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Chapter Fifteen

WHEN THEY GOT to Reverend Powell’s home they operated like a well-oiled machine. Vince and Mike helped Hank inside while Frank dashed in ahead of them and quickly gathered their belongings. Mike lowered Hank onto the sofa in the living room while Vince headed downstairs to the basement for the box of evidence in the storeroom. By the time he was back upstairs, Frank had emerged from the bedrooms with their overnight bags. Frank looked nervous. “Okay, let’s get going.”

Vince still felt ashamed and guilty for the trouble that had exploded around them. “I’m so sorry,” he told Reverend Powell.

“It’s okay,” Reverend Powell said. He’d just regained consciousness and Mike had brought him a glass of water. Mike’s bloodied shirt was still clamped to his belly. “Just… call me an ambulance. And… who has my keys?”

Frank rushed to the kitchen and began dialing 911 as Mike held up the keys.

“The little gold key…” Reverend Powell said, his face strained with great pain. “It opens the lock on the box. Take it.”

Mike Peterson quickly took the key off and pocketed it, then changed into a fresh shirt. “I’m sorry to have to be so abrupt about this, Reverend but… you’ve never seen us.”

Reverend Powell nodded, wincing. “No… I haven’t…”

Frank rushed back into the living room. “There’s a rescue unit on the way. Let’s go.”

Vince had only a few seconds to look back at Reverend Powell as he headed out the door. He said, “I’m sorry,” again and joined Frank Black and Mike Peterson in the rented Pontiac. Mike drove and the rest of the afternoon became a quick blur.

THROUGHOUT THE DRIVE to Ephrata, Mike kept barking at Frank to duck down below the windows. “Your description is going to be all over the police broadcasters and if a cop sees us we are dead meat,” Mike said. “Stay the fuck down!”

Frank stayed down during the drive to the Ephrata motel as Vince sat in the front seat silently, staring out the window. When they got to the motel, Mike headed to their room first to get some wet towels. When he came back he wiped down the steering wheel and front seat. “We don’t have time to shower and change clothes,” he said, looking at Vince. “There’s no blood on you. What about you, Frank?”

“I’m fine.”

Mike wiped his bloodied hands and arms with the towel, getting most of the blood off. “Let’s consolidate these bags,” he said. “Frank, empty your bag and put your stuff in Vince’s.”

Frank did as he was told. When he was finished, he handed the empty travel bag to Mike, who tossed the bloodied towels inside. Mike zipped up the bag. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to check us out. How do I look?”

“Nervous as shit,” Frank said.

“Okay.” Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remained that way for a moment, taking deep breaths, and when he opened his eyes again he looked a little calmer. “Now?”

“Less stressed,” Frank said. He peeked out the window. “I don’t think you have a lot to worry about, dude.” He motioned toward the end of the motel. “I think the people that run this place are used to seeing nervous looking guys.”

Vince followed his gaze. A thin woman wearing blue jeans and a tight halter-top was standing at the side of the motel, talking on a pay phone. She had shoulder length brown hair that looked like it was microwaved dry and she was wearing high heels and too much make-up. “Besides,” Frank said, “didn’t you notice that this place also rents by the hour?”

“Good point,” Mike said. He headed to the office to check them out. He returned a moment later. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

Mike piloted the vehicle back onto 272, then onto 222. Fifteen minutes later they were on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, heading to Harrisburg. “Just stay cool,” he said as he drove at a cautious sixty-five miles per hour. He’d put on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that Vince retrieved for him. “All the activity is back in Lititz now and probably at Reverend Powell’s.”

“I hope he’ll be okay,” Vince said.

“So do I,” Mike said.

They were silent as they made their way into Harrisburg. Mike stayed on the expressway. “Do you know Harrisburg?” he asked.

Vince shook his head. “Not really.”

“Where’s the airport?”

“There,” Frank said from the back seat. He was lying down across the back seat and he pointed up at one of the exit signs. The sign read HARRISBURG AIRPORT EXIT, 2 MILES.

“Great,” Mike said, switching lanes to get onto the right expressway.

“Don’t you think the cops will think to look for us near any airports?” Vince asked.

“We’re not flying out of here,” Mike said. “We’re just going to stay overnight in a hotel that’s within close proximity to the airport, that’s all.”

“The bigger, the better,” Frank said.

“Why?” Vince couldn’t think straight. As far as he was concerned, they should be trying to get the hell out of Pennsylvania, not stay in Harrisburg near the airport.

“Frank, did you bring any long-sleeved shirts?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, I brought one.”

“Put it on, and tie your hair back in a pony tail. Are you adverse to getting it cut?”

“No. In fact, maybe one of you can cut it for me in the room and I can find a barber or a stylist at whatever hotel we’re staying at.”

“Good plan.” Mike took the next exit.

“Why the hell are we talking about Frank getting a haircut?” Vince said. “Why aren’t we getting the hell out of here?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Mike said as he came to a stop at the end of the exit ramp, “Frank is going to be the one person that sticks out in the minds of all those witnesses back there in Lititz. You and I look pretty normal, but they’ll remember Frank pretty easy. They’ll probably say some kind of biker-looking guy was involved, and that’s who the cops will be looking for. We need to change his appearance as quickly as possible, and that means a drastic change. You and I are going to have to do a little bit of altering of our appearances as well.”

“Like how?”

“I hear shaved heads are real popular,” Frank said from the back seat.

“New hairstyles, new clothes.” Mike was driving through downtown Harrisburg. The airport was a mile away. They were approaching the business district of Harrisburg. “Our first order of business should probably be outfitting ourselves in new clothing and lopping off as much of Frank’s hair as we can. We can do that in the car, in one of those big parking structures. Then we can check in to our hotel wearing our new duds.”

“As different people,” Vince said.

“Exactly.”

Three blocks later they came upon a ten story parking structure. Mike pulled up to the entrance, took a ticket, and swung the car in. He drove up five flights before he found a parking slot and pulled in and turned off the engine. He turned around in the back seat. “Okay, I’ve got a pair of scissors in my toiletries bag. Why don’t I do the honors?”

“Be my guest,” Frank said. He quickly peeled off his shirt as Mike exited the driver’s side and slid into the back seat.

Vince watched as Frank brushed his hair back. He couldn’t help but grin as Mike began cutting Frank’s hair. Mike’s tongue stuck out a little bit in concentration as he worked. “I’m sorry if this comes out looking half-assed, but—”

“Too bad you don’t have an electric razor,” Vince said, grinning. “You could shave his head.”

“Fuck you, Vince,” Frank said. He was trying to shoot Vince an angry look but he was also grinning. Vince grinned back.

“Boys, boys,” Mike said, grinning. “Come on now, let’s not have any of that.”

Mike snipped at Frank’s hair, cutting the length off from his shoulders. He proceeded to cut the length from the top, gathering hair in his hands the way hairstylists do when engaged in their trade. Mike was doing a pretty good job.

When Mike was finished, Frank looked like a beefier version of Tommy Lee with a bad haircut. “Okay, so it’s not the greatest,” Mike said as Frank checked himself out in the rearview mirror. “You can get it fixed at the hotel.”

“Exactly,” Frank said, donning a black long sleeved shirt.

Their first order of business was exiting the parking structure and walking two blocks to a Men’s Warehouse on Main Street. They spent thirty minutes trying on and having minor alterations done on suits. The suits came with white shirts and dark slacks. They each bought a pair of shiny dress shoes to go with the new clothes. When they emerged from the store clutching bulky bags containing the clothes they had worn into the store they looked like three businessmen out on a lunchtime shopping errand. Frank’s hair didn’t look as bad now that he was wearing a suit. They walked back to the car, transferred their clothes to their overnight bags, and then headed to the Marriot to check in.

Mike pointed at a bulletin board where the events the hotel was hosting was posted. “We’re in luck,” he said. “There’s an audio convention going on here. Perfect.”

The name of the convention was the Stereophonic Association’s East Coast Trade Show and Convention. Mike casually approached the front desk. “Hi. I was wondering if it’s not too late to get a room for the convention.”

The desk clerk was a young guy in his early twenties. He checked the computer. “We had one cancellation. Are you with the convention?”

“Yes,” Mike said. “Our company sent us out at the last minute and—”

“Convention rate is one hundred and twenty dollars a night,” the desk clerk said, typing away at the keyboard. “Will there be three of you in the room?”

“Yes.”

Mike paid for the room with a credit card bearing his real name. When they got into the elevator, Vince asked, “Why are we using our real names now?”

“Just in case the police in Lancaster County run checks on motels in the area,” Mike said. “We don’t want them to track us with the pseudonym I used in Ephrata.”

Once they were in the room, Vince put his bag down on one of the two queen sized beds. “What do we do now?” he asked, flopping down on the bed.

Frank found the hotel directory. “Now I get this fucked up haircut fixed up.”

“And you and I get a new look as well,” Mike said.

There was a hair salon on the main floor of the hotel. Frank called and managed to secure three appointments. They headed downstairs for their respective haircuts and spent the next hour at the salon. Frank got his hair cut in a more traditional style. Mike’s hair, which he had allowed to grow a little long at the top and sides, was cropped short. Vince’s hair, which had been cut in a very short and conservative business style, was cut in a style similar to Frank’s. When they were finished they looked very different from the men that had been at the Family Cupboard in Lititz. Especially Frank. “It might be a good idea for us to dress rather conservatively until we get back to California,” Mike said as they rode up in the elevator. “And I’ll start growing a mustache. Shouldn’t take long at all.”

Once they returned to their room, Vince checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was almost two-thirty. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“We need to talk,” Frank said, heading to the desk. “We should probably get something to eat, too.”

“Let’s get something from room service,” Mike suggested.

Frank ordered angel hair pasta and a salad for himself, a hamburger and French fries for Mike, and a Turkey sandwich and potato salad for Vince. He also ordered three bottles of Evian water and a Pepsi. Mike and Frank took off their jackets and draped them over one of the beds. Vince kept his sport coat on. When the room service bellhop arrived with the tray, Mike gave him a five-dollar tip. Then they gathered up their respective lunches and gathered around the room, Frank reclaiming his spot at the desk.

“We need to find Mary Ann,” Mike said.

Vince shook his head. “No way. I’m not going back to Lititz. Not after the shit that went down. I don’t think you guys should go, either.”

“Mike has a point,” Frank said, twirling pasta around on his fork. “We gotta get her. I’m pretty sure we can get her to talk to us if we can find her.”

“Tom Hoffman said she hangs out at a place called Nino’s,” Mike said, nodding to Vince. “Where’s that?”

“It’s on Main Street in Lititz. Across the street from the post office.”

“How far is the police station from Nino’s?” Frank asked.

“Around the block.” Vince frowned at them. “It’s a stupid idea. There’s gonna be cops crawling all over Lititz, not to mention Lancaster County. What happened back there is going to be talked about for the next twenty years. It was like something out of a Quentin Tarantino movie.”

“Or John Woo,” Frank added, eating pasta.

“Who the hell is John Woo?” Vince asked.

“Don’t you ever watch movies? The Killer, Hardboiled, A Better Tomorrow?”

Vince had no idea what Frank was talking about. Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. “Chow Yun Fat? Face Off with Travolta and Nick Cage?”

“I remember that one,” Vince said.

“Did you ever see The Replacement Killers with Mira Sorvino? That one had Chow Yun Fat in it.”

Vince shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich. “No, I didn’t.”

Frank looked disgusted. “Dude, when this shit is over, you and I are going to sit down in your house and we’re going to do some serious movie watching! Even my daughter knows who John Woo is!”

Mike attempted to change the subject as he chewed his hamburger. “We can drive down to Lititz this afternoon. We’ll go down there dressed the way we are now. It’s a workday so we won’t look too out of place. I have a fake badge somewhere in my bag. I can use it to try to coerce the kids we run into at Nino’s to lead us to Mary Ann.”

“Impersonating a police officer is a federal offense,” Vince said, a trickle of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, and if we don’t find Mary Ann we’re left right where we started,” Mike said.

“Suppose she doesn’t know anything, though?” Frank asked, spooning pasta onto his fork. “Seriously. I think we should find her, but what if she doesn’t know shit?”

“We’ll have to take that chance,” Mike said. “She obviously knows enough to have scared Tom Hoffman so bad that he was afraid to tell us what she revealed to him. Maybe she found out something about this Mark Lancaster fellow and his friend.”

“Like what?” Vince asked.

“Like what group they belonged to,” Mike said. He took a bite of his hamburger and chewed, frowning. “I think Clint told Mary Ann more than Tom let on. It’s obvious from his story that Clint spent more time with these guys than Mary Ann did. I’m guessing they don’t know about her. Or if they do, they don’t consider her a threat.”

“What makes you think she’ll talk to us providing you do locate her?” Vince asked.

“She’ll talk to us,” Frank said. He was almost finished with his pasta. “She’ll be freaked out over what happened at the Family Cupboard. Especially when she finds out that Tom Hoffman was shot.”

Mike nodded. “If the police haven’t picked her up yet, she may be willing to talk to us. I think it’s worth a chance.”

“And what if we get caught?” Vince asked. This was the forefront question on his mind. If they got caught, they were screwed. “Why can’t we just go to your friend Billy with what we have now?”

“Because if we can find Mary Ann and get her to cooperate, we’ll have somebody that is removed from us who can verify everything,” Mike said. “As for getting caught, that’s a chance we’re going to have to take.” He glanced at Frank, then back to Vince. “Plus, I think we’re going to have to do something equally as risky.”

“And what’s that?”

“Leave you here.”

Vince almost laughed. “Oh. So you guys are paranoid that I’ll get you shot at again, huh? You’d rather leave me alone and let the assassins get me while you’re not around, right?”

“Not at all,” Mike said. He turned around so he was facing Vince. He was almost finished with his burger but he made no attempt to eat. “Frank and I know what we’re looking for, we know what questions to ask. Besides, somebody at the Family Cupboard might have recognized you, too. You were once a local boy, you know.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t been back here in fifteen years.”

“Doesn’t matter. There might have been an old teacher or neighbor back at the Family Cupboard that you forgot about. We can’t take that chance. If somebody recognized you, the police will know about it. They’ll be able to go to the local high school and pull your old class photo out and have it in every squad car by now. If you show up with us, you might be spotted. There’s less chance of Frank and me being recognized the way we look now. We’ll drive over and we’ll be quick about it. It should take no more than a few hours.”

“And what if they recognize the car?” Vince asked.

“We’ll rent a car here in town,” Mike said. He looked at Frank, who nodded. “We’ll leave the other vehicle here. Frank and I will drive to Lancaster County in a new vehicle. We’ll make an attempt at finding Mary Ann. If we find her, we’ll get her to come with us and talk. We won’t go armed, and we’ll go under our real names. We’ll be less likely to run into trouble in Lititz should we get picked up by the police.”

“I don’t think we will, though,” Frank said. He finished his pasta and began attacking his salad.

“No, I don’t either,” Mike added.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Vince asked.

“Stay here,” Mike finished his hamburger and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Seriously. Lay low. Watch TV. Whatever you do, don’t leave this room.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea?” Vince asked. He felt nervous about the prospect of being alone. “I mean, splitting up like this?”

Mike shrugged. He rose to his feet and set his plate aside. “I don’t know what else to do. It shouldn’t take too long for Frank and me to go to Lititz and do some poking around.”

“We could try to bring Mary Ann back with us,” Frank suggested.

Mike opened his wallet and began rifling through it, purging it of all the documents that contained his alias. “We could,” he said. “We’ll have to play it by ear, though.”

“What if those guys come here and try to kill me again?” Vince asked. This is what Vince feared the most. He’d been thinking about the routes they’d taken in Lancaster County, and he didn’t recall seeing anybody tailing them to the Family Cupboard. It was almost as if the men that shot at him had known he was going to be walking out of the Family Cupboard and they’d positioned themselves accordingly. He mentioned this to Mike and Frank. “Think about it,” he said. “They were waiting for me. They came right at me. I was their target, not Tom Hoffman, not Reverend Powell, not you. They were after me.”

“I know, but I don’t think they’ll make a third attempt so soon,” Mike said, replacing his wallet. He put his sport coat on. “We managed to kill the men who attacked us today, Vince. That had to have been a tremendous set-back for them.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they weren’t expecting it,” Frank said. He hadn’t finished his salad yet, but he began setting his plate aside. “Did you recognize any of those guys today?”

“No.” Vince shook his head. Their faces flashed in his mind, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t wanted to kill anybody but he had, and he felt sick about it.

“The guy that shot at you in Irvine wasn’t one of the three today?” Mike asked.

“No,” Vince said, trying to remember. “The guy in Irvine was older. He had darker hair, was a little taller.”

“These guys looked young.” Frank put his coat on.

“They did,” Mike agreed. He reached into his bag and brought out his Glock. He looked at Vince. “Just in case.” The implication was obvious.

Vince nodded. Mike set the gun on the nightstand by the bed.

“We’ll find our way back to Lititz,” Mike said. He pocketed a room key and stood with Frank. “Give us until nine p.m. I have my cell phone with me. If we’re going to be late, I’ll call you. You’ll be fine. Frank and I won’t take any unnecessary risks. We’ll be in and out of there as quickly as possible.”

“And what if you aren’t back by nine and I haven’t heard from you?” Vince asked.

“Take the first flight back to Irvine,” Mike said. “Leave tonight. Don’t even check out, just leave.”

“You have enough cash?” Frank asked.

Vince nodded. “Yeah.”

Mike buttoned his coat. “Get back to Irvine and wait. Take our stuff with you. If you haven’t heard from us in three days, call my wife.” He rattled off the number. “Tell Carol about the safe deposit box.”

“Then what?”

Mike’s features turned grim. “Then, we wait to see what happens.”

VINCE DOUBLE LOCKED the door when Mike and Frank left. Then he changed out of the suit into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

He flopped down on the bed and turned the TV on. He channel-surfed idly for twenty minutes. Daytime TV was all soap operas and talk shows. Vince grew bored with it after awhile and turned the TV off.

I need a shower, he thought. He rose to his feet and headed to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later he felt refreshed. As he finger-combed his hair, his mind recapped the confrontation at the Family Cupboard parking lot. He’d been going over the events in his mind since it all happened, and he still didn’t know how they’d been tracked down. It was obvious the way those guys had suddenly come out of nowhere and began casually walking toward them that they’d been watching the place for a while. We were probably followed there. I wonder if that means they watched us last night at Reverend Powell’s. It was a distinct possibility. If that was the case, why hadn’t they stormed Hank’s house last night? Maybe they knew we were armed.

That didn’t make sense, though. If they knew that Frank and Mike and Hank were armed, why did they bother with the attack at the Family Cupboard? The more Vince thought about it, the more confused and scared he got. It was as if they’d just sprung out of the ground, guns in hand, bent on killing. Thank God Frank had been aware of what was happening. He must have noticed something was going amiss. Vince hadn’t been aware of anything until Frank’s body slammed the first assassin.

As Vince exited the bathroom the fight replayed in his mind. He hoped they hadn’t been recognized. The shootout at the Family Cupboard had happened so fast that the few people that witnessed it were probably too scared to remember faces. He hoped Tom Hoffman and Reverend Powell were all right.

He also wondered if they would talk.

They won’t say anything, Vince thought, sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. Especially Reverend Powell. He sees this as a spiritual crusade. He might have been able to convince Tom Hoffman to be quiet, but suppose he wasn’t? Tom might talk. If he does, the police will be looking for us. And if that’s the case, they might eventually find us here.

Vince felt his throat grow sore. It felt as if he’d swallowed a medicine ball that had lodged in his throat. He always felt like this when he was scared. He remembered feeling this way Sunday afternoon at the Irvine Airport when that guy shot at him and Tracy. His stomach felt leaden; his head woozy. They could be here any minute. He debated staying put or leaving altogether. If he left, he might be able to put some distance between himself and police but they would catch him eventually, wouldn’t they? He wouldn’t know what to do in flight. They’d be on to him quickly.

He thought of the possible ramifications of what might happen if he were caught. They could trace him to the Marriot here in Harrisburg. If they did, he wouldn’t put up a fight. He’d go with the police willingly. And he’d talk. He’d tell them everything, beginning with the news of his mother’s murder and the attempt on his own life in Irvine. He’d tell them about Frank and Mike, tell them about The Children of the Night and how the three of them believed the cult was bent on killing him and was responsible for the shootout at the Family Cupboard. He’d urge them to find Mike and Frank. Once in custody, Mike would be compelled to call his lawyer friend Billy Grecko and finally tell him everything, right? And if so, Billy’s connections could go to work. And if they found Mary Ann and even Clint, all the better. They would have corroboration between their stories.

But then suppose the police don’t believe me? Suppose after all is said and done, Mike and Frank and I are arrested and charged with murder?

As frightening as the possibility seemed, Vince didn’t see it as very likely. Surely the police would be able to identify the three dead men at the Family Cupboard. Their guns would be traceable and that should lead the police to The Children of the Night. Even if the trail didn’t immediately lead to the cult, it would help cast suspicion away from Vince, Mike, and Frank. The police would have to believe them.

The more Vince thought of the possible ramifications of what might happen if the police found them, the more nervous he got. He wished Mike and Frank were here. It would help calm his fears. It would bring him a much needed reality check on the whole thing.

I need to talk to somebody, Vince thought. He looked at the phone as Tracy popped into his mind. I need to call her. She knows part of what’s going on. Besides, she’s got to be worried now. Vince reached across the bed and picked up his cell phone.

Frank’s warning from a few nights ago against contacting Tracy rose briefly as he dialed Tracy’s work number. What Frank doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The phone was picked up on the second ring. “This is Tracy.”

“Tracy, it’s Vince.”

“Vince!” Tracy’s voice cracked with surprise. She paused, as if she didn’t know what to say.

“Listen, I’m sorry about a few days ago. I didn’t mean to cut you off so short, but—”

“That’s okay,” she said, her voice lowered and cautious. Vince knew that she was probably lowering it because it was the middle of the workday in California, and she wanted to keep the conversation private. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“That’s not the worst of it.”

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m in Pennsylvania,” Vince said, bursting at the seams to tell her everything. “Are you busy right now? I really need to talk.”

“I’m okay,” Tracy said quickly. There was a short beat, then: “Listen, maybe it’ll be better if I wasn’t here at work. Why don’t I call you in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. You going home?”

“Yeah. There’s not much going on here anyway. I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” They hung up.

Vince sat on the bed and channel surfed again, thinking about what he was going to tell Tracy. If Laura were alive he would have told her everything. He and Laura never kept anything from each other. They’d always discussed their problems with each other. He needed that back again in his life, and Tracy had grown to be more than a lover. He felt he could trust her. After all, she already knew a lot of what was going on, and she’d almost been killed herself. She deserved to know.

Talking with Tracy would keep his mind off of what was happening with Mike and Frank.

His cell phone rang thirty-five minutes later. Vince picked it up on the first ring. “Hello.”

“It’s me,” Tracy said.

“Good. I’m glad you called. You home?”

“Yeah.” He could hear her puttering in the kitchen. “So tell me what’s going on.”

Vince didn’t know where to begin. “I hope you aren’t too busy tonight. This could take awhile.”

“Indulge me,” she said. “I don’t have a very busy social calendar anymore. Especially after meeting you.”

Vince smiled. “Neither do I.”

“Why don’t you start with the morning you called and told me you were leaving for PA again?”

Vince began with the phone call from Frank telling him to meet him at the restaurant in Irvine and the sudden revelation that they’d grown up together, to Frank’s story about The Children of the Night and his knowledge of his mother’s murder and Laura’s death. He continued with their meeting with Mike Peterson and the background story of the cult. Tracy gasped several times during the narrative, as if she were reacting to the stunning news. When Vince got to the morning they left for Pennsylvania, he apologized again. “I’m sorry I was so short with you, but Frank was standing right there. He kept insisting that I tell you nothing even when I told them you were okay. He was acting like… like some damned paranoid conspiracy theorist.”

“That’s okay,” Tracy said, her tone of voice displaying her shock and surprise at the story. “I guess I can understand his caution under the circumstances.”

Vince continued the narrative, taking her through their arrival in Ephrata, their meeting with Reverend Powell and sifting through the box his mother had buried in her backyard. He told her about the newspaper clippings, the photo albums. “My mom was definitely a member of this cult,” he told her. “She was a bona-fide devil worshipper. I don’t know what prompted her change-of-heart, but something must’ve triggered it. She was afraid of something, and that’s why she took me and fled to California twenty-five years ago.”

“Do you think she knew about these murders?” Tracy asked, fascinated with the story now. “The Manson case and those others?”

“I don’t know,” Vince said. “She may have suspected something. I don’t think she had first-hand knowledge of them, but she wrote notes in the margins of the clippings. Something like, ‘did Sam order this?’”

“And who’s Sam?”

“Samuel F. Garrison,” Vince said. “Some big tycoon. Sits on the board of several major U.S. corporations, including our employer.”

Tracy gasped.

“I know,” Vince said. “It surprised the hell out of me, too.”

“I’m… stunned.” Tracy’s voice sounded like she was surprised, shocked by the allegations. “And the other crimes… the Son of Sam case. You think the Sam in that case was related?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it, but…”

“No, I mean, think about it,” Tracy said. “David Berkowitz was the Son of Sam, right? He originally claimed that ‘Sam’ was a guy actually named Sam, who was a neighbor of his in Yonkers, New York. This guy Sam, his sons were involved in some shady activities themselves, and it was speculated they knew Berkowitz and were involved in a satanic cult with him. It was also believed they may have participated in the Son of Sam killings.”

“How do you know about all this?” Vince asked.

“It was on Frontline last week.” He detected a grin in Tracy’s voice.

“Well, that sounds plausible,” Vince said. “Mom had newspaper clippings on the Son of Sam case in that box.”

“Do you think the ‘Sam’ in the Berkowitz case might be Sam Garrison?”

“Maybe.” Vince suddenly felt thirsty and he reached for a plastic cup and headed to the bathroom to fill it with tap water. “I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that this cult found mom and killed her. And they want me for something.” He told Tracy about the conversation with Reverend Powell last night, then their meeting with Tom Hoffman this morning. When he got to the shootout at the Family Cupboard Tracy gave a startled gasp.

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“No,” Vince said. He took a sip of water then wrapped up the story, ending with their arrival at the Marriot. “Frank and Mike are probably in Lititz now trying to find this Mary Ann chick. They think this Clint guy may have told her more than Tom Hoffman let on to us at the restaurant. They think she may know more about this Mark Lancaster guy and his sidekick.”

“What about the guys who shot at you?” Tracy asked. “Tell me more about them.”

“There’s not much to tell. They looked young. It happened so fast.”

“They just came out of nowhere and started shooting at you?” It sounded like Tracy still couldn’t believe the sudden violence had erupted a second time.

Vince described the shootout again. “They were definitely after me,” he said. “I crawled under cars to hide from them, and one of them knelt down and tried shooting at me under the car I was hiding under.” He paused, trying to remember. “It was like the minute we stepped out of that restaurant they came out of wherever it was they were hiding and started weaving their way through the parking lot toward me. Luckily Frank caught on early, or the guy he body slammed would have met me between two parked cars and killed me right there and they would have been gone.”

“You’re probably right,” Tracy agreed. She took a deep breath, as if composing herself. “Wow. It just… it’s just so scary to hear about all this. I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

“So am I.”

“So they were young guys? In their twenties, maybe?”

“Early twenties,” Vince remembered. “Blond hair, blue eyes. One of them had brown hair. They were around my height, very slender, in good shape. There was nothing about their dress or mannerisms that really differentiated them from anybody else you would see.”

“In other words, they blended in well,” Tracy said.

“Yes.”

“Did you see a car they might have come out of?”

“No.” Vince tried to remember. He couldn’t remember them exiting a vehicle.

“Are you sure you killed them?”

“Yeah.” There was no doubt in his mind that the three would-be assassins were killed.

Tracy sighed in relief. “Do you think one of them was the guy that shot at us at the airport.”

“I don’t know,” Vince said. He felt better talking to Tracy. “Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t tell.”

“My guess is there might be more of them. You have to be careful.”

“I am. But… I’m also afraid that the police might catch up to me.”

“They won’t. You did the right thing in getting out of Lititz and holing up in Harrisburg. You’re also lucky this happened in a rural community. The cops back there are probably chasing their tails.”

Tracy was probably right. Of course, the Pennsylvania State Police would be involved in the investigation, but he and Mike and Frank were already long gone.

“I just hope Frank and Mike can find out more from this Mary Ann girl,” Vince said. “If they can find her.”

“Maybe they will,” Tracy said. “I do think you shouldn’t mention to them that you called me. They’ll only get mad.”

“And paranoid.”

Tracy laughed. “That, too.”

Vince felt a thousand times better; he relaxed. “I’m so glad I called.”

“I am, too.”

“I still don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said, looking at his reflection in the mirror across the room. “Talking about this helped bring it all in perspective.”

“I think you should come home,” Tracy said.

“I will. Probably tomorrow.”

“You need to come home and stay with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll hide you from anybody that dares threaten you.”

Vince laughed. The way she had said that was both melodramatic in a corny way, but also serious. She’d sounded so cute to him in that brief minute that he just wanted to reach right through the telephone lines and hug her.

“I won’t be able to call you again until I get back,” Vince said. “Will that be okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Call me the minute you get home. Cut and run from your friends if you have to, but call me. I need to know you’re safe.”

“I will.” Vince paused. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They said goodbye and hung up.