Spilled Blood

43

Florian Steele waited fifteen minutes, but Kirk never showed.

The park by the Indian monument was where they always conducted their business. Their relationship wasn’t for public eyes. It was cash only; it was one on one; it was only at night. They met, they talked, they did their deal, they went their separate ways. He didn’t like it, but he’d long ago made peace with the fact that every business needed a Kirk Watson to survive.

Kirk was Florian’s problem-solver. When Vernon Clay’s insanity became a liability, he’d sent Kirk to deal with him. He’d hoped never to cross that line, but the scientist gave him no choice. Since then, Florian had slept soundly, convinced that Vernon was no longer a threat. Now he didn’t know what to believe. If Vernon was alive, then Florian understood the danger. If Vernon was dead, then Aquarius was a mystery. His plans were unknown.

He remembered what Julia had said. He’s trying to kill us.

Florian checked his watch. He couldn’t wait any longer. It was unlike Kirk to miss a meeting, and the more time that passed, the more he worried about a trap. He drove out of the park onto the rainy roads. He kept his eyes on his mirrors, but no one followed him.

He called Julia to tell her he was on his way home. She didn’t answer. She was probably in the shower, getting ready for bed, ignoring his messages. Since Ashlynn’s death, she’d been asleep when he came to bed. She hadn’t let him touch her for days. Tonight, he would wake her up, undress her, make love to her, sweat passion out of her. He couldn’t stand the emptiness of his life for another night. He was dead, and he needed to feel alive. If he could break the dam between them, they could both grieve like normal people. They could take comfort in each other. They could finally cry.

He dialed again. ‘Pick up, Julia,’ he murmured, but if she was there, she let him stew in silence.

Florian turned off the highway and followed the sharp incline of the bluff. The city, the river, the company were all in the valley below him. He reached his U-shaped driveway and saw that Julia had turned off every light in the house. She was leaving him in darkness. The gulf in their marriage pained him. It was hard enough to deal with the loss of his daughter, but even worse to do so alone. He wondered if Julia realized how much he still loved her. He wondered if she knew he had always been faithful.

He pressed the garage door opener and almost drove into the closed door. He pushed the button again, but the door didn’t move. He studied the unlit house and realized that the power was out. When he looked at the rest of the neighborhood, he saw that lights burned everywhere but here.

Something else was going on, and he didn’t like it.

Florian unlocked his glove compartment. He kept a Ruger 9mm pistol there at all times. Everyone knew who he was; everyone knew he had money. He couldn’t take chances with pirates on the rural roads. He took the butt of the pistol in his hand, checked it, and got out of the car into the rain. He followed the flagstones on his walkway and reached his front door.

It was ajar. Rain and dirt streaked the crack of the opening onto the plush white carpet.

He pushed open the door with his shoulder. Inside, with no electricity, the house was absolutely still, and the air was growing cold. The security system was off. He couldn’t see, but he could trace every inch of the house blindfolded. He led with the barrel of the gun and headed for the magnificent spiral staircase that climbed to the bedrooms.

Halfway up the steps, he called for her. ‘Julia!’

His voice, shattering the silence, sounded loud. He didn’t care who heard him. If someone was here, they’d already seen his headlights as he arrived. They knew he was in the house. They knew where he would go. To find his wife.

‘Julia!’ he shouted again.

She didn’t answer, or she couldn’t answer. He was terrified of what he would find.

Florian climbed to the landing. Their master suite was in front of him. Through the doorway, he saw a light winking at him. It wasn’t one of their lamps; it was the flame of a candle. He thought for a moment that the dark house was Julia’s idea of romance, but when he slipped inside, he found his fears realized. The bedroom was empty. His wife wasn’t here. Instead, the candle teased him from her nightstand.

He saw a single sheet of paper on the polished oak beside the candle. A message.

Florian knew what it was. He knew who had sent it. He walked to the bed and stared down at the ivory wax melting into drippy streaks on the candlestick and forming a hot liquid pool at its base. The note on the nightstand was illuminated by the dancing flame, but he hardly dared to pick it up.

He thought: Julia.

He took the message in his hand, and he felt his entire world crashing down as he read it. First his daughter. Now his wife. There was nothing left.

TO THE ATTENTION OF

MR. FLORIAN STEELE

YOUR WIFE IS GONE

HER LIFE IS NOW IN MY HANDS

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE

YOUR OWN DESTRUCTION

YOU CANNOT SAVE

YOUR WORLD

YOU CAN ONLY SAVE HER

I WILL CALL YOU

AND YOU WILL COME TO ME

ALONE

MY NAME IS

AQUARIUS