J. Gonzalez - They

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…”