He grinned. Dylan was still not quite eighteen. Charming, boyish and handsome. If she was going to have a continual hauntor a crazed personalityshe could have been plagued by a far worse ghost, she was certain. But some days, he was truly and mischievously out to make her appear to have gone daft.
Sure, he said.
A cop car went by, sirens blazing. And then another. Dylan looked after the cop cars.
Hey, something is going downover by the Granary cemetery. Want to check it out?
No, she said flatly. You feel free to do so.
I will, he told her.
See you then, she said.
He laughed. Oh, yeah. Dont worry. I know where your parents live.
Yes, of course, you do, she said.
It wasnt much of a walk to her parents home in Little Italy. Theyd moved when shed gone to college, but they hadnt moved far. They were now in a refurbished building that dated back to the 1820s but had been meticulously updated and turned into state-of-the-art condos.
They loved it; her father was now retired after thirty years as a history professor at Harvard, and her mom had left her position as first-grade teacher just last year. Their apartment had everything they could desire and they were close to all the restaurants they lovedespecially a certain cannoli shop.
When Vickie arrived, the two were studying a travel website.
Italy! The real thing, Lucy Preston said, her smile wide and her words excited as she opened the door. Dad and I are really doing it! Rome, Florence, Venice...were going! Doing the booking right now.
Great! Vickie told her mother, giving her a hug.
Want to come? Lucy asked.
No, Vickie said with a laugh. Join you two lovebirds on a romantic trip? Nope, thank you, but no thank you. Besides, you two kids are retired now. You can come and go as you like.
That wouldnt be a bad idea, her dad, Philip, said. It would really get you away from Jared.
That terrible man! her mother said.
Mom, he isnt a terrible man. Hes justnot right for me.
Well, you could come to Italy for a few days. I mean, youre writing now. You can write anywhere.
Ah, but I cant find those persnickety Puritans just anywhere, can I? My research is here, in this area, Mom, you know that.
Weve created a monster, Lucy, her dad said, coming up behind her mom. She has a work ethic, dear Lord! he teased, kissing her cheek. Seriously, though? Youd love this trip, Vickie. I know. You would absolutely love it! You could do research in Italy.
Dad, the Puritans came from England, not Italy.
Ahha! But later, Italians flocked in and now, were living in what they call Little Italy! her father said triumphantly.
Thats not the point. You two need to go on alone and have a wonderful and really romantic trip!
Vickie smiled. She loved her parents deeply. They were so savvy in many ways, and just a little bit clueless in others. They sometimes reminded her of a pair of childrenincredibly responsible children, but in their enthusiasm, they frequently appeared on fire. As parents went, they were comparatively young and in excellent health. The trip they were planning was to celebrate the fact that theyd both turn sixty that year. In her mind, her dadthe esteemed Dr. Philip Prestonwas as handsome and cool-looking as a rogue piratehe kept his head clean-shaven and wore a tiny gold stud in one ear. He was well over six feet tall, lean and wiry. Her mom, on the other hand, was about five-two with a froth of blond curls and cats eyesa hazel color that changed constantly. Her parents were attractive and energetic and she could just see the two of them cuddling in the back of a gondola.
Nopeshe definitely didnt want to go with them!
Im excited for you two, she said.
Coffee is onwant some? her dad asked.
Love it!
Come see what were planning, her mother told her, urging her over to the dining room table where theyd set up their computer.
Venice! her mom said. Well stay right on St. Marks Square. And in Rome, well you wont believe this, but one of dads old students works as a tour guide and hes going to take us on a special tour of the Forum and the Coliseum, and were meeting friends at a little restaurant near the Vatican... You know, you could meet us for just part of the trip, if you wanted.
My darling parents, Im delighted that your health is great and that youre off on an adventure, Vickie said. It will be wonderful. How long are you going for?
Twenty-one days, her dad said. I know you love Italy. It was all you talked about after that college trip you took. But, he said, smiling at his wife, I think youre right to stay home. We both love that youre working with young people now. Its great for them.
I do love Italy. And Ill go back with you one day, she promised them.
You staying here...does it have anything to do with Jared Norton? he mother asked.
Vickie was surprised by the question.
Mom, noIm just busy right now. And you guys need time to enjoy each other. Italy, so romantic! You two need to go. I need to stay and work.
Her mother sighed deeply, and then accepted her words.
Come on, then! Coffee. And, of course, Ive got a pie, her mom said. Oh, waitwe should have dinner first. Youre here! Oh, and dont make faces at me. I know I cant really cook, but I do make the best clam chowder to be found anywhere, even you say that!
Lucy grinned at her daughter. And Vickie laughed. Yep, your clam chowder is to die for, it is, Mom. Im totally wiped out, though.
Naturally, her mom served up the clam chowder anyway. Vickie had a spoonful almost to her mouth when the ghost of Dylan Ballantine came streaking through the walls with a trail of mist, not unlike a dust storm in a cartoon.
Vickie dropped her spoon, startled. Clam chowder hopped out of the bowl in little droplets.
Her mother and father stared at her; then her mother shivered and frowned and looked uneasily about the room.
Sorry! Clumsy me, Vickie said.
Dylan paid no mind to her words or her parents. He was intent on her attention.
Vickie, Vickie, youve got to help, youve got to do something. Dammit, Vickie!
She kept smiling at her confused parents, refusing to look in his direction.
Vickie, that killer, that Undertaker. Hes taken my mother, Vickie. Youve got to do something!
She couldnt help herself. She jerked around to stare at him, horrified.
Yes! They found the last woman whod gone missing and right after, my dad called in about my mom. We have to find her fast, Vickie. Somehow, we have to find her. Now. Before he kills her, too! Please, Vickie, dont let this happen to my mother!
He was still speaking when there was a knock at the door. A heavy knock, pounding and insistent.
FBI! Folks, please open up! came a voice.
What in the world?
Philip Preston rose and strode to the door; he looked through the peephole before frowning and opening it.
Two men stepped in.
The first was tall and dark and had the high cheekbones and golden skin tone of a Native American, along with striking blue eyes.
The second man...
The second man...
Vickie had started to rise. She froze by the table.
She knew him.
He had aged nine years, of course. His features were still striking, but they seemed cleaner cut, leaner, more rugged. His shoulders were broader. Hed been wearing the blue uniform of the Boston Police Department that day; now he was in a blue suit he wore with casual ease.
Yet she remembered him so clearly. Hed seen her...and hed warned her to get down. Hed taken a shot, and hed disarmed the man who had been after her and little Noah on that fateful day. Hed been tall and strong and ridiculously macho and beautiful to her. Detectives had interviewed her, but hed been there with coffee and a blanket, and hed held her when she started to shake and had nearly fallen because she was so nervous. Hed been called to be there when she brokenly described everything that had happened that day.
She had thanked him for saving her.
But it wasnt really me, was it? hed asked her.
She hadnt answered; shed never known what to say, how much he knew, how much he had seen...if maybe he actually spoke to the dead himself.
Shed watched him interviewed on the news. Hed stopped a stone-cold killer. He had done nothing any man on the beat wouldnt have done, he had told reporters. Hed just been there when escaped convict Bertram Aldridge had burst out of the Ballantine house.
She could have been brutally murdered that day. Bertram Aldridge had come after her with a gun. That wasnt his customary means of murder. He liked to slice up his victims and write messages in their blood. He liked to write notes to the police and smear them with blood.
She had been lucky; so damned lucky. Time had allowed her to walk and talk normally again. To head down to NYC for college, to take work there as a researcher, but now...
Shed come home. And there he was. Griffin Pryce. He was standing next to the tall dark-haired man who was explaining that Chrissy Ballantine had been taken and theyd like to speak with Victoria for just a few minutes.
As Vickie continued to stare while her father explained that she hadnt worked for the Ballantine family since shed been in college, she saw that Dylan had gone to the men, that he was speaking a blue streak at the same time.
You have to find my mother. This isnt fair. My family has lost too much. Whatever the hell it takes, you have to find my mother.
It was almost as if Griffin Pryce had heard him. Because he spoke next, almost interrupting Philip Preston.
We will find Chrissy Ballantine. We will, he said with conviction.
But what makes you think that Vickie could help? her father asked, frustrated.
And then Griffin Pryce looked at her. His eyes were older, harder than she remembered, though still determined and macho and beautiful and...
Because her name is part of the clue that was sent to the media, he said softly.
2
Takeras he had determined his code name to bestood watching the commotion. Cops, reporters, medicsyou name it.
It was good. So good. The woman, it seemed, was alive. People everywhere were talking. A tall blonde next to him smiled at him radiantly. Can you believe it? They saved her! Dug her right out of the groundand saved her!
Hallelujah, he said, nodding seriously. Thank God!
The blonde moved on.
He became aware that Under was coming to stand next to him. Under thought that being Under meant being the leaderand that Taker had agreed with that, since, in the name the press had given themUndertakerUnder came first. Taker knew that Under was a lackey; he was the smart one. He was the one with the plan. Andthough he refrained from saying itbeing a Taker was far better than being Under.
No matter. His accomplice was goodand loyal. Loyal, he knew, mattered most.
So, they saved her ass! Under said.
Doesnt matter, does it? Taker asked.
Not when weve got a big one all boxed up! Under said, and laughed.
Taker started moving down the street. Under followed in his footsteps.
Think well get to see what happens with that one? I got to admit, Im hoping your clue doesnt work. Thats one Id love to see go bad.
Yeah, Taker agreed. But hey, not the prize were really looking for, right?
But a thread to the prize, Under said, and paused in the street, smiling as they watched the growing throng of reporters in the area. Love this, love it, love it...and best of all...
Best of all, what? Taker asked.
Under grinned. Weve got the dough to keeping going and going. Under paused, frowning. Hey, what happens when weve taken down the prize, huh? I mean, this is cool, really cool. But I mean, you have an objective. And thats okay. But...
You change. You change your direction. Your style, your signature. And start all over again. You become someone else.
So, this never has to end?
No, it never has to end, Taker said.
It would end, of course. He did have an objective. And as to his good friend Under...
Well, friendships oftenand tragicallycame to an end.
But for now...
His eye was on the prize. And as for Under...at the moment, Under was loyal, like a lapdog, and had assets and abilities Taker did not. Under could, upon occasion, behave in a superior manner, but...
Really. It was all just a matter of time.
* * *
Where Preston ran and good old Paul rode.
Vickie sat frozen in her chair as Griffin Pryce read the words.
The two men had declined to take seats; therefore, her parents had refused to sit again. They were like a pair of puppies, blindsided by a couple of whacks to the head.
Not that Vickie felt any different. Or, perhaps, she did. She felt frozen.
This is wrong, just wrong, Philip Preston said. I mean, Preston is not an uncommon name. This clue may not refer to Vickie in any way. Youre asking my daughter to become involved with a killer. A killer who might target her. You cant mean
Yes, Mr. Preston, Jackson Crow said.
Vickies father was not ready to give in. Victoria was almost killed once. That man, that awful manits him? Aldridge! Bertram Aldridge. She wont be involved. Ill get her out of the country, Ill
Bertram Aldridge is sitting in prison, Griffin said. He will be there for life.
This is someone who likes to taunt the police with notes, Jackson Crow said. Most probably, they simply remembered and took her name from the newspapers or media at the time.
They cant mean Vickie, her mother murmured.
They mean Vickie, Griffin added quietly.
Oh, no, no, no, no... the ghost of Dylan Ballantine said, hands pressed to his temples. My mom, theyre talking about my mom.
I know you! Vickies mother gasped suddenly. Youyoure Officer Pryce. You were the cop who was there the day that...
The day I was nearly killed, Mom, Vickie said.
Yes, yes, youve been at our home before, and were grateful, but...no, not again. My husband is right. Youll get Vickie targeted by this sick person, Lucy replied.
She may help save a womans life. We dont like bringing anyone into harms way, Mrs. Preston, Griffin said. But Im afraid that whoever is responsible, they know about the attempt by Bertram Aldridge on Vickies life. The Ballantine house is near the Paul Revere house. And Vickie ran from that house.