Nine

37

Blue Jay, California

Thursday, May 22, 3:06 A.M.

Gabriel Taggert stood looking out at the trees beyond the deck outside his bedroom. The moon was in its last quarter. Tonight it brought a translucent silver coating to the dark green of the pines, changing the sloping, shadowy landscape before him, making it the sort of forest that inspired stories of enchantments and haunted places.

He had found a beginner’s astronomy book in Kit’s library and had learned the names of the phases of the moon, and how to tell if it was waxing or waning, and when it was that the sun and moon were closest in the sky, and when farthest apart. He had grown fond of studying the sky, in part because he realized how little attention he had paid to it before he took refuge here. That was, he thought now, an indicator of just how narrow the focus of his life had been.

He had not spent much time outdoors since hearing of the first three murders of the FBI fugitives. The more he had heard about the cases, the more afraid he had become. Thinking about a long prison sentence was one thing. Thinking about being tortured while hanging naked upside down was another.

The names and faces of those on the FBI’s fugitives list had been shown on television again and again. He feared recognition-even with his change in appearance, this much exposure would inevitably lead to someone identifying him as one of the ten. The newscasters repeatedly mentioned that new names were added whenever someone was caught or killed, but the “replacements” were hardly ever mentioned. Gabe couldn’t help but think there was a kind of countdown going on, and a rapid one at that. When he had gone to bed on Tuesday, there had been three names crossed off the list. Now, two more. Half the list in half a week. And one of the bodies had been frozen, they said, so who knew how many more were already dead and just waiting to be displayed?

But that wasn’t all that was making him fearful. He was beginning to believe that he was more than just a number on the list.

Yesterday afternoon, he had watched a live broadcast of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department press conference. He was shocked when they showed a photograph of Eric Grady. Gabe had met Eric Grady, had partied with him. Gabe had even convinced him to hang out in Topanga Canyon one summer. Must have been a year or two ago. Now someone was using Grady’s identification-someone involved in these cases.

He began to feel a little queasy. Bad enough to think that he might have introduced Eric Grady to someone who had killed him. That was just the first of the implications, though. Gabe was on the Ten Most Wanted list, and whoever was doing the killings was using the identification of a man Gabe had met. He didn’t believe that strongly in coincidence.

And sure enough, within hours, the newscasters were announcing that police were seeking Frederick Whitfield IV for questioning in connection with the killing of four members on the fugitives list.

Freddy? There had to be a mistake. Impossible to believe that he was masterminding something like this. Freddy had always been completely under the control of Everett Corey.

That idea no sooner occurred to him than he became certain of it. Everett, and probably Cameron, too. The two of them were almost inseparable, and he knew they must be behind this somehow. Maybe Morgan was in on it, too. But why?

Then came the special report on the news radio station, the story of an apparent suicide pact between two wealthy young men. Freddy was one of them, and although the reporter said the other man’s name was being withheld pending notification of his next of kin, when the car was described as a red Maserati Bora, Gabe was sure it was Morgan. There was some speculation, the reporter said, that these two were the so-called Exterminators who had been killing members on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.

He had never liked either of them much, and yet hearing of their suicides was as unsettling as it was unexpected. You didn’t want to think of anyone you knew committing suicide, he supposed, let alone someone you grew up with, went to school with.

He couldn’t understand it. Freddy just didn’t seem the type to do something like this. Freddy made excuses for anything that went wrong, blamed other people. Even with the law after him, he could have found a way out of the country-he was probably wealthier than any of the people Gabe had gone to school with, with the possible exception of Kit. Hard to tell about Kit, but Gabe remembered his dad saying that Sedgewick would have kicked every other student out to have a chance to have old Elizabeth Logan as one of its patrons.

The more he thought over the events of the last few days, the more desperate his situation seemed to be. He wasn’t convinced that Freddy and Morgan were the only ones involved. He was sure that Everett and Cameron were behind what was happening, and he didn’t want to think about what they had planned for him.

He suddenly felt unbearably lonely. He turned away from the view of the trees and went into the living room. It was chilly there, so he built a fire and paced for a while to keep himself warm-and to try to work off the tension he felt. He went to the phone. He had lifted its receiver dozens of times over the last few months but had fought off the urge to call Meghan. This time, he lost the fight.

It rang four times, then went to voice mail. He could tell from the outgoing message that he had reached her cell phone-she must be forwarding messages to it from her home phone. He hung up without leaving a message.

He sat staring into the fire for a moment, then called again-the cell phone directly this time. He’d leave a message for her this time-

“Hello?” she said drowsily.

“Sis? I woke you up-I’m sorry.”

“Gabe! Oh, thank God-Gabe!”

He could hear her crying.

“Meggie…don’t cry,” he said, but he was crying, too.

“Don’t mind me. I’ve done more weeping in the last few days than I have since Mom and Dad died. Gabe, I’ve been so afraid for you! I’m so glad you’ve called.”

“I’m okay, Sis,” he said. “I’m fine. Especially now that I’m talking to you.”

“Where are you?”

He hesitated, then said, “I can’t tell you, Meggie. I’d like to, but I promised the person who let me stay here that I wouldn’t talk about it. I’m safe, though. I just wanted to let you know that. And that I miss you. I’ve missed you for a long time.”

“Gabe, if you’re in the States-anywhere in the country-we’ve got to get you out. Do you know-”

“About the Exterminators? Yes. Look, I probably shouldn’t talk to you too long-I don’t know what can be traced from a cell phone, but-”

“Don’t hang up! Listen, I’m staying with Kit, and he-”

“Staying with Kit? In Colorado?”

“No, in Malibu-the house that used to be his grandmother’s. Gabe, you should talk to him-”

“Maybe. Tell him I said hello, okay?”

“I will, but Gabe-”

“And tell him to keep my little sister safe, okay?”

“I’m your big sister. Listen-”

“Gotta go. I’ll call again.”

“When?”

“Whatever you hear-No, wait, that’s not important. Forget that.”

“Gabe, I don’t care what you’ve done, I don’t. But-”

“You’re the best, Meggie. I just called to let you know that-well, that I love you, that’s all. I never say that to you anymore, I know, but please don’t ever doubt that I do.”

He heard her calling his name as he hung up. He kept his hand on the receiver for a long time before letting it go.

So Meghan was with Kit.

But none, I think, do there embrace.

Too bad, he thought, staring into the fire. Too bad.