Lisa Gardner - Hide

"Why are you here, Mr. Marvin? Why are you stalking me?"

"I want to know," he said quietly. "I want to know everything. Not just about him, but about you , Annabelle."

"Tell me," I demanded suddenly, a foolish mistake.

Charlie Marvin smiled. "All right. But seeing as we're now friends, you have to invite me into your apartment."

"And if I say no?"

"You'll say yes, Annabelle. You have to, if you want to learn the truth."

He had me and we both knew it. Curiosity killed the cat, I reminded myself. But the truth was too powerful a lure. Slowly, but surely, I nodded my agreement.

I MADE HIM go up the stairs first. Seemed slightly less stupid that way Kept him in my line of sight. I had the suitcases to carry, I told him. If he followed me, I'd probably whack him with one of them accidentally. He had no idea how clumsy I was, I said.

Charlie accepted my explanation with his cheerful smile. Understanding completely Not at all challenging.

The long hike up five flights of stairs-lugging suitcases, no less, gave me plenty of time to curse myself. Why had I forgotten the Taser? And how in the world did I end up with a dog who was such a rotten judge of character?

Because I was pretty sure Charlie Marvin was a threat. I just wasn't sure how.

In the good-news department, I had fitness and youth on my side. By the time we hit the fifth-floor landing, Mr. Marvin was breathing hard and holding his side.

He stood back. I worked the first lock on my door. Second. Third.

"Cautious girl," he commented.

"You never know."

My door opened. Once again, I let him do the honors of going first. Then I propped open my door with the giant suitcase.

"In a building structured like this one," he commented, "seems like our every word might echo down the staircase."

"Oh, they will," I assured him. "Screams, too. And we know at least one of my neighbors is home."

He smiled more ruefully this time. "I spooked you that bad?"

"Why don't you tell me what you want to say, Mr. Marvin?"

"I'm not the real threat," he said quietly I thought he looked a trifle grieved, even sad.

"Mr. Marvin-"

"He is," Charlie said, and pointed behind me.

BOBBY WAS WALKING. Very fast. D.D. was talking. Very angrily.

"You didn't run a background check on Charlie Marvin?"

"We checked on him. Sinkus followed up on the man just this morning. He does volunteer at the Pine Street Inn. He did have an alibi for last night."

"Oh yeah, and how do you know the Charlie Marvin volunteering at the Pine Street Inn is the same as our Charlie Marvin?"

"What?"

"You gotta go in person. You gotta show a picture. Of all the stupid, rookie mistakes!"

"I didn't make the call," Bobby protested again, then gave up the matter. D.D. was too pissed off to listen. She needed someone to grind up and he was the lucky body standing closest. That would teach him.

They'd put out an APB for a man matching Charlie Marvin's description. Since they had to start with what they knew, officers were converging upon the Pine Street Inn, as well as Columbus Park, Faneuil Hall, and the former site of Boston State Mental, all known Charlie Marvin destinations. With any luck, they'd pick up Marvin within the hour. Before he ever suspected a thing.

"It still doesn't make sense," Bobby grumbled as they hustled through the lobby "Marvin can't be Uncle Tommy. Too old."

"My car," D.D. said, pushing through the heavy glass doors.

"Where's it parked?"

She told him, he shook his head. "Mine's closer. Plus, you drive like a girl."

"That would be Danica Patrick to you," D.D. muttered, but followed him swiftly toward his Crown Vic. Then, as they were getting in: "Charlie Marvin lied. That's good enough for me."

"He doesn't fit," Bobby insisted, firing up the engine. "Uncle Tommy would be around fifty Charlie Marvin looks to have jumped that hurdle at least a decade ago."

"Maybe he just appears old. That's what a life of crime will do to you."

Bobby didn't answer. Just swung his vehicle out, hit the lights, and headed full steam for the Pine Street Inn.

I WHIRLED AROUND toward my open door. Saw nothing. Jerked back around, hands out, feet spread for balance, expecting the counterattack.

Charlie Marvin still stood there, that beatific expression on his face. I thought I was starting to figure it out. Mr. Marvin heard voices when nobody was home. To give credit where credit was due, Bella also seemed to have figured it out. She sat down now, between us in the tiny kitchen, and whined nervously.

"Better late than never," I told her. Sarcasm is totally lost on dogs.

"You're very beautiful," Charlie said.

"Oh, I blush."

"Too old for my taste, though."

"And that quickly, the moment is lost."

"But you're the key. You're the one he really wants."

I stopped breathing again, feeling my mouth go cotton dry I should do something. Grab a phone. Yell for help. Run back downstairs. But I didn't move. I didn't want to move. I honestly, God help me, wanted to hear what Charlie Marvin had to say.

"You knew," I whispered.

"I found it. One night a few years back. When they first announced they were going to raze the buildings to the ground, I came back for a farewell tour. One last adios to a place to which I'd vowed never to return. But then I heard a rustling in the woods. Got curious. I'd swear to God there was someone out there, then poof , he'd simply vanished. It was almost enough to make you believe in ghosts. 'Course, I'm not that superstitious.

"Took me another four nights of scouting before I spotted the glow in the ground. I waited beneath the trees. Until I saw the man rise from the earth, bank the lantern, and disappear into the woods. I got a flashlight after that. Returned right before dawn. Found the opening, descended into the chamber. I never would've imagined. It took my breath away. The work of a master craftsman. I always knew it couldn't last."

"Who did it, Charlie? Who came out of the ground? Who killed those girls?"

He shook his head. "Six girls. Always six girls. No more, no less. I kept checking, kept waiting for something to change. But year after year. Two rows. Three bodies each. The perfect audience. And I never ran into the man again, though Lord knows I tried. I had so many questions for him."

"Did you kill them? Is it your work that was discovered on the grounds?"

He continued as if I'd never spoken: "Then, of course, I saw the story of the grave's discovery on the news. Another victim of urban growth. But that's when it came to me. This would force him into the open, make him want to check on his work one last time. So I started hanging out again, hoping to catch a glimpse. But all I saw was you. And you are a liar."

For the first time, his voice dropped, grew menacing. I took an instinctive step back.

"Who are you?" I asked him. "Because you're certainly no minister."

"Former patient, fellow aficionado of mass graves. Who are you?"

"I'm dead," I told him bluntly. "I'm the ghost that haunts the grounds. I'm waiting for that monster to return so I can kill him."

Charlie's blue eyes narrowed. 'Annabelle. Annabelle Granger. Your name was in the paper. From the pit. You really are dead."

And then, a heartbeat later, his face broke into a smile. "You know, I had my heart set on your blonde sergeant friend," he said slyly I saw the wink of the blade in his hand. "But come to think of it, Annabelle dear, you'll do just fine."

BOBBY HASTILY DESCRIBED Charlie Marvin to the young Latino who greeted them at the Pine Street Inn. Juan Lopez agreed that BPD's Charlie Marvin was indeed the shelter's Charlie Marvin. Had been volunteering there for the past ten years, in fact. Score one for the good guys.