A little at a time, John was going to tell everything he knew, like skinning her alive, one inch at a time. Which meant that sometime soon he was going to out her to the cops.
She needed to tell the police that John was alive, and that he was behind all the incidents she’d reported. But that would have to wait until tomorrow, since she knew that Detective Treloar didn’t work weekends, and she had no intention of getting stuck with Detective Dickhead.
When she returned home, she was shocked to find Marlon on the top rungs of her collapsible aluminum ladder, leaned against her house.
He wore shorts and a sleeveless T--shirt, a tool belt around his waist, and he was covered in sweat in the hot late morning. He was bolting something to the back of her house.
“There you are,” he called down.
“What are you doing here?” Nessa said, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight, and was suddenly horrified at what she must look like after just a few hours of sleep, her puffy, tear--smeared face, her hair a greasy rat’s nest.
Thank you, Joyce Gereben, for this lovely maternal legacy you’ve bestowed upon me. What did it matter how she looked? Marlon was her sponsor, not her . . . whatever . . .
He appeared as uncomfortable as she felt, perched up there, screwdriver in hand, looking almost as if he’d been caught egging her house.
“Listen,” he said. “I just couldn’t let another day go by without getting you some security out here. I went ahead and bought a system for you, and I hope you’re not offended—-it’s not that I don’t think you’re a capable human being, can’t take care of yourself. In fact, I think you’re one of the most competent -people I’ve ever met, not to mention ballsy, but—-”
“Can you come down here? I need to tell you what happened this morning. Where are Isabeau and Daltrey?”
“Inside,” he said, tightening a bolt. “Give me just a sec.”
“What are those?” Nessa asked, pointing.
“Video cameras,” he said, “so every area of the house will be covered. I also got a keyless computer entry system for you; Isabeau is putting that together. This has just gotten so insane. We can’t let it happen again.”
Nessa bit back an apologetic reply and instead said, “Thank you.”
Marlon came down the ladder and onto the covered deck, where he dropped wearily into a patio chair. Isabeau came out the back door carrying an instruction sheet.
“So let me tell you about your new security system,” she said.
Nessa held up a hand and said, “First let me tell you what I just found out.”
Isabeau and Nessa both sat, then Marlon and Isabeau listened with open mouths and wide eyes as she told them about Brady the locksmith.
“So the person who’s been behind all this is—-”
“John,” Marlon said in an awed voice.
Nessa nodded, starting to cry again. Isabeau rose and squatted by Nessa’s chair, wrapping her arms around her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“What am I going to do?” Nessa said.
“Well, first thing we’re going to do is flame that fucking locksmith on Yelp,” Marlon said.
This was so unexpected that Nessa burst into a howling laugh fueled by hysteria and anguish.
Marlon looked pleased. “And then you have to go to the police,” he said. “You have to tell them.”
“But I promised the kid I wouldn’t get him in trouble.”
“Without him, the cops will not believe you,” Marlon said.
“John must be watching the house,” Nessa said. “Brady’s coming back out here tomorrow to install new locks again so John’ll approach him again to get the keys.”
Isabeau and Marlon glanced at each other, confused.
“And then what?” Isabeau said.
“I’m going to tell the cops I have reason to believe that John’s still alive,” Nessa said, “and that he’s responsible for all this. But I want to catch him myself.”
“That is ludicrous,” Marlon said.
Nessa couldn’t explain that she was trying to keep the police at arm’s length while still getting their help—-but on her terms. She couldn’t have them fingerprint her, or they’d find out who she really was, and there would be dire consequences. She would lose Daltrey. But she couldn’t tell these -people any of this. John, however, knew everything. And she would not let him destroy her. She would do anything to stop him. Anything.
“Just—-please,” Nessa said. “I want to do this my way. With these new video cameras, we’ll be able to catch him in the act, right? Then I can take the video to the cops so they won’t think I’m any crazier than they already do.”
Marlon and Isabeau glanced at each other again.
“And my in--laws are taking Daltrey for a while, so I can concentrate on tracking John down, and Daltrey will be safe.”
“You don’t suppose they’re helping John?” Marlon said. “Maybe the three of them have set this whole thing up?”
“Oh, no,” Nessa said. “They’ve been putting up with John’s bullshit for more years than I have, and I guarantee you that they would never do anything to hurt Daltrey.”
This was the only thing she was sure of.