I looked up and my eyes met Clyde's. “Now you know,” Clyde said. “You're surprised, right? I bet you never thought it was me.”
Everything fell into place. Web Master wasn't a computer term as we'd all assumed. It was a Spider-?Man reference. Days ago, I asked Clyde what he wanted to do, and he said he wanted to be Spider-?Man. Spider-?Man was known as the webslinger and Clyde's game name was the Web Master.
“Spider-?Man didn't kill innocent people,” I said. “Spider-?Man was a good guy.”
“I'm not the webslinger,” Clyde said. "I'm the Web Master.
There's a difference. And I don't kill innocent people. I run a game so people can kill each other. How cool is that?"
“What about the prey? Aren't they innocent?”
“I pick the prey out real careful. And they're never innocent. The cop killed a guy in the line of duty. And so have you. As soon as I saw you at the plant that day I knew you had to be the next prize. Bart tried to warn you away, but you wouldn't listen. It wouldn't have mattered. I had my mind made up right away.”
“Bart knows about the game?”
Clyde was smiling, rocking back on his heels, enjoying his moment. “Bart's confused. I got careless with the game two years ago and Bart got to read an email. Paressi and Fisher Cat were left in the game and I was giving them the kill clue. Bart didn't know it was a game. He thought I was involved with Paressi and he went to the kill spot to stop me from a crime of passion. Problem was, he got there too late. Paressi was dead and Fisher Cat was gone.”
“And Bart was accused of the crime.”
“Yeah. And he was being a hero, protecting me. What a moron. Then when the DNA came back he was totally confused. It wasn't his DNA, of course. And Bart knows enough science to know that the DNA couldn't have been mine, either. It had the wrong structure. It was Fisher Cat's DNA.”
“Didn't Bart ask you about the email?”
“Yeah. I gave him some bullshit story about unrequited love. And he wanted to believe it. He wasn't warning you off because of the game. He was worried I'd go gonzo for you and write another nutcase letter.”
“What about Andrew? Did Andrew know about the game?”
"Andrew? You gotta be kidding. Andrews got his perfect office, and his perfect family, and his freaking perfect house. Andrew doesn't see bad things. Doesn't allow them into his life. Doesn't ask questions that might have troubling answers. Andrew lives in Denial Land.
“Everyone always thinks Andrew's so perfect and everyone always underestimates me. Silly, lazy Clyde. Poor, dumb Clyde.”
“And?”
“I'm not dumb. I'm smarter than everybody. Ask any of the people who play my game.”
“They're all dead,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” Clyde said on a giggle. “I forgot.”
“Why did Singh take off?”
“He was scared. He went after Bag Man, who you know as Howie. Somehow, Singh managed to screw up the kill and then his cover was blown. He turned chicken and ran.”
“Now what?”
“Now we play. I've got a new game I thought up just for you. It's sort of a treasure hunt. And the grand prize is death. It's going to be a real good death, too. Scary and sexy and bloody.”
This guy
was so crazy. He'd been letting the insanity leak out little by little over the years and no one had noticed. Or maybe his family had noticed and chose not to recognize it for what it was.
“Okay, here we go,” Clyde said. “I'm going to tell you about the game.”
Morelli would have discovered I was gone by now. He'd call Ranger and they'd be out looking for me. If I dragged this on long enough, they might find me in time.
“I can't think,” I said. “I have a headache and nausea from the drug.”
“That should be passing. I gave you a small dose. Just enough to have you unconscious for the capture. Probably what you're experiencing is a blood pressure rise from the fear. You're scared, right?”