Chapter 17

"Denise, we both know the view of consciousness based on a neuronal connection doesn't fly. When my consciousness leaves my body, it doesn't take any neurons along for the ride."

"Nonetheless, your consciousness maintains some sort of connection to your body during your flights. Your description of reentering your body without your volition during your recent time trips lends credence to the connection. Who's to say that connection isn't neuronal?"

David's brow scowled as he considered Denise's statement. "Interesting. I've fought the neuronal connection for years because it just didn't fit, but I'm willing to concede your theory, although unlikely, is possible. I've often wondered what would happen to me, my consciousness, if a fire, for example, rendered my body uninhabitable while I was on a trip. Without a neuronal connection, my consciousness could still function, could still connect with others and interact with them, in other words, continue to exist. With a neuronal connection, my consciousness might cease to exist when my body died."

"Not necessarily. Consider..."

"Now do you see why I shuffled those two to the back of the vehicle?" Carol said to Colleen. Carol and Colleen occupied in the middle set of seats in the Escalade with little George strapped into a car seat between them. Darla sat up front with Joe, who was driving. The group was en route to Arabian Downs.

"When Denise and David start cussing and discussing the nature of consciousness," Carol added, "it's best to let them have at it and ignore them."

Colleen laughed. "I see and appreciate your point."

Darla appeared to be woolgathering, staring out the window, so Colleen tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. "What was it like growing up with boy wonder?" Colleen asked.

Darla grinned. "Often frustrating or infuriating but never dull." She paused and with a mischievous look added, "It had its moments."

Darla's smile faded when she looked around and realized everyone in the vehicle was aware of her brother's flights of consciousness. When she'd married Steve, David had asked her to keep his flights confidential, and she'd agreed at the time. Now she wondered if she'd made the right decision. Back then, besides her, only her mother and Denise were aware of her brother's unique ability, and Denise didn't count. She didn't live nearby. But soon, Denise and Colleen would move to Phoenix. Plus, Joe and Nora were now among those in the know, and Joe was a partner in the ownership of Arabian Downs along with her and Steve.

"David," Darla said loudly enough to be heard over the din of several simultaneous conversations, "excuse me, may I interrupt?"

David smiled. "Of course."

"I think it's way past time to bring Steve into the loop. We need to tell him about your flights."

David looked concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. He'll be joining us this afternoon. We'll tell him then."

Nora studied two color photographs and one facsimile of a color photo. The photos were spread out over her desk. Janice, Hanna and Carrie. Janice was abducted, raped and mutilated in New Orleans in February. The same sick pervert performed a similar ritual on Hanna last month. Carrie's parents reported her missing the previous day.

"The three girls could be sisters," Nora muttered.

They all wore their dark hair straight and long and parted in the middle, framing their large, dark eyes. Janice was eleven years old when she was taken. Hanna was ten, and the missing person's report faxed along with the color photo declared Carrie nine years old. Her tenth birthday was two months away. All were prepubescent when they were taken, although Janice exhibited a few sexual characteristics present at the onset of puberty.

Nora's heart sunk. She couldn't prove it, but she had no doubts. The killer had struck again. She picked up the photographs and knocked on Colin Pierce's office door. She could see him on the phone through the sidelight next to the door. He waved her inside and remained on the phone.

As Pierce continued his telephone conversation, Nora set Janice's photo on Pierce's desk, and then placed Hanna's next to Janice's, finally adding the fax photo of Carrie.

Pierce's eyes widened. "Something's come up, Terrance. I'll call you back." He hung up without saying goodbye.

Nora tapped Carrie's photo with her finger. "Carrie Jensen. Nine years old, almost ten. Her parents reported her missing late yesterday afternoon."

"Fuck!" Pierced huffed, a low, angry sound.

"My sentiments exactly," Nora said. "Anticipating another abduction, I asked the missing person squads of the various police departments in the Phoenix area to fax photographs to me of any prepubescent girls reported missing. I could be wrong, but Carrie's fits the..."

"You're not wrong! Get the team together in the conference room. Let's get on this right away. Maybe we can stop..." He shook his head, knowing deep down they were too late. The killer would dump Carrie's mutilated body somewhere tonight if he hadn't already discarded it where it hadn't been discovered yet."

Nora couldn't contact David until her lunch break. She found a quiet place in the park across the street from the offices and dialed his cell phone number. He greeted her and she told him about Carrie Jensen.

"Do you know her? Can you connect with her?" Nora asked.

"The name doesn't ring a bell."

Exhaling a deep sigh, Nora said, "I didn't think we could be that lucky. May we get together this evening? I know you have guests, but..."

"Of course. What time and where?"

"Your house. I'll bring everything I can find out about Carrie before we meet. Order a pizza, or something. Assuming the sick son of a bitch hasn't killed her already, which admittedly is probably wishful thinking, maybe you can connect with someone that will lead us to her." Suddenly, Nora remembered pizza didn't agree with David. "No, make that Chinese."

"What time?"

"Six?"

"All right."

"Meet me at six," Bello said on a pay phone a mile from his office. The statement was code. Frisk would meet him at seven at a pre-designated location. Both would make certain they weren't followed to the rendezvous.

Bello had just discovered the FBI had known about Black well before his group provided the N.Y.P.D. information about the assassin. His informant had also shocked him by telling him the FBI not only knew about Black but also about Vinny and Al, as well as Bello's role in the crime, which was no big deal because the FBI couldn't prove anything. Still, Bello worried. Suddenly, he had become the sole link to the cabal regarding Boynton's assassination. Would the other members of the group eliminate him to protect themselves? In a heartbeat! He'd set up the meeting to test Frisk's reaction and discuss damage control. If he sensed danger, he'd take Frisk out and go to ground. At the same time, he'd go on the offensive before other group members knew what was happening. Not unlike the other members of the cabal, survival was Bello's prime motive.

On the other hand, he knew if he could convince Frisk that the link from Boynton to the cabal he represented was tenuous, at best, and certainly not a threat, Frisk would convince the others. Besides, the person feeding the FBI information had to be in Bello's organization, and Bello was the only member of the cabal who could uncover the informant's identity.

What concerned Bello more than the cabal's reaction was the fact that the only person left alive in his organization that knew about the Boynton contract was Don Maldonado himself. The Don certainly wasn't Cyber Deep Throat, the moniker used by the FBI informant, and questioning the Don about whom he told about the hit wouldn't be pleasant and could very well be unhealthy. Maldonado was old, and his mind was slipping. He'd been reverting to the old ways of getting things done.

"Impossible!" Steve exclaimed. "What I can't understand is how the two of you can keep a straight face while feeding me such a pile of horseshit."

Steve, Darla and Carol were strolling through a pasture south of the main barn. Nervous about bringing Steve into the loop regarding David's flights, Darla had enlisted her mother's presence and assistance for the confession.

"They can keep a straight face, Steve, because they're telling you the truth," David's ghostly voice stated.

Steve nearly tripped over his own feet as he spun around trying to find the source of David's voice.

"I know what I do goes against every scientific principle you trust, Steve, but..."

"Impossible!" Steve shouted again. He studied the landscape. "Where have you hidden the speakers?"

"I'm going to touch you now," David said and clamped an invisible hand on Steve's upper arm.

Stunned, Steve's shoulders slumped. He didn't try to turn away from David's touch, which seemed odd to David. Steve gave Darla a hateful look.

"Does he also speak using a feminine voice?" Steve asked his wife.

Standing with her head bowed looking forlorn and devastated, Darla felt sudden tears sting her eyes. They quickly overflowed and streaked her cheeks. "Yes," she replied meekly. He knows! He knows!

"Leave us," Steve said to Carol. "You, too, David, wherever you are. I want to be alone with my so-called partner in life." He sounded bitter as well as angry. "Wait! Tell me, David, when your consciousness leaves your body, does your body still function?"

"Yes, but only in a Delta state."

"Like a coma?"

"Yes."

"Good. Return to your body and stand where I can see you, but far enough away you can't hear us."

"All right," David agreed.

"Darla?" Carol said, questioning the advisability of leaving her daughter alone with an obviously distraught husband.

"Do as Steve asks, Mom. Please."

Reluctantly, Carol turned and walked toward the barn. David returned to his body and stood about a fifty yards from his sister and her husband while waiting for his mother. David took his mother's hand in his when she joined him.

"He's truly pissed," Carol said, her voice quivering with concern.

"Yes. He's heard me talking with Darla in my feminine voice during one or more of my visits over the years. He put two and two together to make four the moment I touched him."

"Do you think he knows about our incestuous relationship with Darla?"

"No. I think he's pissed because Darla didn't trust him enough to tell him about my flights of consciousness sooner."

Still in the pasture, Steve softened his malevolent glare. Darla stood meekly with her head bowed and tears streaming from her eyes. Steve's first impulse was to take her in his arms and comfort her, but his anger overwhelmed the urge. His love for Darla and his non-violent nature overcame his second impulse, which was to pummel her with his fists.

Through tight lips, Steve stated, "First, you keep the fact that you're wealthy from me. Now this. If you have any other secrets I should know, now's the time to tell me, Darla. Our marriage won't survive another secret if you don't come clean right now."

He knows! Thinking back, Darla decided the only time he could have tumbled onto her incestuous relationship with her brother was the morning David kidnapped her from her bed.

"Do you still love me, Steve?"

"Of course. The question is do you love me? Have you ever loved me?"

She couldn't stand alone without his touch any longer and rushed into his arms. Holding him tightly, she started to sob. Between shuddering gasps, she managed to say, "You are the love of my life, Steve. You are my husband, the father of our child, and I love you deeply."

Her words and her sorrow cut through his anger, and his arms wrapped her in a comforting embrace.

"You - little darlin' - our family - are dreams come true. Please believe me, Steve. Please."

His logical mind made her words a lie. If she truly loved him, she would have trusted him enough to tell him about her damned money, her brother's freaky flights of consciousness, and...

"You didn't answer my question, Darla. Do you have any other secrets I should know?"

She nodded her head on his chest but didn't speak, couldn't speak. If she told him everything, surely her dream-come-true would become a frightening, unbearable nightmare.

Her nod told Steve everything. All his fears, all his doubts were realized with that one small gesture. Extreme anger and an intense feeling of betrayal pushed at him from every side as if gravity had intensified its force tenfold.

"How old were you the first time you fucked him?" Clenched jawbones caused the words to hiss between his teeth.

Her arms tightened around him, and her body melted against his. "Fifteen," she whispered. She could feel his body shudder with shock. Tell him everything. Hold nothing back, she ordered herself. "Mom, too. Mother and I were lovers, too."

With an anguished roar, Steve threw her away from him. She fell awkwardly onto the grasses of the pasture and watched as her husband turned and started to walk away.

"Steve!" she shouted as she scrambled to her feet. "Stop! Come back here right now, dagnabit!" She stood with her hands on her hips. No longer submissive, her demand, her posture arrested his departure.

"You had to know!" she continued. "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Well, you were right. You need to know, and you need to know everything, so you'll damn well listen to me. Our marriage may not survive..."