Agnes Hahn (14 page)

The rush of rationalization was forceful. All of the murders took place in motels, all with outside-facingdoors. And all of the men were large. One was six-foot-three and around two-twenty. These men had to be lured to the rooms. And what was the best way to do that? A way Agnes couldn’t accomplish without both physical and emotional makeovers, particularly since the promise of the lure would have to be paid partially in advance.

His defense went one step beyond the conjured absurdity. Even if she were able to attract the men to the room, how could she subdue them to allow the butchery? She wasn’t a physical match for a ten-year-old. His argument spiraled into a familiar circular path. Maybe the killer had an accomplice. But Agnes hadn’t left the house.

The feeling of someone standing over him brought him out of his daydream. It was Agnes. He stood while she slid into the booth, but he didn’t sit down right away.

Something about her had changed. Her clothes were the same, except the flannel shirt was blue today. Her face looked different, and her caramel hair fell around it with a little more shape. Her eyes had the faint contrast of eyeliner, and her skin looked smooth, without the light freckles that normally peppered her nose. A light dusting of makeup? She looked good.

But it was more than that. He’d only seen hints of a smile before, but today, her cheeks dimpled with a tooth-showing grin. And her eyes weren’t glued to the floor. She still didn’t look into his eyes, other than briefly, but theireye contact already seemed longer and more frequent.

“Have you eaten?” she said.

“I had a piece of pie. That’s all I want.”

“I already ordered on my way by the counter. It’ll look better if Officer Wilson comes in. Besides, I’m hungry.”

Jason sipped his coffee. His third cup.

Agnes seemed taller, more confident. She took a long sip of ice water.

“I’ve made a decision. I want you to help me find my sister. And I don’t want the police in on it. I want to talk with her before they catch up to her. I think I can get her to stop what she’s doing.”

“What makes you think I can find her?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

The waitress pushed a plate onto the table. Cheeseburger and fries. Jason looked around at the tables, then at the booths, and smiled. She wasn’t in either camp. She was an original.

She held the burger in front of her mouth like she was teasing her lips. “Is it still safe to talk on cell phones? Last night you said it was.”

“You asked if it was possible to tap a cell phone, and the answer is yes. But the police need a court order to do it.”

“Do you think they’ll try to get one?”

“They already tried, but your lawyer convinced the judge not to sign it. He’s a sharp one. Maybe that’s why

Bransome hates him so much. I worry about how long he can hold them off, though. Another murder and it could turn around.”

“So we can use cell phones to talk?”

“For now, yes. But you called me on the motel phone both times. Why?”

Agnes smiled, and maintained eye contact.

“How did you find out where I was staying?”

Her smile widened.

He wanted to press for an answer, but an old couple caught his attention. They pushed up from their table and ambled to the front counter. He looked back at Agnes. Into her eyes. This time, he dropped his eyes.

Agnes’s cheeks were puffed with a fresh bite of burger, so he moved on. “I think Ella is the key. I got through to her for a short time on my last visit. I think she knows something.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It was what she said. Family secrets. Let them lie. Do you know what secrets she’s talking about?”

Agnes’s smile turned to a frown so fast Jason took too big a sip of the hot coffee. She turned her head to the right, then left. Her eyes settled on her plate.

He leaned down to try to draw her stare. “Do you?”

“No.”

“She seemed to get mad when I mentioned Edward Hahn. Any idea why?”

“No. I don’t know anything about him. Remember?”

“I have a strange feeling he figures into this.”

Agnes took another bite, but pushed it into her cheek and mumbled around the lump. “Officer Wilson is coming in. What should we do?”

“Just keep his attention.” Jason swiveled into the next booth, his back to Agnes, and pulled the collar of his Ralph Lauren shirt high on his neck. He slumped over the table.

Agnes pulled Jason’s coffee cup across the table, within her circle of dishes, and wadded his paper napkin in her fist as Wilson slid into the booth across from her. Hopefully, the seat wasn’t still warm.

Jason turned his head slightly so he could hear the conversation.

“How’s the burger?” Officer Wilson said.

“Good.”

“Are you going to be here long? I have to fill up with gas.”

Jason heard Agnes chuckle.

“I have a ways to go,” she said. “I won’t leave until I see your car come back.”

A deep laugh.

“Not exactly covert, am I?”

The waitress stomped over to Jason’s table, a deep scowl on her face. He slid his finger to his lips in a shush sign and pulled his wallet from his Levi’s. He withdrewa five-dollar bill and slid it across the table, his finger still to his lips. The waitress snatched the bill and stomped back to the greeting stand.

Jason picked up the conversation again.

“Mind if I grab a couple of those fries?” Wilson said. “They smell really good.”

Jason didn’t hear a response but the silence told him she’d offered the fries.

“I guess I’ll go fill the car with gas.”

“Take your time,” Agnes said. “I’m not in a hurry these days.”

Jason turned and watched Wilson exit the restaurant and walk to his car. He swung around into Agnes’s booth. “Did he suspect anything?”

“He had a few fries. And he has to get gas.”

“I can’t believe he came in to tell you that.” Jason snickered.

Agnes took a large bite.

He let her swallow most of it. “What did Bransome say about the letter when he came back to talk to you?”

“The DNA from the Point Arena murder matched the others, and it matched the DNA from the envelope glue. Lilin sent the letter. And it was blood on the letter—the victim’s.”

“Did he ask why you called me?”

Agnes’s eyes met his. She grinned. “Yes.”

He held the stare and smiled. “What did you say?”

She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what you said?”

“No, silly. I told him I don’t know.”

He leaned down and tried to draw her eyes up again. “He accepted that?”

“Not very well. He had some more things to say about you.”

“Like what?”

She shook her head and took another bite.

Jason edged forward in his seat. “Maybe I should leave while Wilson’s getting gas.”

Agnes raised her eyes again. “What do we do next?”

“I want to visit Ella again. See if I can get more information out of her.”

“Can I come along? Every time I go, she doesn’t recognize me. I really want to see her when she’s more like her old self.”

“Not this time. She was lucid for such a short time, I don’t want it to go for hugs and kisses.”

“But you’ll take me sometime?”

“Yes.” He pushed up from the seat. “Call me tomorrow. And use my cell phone this time.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.” Her smile made him want to sit down again.

Agnes made Officer Wilson wait in the restaurant parking lot for nearly twenty minutes before she headed out. She stopped at a Safeway and leisurely strolled three aisles, finally eking out a list of items she could use at home. The items weren’t needed, but stopping at the store created the illusion that lunch was a side trip, not the primary mission. With efficiency of paramount concern, the selected items included nonperishable, eventual necessities.

Officer Wilson didn’t try to hang back on the way home, so Agnes gave a backward wave as she pulled into the garage and pushed the button to lower the door. The light fell in the garage. She froze. Something wasn’t right.

Back door.

She swiveled her head in both directions. No one else in the garage. She wanted to push the button again, to raise the door, but she knew Wilson would come running. Back door. What did that mean? “What do you mean?” she said, scanning the garage again.

No response. There never was a response to a direct question.

Back door?

She fumbled with the keys at the door to the house and dropped them. They hit the concrete with a loud jingle. It reminded her of something she saw on the Nature Channel the other night. Bats used a sophisticated type ofradar to intercept flying insects. They emitted chirps of ultrasound, inaudible to human ears. But moths heardthe ultrasound and responded with an evasive tactic worthy of fighter jet dogfights. They dove to the ground in a tight-turning swirl, hoping to land before the bat adjusted his flight. In the show, the narrator demonstrated the moth’s response by jingling his keys, which, in addition to the audible sound, produced a burst of ultrasound pulses. Agnes was ready to dive to the ground at the slightest out-of-ordinary movement or sound.

The house was silent, cold. Filtered light illuminated the rooms through the drapes everywhere except the kitchen. With its southwestern exposure, the kitchen was always bright in the afternoon. No draperies to pull. The window curtains consisted of festooned ornamentals and decorative valances.

To the rear of the kitchen, a small anteroom was brightly lit by two narrow, high windows on the lateral walls that flanked the back door. A heavy, solid-panel door. No window. No peephole. She walked on her toes, more to stay tensed than for silence, ready to evade. She was a moth on high alert.

The dead bolt turned with a throaty clunk. She paused, listening for a sound, of movement, breathing, anything. She put her ear against the door. Nothing. Her hand found the doorknob, but she didn’t twist. Not yet. She pulled back from the door and stood, silent. Listening. Listening for Lilin. If Lilin was close, maybe she could hearher. Maybe she would say somethingagain. “Lilin?”

Silence.

Agnes turned the knob. She felt the door release in her hand, and she waited. Nothing happened. She opened it a crack, enough to let in a vertical light beam. Nothing. No movement, no sound. It was as if the back of the house was in a sound vacuum. An auditory black hole.

She opened the door wide enough to look out. The backyard was clear. Everything was in place. She stepped forward to look to either side and her foot hit something hard. She jumped back and closed the door to a crack. No movement. No sound. She eased the door open and looked down at a cardboard box. It was shoved to the side of the door, extending across the opening by only a few inches. There were no markings on the box, but it was sealed with clear packing tape.

She kicked the box, and it moved a couple of inches. Not too heavy. And the hollow sound suggested that whatever was inside included a lot of air. She stepped onto the porch, bent, and lifted the box. It wasn’t heavy at all.

The box sat on the kitchen table where Lilin’s letter had rested only a few days before. Agnes had the knife in her hand, but she stood, unable to cut the tape. It had to befrom Lilin. Her mind flashed back to the glossy photo Detective Bransome pushed across the table to her in the interrogation room. If Lilin was capable of that, what might be in the box?

Agnes put down the knife and filled the water kettle. A cup of tea would break the tension.