Tygers Page 24

Keith shook his head. “You’re saying he knew that Katie needed him before she screamed.” His voice sounded flat in his own ears. That wasn’t possible, was it?

  “She beat me to the hospital. No one called her.” No, that was just Katie and Kyle. Wasn’t it?

  “Yes. Dianna said it was always that way. He would stay with Katheryn until she slept, only fifteen minutes or so by then. No one but Jamie would do. She didn’t say it, but we could see the rift. Katheryn wasn’t her child anymore, not like Carolyn was. She belonged to Jamie after that night. He was the only one Katheryn would trust completely. She listened to her mother. She was friendly as time wore on, and she was always well behaved, but—”

  “Never close?” he offered.

  Toni nodded gratefully.

  “How long did the nightmares last?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “You mean they’ve stopped? Jamie said they were less over time—nightly at first, then weekly then monthly. Over time, the screaming stopped and she could calm herself back to sleep, but when it was particularly bad and she needed him, he was always there.”

  “Always?”

  “From the day he moved in until the day he died. Yes. Dianna said the nightmares got worse after he was gone.” She seemed to consider something carefully. “I think he moved in out of desperation, at first.”

  “How so?”

  “Sleep. He found himself driving to their house nightly. The first time, he arrived and sat in his car, sure that he was insane or an idiot. That was when the screaming started. He ran to the door, pounding frantically and sure that she was in some sort of danger. When Dianna answered, she didn’t question the hows and whys. She dragged him in with the look of a child caught in a bombing. Every night was the same. Nothing Dianna did was good enough to calm Katheryn. Only Jamie could stop the screaming.”

  “Did they ever get her help?”

  “They tried. She would discuss none of it. At first, any mention of that night, her grandfather, or the plateau would result in Katheryn retreating to a dark corner or into Jamie’s arms. Later, she would stop talking and look at you in confusion. Finally, at about eight, she would smile as if she was confused and turn away or change the subject.”

  “She was pretending that she forgot?” he asked in disbelief.

  “No, though I’m sure I would want to forget it. If it was an act, it was complete. She even asked Jamie what people were talking about. She really didn’t know, or she really thought she didn’t know.”

  “So, she never dealt with any of this, and O’Hanlon was her security blanket?”

  “I think she dealt with some of it in her own way, but overall you may be right. I think she dealt with what little she could recall after Jamie died. She had to do that to find some measure of peace.”

  “What did she do when he died? When was that? I know I knew her then.”

  “She was fifteen when Jamie had his heart attack. She held up better than most of us expected—at first. She was very angry and withdrawn for awhile, but her grades didn’t suffer. She didn’t seem to have any interest in renewing a true mother/daughter relationship with Dianna. Katheryn treated her mother like a housemother in a dorm. She respected her rules for the most part, but there was little affection.”

  Dark pink rose on Dianna’s coffin. Appreciation. Not love.

  His mind clicked onto another track. “That’s when she started drinking? When O’Hanlon died?”

  Toni shrugged. “Once the anger passed, she was just unhappy. She didn’t get caught often. Mac was the worst, worse than Michael, Bruce and Bugsy put together. I’m not sure even Prentice would have been worse than Mac was.”

  Keith nodded solemnly. “Was she ever happy again?”

  “For a short time.”

  She flicked a telling glance at him, and he felt himself darken.

  “Girls talk, and I overheard a few things. Since she’s been an adult, she’s been—content. She’s unsettled but not really unhappy with her life.”

  “But she could be happy if something changed?” he surmised.

  Toni nodded and studied the pictures on the wall of the booth. “I always hoped so,” she mused.

  Keith took in the pictures. Images of Katie, Sherry and their families were wedged side to side. He realized that this was a reserved booth for Mama Toni and her friends and family. Being seated here was an honor.

  In the pictures, Katie was almost invariably smiling. Here, she was draped on O’Hanlon who was beaming at the attention. There, she was running with Carol and Sherry through a sprinkler with a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her nose and held in place by a small hand. In still another, she caught bubbles on soap-slicked fingers and grinned at the camera, slightly toothless but still enchanting. Katie didn’t look unhappy as a child, though she was surely a tortured soul.

  One picture caught his attention. A teenaged Katie lounged at a picnic table with a book open in front of her. Her chin was cradled in her hand, and her eyes were sad and focused on some faraway place. “When was this taken?” he asked suddenly.

  “About six months after Jamie died. She was still very angry then. Michael thought the look was compelling, so he captured it on film. He had a wonderful eye for things like that.”

  “Michael took this?”

  She nodded.

  “Then, who is that in the background?” he asked, pointing to the shadowy male figure back near the trees.

  Toni squinted at the picture then took it down to examine it more closely. “I couldn’t guess. We didn’t often have guests just after Jamie died, at least not while Katheryn was around. Hmm. It doesn’t really look like any of the guys. It’s certainly not Mac or Bugsy—or Prentice. Maybe Bruce, but it looks too flabby to be him. I really don’t know.”

  A shiver ran down his spine. “Mama Toni, can I borrow this?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I just want to get a closer look at that man.”

  “Is it important?” she asked in surprise.

  “It might be. I promise to bring it back.”

  “Take it,” she responded in confusion.

  Keith scooped up the picture and fished for his wallet.

  “No,” she insisted. “You don’t pay at my table.”

  He nodded and squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Mama. I’ll bring it back, soon.”

  She met his eyes. “You take care with her,” she cautioned him.

  Keith nodded thoughtfully and started back to the office.

  Toni’s final words kept coming back to him. Take care with her. Not, take care of her but with her? That almost sounded like a warning.

  Chapter Twelve

  “And our dreams are who we are.” Barbara Sher

  “It’s better to live one hour as a tiger than an entire lifetime as a worm.” Proverb

  On the way back, Keith dropped by the lab two floors below his office. “Gabe,” he yelled out on his way in the door.

  “Darkroom,” a muffled voice called back.

  Keith crossed the room and took the light-lock door into the darkroom. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim red-tinged ambiance of the space. He picked out the small, dark-haired man at the chemical vats and walked to his side. “Busy today?” he asked.

  Gabriel Young laughed heartily. “Am I ever not busy?” he countered. It was a common complaint from him, but one that he said lightly. Everyone knew that Gabe loved his work, so the constant response always drew a good-natured smile from both him and whomever he was addressing it to.

  “Anything that can’t wait for a little while?” Keith pressed.

  “All pretty routine,” he replied warily.

  “Good. I need a favor.”

  “What kind of favor? You know I can’t drop department business for something personal,” he warned.

  “And you know I have never asked that of you. It’s for one of my cases,” Keith assured him. “I’m sort of on a deadline, and I need you to clear something up for me. Can you do some of your computer
magic with a picture for me? As soon as you can—”

  “Important?” Gabe asked. He loved a challenge.

  Keith shrugged. “It might be very important, or it might be a dud. That’s what I need to know.”

  “Leave it here. I’ll put it next on the schedule.”

  Keith breathed a sigh of relief. He handed over the picture. “In the background,” he pointed, “there is a man. Get him as close and as clear as you can. I don’t expect miracles.” He hesitated. “If I’m right, I’ll recognize him.”

  Gabe studied his face in the dim light. “Sure thing. I’ll try for this afternoon. I’m almost done here anyway.”

  “Thanks, Gabe. Let me know if you get anything for me.”

  Keith left quickly and tried to get back to work. He had only two kids in the office that afternoon, a twelve year old, who was trying his level best not to end up in the middle of a gang war and who had seen far too much of what the gangs did. That was followed by an eight year old with severe socialization problems due to prolonged abuse.

  His mind kept drifting back to Katie whenever he didn’t force himself into the matter at hand. Keith realized how dangerous that was and tried to keep focused for his appointments.

  He was preparing to leave for the day when the phone on his desk rang. Keith scooped it up distractedly. “Child psychology and intervention, Randall speaking. How may I help you?” he recited automatically.

  “Keith, it’s Gabe. Do you have a minute?” His voice was tense.

  “Sure. Let me grab my stuff and I’ll be right down. I was on my way out anyway.”

  “I’ll be expecting you.” Gabe hung up.

  Something in his tone made Keith hurry. When he rushed through the lab door, his heart started beating double-time. Gabe was sitting at his desk, stony-faced and pale.

  “Are you all right?” Keith asked him.

  The other man met his eyes. “Where did you get that picture? When was it taken?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s the aunt of one of my patients as a teen. It was taken seventeen years ago. Why?”

  “Seventeen? The photographer was a fucking genius.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Michael had a gift for capturing the moment, but a genius?”

  “To make a fake that good? He was a genius, but why the hell would he do this? Is the guy some sort of sicko?” he demanded.

  “No, he was a cop, a good one and highly decorated. Medal of Valor. A family man. Wait. Back up. It’s a fake?”

  “A fantastic one for its time.”

  “Let me see. Show me.”

  Gabe nodded and pulled up a jpg on his computer. “Here’s your original picture. Very convincing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I thought so.”

  He flipped up the next picture, a close-up of the figure in the background with a bit of Katie’s face in the corner. “Okay. Look again. Look at the man.”

  Keith’s heart sank. “It’s a double exposure. I can see the trees right through him. Sorry I wasted your time, Gabe.”

  “No, dammit. It’s not. If it were a double exposure, the entire picture would be affected. If it was unintentional, you would see two complete overlaid scenes, distinct in every way. If one exposure was of the man on a white or black solid background, it would affect the greater picture. Everything else would look slightly out of focus, the color slightly off. It’s not. It’s clear as a bell, Keith.”

  “What if it was the same scene, one with the man and one with the girl taken from a tripod and overlaid on each other on the same frame?”

  “No, the girl would be affected. Her color would be off and you’d see the grass through her like you see the trees through the man. Not only that, but you could never get the lighting perfectly uniform unless they were taken within seconds of each other.”

  “Then, what is it?”

  “Clever. That’s what it is. What kind of computer equipment did this guy have? I mean, I could pull this off today, but seventeen years ago, this was unheard of. Industrial Light and Magic were still trying to perfect what this guy did all on his lonesome. No matte lines, Keith. And damned little transparency. How did he do it?”

  “Computer? Gabe, it was 1985. If Michael was lucky, he owned an Atari 800XL with basic on it—or Cobol. Only the rich had real computers back then—the Apples and IBMs, and Michael was not rich.”

  “It’s impossible, Keith. He had to have used a computer, a damn good one for the time.”

  “Skip that for a minute. I agree that the shadowy figure is ominous, but why did you assume Michael was a sicko?”

  Gabe’s lips narrowed into a thin line, and his eyes followed suit, turning hard and cold. “I was intrigued, so I decided to find out if I could get any detail on the man.”

  He clicked to open a new file, and Keith’s eyes locked on the screen. He pulled back in shock and stumbled over the wastebasket at his heels, landing painfully on his butt, facing the screen.

  Grim and disapproving, Tiberius Matthews stared at his granddaughter. His eyes burned with an angry light. Two gunshot wounds were obvious, mid-chest and right shoulder. His lower shirt, arm and hand were coated in dark blood, maroon and thick looking. His face had the gray cast of death.

  Keith met Gabe’s eyes tentatively and pushed back to his feet. “Prints,” he croaked. “I need prints of them, and save them in a locked directory for me.”

  “It’s important, then,” he asked in disbelief.

  “Incredibly.”

  Gabe sent the two worked pictures to the photo printer, saving and closing them as he went. He paused at the original picture. “This one, too?”

  “Yes, I have to return the original eventually.” Keith’s eyes locked on the book in the foreground. “Wait. Don’t close it yet. Can we see what she’s reading?”

  “No doubt about it. We can almost see it now.” Gabe cropped and enlarged the foreground, then he sharpened the focus.

  Keith’s blood ran cold.

  “No help there, buddy. Everyone reads that in school,” Gabe decided.

  “Print it.”

  Gabe looked at him in confusion.

  “Don’t give me that look, and don’t ask. It’s confidential to the case. Just print the damn thing,” he snapped as he turned away. Keith stared pacing back and forth then stopped in annoyance when he made the connection that he looked like a restless tiger.

  Gabe handed him the original and all the copies a few minutes later. His eyes were suddenly full of concern. “Keith, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think you’re too close to this. I’ve never seen you like this,” he cautioned.

  “No, Gabe. I’m not too close, but I’m afraid I’m about to be, and it scares the hell out of me.”

  “Then get out. Hand it off.”

  “I can’t. It’s not like that. There is no one else who can take this case. We’ve tried.”

  “Then watch your back.”

  Keith nodded and left without another word. In his car, he tossed the pictures on the passenger seat and stared at his steering wheel. Finally, he fished out his cell phone and dialed. The voice on the other end was almost drowned out by the thudding of his heart in his chest.

  “Woodland Watcher Editor’s Desk, Carol speaking,” she intoned.

  “Carol. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I’m trying to reconcile something.”

  “No problem, Keith. I have a minute. What do you need to know? Not more about Tiberius, I hope.”

  “No. The tigers. Where did Kyle get the tigers?”

  “From everyone. They’re all he’s wanted for the last three years.”

  “How did it start? Was Ty first?”

  Carol laughed. “How could you guess?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Where did he get Ty?” Keith closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that he was wrong.

  “On his second Christmas—He was nineteen months or so. Katie bought it for him. She bought him a book about a friendly tiger and made up stories about the t
iger protecting him.”

  “Protecting him from what?”

  “Monsters under the bed, nightmares.”

  Keith bit back a groan.

  “He was a little boy, and his father was—” She sighed.

  “Yes, you explained that. Did Katie name him?”

  “Ty? No. He didn’t even have a name until a year or so ago.” She paused.

  “What is it, Carol?”

  “Once Kyle named Ty, Katie stopped buying him tigers. Isn’t that strange?”

  “Not really. Did Tiberius have a nickname? Maybe Ty?”

  Her groan was answer enough. “Keith, let me explain. We tried to get Kyle to change the name. We all did. Mom, me, Katie—” she began.

  “Thanks Carol. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He disconnected even as she tried to continue her explanation. Keith stared at the windshield miserably before hitting his steering wheel hard enough to send pinpoint stars across his field of vision.

  Keith pushed the pictures aside until the blow-up of the book was in his hand. “The Lady and the Tiger,” he spat. “God only knows which is the threat.”

  * * *

  Katheryn glanced at her watch. Six? She smiled as she headed for the door. It would be Keith, and she couldn’t wait to see him. Seven hours of concentrated writing was a good effort. She got a lot done that day, but now it was time for play.

  Her smile disappeared as the door swung open in her hand. Katheryn took a step back in confusion and fear. Keith was furious, and she had no idea why. He didn’t step inside immediately, and the stab of fear returned.

  When he spoke, his voice was low and serious. “Can I come in and talk to you?” he asked.

  Keith was completely closed to her. All she could read was the anger overshadowing every other thought, and the effect frightened her. Keith was always open to her, until now. Katheryn drew back her questing mind and shut down, sure that she didn’t want to know what caused this and just as sure that she was about to find out from him. She nodded and stepped back to let Keith pass.

  He didn’t take a seat. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe to the hall. Keith stared at her, as if he waited for something specific.