Tessa was on the couch, trying to relax, trying to catch her breath. Agent Tucker sat beside her. The house was a little quieter; a bunch of the cops had left when they wheeled that woman away.
Agent Tucker placed his hand on her shoulder. “You OK?”
She nodded. “I’m shaking, though.”
“It’s shock,” he said. “We need to get you out of here.”
“Is she dead?” asked Tessa softly. “That police officer?”
Agent Tucker nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so.”
A paramedic appeared in the doorway. “Is everyone in here OK?”
Agent Tucker slipped his hand around Tessa’s shoulder. “I’m taking her with me.”
“The CDC team is on its way,” announced Ralph. He had left Marcie with Mr. Williamson’s security personnel.
“Good,” I mumbled. I was walking over to Kincaid’s body.
Ralph pointed to Marcie. “They think they can control this thing with her help. Treat it.” He looked at the gruesome scene around us. The bodies of Kincaid’s group lay scattered around the courtyard. Only the big guy and Marcie had survived. “With a little luck, no one else is going to die today.”
I heard his words but only faintly. They were fading into the distance of space and time.
It couldn’t really be what I thought it was in his hand. It couldn’t be.
Showing us the board… he’s been showing us the board…
I reached Kincaid’s body.
The paramedic looked confused. “The guys outside told me to come in and take a look at her.”
Agent Tucker stood up. Stood toe to toe with the paramedic. “C’mere for a second,” he said.
Then Tessa watched him lead the paramedic into the hallway and around the corner out of sight.
Brent Tucker is with Tessa…
I knelt down, noticed a ragged scar across the inside of Kincaid’s wrist, probably from a suicide attempt a long time ago.
He shot the man in the neck but didn’t kill him… made sure he didn’t kill him… he knew where to shoot them…
I reached out to open Kincaid’s hand. My heart was screaming. No, no, no!
My fingers began to tremble.
He reaches across the board, touches a piece, then he takes her.
Tessa heard a muffled gasp and a soft thud.
I uncurled Kincaid’s fingers.
Saw the item.
Tessa’s necklace.
“Agent Tucker?” called Tessa.
I spun around, yelled to Margaret. “Get Tucker on the phone! Now!”
Tessa strained to see around the corner. “Are you OK, Agent Tucker?” Her heart began to slam against the inside of her chest.
A voice inside of her told her to get up. To get out. Something was wrong.
She tried to stand but was still dizzy from shock.
Her legs felt wobbly.
“Agent Tucker?”
Margaret put her hand on my elbow to calm me down. “Don’t worry, Pat, Tessa’s all ri-”
“I know who it is!” I yelled.
“Hello, Tessa,” said the killer, the Illusionist, the boy who had snuggled up to the corpse of his mother, the man who was at home in the dark. He stepped around the corner, holding a dripping blade, and grabbed Tessa, shoving a cloth over her mouth, quickly, so quickly that it swallowed her scream and sent her reeling into a terrible, terrible sleep. Terrible and dark.
But before the shadows closed around her she saw one last thing-one last grisly thing-a man trying to crawl around the corner of the hallway, trying to get to her. To help her. Failing. Falling. Collapsing onto the carpet, his throat slashed.
A man.
A dead man.
Special Agent Brent Tucker.