Riptide

twenty-one

Caller ID wasn’t displaying any information. He must have used star-67 to shield his number. He could be calling from anywhere.

“Richard,” she repeated slowly, “it’s really good to hear from you.”

“Save it. I saw you tonight. At the rally.”

“You were there? I didn’t see you.”

“I was in disguise.” A motorcycle rumbled through the background of the call. She heard voices, the honk of a horn. “Nobody sees me when I don’t want them to. I’m the invisible man.”

The thought struck her that Jack the Ripper must have felt exactly the same way.

“Why did you need a disguise?” she asked.

“As if you don’t know. You’re working with her.”

“With who?”

“That busybody, that bitch. I saw you talking to her.”

“Sandra Price? So what if I talked to her?”

“I know what she’s up to. She’s after me.”

“Why would she be after you? You haven’t done anything. Have you?”

“Who knows what I’ve done?”

“You’ve been going out at night. Late at night. Where do you go?”

“You’d like to know. But I’ll never tell.”

“Richard, I’m afraid for you.”

“You should be afraid of me.”

“Why? Would you hurt me?” There was no answer. “Have you hurt other people?”

“You always hurt the ones you love.”

“Who have you hurt, Richard?”

“Ask your friend Sandra.”

“She doesn’t know the first thing about you.”

“Oh, she knows. I see the posters she puts all over the neighborhood. Posters with my picture on them.”

Jennifer had seen those posters, printed by C.A.S.T. They featured a computer-generated sketch of the suspect in a series of robberies. The picture was generic enough to look like almost anybody. It bore no particular resemblance to Richard, except in his mind.

“That’s not you,” she said. “That’s somebody else.”

“I know my own goddamned face.”

“Richard, you need to get back on your medication.”

“Sure, I know what that’s about. Keep me doped up so I won’t suspect what’s going on.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“You’re trying to frame me. You and Sandra Price. You want to put me in jail.”

“I don’t want you in jail.”

“Liar.”

“I’ve gone by your place a couple of times, and you’re never there. Why don’t you go home?”

“I am home. I’m home right now.”

“I hear traffic. You’re at a pay phone.”

“Guess I can’t put one over one you, can I?”

“You can’t stay out on the street. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m safe as long as you can’t find me. You and Sandra Price.”

“Richard, you’re smarter than this. You know you’re not thinking clearly.”

“All I know is what I saw tonight. You and Sandy, best pals. It explains a lot. You helped her put up those pictures of me. I’ll bet it was your idea. But I’m on to you now.”

Hearing him talk like this-it broke her heart. Once again she tried to get an answer to her question. “What do you do at night?”

“I walk. I ride the bus.”

That was responsive, at least. “Where do you go?”

“I get around.”

“Where?”

“Around and around and around…”

“Have you been to mom and dad’s graves?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did you see me there this morning? Did you leave something on my car?”

“Like bird shit?”

“Did you leave a note?”

“Yes, it was C minor.”

“Richard, I want to know if you left a note on my windshield.”

“You ask stupid questions. You’ve always been stupid and useless. I was the smart one. I’m the real doctor. I’m an M.D.”

“Just tell me if you were at the graveyard today.”

“So you can track my movements? Put a homing beacon on me?”

“How about my house? Have you been here? Have you been inside the house?”

“It’s not your house. It’s mine. It should have been mine.”

“Did you break in? Did you come here after the rally-”

“Serves you right if I did. You shouldn’t be mixed up with her. She’s against me. If she’s your friend, it means you’re against me too.”

“Richard, I want you to listen to me. The posters don’t have your picture on them. Nobody is looking for you because of any crimes. I’m not working with Sandra Price.”

“I saw you with her. Who am I supposed to believe, you or my own eyes? You want me put away, and you want my money. You want the money I inherited from Mom.”

“There’s hardly any money left.”

“And the family papers too. The family papers you care about so much.”

“Have you looked through those papers? Have you read them?”

“I can read. I’m an M.D.”

“How much do you know about our family? Our father?”

“He’s the father of lies.”

“What does that mean?”

“The devil is the father of lies.”

“Was our father the devil?”

“He killed himself. And not just himself.”

“Who else did he kill?”

“You and me. And Mom. He killed us all.”

“Anyone else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Richard, please trust me. I’m on your side.”

“Lying bitch.”

“You saved me in San Francisco.” She gripped her left arm, feeling the scar. “Remember that? Now I’m trying to save you.”

“Save yourself.”

“I’m not the one in trouble.”

“Yes, you are, big sister. Yes, you are.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re part of this family. You can’t escape.” He sucked in a breath. “I’ll be going now. Got places to be.”

“Richard!” Her voice broke. “Don’t hang up, please don’t-”

Click, and he was gone.

She sank to the floor, her head down, her body numb. She’d lost him. He might never call again.