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Chapter 113
AROUND FOUR, I saw Jill pushing her way through the crowd buzzing outside my office. She looked ready to kill somebody, probably me. "I'm glad you're here," I said grabbing her. "Trust me, please, Jill." "Cindy's downstairs," she said. "Let's go talk." We sneaked out and were able to find Cindy amid a throng of reporters clawing at anyone who came down from the third floor. We called Claire, and in five minutes we were sitting around a table at a coffee shop just down the block. Jenks's escape had thrown all of my speculations into disarray. "You still believe he's i
Chapter 114
IN THE LIGHT of the makeup mirror, the killer sat transfixed by soft blue eyes that were about to become gray. The first thing was to smear her hair until all the blond had been dyed away, then brush it back smooth, a hundred times, until it had lost its luster and shine. "You forced me into this," she said to the changing face. "Forced me to come out one more time. I should have expected as much. You love games, don't you, Nick?" With a cotton swab, she applied the base, a clear, sticky balm with a glue like smell. She dabbed it over her temples, down the curve of her chin, in the soft space between her upper lip and her nose. Then, with a tweezer, she matted on the hair. Tufts of reddish brown. The face was almost complete. But the eyes… anyone could see they were still hers. She slipped out a pair of tinted contacts from the case, moistening them, stretching her lids to insert each one. She blinked, well satisfied with the result. The familiarity was gone. The change was complete. Her eyes now reflected a steely, lifeless gray. Nicholas's color. She was him.
Chapter 115
CLAIRE'S CALL WOKE ME out of a deep sleep. "Come down here," her voice commanded. I blinked groggily at the clock. It was ten after five. "Come down where?" I moaned. "I'm at the damn office. In the damn lab. The guard at the front counter will let you in. Come right now." I heard the urgency in her voice, and it took only seconds for me to come to my senses. "You're at the lab?" "Since two-thirty, sleepyhead. It's about Nicholas Jenks. I think I found something, and Lindsay, it is a mind blower At that hour, it didn't take me more than ten minutes to get to the morgue. I parked in the circular area outside the coroner's entrance reserved for official vehicles. I rushed in, my hair uncombed, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. The guard buzzed me in and let me through. He was expecting me. Claire met me at the entrance to the lab. "Okay," I said, "my expectations are high." She didn't answer. Only pressed me up against the door of the lab, without a word of greeting or explanation. "We're back at the Hyatt," she started in. "Murder number one. David Brandt is about to open the door. "Pretend you're the groom," she said, placing her hand on my shoulder and gently easing me into place, "and I'll be the killer. I surprise you as you open the door, and stab- right handed, not that it makes any difference now." She thrust her fist into the space under my left breast. "So you fall, and that's where we find you, later, at the scene." I nodded, letting her know that I was following along so far. "So what do we find around you?" she asked, wide eyed. I made a mental picture of the scene. "Champagne bottle, tuxedo jacket." "True, but that's not where I'm headed." "Blood… a lot of blood." "Closer. Remember, he died of a cardiac, electromechanical collapse. We simply assumed he was scared to death." I stood up, gazed down at the floor. Then suddenly I saw it as if I were there with the body. "Urine." "Right!" exclaimed Claire. "We find a small residue of urine. On his shoes, on the floor. About six cubic centimeters' worth, that I was able to save. It seemed logical that it belonged to the groom- voiding is a natural response to sudden fear, or death. But I was thinking last night, there were traces of urine in Cleveland, too. And here, back at the Hyatt, I never even had it tested. Why would I? I always assumed it was from David Brandt. "But if you were here, crumpled on the floor, and I was the killer standing above you, and the pee was here," she said, pointing to the floor around me, "who the hell's urine would it be?" Our eyes locked in one of those shining moments of epiphany. "The killer's," I said. Claire smiled at her bright student. "The a