“So, who were those people really? DCAK?” Jannie wanted to know. I’ve always loved her curiosity, but I wasn’t sure what to make of this budding interest in things forensic. The last thing we needed was another Dragon Slayer in our house on Fifth Street.
“We should know more soon,” I told her. Both Anthony and Sandy—her body, anyway—had been fingerprinted. I thought they’d probably show up somewhere, in somebody’s files, maybe even in Kyle Craig’s old notes from his FBI days.
I finally sent the family home, and Bree and I went to look in on our captive. We watched “Anthony” through a window while a post-op medical team got him stabilized for transfer. He was handcuffed to a hospital bed and lay there the whole time, staring at the ceiling. I’d seen this stillness in him earlier that day. It was impossible to read. Was it defeat? Calculation? Boredom? The answers would help us know whether he was headed for a penitentiary or a psych ward.
“The names are Aaron and Sarah Dennison.”
I turned to see Ramon Davies standing behind us. “IAFIS turned Aaron up. He’s wanted in two states that we know of so far. California and Nevada. Aaron was a suspect in two murder cases, one in each state. His sister Sarah’s record was clean. They did some acting in Vegas, Tahoe, Sacramento—mostly regional theater.”
“Where were they right before DC? Do we know that?” I asked the superintendent.
“In and out of LA. Why?”
I shook my head and looked back through the window at him—Aaron, not Anthony. “Just curious if any of it was the truth, the things he told me. LA would be where he followed the case with Michael Bell. The Mary, Mary case. He must have been in touch with Kyle Craig from there too.”
“What about the Webcast?” Bree asked. “We have any idea how many people saw it?”
Davies looked from her face to mine. “Let’s just say if you ever wanted to sell your story, now would be a good time.” We laughed but only because there was nothing we could do about the reach and popularity of the Webcast.
“He basically got what he wanted, didn’t he?” Bree said. “He got famous, anyway. She’ll be famous now too. As disciples of Kyle Craig, at the least.”
I turned away from the window, suddenly done looking at him, and done with this case. “Hope it was worth it, Anthony.”
I heard a shout that was muffled by the observation window. I looked back.
“Dead man walking!” Aaron yelled. “That’s what you are, Cross.”
Epilogue
LAST DAYS
I DIDN’T HEAR ANYTHING from Kyle Craig, which didn’t completely surprise me. He’d made terrible threats, but if he had wanted me dead, he would have done it. He had his chance in the alleyway. So the next few days passed quickly for me, but probably slowly for Damon. My boy was leaving home.
By the time we were packing the car to send him off to his first semester at Cushing Academy, he was showing his emotions on a fairly regular basis. Cool just didn’t cut it for him anymore.
He and I spent the final couple of days driving up to Massachusetts together. We stopped to see our cousin Jimmy at the Red Hat in Irvington, and had a fine meal and listened to some jazz, then continued on our way. I noticed that I was showing my emotions on a regular basis now too. I figured that was a good thing, growth maybe. I was troubled by my life, though. I wondered if I had a soul anymore. All these killings, understanding the killers . . .
“So you know when Family Weekend is?” Damon asked me as we got close to Sturbridge, Massachusetts.
“Don’t worry, it’s already on my calendar. I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Well, if you have a case or whatever, I understand.”
“Damon.” I waited for him to look at me. “I’ll be there. No matter what.”
“Dad.” He gave me a grown-up stare and a little frown he’d inherited from Nana Mama. “It’s okay. I know you’ll come if you can.” It wasn’t quite like looking at myself across the front seat, but there was no closer copy in the world.
“You’re going to have a great year, Day. In school and on the basketball court. I’m really proud of you. One hundred percent.”
“Thanks. I think you’re going to have a great year too. Keep an eye on Bree. She’s good for you. Everybody thinks so. Your decision, though. Of course.”
Just then, my cell phone rang. What now? I had a crazy thought—to throw the damn thing right out the car window.
And that’s what I did.
And Damon clapped, and we laughed as if it were the funniest thing I’d ever done. Maybe it was too.
We arrived at the school in Ashburnham, Massachusetts, and it was so gorgeous, such an eyeful, that I wished I could spend the next four years there myself, relive my youth, or something like that.