deep sleep, Mr. Harmon.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. You’ve met her. You don’t need me to tell you that she’s doped up to the eyeballs. She could sleep through the apocalypse.”

“Any indication of who might have been responsible?”

“You talk like a fucking lawyer, you know that?” I could almost hear the spittle landing on the phone. “Of course I have a fucking idea! He cut the phone lines, but one of the security cameras on the grounds picked him up. The Scarborough cops came out here and identified him as Frank Merrick. This is the same guy who’s been terrorizing Rebecca Clay, right? Now I hear he may have blown some pedophile’s head off in a trailer park on the same night he busted into the house where my wife was sleeping. The hell does he want from me?”