The Skin Collector(Lincoln Rhyme)

Chapter 68





‘It’s over,’ Pam Willoughby said, practically leaping into Seth McGuinn’s arms.

He was at the front door of her apartment building in Brooklyn Heights. He stumbled back, laughing. They kissed long. The sky finally was clear and the incisive sunlight, ruddy from the afternoon angle, poured onto the fa?ade of the building. The temperature, though, was even colder than in the past few days, when sleet pelted from the gray sky.

They stepped inside the hallway and then walked into her apartment on the first floor, to the right. Even a glance at the basement stairs, at the bottom of which Seth had nearly been killed, didn’t dampen her joy.

She was buoyant. Her shoulders were no longer knots, her belly no longer tight as a spring. The ordeal was over. She could return home, at last, without worries that that terrible man who’d attacked Seth would come back. According to Lincoln Rhyme’s message, the unsub was dead and his colleagues had been arrested.

Pam had noted immediately that Amelia wasn’t the one delivering the news.

Fine with her. She was still angry and wasn’t sure she could ever wholly forgive Amelia for trying to break up her relationship with her soul mate.

In the living room Seth pulled off his jacket and they dropped onto the couch. He cradled her head and pulled her close.

‘You want anything?’ she asked. ‘Coffee? I’ve got some champagne or, I don’t know, bubbly wine. I’ve had it for a year. It’s probably still good.’

‘Sure, coffee, tea. Anything warm.’ But before she rose Seth took her by the arm and studied her carefully, looking her over with a face of both relief and concern. ‘You all right?’

‘I am. How about you? You’re the one who was going to get a tattoo from that crazy guy.’

Seth shrugged.

She could see he was troubled. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like to be pinned down like that, knowing you were about to be killed. And killed so painfully. The news reported that the poisons the killer had used were picked because of their agonizing symptoms. At least he didn’t seem to blame her for the attack any longer. She’d been cut deeply to see him pulling away afterward. Walking away from her, not looking back … that was almost more than she could stand.

But he’d forgiven her. That was all in the past.

Pam walked into the kitchen and put water on to boil, readied the drip coffee-maker.

He called, ‘And what exactly did happen? You talk to Lincoln?’

‘Oh.’ She stepped into the doorway. Her face was grave and she brushed her static-clinging hair from her face, twined it into a rope and let it fall on her back. ‘It was terrible. That guy? Who attacked you? He wasn’t a psycho at all. He’d come here to poison the water supply in New York.’

‘Shit! That was it? I heard something about water.’

‘One of those militia groups, like my mother was in.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Lincoln thought that the killer was obsessed with the Bone Collector. But, get this, it wasn’t that at all; he was interested in the attack my mother planned here years ago. He was trying to figure out how Lincoln and Amelia would conduct an investigation. Oh, he wasn’t very happy he missed that. Lincoln, I mean. He gets pretty mad when he makes mistakes.’

The kettle whistled and Pam ducked back into the kitchen and poured the boiling water into the cone. The crisp sound was comforting. She fixed his the way he liked it – two sugars and one dash of half-and-half. She drank hers black.

Pam brought the cups out and sat beside him. Their knees touched.

Seth asked, ‘Who were they exactly?’

She tried to recall. ‘They were with, what was it called? The American Family Council. Something like that. Doesn’t sound like a militia.’ Pam laughed. ‘Maybe they had a public relations team work on their image.’

Seth smiled. ‘You ever hear of them when you and your mom were hiding out in Larchwood?’

‘Don’t think so. Lincoln said the people doing this were from Southern Illinois. It wasn’t far away from where my mother and I were. And I remember my mother and stepfather would meet with people from the other militias sometimes but I never paid any attention. I hated them all. Hated them so much.’ Her voice faded.

‘But the tattoo guy, the killer, he’s dead and the others got arrested.’

‘Right. A husband and wife and their son. They still don’t know who the guy in the tunnel was, who was killed. The tattoo artist.’

‘You’re still not talking to Amelia?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not.’

‘For now.’

‘For a long time,’ Pam said firmly.

‘She doesn’t like me.’

‘No! That’s not it. She’s just protective. She thinks I’m this fragile doll. I don’t know. Jesus.’

Seth put down the coffee. ‘Okay if we talk about something serious?’

‘Sure, I guess.’

All right, what was this?

He laughed. ‘Relax. I’ve decided we need to hit the road sooner. Right away.’

‘Really? But I don’t have my passport yet.’

‘I was thinking we could stick to the US for a while.’

‘Oh. Well, I just thought we were going to see India. Then Paris and Prague and Hong Kong.’

‘We will. Just not now.’

She considered this but then looked at his intense brown eyes, staring into hers. And she said, ‘Okay. Sure, baby. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.’

‘I love you,’ Seth whispered. He kissed her hard and she kissed back, embracing.

Pam sat forward, sipped coffee. ‘Munchies? I could use something. A pizza?’

‘Sure.’

She rose and walked into the kitchen again, opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a pizza and set it on the counter.

And sagged against the wall, feeling her gut churn, heart rate pound.

Thinking: How the hell did Seth know about Larchwood? She desperately thought back to their time together. No, I never mentioned it. I’m sure.

You need to tell Seth everything about your time underground.

No, I don’t.

Think, think …

‘Need a hand?’ his voice called.

‘Nope.’ She made noise, ripping the pizza box open, banging the oven door down.

This can’t be happening. There’s no way he could be involved with those people.

Impossible.

But Pam’s instincts, honed by years of survival, took over. She eased to the landline phone and picked it up. Held it to her ear.

Hit nine. Then one.

‘Making a call?’

Seth stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

Keeping a smile on her face, she turned, forcing herself to move slowly. ‘You know, we were talking about Amelia. I was just thinking. Maybe I will apologize. I think that’d be a good idea, don’t you? I mean, wouldn’t you, if you were in my place?’

‘Really?’ he asked. Not smiling. ‘You were calling Amelia?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Put the phone down, Pam.’

‘I …’ Her voice faded as his steely dark eyes bored into hers. The same shade of brown. Her thumb hovered over the one button on the phone. Before she could hit it Seth stepped forward and pulled the phone from her hand, hung it up.

‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

But Seth said nothing. He took her firmly by the arm, pulling her back to the couch.