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The Guilty - Jason Pinter [96]

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but a pathetic whimper. She felt saliva coating the

tape sealing her mouth.

She nodded once. That was all.

"You had me worried," the boy said with a grin.

William. His name was William.

"We have a busy night ahead of us," William said. "Are you

up for it?"

Her first instinct was to try and scream. Or at least nod

twice. But the knife made its horrible presence felt once again

and she tilted her chin down once. A single tear streaked

down Mya's cheek. The boy wiped it away.

44

After leaving the office, I called Amanda. We hadn't spoken

the whole day, mainly because I'd been swamped with Justice

Waverly, then presenting the information to Wallace, Evelyn

and Jack. Then I began to prep the outline of a blockbuster

story that would both force the reopening of the fire in Hico,

but present new information proving that Billy the Kid had

lived long after his alleged murder. It was too soon to claim

that Athena Paradis's killer was Billy's great-grandson, or that

I thought he was. I knew it was true, but had to be able to

convince others. Truth required proof, however, and since he

was still at large the only proof was four silent corpses.

One thing was for certain, and Waverly had confirmed it,

that William Henry Roberts was not among the victims who

died in the fire.

So if William did not die in that fire, why was there no investigation into his whereabouts? Hamilton County police department came up empty, and they moved mighty quick to

assume the body had simply "burnt up." Even I didn't think

they would be that careless. At least not by accident.

Not a single newspaper report asked questions about the

fire. They were too busy bemoaning the death of Mark Rhein- The Guilty

279

gold and four, less important, members of the Hico community. Everyone seemed more than happy to wash away any

unpleasant memories and get on with their lives.

That brought up another question. What was Pastor Mark

Rheingold--a statewide institution, a man who made millions

of dollars a year and had thousands of rabid followers--doing

at the Roberts house the night of the fire? I searched every

archive available but couldn't find anything linking Rheingold

to the Roberts family. It was a pretty big coincidence that

Rheingold paid a house call the night a four-alarm blaze

burned everything to the ground.

I dialed Amanda's line at work. It went right to voice mail.

"Hey, babe, it's me, I'm heading home now. You're probably still at work, just wanted to know if we should plan to

have dinner together. Anyway, give me a call back. Love you."

Click.

I needed a night to relax, unwind. Everything this past

week had come so suddenly. All those deaths--deaths of

people I knew. The NYPD was beside themselves at this

point, and the newspapers hadn't pulled punches in their criticism. And though New York had arguably the finest police department in the country, it was also a city in which it was all

too easy to disappear. I knew that firsthand. Sooner or later

the net would close in on Roberts. We could only hope it did

before that Winchester fired again.

The Gazette' s sales had gone through the roof the last few

days. The city hadn't seen such juicy copy in a long time, and

people were buying up papers in droves. Between Athena

Paradis's murder, the turmoil at Franklin-Rees after Jeffrey

Lourdes's death, the NYPD wanting blood for Joe Mauser,

and the societal fallout from David Loverne's murder, it was

a gold mine for newshounds.

280

Jason Pinter

Joe Mauser's death had been relegated to the back pages.

A cop dying in the line of duty just didn't sell as many papers

as a murdered pretty blond white girl. It was strange that this

pissed me off so much, considering Joe Mauser's bullet had

left a nasty scar on my leg. Just one year ago, Mauser wanted

to kill me. I held no ill will toward the man. If someone had

done to my family what he thought I'd done to his, I would

have wanted blood, as well.

I got off the subway and began walking toward our apartment. The summer sun was dipping below the clouds,

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