Linwood Barclay - Trust Your Eyes

“It was Marie suggested I drop by. She thinks it would be a nice thing if you and your brother came over to the house for dinner.”

“I’d have to talk to Ray,” Thomas said. He didn’t want to go, but didn’t feel comfortable saying that. He would get Ray to tell them they couldn’t go.

“Your dad used to say he just didn’t know why you’re the way you are. Happy to be cooped up in this house all the time, sitting on your computer all day. Never going out except maybe to see your psychiatrist. What’s her name? Gargantuan?”

“Grigorin.”

“The thing I can’t believe is, you wouldn’t even go to your own dad’s funeral. Was your little computer fixation so great you couldn’t even do that for him?”

Thomas blinked. “Why are you saying these things to me, Mr. Prentice?”

“I don’t know. Just making conversation, really. I guess I’m a simple man, Thomas. I don’t know a lot of psychiatric mumbo jumbo. I thought I knew what this schizo thing is you have, that it means you have a split personality, but your dad told me that was a common misconception, that it’s not like that at all. What I don’t get is, if you know you’ve got a problem, why don’t you do something about it?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Thomas said.

Len chuckled. “A son doesn’t go to his own father’s funeral service? That, to my way of thinking, is a problem.”

“I had things to do,” he said. “And…”

“And what, Thomas?”

“And there would be people there I didn’t want to see.”

“Who’d that be? You talking about me, Thomas? Haven’t I always been nice to you?”

Thomas shook his head. “I have to make my lunch. I’m making a peanut butter sandwich.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Len Prentice said. “Why don’t I take you out for lunch?”

“What?”

“I mean, why don’t I take you out of the house in a car and we’ll go get something to eat?”

“I already started making the sandwich.” He pointed to the kitchen counter.

“So what? You can eat it later for an afternoon snack. I’ll take you for a drive. It would do you good to get out of the house.”

“No.”

Len set his beer down and said, “I insist.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Len closed the distance between them. “I think that’s where your dad made his mistake. He always let you get your way. He needed to be more forceful, introduce you to new experiences. We could go into Promise Falls, hit the McDonald’s or get a slice. We could even go back to our place, have Marie make you something.”

Thomas took a step back.

“You know, from what I hear, you’re going to have to get used to being out of this house. What about when your brother sells this place?”

“I don’t know for sure he’s going to do that.”

“You don’t think he’s going to leave you here on your own, do you? That’s not exactly a terrific idea.”

Thomas said, “Maybe he’ll decide to live here. We could live together.” But even as he said it, Thomas wasn’t sure this was what he wanted. He loved his brother, but he could be difficult. Like their father, he was critical. Picking at him all the time about things he couldn’t do anything about.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m sure it’ll work out for the best,” Len said. “Now, you want to grab a jacket or something? I don’t know about you, but I could go for some KFC. You like KFC?”

Thomas did like KFC, but his brother wouldn’t get it for him. Their father brought it home sometimes. But he did not want to go anywhere with Len Prentice. He felt himself becoming increasingly anxious, like there were bugs crawling around just under his skin. His breathing quickened, became more shallow. He might have been willing to go out, briefly, with some people, people he liked and trusted, but he did not like or trust Len Prentice.

And his father never really had, either. They’d had a friendship. They’d get together once in a while and watch a game, or grab a beer. But whenever Adam Kilbride returned home from spending time with Len, he’d say, “Jesus, but that guy can really suck the life out of you.”

Len reached out and grabbed Thomas by the arm. Not rough, but firm. “Let’s go, pardner. Let’s have some fun.”

Thomas wrenched his arm free. He put more into it than he needed to, and his hand flew up accidentally and slapped Len across the cheek.

Len stopped, rubbed the side of his face, and said, “Well, Thomas, I sure wish you hadn’t gone and done that.”

Truth be told, Lewis Blocker wasn’t sleeping all that well, either.

Allison Fitch was out there, somewhere, and not knowing where she was, or what she might do, had Lewis worried for all the same reasons it did Howard Talliman. If, and when, she decided to walk into a police station and tell everything she knew, it was all over for them. All over for Howard, all over for Morris, and all over for Lewis Blocker.

Everything he and Howard had done to try to tie up the loose ends on this colossal fuckup, as Howard so aptly called it, would unravel the moment Allison Fitch decided to come out of hiding. Once she’d told the authorities about the murder, confessed to her blackmail attempt, and revealed her meeting with Howard, the shit would hit the proverbial fan.

They had to make sure that did not happen.

Several steps were being taken in that direction. First, Lewis had Nicole watching Fitch’s mother in Ohio. He figured, sooner or later, the girl would attempt to get in touch with her. What daughter in trouble didn’t want to talk to her mom? What daughter wouldn’t be wracked with guilt while her mother despaired over what had happened to her? Wouldn’t she, eventually, feel she had to allay her mother’s fears?

Lewis had decidedly mixed feelings about keeping Nicole on this project after the way she’d screwed up. His earlier confidence in her had been immeasurably shaken, and his initial impulse had been to make Nicole pay the ultimate price for her mistake. But right now, he needed all the help he could get, and Nicole, feeling her neck, had said she would help, indefinitely, to make things right. So he would use her until this mess was resolved.

Lewis also wanted to maintain surveillance, of a sort, on the Fitch apartment. Although he thought it highly unlikely the woman herself would return to the unit, he believed it was possible someone who knew her might show up at some point. Maybe just a friend dropping by to say hi. Or, and this was the eventuality Lewis most hoped for, someone Allison had been in touch with and instructed to go to her old place to see what was going on.

Either way, such a visitor might provide a clue to Allison Fitch’s current whereabouts.

Lewis couldn’t post someone in the hallway 24-7. Too obvious. And even though he’d spoken to the landlord, in the guise of a relative of one of the former tenants, and arranged to make sure the rent was paid every month for the foreseeable future, Lewis didn’t have the manpower to have someone in the apartment at all hours in case a visitor showed up. He stayed there himself for the first month, and the only person who came knocking was a guy distributing takeout menus for an Italian place down the street.

But he couldn’t shake the idea that a person of interest might, someday, show up. And when that person did, he wanted to have a look at who it was.

Which was why he installed the camera.

A pinhole affair, motion-activated, mounted behind the door, with an excellent view of the hallway. Whenever a person came to within a few feet of the apartment, it came on. At the end of every day, Lewis reviewed any images, which were automatically sent to his computer.