The Sixth Man

CHAPTER 52

SEAN THOUGHT IT would be a problem getting into Cutter’s Rock, especially after the murder of Carla Dukes. However, her absence seemed to have lessened the hurdles necessary for them to see the prisoner, even with Kelly Paul in tow.

Thus, the mighty gates had opened, the guards did their search, and very soon after that they were waiting in the visitor’s room for Edgar Roy.

Megan stood by the glass wall, Michelle beside her. Sean was watching the door. Kelly Paul paced, her gaze on the floor. Sean thought he knew what she was thinking. And she was probably right. Roy might react to seeing her and blow his cover of insanity.

The door opened and in came Edgar Roy. He was dressed the same, looked the same, smelled the same. He towered over the guards and over Sean and Michelle. Towered most of all over the petite Megan.

Sean heard it first, a long, low whistle that sounded like some tune Sean couldn’t place at the moment. He turned to find its source. Kelly Paul was against the wall, her face turned away from her brother. Sean whipped back around to Roy. The whistle had come right when Roy had been looking down, so his eyes could not be seen. Sean thought he noted the slightest flinch in Roy’s shoulder. They seated him behind the glass, locked him down to the floor ring. The guards slammed the door shut on the way out. Roy sat there, legs splayed out, face to the ceiling. Eyes fixed on that damn spot. As always.

Except for that flinch, thought Sean.

The whistled tune came again. Once again Sean turned. This time so did Michelle.

Kelly Paul was now facing her brother.

“Hello, Eddie, it’s good to see you,” she said, her voice calm, her smile genuine.

She walked toward him, curved around the glass wall, and stood in front of him. She did not bend down. In fact she seemed to be standing as tall as she could. Her hands came up to her chest.

Sean’s gaze flitted around the room and then, behind him, he saw it and wondered why he hadn’t before. A slight imperfection in the wall, up high. The camera lens was pointed right at the wall of glass, the chair. The prisoner. But now Paul was blocking its view of her brother.

Sean moved forward, skirted the glass wall, and came around to stand facing Paul. Now he understood why she had stood as tall as possible. The message she was holding was aligned perfectly with her brother’s angle of sight. She had written it in large block letters with a pencil.

I KNOW. E. BUNTING. FRAMED. SUSPICIONS?

Roy made no visible reaction to this, but as Sean glanced down at him, he could see that his eyes had finally come to life and that the tiniest fraction of a smile tugged at his lips as his image was safely shielded from the camera by his sister’s bulk.

The zombie, it seemed, had just arisen.

Paul started tapping her finger against the paper. She did it almost silently, but slowly and methodically. At first Sean couldn’t understand what she was doing. But then it finally hit him.

She’s communicating with him via Morse code.

And then another noise arose. Sean glanced down. Roy was tapping against his leg. He was answering her. She tapped her response back.

Edgar Roy’s gaze returned to the spot on the ceiling.

Paul crumpled the paper, put it in her mouth, and swallowed it.

As they walked out Sean whispered to Paul, “What was that about?”

“I gave him details and asked him to analyze them.”

“What did he code back to you?”

“He wanted to know if I had told Bergin about the E-Program. I told him I hadn’t.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now we go on the attack,” replied Paul.

“How?”

“I’ll tell you exactly how, because you and Michelle will be the tip of the spear.”

“Is Bunting behind all this?”

“We’re going to find out.”

Roy was returned to his cell. Once there he immediately turned away from the camera so he could at least close his eyes. He was tired, but the visit had lifted his spirits considerably.

His sister had come. He had always thought that she would. Her message had made it clear that she understood his situation. And she had told him quite a bit more using Morse code. She’d taught him the code when he was a child.

He opened his eyes and stared at the blank block wall across from him. It was painted yellow for some reason. Perhaps they thought the color soothing to the inmates here, as if a mere color could overcome what being here clearly meant.

Ted Bergin, Hilary Cunningham, Carla Dukes, Brandon Murdock, all dead. Think about a pattern there.

That was what his sister had asked him to do.

And so he did, dutifully. He turned over every possible combination in his mind.

Bergin and Dukes up close with a handgun. Cunningham killed and her body moved to Bergin’s place. Murdock from a long distance with a rifle. Who had motive? Who had opportunity?

Roy’s mind powered through the possibilities at a pace that would have been astonishing to anyone who could have somehow witnessed the execution of his thought process, the speed with which he considered and then rejected possibilities that ordinary people would have muddled over for months.

His mind slowed down, his factual base exhausted. He had not been given much to work with, but for him it had been enough. He had not detected a single pattern.

He had detected four. But he had no way to let his sister know this. He might never see her again.