Nightwatcher (Nightwatcher #1)(76)

“Yeah,” Mack says from behind the door.

“Do you . . . can we . . . I mean, if you’re all right, we’ll go ahead and leave so that you can . . .”

Clearly, he’s not all right, but Mack replies, “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead. Allison, you too. I’m not . . . I . . . I just need some time.”

“All right. I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”

No reply to that. She didn’t really expect one.

As she parts ways with the police officers in the hallway, she remembers Kristina for the first time since their arrival at Mack’s door.

She had been certain their visit had something to do with the murder; for a split second, had even wondered if they were coming to arrest Mack.

Now, the notion seems utterly ludicrous.

Back in her own apartment, Allison fixes a cup of hot tea, hoping it will calm her nerves. Clasping the mug in her icy hands, she sits in the living room staring into space.

She can’t stop thinking about Mack.

Not just about Carrie’s wedding ring. That was disturbing enough, but . . .

She keeps going back to what he said right before the police showed up.

A lot of people didn’t like her . . . and in the end, I was one of them.

She really wishes he hadn’t told her that.

She bets he wishes the same thing.





Chapter Twelve

Mack is huddled on the end of the couch brooding, as Carrie so often did, when the ringing telephone startles him. He snaps out of his daze, looks around, spots the receiver on the coffee table, and instinctively grabs it and presses the talk button before realizing he doesn’t want to speak to anyone.

Swiftly hanging up without saying hello, he tosses the phone aside and wills it to be silent.

A few seconds later, it starts ringing again, as he’d known it would.

Just get it. You can’t avoid the rest of the world forever.

But chances are the caller will have to be told about Carrie, and he’s not ready to talk about it yet.

When will you ever be ready for that?

The phone rings, rings, rings again . . .

It could be Allison, who already knows about Carrie, and knows Mack’s home. If he doesn’t pick up, she might show up at his door again, and he isn’t ready for that, either. Not yet.

Anyway, the incessant ringing has him on edge; he might as well just get it over with and speak to whoever it is. Shakily, he gets up to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Mack! There you are!” Lynn’s voice greets him. “I just tried to call you and—”

“I know, sorry, there was . . . something wrong with the phone.”

“Really? I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon, and I left you a bunch of messages. Where have you been?”

He clears his throat, tries to speak, clears his throat again.

“Mack? What’s going on?”

“I had to bring Carrie’s DNA samples to the Armory to register her as a missing person . . .”

“Oh God. Was it a nightmare?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

“I would have gone with you. Why did you go alone? I could have—”

“No, it’s okay.”

“But—”

“Lynn, listen to me, it’s over.”

“What? What do you mean ‘over’?”

“It’s over. They found her. They found Carrie.”

There’s a long pause. “Is she . . . ?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s . . . ?”

“Gone.”

Hearing the rush of air from Lynn’s lungs on the other end of the line, Mack feels his knees suddenly turn to liquid beneath him. How can it be harder to deliver the news than it was to receive it?

Mack sinks onto a chair, gripping the phone painfully hard against his ear.

“Are you okay?” His sister’s voice sounds choked.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“I’ll come. I can be there in—”

“No,” he says sharply. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I really need to be alone.”

Alone. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all along?

It certainly was on Tuesday morning, wasn’t it?

You thought that being alone was better than being with Carrie; better than bringing the child you want so badly into an unhappy marriage.

Now what do you think?

“Lynn, I have to go,” Mack says, and hangs up the phone without waiting for her reply.

He buries his head in his hands, his entire body trembling.

The phone starts to ring again.

He ignores it.

It rings again.

Again, he ignores it, jumping up and striding toward the door.

I’ve got to get the hell out of here, he tells himself, right now, before I lose it.

Lose it?

Really? What more does he have to lose?

Just my mind, Mack thinks grimly, stepping out into the hallway without a clue where he’s going.

Rocky sits back and scowls at the screen of his desktop computer, having reached another cyber dead end.

Where are you, Jerry?

Who are you?

How the hell am I supposed to find you when I don’t know your last name—or even your first, for that matter?