Double Cross

Chapter 119

I WATCHED DCAK’S LIVE PERFORMANCE, because that’s what it was-a calculated act-but something else was happening here, something much more interesting to me right now. It all went back to that camping trip at Catoctin Mountain Park.

Bree’s hands worked steadily behind her back, mostly indiscernibly, from what I could tell. She was trying to undo the ropes around her wrists-my view of the laptop let me know that much. It also told me I needed to keep Anthony and Sandy face-to-face-focused on me, not on what Bree was trying to do.

“But Tyler Bell gets the credit for all this? Not the two of you? Especially not Sandy?” I asked, as if I cared.

“You’re not paying attention. All this”-he swept his arm around the room-“is just today’s mindfuck. Once we’re gone, once everyone sees the story, then it happens all over again. Maybe with a new cop stooge. Or maybe a news reporter. A news anchor? A big shot at the Washington Post or USA Today.”

“You know you’re not the first to run something like this, right? Colin Johns? Miami, 1995?”

And here, Anthony’s veneer cracked just a little bit. “Never heard of him.”

“That’s my point exactly. Colin Johns was famous for about, oh, five minutes. And he was a lot better at this than you are-either of you.”

Anthony stood there with his arms folded, shaking his head back and forth. I could tell he was angry at me now. “You’re really pretty bad as a shrink, you know that? This is supposed to-what? Make me not kill you?”

“No, but it might take some of the enjoyment out of it.” Confidence was the game here, not facts, not the techniques of therapy. I was making it up as fast as I could.

I asked, “How about Ronny Jessup? Three homicides, all of them on live TV. He even used his real name. You ever hear of Ronny Jessup? You, Sandy?”

“No, but a dirty little birdie told me that you’re about to die,” she said, and grinned. “I can’t wait.”

In two strides, Anthony crossed the floor and smashed me in the face with the butt of his gun. “Keep it up, Dr. Cross!” He loomed there, ready to swing again, but I figured he wouldn’t want me unconscious now.

I was here to watch!

I spit a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Madeline Purvis. Boston, 1958.” I threw out another psychopathic killer’s name for him.

“All right, that’s it. I’m invoking the gag rule.” He stormed over to the “props” table, tucked the gun in his waistband again, and picked up a roll of duct tape. It crackled loudly as he tore off a length, then started back to me.

I turned my head away, not to stop him but to get him into a better position. One way or the other, this was it. Either Bree was ready or she wasn’t.

As Anthony stepped in close with the strip of tape, Bree’s hands flew up from behind her back.

Sandy saw it too. “Bro, look out!”

Bro? The two of them were brother and sister? That was a twist that I hadn’t seen coming. Maybe because of the sex scene on the couch in my office. But possibly they were lovers too?