Memory Man

Chapter 63

They drove for two more hours. Decker had no idea where he was, and it really didn’t matter to him. Help was not coming.

The van finally pulled off the road and Decker was bumped up and down as the vehicle hit a rough patch but then kept going.

The van hung a sharp left and a few moments later skidded to a stop. Wyatt got out and Leopold motioned for Decker to do the same. His bare feet hit cold gravel and he winced as a sharp rock cut the bottom of his right foot.

There was an old outdoor light in a rusted metal cage over the door they were heading to. Decker could make out the faded, peeling remnants of a sign that had been painted in red on the white brick wall.

It looked like flakes of blood resting on the pale skin of a corpse.

He looked to the right and left and saw nothing but trees. A leaning chain-link fence enclosed the abandoned property.

Leopold gave him a shove in the back and he staggered into the building behind Wyatt. Leopold closed and bolted the door after them.

Wyatt was dressed in jeans and a hooded windbreaker. With the wig gone the hair was short, blond, and receding. As Billy, Wyatt had been wearing another wig that had drastically changed his appearance; the same with the waitress gig. Decker figured Wyatt might go bald in a few more years.

If he had a few more years left to live. If any of them did.

A light dimly illuminated the space. It was all concrete, mostly bare, the floor and walls splotched with grease and other dirt. An old, leaning metal shelf at the far end held a couple of joint pipes. A wooden desk with a chair in the kneehole was set near the doorway to another room. A file cabinet sat behind the desk. Some wooden crates were stacked against one wall. The windows were barred and blacked out.

Wyatt pulled out the chair and rolled it across the room. It bumped crazily over the chipped concrete floor.

Leopold motioned with the gun for Decker to sit.

He did. Wyatt took duct tape and wound it around both Decker and the chair until the two were as one. Then Wyatt pulled a large box out from behind the desk, carried it over, and turned it upside down. Tumbling out of it and clattering to the floor were all of the trophies taken from Mansfield. All the ones with Amos Decker’s name on them.

Wyatt picked one up and looked at it. “Football players and cops, my favorite people.” He dropped the trophy.

The pair pulled up two of the old crates and sat on them staring at Decker.

Decker stared back, taking them both in, detail by detail. He could tell that Wyatt was doing the same to him.

Wyatt looked nothing like the teenage girl Decker had seen back at the institute. The twenty-year march of time had hollowed out her features, giving her a perpetually hungry, emaciated look. The mouth was jagged and cruel. There were no smile lines around the edges of the lips. What did Wyatt have to smile about? Ever? The long brow had worry lines that already had been forming back at the institute.

Decker glanced at Leopold. He had cleaned up some since their last meeting at the bar. His hair was combed and his clothes looked clean.

“Can you answer a couple of questions that have been bugging me?” Decker asked. When neither of them responded, he said, “The old man and old woman that were seen out and about in my neighborhood and then Lancaster’s neighborhood. Was that you?”

Wyatt stood, pulled her hood over her head, bent over, mimicked gripping a cane, and walked slowly across the room. In a pitch-perfect impersonation of an elderly man’s voice Wyatt said, “Can you help me find my little dog, Jasper? He’s all I have left.”

She pulled her hood back down and straightened.

“I can fool anyone,” said Wyatt, staring dead at him. “Become anyone I want.”

“Yes, you can,” said Decker.

He wondered if Wyatt had always been able to transform like that. Stuck between two genders, a foot in each with an identity in neither, entrenched in limbo. When she had played the role of Billy, it had been a remarkable transformation. Happy-go-lucky, superficial, innocuous. As she had said, she could play any role.

Well, except for one. Herself.

He imagined Wyatt walking through the halls of Mansfield in the getup that made him look taller and far broader. This slip of a man — formerly a woman — transformed into a giant with guns, massacring people like they were bugs in the grass. Man as predator. Man that could never be hurt by another man. Like a woman could.

“Why did you stay in the freezer overnight? Why not just come in through the base side and meet Debbie in the shop class?”

“Because Debbie was with me in the freezer that night,” said Wyatt. “She snuck out of her house. We did it right then and there. The first time.” He grinned, though it didn’t reach the eyes. “She thought it was so amazing! Sex in the freezer. In the dark. It brought back memories for me, you see. I was gang-raped in the school cafeteria. But now I was the guy doing the girl. Then she left. And in the morning I used the passageway to get to the other end of the school.”

“And how much did she know about the plan?” said Decker. “We found the picture of you in cammies.”

“I wore them sometimes when we were together. I told her I was former military. And now I was in military intelligence. She thought that was so cool. I told her I was here investigating a possible terrorist cell, and that she could help me. And of course I ended up seducing her. It wasn’t hard. She knew nothing of the real plan. She just thought we were going to do it in the shop classroom smack in the middle of everybody. I suggested it, of course. It had to happen that way.”

“And how did you find out that she might know something about the passageway?”

“I read an article years ago about bombproof shelters being put under schools. I figured with an Army base right next door there might be such a thing, and possibly more. So I searched the old Army base. It was easy to get inside. In a drawer in one of the rooms I found a duty roster with employee names on it. Simon Watson was on there. It said he was in engineering. Sebastian and I did some more digging and found out that the old man had lived with the Watsons and that Debbie went to Mansfield. I ‘ran’ into Debbie one day. It took time and I let my ‘undercover’ story out slowly, but it finally got around to her great-grandfather and things he had told her about the base. She knew about a passage and generally how it ran. She also knew that it connected to the base, she just didn’t know exactly where. But that gave us what we needed. We started from the base end and worked our way toward the school. It all came together. And since she believed I was here on a secret mission she understood why no one could know about ‘us.’ She kept the secret. She was actually very useful.”

“She called you Jesus, you know. You were the only positive in her life. She loved you very much, apparently. Right up to the second you blew her head off. Jesus.”

Wyatt said nothing to this.

Decker glanced at Leopold. “Did you build the outfit that he wore in the school?”

“We did it together. We do everything together.”

“And you found out the players on the football team and what classes they were in?”

“Debbie again. I told her I might have to recruit some of them in case I needed local muscle. It was stupid but she’d believe anything.”

“And ‘Justice Denied’? You left that paper at Evers’s dump in Utah. So I guess you wanted us to know about it. It was how I was able to contact you.”

“I’m not alone,” said Wyatt. Decker glanced at her.

“Not alone?”

“There are lots of others like me. People like me can get justice too.”

Decker nodded. “What name do you go by now? Or do you want me to just call you Wyatt?”

“You can call me Belinda. You’re from that time. Not from this time. Not much longer, anyway.”

“Okay, Belinda. And Leopold here introduced you to ‘Justice Denied’?”

Wyatt now looked surprised. “How could you know that?”

“Well, for starters it’s a foreign-based site. And Leopold is Austrian. His family was murdered. He actually started the site. Some of the word choices on there show that English was not the creator’s first language.”

Wyatt and Leopold exchanged a glance.

Decker shifted a bit in his seat. “You know, it would have been easier for you to just kill me,” he said. “And leave my family alone.”

“No one left me alone,” said Wyatt. “No one.” He drew a knife from his pocket and held it up. “I used this to kill Giles Evers. His father should be getting a package in the mail any day.”

“He disappeared a long time ago. What have you been doing with him all this time?”

“Things,” said Wyatt. “Just things.” He looked like he wanted to smile, but it didn’t seem that he could manage it.

“I don’t think Clyde liked his son all that much. Giles sort of ruined his life.”

Wyatt stood, walked across the room, and jammed the knife into Decker’s thigh.

Decker screamed. When Wyatt worked the blade around he cried out more, cursing and twisting in the chair trying to free himself. Wyatt finally withdrew it and Decker slumped over and threw up from the shock of it.

“I didn’t hit the femoral,” Wyatt said calmly, retaking a seat on the crate. “I know where it is. Trust me. I read lots of medical books. And books on embalming,” Wyatt added. He tapped his temple. “And as you know, we never forget. Anything.”

Leopold said, “And you don’t get off that easy.”

He duct-taped the wound, though blood continued to bubble along the edges.

Ashen-faced, Decker lifted his head.

Wyatt was staring at him. “So you think his fucking life was ruined? Is that what you think?”

“Not as much as yours, no,” gasped Decker, spitting vomit out of his mouth. Things were starting to accelerate now. He could afford no more mistakes. He eyed Leopold. “How many people like Belinda have you helped find justice?”

“Not enough.”

Decker used his mind to compartmentalize, to will the effects of the pain away, for just a few minutes. He needed clarity of thought. He needed to be able to say what he needed to say. Otherwise, it was over.

“It was good that you were in jail when the murders happened. To my family and at the high school. The judge let you go because you had an ironclad alibi.”

Leopold said, “My friend here wanted to do the honors. It was only right.”

“So, contrary to what you said, you don’t do everything together. Not when it comes to the actual crimes. We have evidence against Belinda, physical evidence, but nothing against you.”

“You have nothing against me,” said Wyatt sharply.

“Your parents were murdered. The doctor who attended you at the institute was murdered. I understand why you killed him. He took advantage of you. Another supposed protector who hurt you. And you left your handwriting at multiple places. And we got your print off the mop bucket at the 7-Eleven. And another from the bathroom at the bar where you were working as a waitress.” Most of this was a lie, but it didn’t matter. He looked at Leopold. “But nothing on this guy. But like he said, you wanted to do the honors while he stayed safely in the background.”

Leopold stood and gazed at Wyatt. “I think it’s time to end this.”

Decker quickly said, “Clyde Evers paid your parents six million dollars to keep quiet about what his son did to you. The house in Colorado cost one-point-eight million. They didn’t make any improvements to it. We checked their financial records. Their expense burn rate was only about twenty percent of the amounts thrown off by their investment portfolio. The rest just accumulated over time. Stocks did well. By the time you killed them they had over ten million in liquid assets. But someone got his hands on the authorization codes to start taking money out. About a million a month and counting over the last nine months. It’s almost all gone now. Did you take it, Belinda?”

“That was bribe money to keep my parents quiet. And they told me if I said anything they would make sure the whole world knew I was a freak. They’d... they’d taken pictures of me down there. They said they would send it to the newspapers. So no, I didn’t take the money. I didn’t want that... that blood money. My blood!”

“So I wonder where that cash went? Maybe your buddy here knows.”

Wyatt’s gaze darted to Leopold and then back at Decker.

“I don’t understand anything you’re talking about,” Wyatt said mechanically.

“Leopold has apparently helped lots of folks with ‘Justice Denied.’ And the folks he helps have two things happen to them. First, whatever money is around disappears. Second, the friend he’s helping ends up dead.”

Decker had no idea if this was true, but he suspected that it was. That outflow of cash from the Wyatts’ account had to have gone somewhere. And he doubted that Leopold would want the “heir” around to find out. When he looked at Leopold the expression on the man’s face told him that he was right.

Decker said, “And did he tell you that his family was murdered? Wife and daughter?”

“They were murdered,” said Wyatt.

“Yes, they were.”

“By cops.”

“No, not by cops. He killed them.”

Decker heard the hammer of the gun being pulled back.

“You’re full of shit. You’re lying!” screamed Wyatt.

Anger, lack of control, that’s good. To a point.

Decker slowly shook his head. “I read the file. I looked at the pictures of the corpses. They were both strangled to death. By hanging. At the napes of their necks where the ligature compressed the life out of them they found a very unusual mark. It was nearly identical on both. The Austrian police didn’t know what it was. They were baffled because the killer had cut the victims down and taken the rope with him. They were baffled because they never suspected Leopold. Lucky guy had another ironclad alibi provided by a couple of buddies who swore he was in Germany at the time. If they had suspected Leopold and done some digging they probably would have arrived at the truth behind the mark.”

Decker felt the gun muzzle against his head.

Leopold said, “You said you’ve died twice? Well, they say the third time ist the charm.”

Decker kept going. “I had seen that mark before. It was in a book I read and, of course, never forgot, because we can never forget anything, can we, Belinda? Like you said.” He paused and studied her. When she seemed about to speak he said sharply, “It’s called a double constrictor knot. It’s like a clove hitch but with an overhand knot under two riding turns. I actually practiced tying it on the flight back from Utah. I discovered that it’s nearly impossible to untie once the knot is set. In fact, it’s one of the most effective binding knots in the world. Been around at least since the 1860s. It’s also called the gunner’s knot.” He glanced at Leopold. “Every sailor worth his salt knows how to tie that knot. And before your friend here was on submarines, he grew up sailing with his father, who was a fisherman working in the Adriatic Sea six months out of the year.” He looked at Wyatt. “I can keep going. As you know, it’s all in my head. Every fact, every detail.”

“Submarines?” said Leopold contemptuously. “Austria doesn’t have a navy.”

“No, but Russia does. Which is where you went to live when you were nineteen. You were kicked out of the Russian navy for stealing from your fellow sailors. It took me the longest time to pin down your accent. Because it’s a blend. Austrian, Russian, with an overlay of English.” He glanced sideways at Leopold. “Ist good, Herr Leopold? You said it at the bar. And you said it again just a minute ago. Maybe you didn’t even realize?”

Leopold struck him on the side of the head with the gun.

Decker slumped over.

Now his leg and his head were hurting like a bitch. His tolerance for pain was greater than most. You didn’t play football for as long as he had without being able to take pain. But a bullet to the head would not be painful. He would just be dead.

He looked up at Wyatt, who was looking at Leopold. Decker couldn’t see Leopold’s face, so he didn’t know where he was looking. But the gun was now pressed against his temple.

“You see the lump on his neck, Belinda? I think the guy is terminal and doesn’t give a shit what he does. He’s also a druggie. And needs money for that. And I think he likes to make other people do things. I think he’s a con man who likes to take people who are in desperate circumstances and screw with them. And if he makes millions in the process, like he did with you, so much the better.”

“Sebastian?” said Wyatt weakly.

That was not what Decker wanted to hear. That was not going to cut it.

“He’s full of shit,” said Leopold.

That was also not going to cut it.

Decker barked, “You killed all those people, Belinda. But there were gaps. Nearly twenty years go by and then you kidnap Giles Evers. Then you come and kill my family. Who was next? Your parents? Chris Sizemore? Then a gap. Then Mansfield. And then Nora Lafferty.”

“And now you,” snarled Leopold.

“Why the gaps, Belinda? Why come after me twenty years later? Was it him? Was it this guy? ‘Justice Denied’? Is that why all that time went by before you started killing? From the moment I said it twenty years ago I know you remembered that I wanted to be a cop. I recalled the stunned look on your face, the hurt you were feeling. But you did nothing with it. Not all that time. Until you ran into this guy. And you told him. And you told him about your parents’ blackmail money. And he saw his chance. And in your mind he twisted what I said and made it into your absolute obsession, your total and complete vendetta. The one thing that you could do to make it all right. The only thing in life you cared about because otherwise you would have no life.”

“Why would I do that?” said Leopold. “This was her revenge, not mine. She had to make it right. She came to me!”

“So it was her idea to make herself look like a big man with guns blazing, mowing down defenseless kids.” He looked at Wyatt. “Are you telling me that’s what you wanted, Belinda? Seducing a vulnerable young woman like Debbie Watson and then blowing her head off? You came up with that? She was almost your age when you were raped. She was just a scared kid with a screwed-up home life. Like you had! She wanted to have a better life. And you seduced her. Made her fall in love with you to such an extent that she called you Jesus, her savior. And then you just killed her? Like she was nothing? Like she didn’t matter? Like you didn’t matter? Like when people who you thought would protect you did just the opposite? Is that your idea of revenge, Belinda? Because I’m not buying it. That’s not you. I don’t care how much you changed. You haven’t changed that much!”

Wyatt said nothing. But Decker took it as a positive sign that Wyatt was not looking at him. She was staring at Leopold.

She rose from the crate. “Did you take my parents’ money?”

“Why would I? Do you see me rolling in cash?”

Decker was not going to lose control of the situation. He barked out, “He does it for kicks, Belinda. He likes to manipulate. He must have loved what you did at the school. It was choreographed, like a play. And maybe he has the money socked away in a bank somewhere. But he killed his family, so why would he have founded ‘Justice Denied’? The only justice denied with Leopold was his getting away with murdering his family.”

Wyatt said, “Is this true?”

Decker expected more denials. He did not get them.

“Yes,” said Leopold emphatically. “Do you feel better?”

He swiveled the gun away from Decker’s head. At the same moment Decker launched himself sideways, pushing off mostly with his good leg and taking the chair with him.

The gun fired.