All the Dark Places(91)

I draw a deep breath and think about my trip to see Keith Russell. Talking to him at Sing Sing was part of the puzzle that I had to solve, on my own. I came away a stronger person. It’s that strength I tap into now. I’ll put up a fight, just as Cal said about Laken. I won’t go quietly.

I hear a door upstairs, the creak of the floorboards overhead. I bite my bottom lip and say a quick prayer.

Here we go, Molly.

“Melinda?” he calls, his voice hoarse.

A shiver runs through me. The ladder scrapes against the floor above and thumps as the bottom lands on the concrete. And he climbs down. His clothes are disheveled, and I can get a better look at him today in the daylight.

“Melinda.” He’s standing before me, his glasses bent and hanging precariously on his nose. His bottom lip is swollen, and there’s blood dried on the side of his face.

My heart thumps wildly. “Did you hurt her?”

“Don’t worry about my sweet wife. Today’s the day, Melinda. The end.” He sits next to me. Cal’s a big man, athletic, and his bulk makes me feel even smaller than I am. He smells sweaty and salty, as if he’s been swimming.

I swallow, my throat thick and scratchy. I want to keep him talking. Give the cops more time. “How did you know about me, Cal, really?”

He takes a deep breath, winces, and clutches his side. Then his big hands work over his head, stop to finger the blood dried at his temple. “I told you, I talked to Keith. He told me the whole story.”

“Why would he do that?”

Cal turns toward me, his eyes red and glassy behind his twisted glasses. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Because, dear Melinda, blood is thicker than water, as the old saying goes. Keith is my big brother.”

I choke on a breath. My heart pounds. Oh my God. I pull my stiff fingers into fists. Why didn’t I know? Why couldn’t I have felt it, seen it in his face?

“We don’t look much alike, do we? Half-brothers. We had different dads. I’m the better looking, though, right? Smarter too. Much smarter.”

“You’re Keith’s brother?” My brain tries to make sense of it all. “I didn’t know he had a brother.” But what did I know at six years old about Keith’s family?

This seems to anger Cal. “I know. All the focus was on Keith. He was some sort of celebrity. But I hated his fucking guts. He used to torment me when we were little, and I was glad as hell when my mom sent him to Albany that summer.” Cal snorts. “But then she turned on me. Told me I’d never measure up to Keith.” Cal shakes his head. “That idiot? I thought. Even as a kid, I knew he was dumb as a box of rocks. But all she talked about was her sweet oldest son. I guess her first husband was the love of her life, and so his spawn was like a god.”

Cal gets slowly to his feet and begins to pace. “They’ll write a book about me, Melinda. That’ll show Keith. I’ll be the most famous brother.” He stops walking and looks at me. “At first, I wanted to be in Jay’s book, but of course that didn’t happen. Jay figured out something was going on with me way too soon.” He grimaces and runs his hand through his dark hair. “He was a better shrink than I gave him credit for. Of course, he didn’t know that I had killed anybody, but he was getting too damn close. Asking too many questions about my feelings.” Cal huffs out a derisive breath.

“Were Jay and Annalise your only victims?” I ask, my voice quivering.

He heaves a deep breath, shrugs. “Maybe I’m not as accomplished as some, but with all this.” He opens his arms, sweeps the basement. “The girl in the cellar connection. Now that’ll warrant a book, maybe a couple, not just a chapter in Jay’s. I’ll be more famous than my idiot big brother ever was. Too bad my mother isn’t around to see it.”

“And that’s important?”

His feverish eyes meet mine. “It’s everything. Being acknowledged. That’s what matters, Molly. That’s all that matters. That’s why I couldn’t understand you. Why would you try to hide from the world? You were somebody. At least for a little while. If I were you, I would’ve written a book, a big shiny hardcover. Gone on talk shows. Made lots of money.”

“You won’t make any money, Cal. It’s against the law.”

Aggravation flits across his face. “I know that,” he snaps. “For me, it’s not about the money.”

His phone chimes, a melodious aberration in this decaying cellar, and that throws him off-kilter. He pulls his phone from his pocket and peeks at it like a kid trying to hide from a teacher. The name that has popped up sends a cloud across his face, something vaguely akin to remorse.

“I’ve got to take this,” Cal says, as though we’re two people in the midst of a business meeting, and he heads for the ladder, pausing on the first step. “I won’t be long, Melinda.” His gaze flickers up to the high window, where snow continues to whirl. “Then we’ll end this.” He pulls the gun from his waistband, stares at it a moment, then tucks it in his jacket pocket.

I hear floorboards creaking, and I picture Cal pacing. That’s what it sounds like, around and around, right over my head. He’s talking in a loud voice, but I can’t make out the words. Then he laughs, a deep throaty chuckle that sends shivers down my back. Who could he be talking to? And I’m amazed at his dexterity, swinging from multiple murderer to nice guy like the opening and shutting of a door. But then, he’d fooled us for years, until Jay.