Hide & Seek - James Patterson [42]
Will
CHAPTER 44
WHEN WILL HEARD loud and persistent knocking at the door of his suite in the Rio Hilton, he shivered. He staggered from his bed, and hid himself in the bathroom.
He was barely able to navigate the few steps without falling. Go away, whoever you are. Get the hell away from here!
He heard the front door of the suite open and the sound of voices. A maid, and someone else.
Jesus Christ, they can’t come in here—whoever it is. Not now!
“Thanks for letting me in,” the voice said. “I can manage from here.”
Palmer!
Who in hell invited him?
Nobody can be here—not even my brother Palmer! I’m out of control and I don’t know if I can ever get it back!
Palmer Shepherd’s eyes took in details of the puzzle: the closed bathroom door; the mirror laid flat on the night table bearing a razor, a rolled up hundred dollar bill, the remnants of God knows how much cocaine. An empty bottle of tequila on the floor. A half-full glass of a red liquid on the other night table. Port? Cinzano?
But where was Will? Where in hell had Will gone to?
Here I am, little brother!
With the howl of a werewolf, a naked Will was on him, wrestling him to the ground, pinning his arms. Then Will was sitting on his stomach as he had when they were boys.
“You lose. I win!”
Only this time Will’s eyes were scarily wild, and his body—God, his body!—was covered with blood.
Palmer stared up at his brother in disbelief and horror. “Jesus, Will, what in hell did you do to yourself?”
Will laughed loudly, manically. “Cut myself shaving.”
Will sprang off him and appeared to dance across the room. He picked up the half-full glass and offered it to his brother. “Cut her shaving too. Blood actually goes with tequila. Taste?”
“You cut who shaving? What the hell happened here? What are you on?”
“Angelita. I’ve got her body in the bathroom. She’s just a whore.” Once more he held out the glass of dark red liquid. “I’m afraid I drank most of it myself. Breakfast of champions.”
“You didn’t,” Palmer whispered. He rose to his feet on unsteady legs. “You couldn’t have.”
“Didn’t what? Couldn’t have what?”
“Kill her.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Will’s eyes were easily as large as silver dollars. Mad eyes. “Let’s find out. Let’s have a look.”
Will opened the bathroom door, and shared his secret life with his brother.
“What’s the verdict, little brother? Did I, or did I not? Are you going to help me this time?”
CHAPTER 45
FOR ONCE THE outrageous stories in the fan magazines were mostly accurate and true, and maybe even understated. Will knew this, and so did his brother.
Will was dangerous, even more dangerous than the tabloids suspected. He had spent six weeks in a private New York hospital, recovering from a “breakdown.” There had been a “substance problem” in Rio.
He’d done much worse things than a little cocaine—but he’d gotten away with them. It had cost him—a sizable bribe every week to his beloved brother—but at least he was still free and on the loose. He wasn’t in prison for the rest of his life.
Will and Palmer had decided he ought to live somewhere other than London for a while. The little bastard Palmer had insisted on it, actually. It was a part of their “deal.” For some reason, Will found himself drawn to New York anyway.
He sublet an apartment on the East Side, and loved it so much he went looking for a house. He happened to read in the Times that Maggie Bradford had a place in Westchester. So did Winnie Lawrence. Will decided to look in Westchester first.
He was still a huge fan of Maggie’s songs. Her music was healing; he was convinced of it. He’d even talked to his hotsy-totsy Fifth Avenue shrink about the songs, especially the lyrics. The doc was also a Maggie Bradford fan, so he understood what Will was talking about—at least he thought he did.
Will fantasized about meeting Maggie one day in Westchester. He was certain it could be arranged somehow. He was clever enough to accomplish that, wasn’t he?
CHAPTER 46
THIS IS THE part that doesn’t make much sense. Maybe that’s why it fascinates so many people, holds