What Doesn’t Kill Her

Chapter Fifteen

For four hours at his kitchen table, hunkered over his laptop, Levi had been figuratively banging his head against the wall and was at the point where doing that literally seemed like a viable option. Every time he had hold of something, it evaporated, as if he were chasing a ghost. He was starting to think that’s what Bradley Slavens was — somebody who’d fallen off the grid and died and nobody noticed.

At least nobody on the Net.

An unnoticed death, however, was not as likely as somebody’s concerted effort to disappear — if so, Havoc’s gymnastics coach/assistant had done a hell of a job of it.

Up and vanishing was no easy task, in this world of forms and security cameras and voter ID. So much out there could give you away — an ATM card hung onto a little too long, a cell phone not thrown away, credit cards, car registrations, a forwarded check for a damage deposit... so many ways to slip up. To accidentally exist.

That meant Levi had to painstakingly track each such lead as best he could, and every time he hit a dead end, he recalled how frustrating it was to be a kid in an arcade who got killed on his last quarter.

Still, he had diligence on his side, and odds were Slavens had missed something somewhere — most everybody did. Chasing each lead down, Levi could only think, We don’t even know if this is the guy — I may be wasting my time, looking for somebody who isn’t really even a suspect yet... just a potential one.

He was about ready to hang it up for the night. Kick back with a Blu-ray and a Blue Moon. Then he tumbled onto it — chasing one of those many, many ways to look for somebody in today’s America...

Seemed right before he’d fallen off the planet, Bradley Slavens had sold his car. That little tidbit had come from the county clerk’s office. Suddenly Levi had a date to work with, the dealership where Slavens sold the vehicle, and the figure Slavens had been paid.

Using that as a jumping-off point, Levi found four sales of cars that same day at various dealers where men had spent cash of about the amount Slavens had received for his car. Three of the buyers had been easy to track, through previous sales, and sales that occurred in the years since — all very simple to follow... and to rule out.

The fourth and final one, Kenneth Simon, seemed to have acquired no past before showing up at A-1 Used Cars the same day Slavens sold his vehicle across town at Forest City Motors. Mr. Simon paid cash for a late-model Dodge van.

Then a year later he sold it, right before he seemed to cease to exist... just as Slavens had.

One way a predator could avoid detection was to constantly change identities, a snake shedding skins. Since their man seemed to stay in the Cleveland area, that might seem less likely, although an area this size could possibly accommodate a shift or two in identities, maybe more. At any rate, this was a solid clue, well worth pursuing.

But all this digging had also opened the door on a lot more digging to do. On his cell, he got Phillip right away.

“You home, Phillip?”

“Yes, just sitting here reading,” he said, his distinctive breathing echoing over the phone. “You sound excited.”

“As excited as I can be,” Levi said, “this exhausted.”

Levi filled him in, then said, “I could use your help to dig into this ‘Kenneth Simon.’ Can you come over?”

“I can do that, but my home rig is more powerful than my laptop — can you come to me?”

“Be there in less than an hour.”

“See you then,” Phillip said, and they ended the call.

Rushing to pack all his gear, Levi felt his exhaustion disappear as his mind raced with the possibilities of what he was onto. If they could trace Kenneth Simon, they might be able to pinpoint where he resided now, and if Simon was really Slavens, then maybe, just maybe he was their man...

Carrying his backpack with his laptop in it, Levi headed downstairs, tossed his gear into the car, then got behind the wheel. He put the key in the ignition and turned it.

Nothing.

Not even a whir. He pounded the steering wheel with a fist, though if he said he was surprised, he’d be lying. The only thing he could depend on with this car was that it was undependable. He could feel his exhaustion reasserting itself...

Nothing a little Red Bull couldn’t cure, and he had some upstairs.

He was about to call and see if Phillip could come to him, or if not, possibly come pick him up, when a low rumbling in the far distance made him look up. The Green Line train. He hurriedly got his stuff from the car, not bothering to lock it — if some thief could figure out how to start the damned thing, he could have it — and started hoofing it over to the train station.

Backpack over his shoulder, Levi trotted across the two westbound lanes of Shaker Boulevard. Not a lot of traffic this time of night, and he had heard the train from a good ways away, so when he hit the sidewalk on the RTA side of the street, he slowed to a brisk walk.

Though he was in pretty decent shape, running while carrying all that gear had left him a little winded. He was still a good twenty-five yards or so from the station, coming up even with a half-dozen trees intended to pretty up the station area. He could see the train’s lights now.

Picking up the pace, he started to reach for his wallet, to be ready to buy a ticket. Then he smiled to himself — even in a hurry, he wouldn’t do that, especially not near that shadowy area in and around those trees, which had long been a boon to muggers.

He was just past the trees and had only the barest sense of movement to his right as somebody grabbed him by the backpack and yanked him to a stop, an arm looping around his waist to drag him into the darkness of the trees. A hand gripping his head by his hair jerked back sharply, his chin rising, as if to provide a better access to the white flesh of his throat. Arms flailing, he caught a gleam of metal and then a burning sensation started just behind his left ear, moving swiftly across his throat and stopping just below his right ear.

His flailing slowed to a slow swimming motion as he saw the scarlet spray and felt hot wetness spilling down the front of him. He sagged to his knees. Tried to scream, but the only sound he produced was a raspy inhuman cough. Fucking throat’s been cut! he told himself, as if some part of him should do something about it.

He knew he was going into shock, but he still remained aware, his hands clawing toward his neck, trying to keep the blood in; but it ribboned through his fingers. Already he could feel his extremities going cold.

His damp red fingers dropped. There was no fighting it now. Although he hadn’t seen his attacker, someone had been waiting in the shadows, and not just a mugger. It was their man. They had found him! Or he had found them... These thoughts gave him an odd satisfaction as his strength and consciousness ebbed. Even as the killer hovered over him, Levi couldn’t make out more than a distorted silhouette. The figure bent toward him and Levi, just for a second, thought he recognized something about the attacker, but the thought cut off as something sharp dug into his abdomen, and his insides began spilling out.

No pain now, just his parents calling to him from the end of a bright tunnel. Was his mind providing that fabled tunnel of light? Was he soothing himself in his last moments, or were his parents really waiting for him, in another, better place? Levi hadn’t seen them in so very long. They were smiling, arms extended to hug him, looking just as they had the last time he saw them, before a fire and a fiend had taken them from him.

As they wrapped loving arms around him, a switch in his brain turned off.