Kiss Of Evil

74

He has to keep the man talking. “How do we end this, Christian? Stop what you’re doing and let’s talk.”

“I want you to draw your weapon.”

Paris obeys. “Now what?”

“Put your bullet in the chamber.”

“It’s already loaded.”

“Of course,” Christian says. “Safety off?”

“Safety’s off.”

On-screen, in one of the four frames, is now a local news break-in. Paris can see a pair of Cleveland Heights zone cars in a Dairy Barn lot and thinks:

We are in the Cain Towers apartments.

Christian says: “You will now place the barrel of the weapon against your forehead and pull the trigger.”

“What?”

“If you do this within, let’s see, four minutes, I’ll let her go. If not, I am going to drive nails into her hands and feet. Which do you think our viewers would prefer? You or her?”

Viewers? Paris thinks. This is being broadcast? “What are you talking about?”

“You’re the main attraction on Cable99 right now. Dare I say, soon, worldwide.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Perhaps. But seeing as you’re really not that much of a detective, I doubt seriously that you are qualified to make such a damning diagnosis. No offense.”

The lower-right-hand frame flickers with still pictures now. Christian, in front of a rusty old Bonneville. Christian and his sister at Cedar Point.

You’ve got to know what breaks his heart.

“She didn’t kill herself,” Paris says, knowing now that the real Sarah Weiss is dead. The woman in his apartment had been an impostor. “It wasn’t suicide.”

Christian freezes, his face contorting with rage. “Shut up.”

“It’s true. They’re reopening the case. They’re treating it as a homicide.”

“Shut up!”

“I know you blame me for prosecuting her, but I was doing my job. The evidence was there. But now there is evidence that she was not driven to suicide. It is much worse.”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“Don’t you want to see whoever did this to your sister pay for it? Isn’t that what all this has been about?”

Christian steps away from the crucifix.

Yes, Paris thinks.

Stall him.

“So, I can walk away from this?” Christian asks. “You and me’ll hit the trail and round up the bad guys, sheriff? Please.”

“Of course not. But you can get help. And I can see that justice is done for you.”

“Shut up,” Christian says. “Not a word.” He holds up a pair of spikes. In the other hand, he holds a crown of razor wire. “If you say-”

“No!”

“What did I just tell you?” Christian screams. “You killed her, you asshole.”

“Wait!”

Christian does not wait. He crosses the room, walking right up to the camera. In an instant, Paris’s computer screen goes blue again.

But Paris can still hear. Christian has left the microphone on. Christian screams: “The whole world is watching you!”

Paris hears Christian’s footsteps storming around the room. He hears the music, which had been a faint, scratchy noise in the background, suddenly jump in volume.

“Christian!”

“Save her life!” Christian says.

“Stop!”

But he does not stop. Paris hears the ugly, hateful sound. The icy clank of hammer on steel.

Then come the screams.