Jane Becker's eyes filled up with tears. "I don't know! I don't remember! I didn't see him at all!"
Molly said, "What? But you were so sure!"
"I know. But when you asked me to tell you what he looked like-I didn't want to let you down, that's all! I just described the most frightening man I could think of."
"So you gave Molly a description of a man who doesn't exist?"
Jane Becker sobbed, and nodded. "I figured, where's the harm? He's not real, so the police won't be able to find him, so it doesn't matter."
"But Jane…if Red Mask doesn't exist, who do you think has been committing all of these other attacks?"
"I don't know. I really don't. I guess some crazy guys have been making themselves up to look like him. I mean you hear about these copycat killings, don't you? It's terrible. It's really terrible. But it's not my fault, is it?"
"Not entirely," said Sissy. "But something very strange happened when Molly drew that picture of Red Mask. Something you might call miraculous."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"You may not believe me, Jane. That's up to you. But the sketch of Red Mask that Molly drew from your description came to life. Red Mask didn't exist before you accused him of attacking you in the elevator, but he sure did afterward."
Jane Becker stared at her. "He what? He came to life? Oh, come on! This is some kind of a joke, isn't it?" She turned to Molly, both hands held out, as if she were appealing for sanity.
Sissy stood up. "Like I said, you don't have to believe me. But your description of Red Mask came to life and it was that Red Mask who committed the second attack. And when one of the witnesses described who had done it, Molly drew a second sketch, and that came to life, too. So we had two Red Masks…and it was those two Red Masks who committed both of the next two attacks."
Molly said, "It's true, Jane. I know it sounds completely unbelievable, but I saw it happen with my own eyes. Yesterday we managed to destroy one of the Red Masks-set fire to him and burn him up-but there's still one more left."
"At least we know that there never was a real
Red Mask," Sissy put in. "The real Red Mask was Butcher Buck, and he was probably burned for firewood thirty-five years ago, after they chopped him down."
Jane Becker pulled a crumpled tissue out of her sleeve and blew her nose. "I don't believe any of this. I think you're all insane."
"I'm sorry, Jane," said Sissy. "But it's true. And we need your help to finish Red Mask for good and all."
"What can I do?"
"You can face him, that's what you can do. You can face him, and you can show him this postcard, and you can tell him that you made him up. He's alive because he believes he's alive. He's alive because he's convinced that he's the image of a real person. He needs to be told that he was never real-that he was only a wooden statue, nothing more, and that even that wooden statue doesn't exist any longer."
"What?" said Jane Becker. "You seriously think I'm going to go right up to some homicidal nutjob and tell him that I invented him? You're even crazier than I thought you were!"
"You're the only person who can do it," said Sissy.
Jane Becker stood up. "Listen," she said. "I think you'd better leave."
Molly said, "Jane! You have to come with us! You have to do this, or scores more people are going to be murdered!"
"If you don't leave right now, I'm going to call the cops."
"I am the cops," Frank reminded her.
"Well, I'll call your captain or whoever he is, and tell him that you've been harassing me."
She came toward him, but Frank raised his hand to stop her. "We seriously need your help, Ms. Becker. I know this all sounds pretty darn bizarre-sketches that come to life, paintings that murder people. But there is an explanation for it, and it's real. As real as I'm standing right here."
"Are you going to leave or what?" Jane Becker demanded.
But Frank stayed where he was. "Let me ask you something, Ms. Becker. If Red Mask didn't kill George Woods, then who did?"
"I don't have to answer that. I've already answered that a hundred times."
"No, you haven't. You said it was Red Mask, but now you've admitted that Red Mask doesn't exist. So who killed George Woods?"
"I don't know. It was a man, that's all. I can't describe him."
"I get the picture. Average height, average build, no distinguishing features?"
"That's right. And he just started stabbing."
"You said you didn't know George Woods, didn't you? Didn't know the poor man from Adam."
"That's right. I never saw him before, ever."
Sissy reached into her purse and took out one of the receipts from Jones the Florists.
"A dozen roses, every week for five weeks."
Jane Becker tried to snatch it from her, but Sissy whipped it out of her reach.
"That's private, you bitch!" snapped Jane Becker. "That has nothing to do with you!"
"Oh, I think it does," said Frank. "Especially when so many people have been murdered, because of you. What happened between you and George Woods, Ms. Becker? You were having an affair, and the affair went sour? What?"
"An affair?" Jane Becker was quaking. When she had interviewed her in the hospital, Molly had thought how forgiving she was, how docile, considering what had happened to her. But now her mouth was tight with rage, and her eyes seemed even further apart, like those of a flatfish. "We weren't having an affair!"
"Okay, then, maybe it was just a fling. 'Remember the Vernon Manor…when our dreams came true.'"
"His dream. My nightmare."
"What do you mean?"
Jane Becker had to take a deep breath to compose herself.
"It was a weekend seminar, okay? Realtors and lawyers, talking about property law and escrow and all that kind of stuff. George Woods hit on me from the moment I arrived, and he wouldn't let me alone."
"So what did you do?"
"I told him to back off, but he wouldn't take any notice."
She paused. Now her anger had given way to self-pity, and tears were sliding freely down her cheeks. "I told him to back off but he must have put something in my drink. Rohypnol, maybe. He never admitted it. I don't remember him doing it, but he took me up to my room and he raped me."
She took a deep breath, and then she said, "He raped me and he…abused me in every possible way you can think of. When I woke up the sheet was covered in blood. And he was still there, would you believe? He was still there, sitting on the end of my bed with a drink in his hand, smiling like the cat that got the cream.
"He had used a vodka bottle on me. Can you believe that?"
Sissy reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Sit down," she said, gently. Jane Becker blinked at her for a moment as if she couldn't understand what she was saying, but then she sat on the couch, and Sissy sat next to her.
"So there wasn't any Red Mask, and there wasn't any man of average height and average build?"
"No," Jane Becker whispered.
"How did you do it? You managed to give yourself some pretty deep stabs in the back, didn't you?"
"I saw it on some TV program once. It probably wouldn't have worked with a really modern elevator, but the elevators in the Giley Building are so old and cranky."
"So you stabbed George Woods, and then you fixed the knife between the elevator doors and stabbed yourself in the back three or four times, and when the elevator got down to the lobby the knife fell out from between the doors and nobody realized it was you?"
Jane Becker nodded. "I was so hyped up that it didn't even hurt. In a funny way, I almost enjoyed it, stabbing myself. It was like I was punishing myself. Not for killing George-I didn't deserve punishing for that. Killing George was justice. But I deserved to be punished for allowing George to do all those terrible things to me."
"That wasn't your fault," Sissy told her. "How could you have stopped him? He drugged you!"
"No, I was stupid. I should have realized right from the very beginning what he was like. I allowed him to ruin my life. I allowed him to steal who I was. Look at me now! I'm nobody! I'm nothing!"
Sissy stood up again, and went over to Molly and Frank. "Do you know who she sounds like? She sounds exactly like Red Mask. That's who Red Mask is. Jane Becker's need for revenge, made flesh."
Jane Becker blew her nose again. "What happens now?" she asked. "Are you going to arrest me?"
"Well, not necessarily," said Frank. "Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. If you come along with us when we go hunting for Red Mask, we'll see if we can't suffer from collective amnesia as far as you and George Woods are concerned."
"Are you for real? Can you actually do that?"
Frank rested a hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Becker, you'd be surprised. I can do anything and everything, and a couple of other things besides."
At that moment, Molly's cell rang.
"Red Mask?" asked Sissy.
Molly shook her head. "It's Yvonne, from next door." She listened, and then she said, "Oh, no! Oh my God. When?"
"What's wrong?" Sissy asked her.
"It's Victoria. Yvonne was bringing her home from school. She was getting out of the car, and some guy grabbed her.
"She said it all happened so fast that she didn't get a very good look at him, but he was wearing a black suit and a red shirt, and he must have been strong, because he lifted her clear off the ground."
"Oh, please," said Sissy. "Not Red Mask."
"Sounds like him, doesn't it?" said Frank. "Did your friend call the police?"
"First thing. Oh please, God, don't let him harm her."
"Call the police department yourself," Frank told Molly. "Tell them where you are and give them your cell number. Then call Trevor. Tell him we'll meet him outside the Giley Building."
"The Giley Building? Why there?"
"Because that's Red Mask's home territory. That's his lair, if you like. And I'll bet you anything you like that he's taken Victoria there."
"Then I should tell the police that."
"No. It's too risky. Even if the cops can find him, what are they going to do? Shoot him? You know that they can't hurt him. But he might harm Victoria."
"Oh God, Frank. No."
Frank said, "He's done this for a reason, Molly: to get his revenge on you. You created him, but now you're trying to destroy him, and you're the only person who can. You've betrayed him, so far as he's concerned."
He turned to Jane Becker. "Well, Ms. Becker. It looks like you're going to be helping us sooner than we thought. How about getting yourself changed?"
"Are you serious?"
"Never more so," Frank told her. "Red Mask obviously wants us to come looking for him, on his terms, the way he did with Detective Kunzel and those two SWAT teams. He wants a showdown. So let's not disappoint him, shall we?"
As they drove back into the city over the Roebling Suspension Bridge, Sissy borrowed Molly's cell phone and called Detective Bellman. The bridge had a rumbling metal-grid floor, so she had to shout to make herself heard.
"Freddie? It's Sissy Sawyer! We have a crisis."
"Has Red Mask called you again?"
"Not since last night. But it looks like he's abducted Molly's little girl, Victoria."
"What? Jesus! Have you called it in?"
"Molly's neighbor did, as soon as it happened. That was about twenty minutes ago, from her home in Blue Ash. Molly's called, too, and talked to a Sergeant Haskins."
"Bella Haskins, yes, she's terrific. And the FBI will come in on this, too. They always do, when it's a child under twelve. Where do you think he might have taken her? Any ideas?"
"We believe he might be hiding her in the Giley Building. That's the only place where he really feels real."
"Okay, I'll get some units round there right now."
"Freddie-I'm asking you a huge, huge favor. I know you were pretty skeptical about what happened in the Giley Building yesterday."
There was a crackling silence. Then Detective Bellman said, "In all honesty, Ms. Sawyer, I have to tell you that it did stretch my credibility to the universe and beyond. You know that I'm still trying to be open-minded here, and I saw for myself that something got burned on that office carpet-maybe even somebody."
"It was Red Mask, Freddie. I swear to you."
"Well, maybe. But I didn't see no human remains, and I didn't see no canine remains, neither. In fact, no material evidence to substantiate your story whatsoever."
Sissy said, "Listen, Freddie-that Red Mask was nothing but an image. So was Frank. So was the scenting dog, too. They vanished. When a living image dies, it fades away. It simply disappears, like it never was. Even the original sheet of paper that it was drawn on is blank."
"So, okay-what's this huge, huge favor?" asked Detective Bellman. It was obvious that he wasn't keen to get involved in any kind of existential argument.
"I want you to let us into the Giley Building, to look for Victoria. You can come with us if you want to, but I'd prefer it if it was just us. I think it's our only chance of finding Red Mask and getting Victoria back unharmed."
"Who's 'just us'?"
"Myself, and Molly, and Frank-"
"Frank? You mean your husband Frank? Am I missing something here? I thought you just told me that Frank had vanished?"
"He did, Freddie, but like I was telling you yesterday-"
"Go on, then. Who else?"
"Jane Becker. You remember her-she was one of Red Mask's first two victims, her and George Woods. We need her to confirm Red Mask's identity. And our scenting dog."
"Don't tell me it's the same scenting dog come back to life?"
Sissy turned around in her seat. Deputy was right behind her, in the back of Molly's SUV, panting as if he had been running after rabbits.
"Let's put it this way. It's a similar scenting dog."
Detective Bellman said nothing for a long time. Sissy could hear other officers talking in the background, and a siren whoop. At last he said, "Ms. Sawyer, I don't have anything like the authority to do this. Apart from that, it's totally against CPD procedure. Civilians under no circumstances are to be put in harm's way during the course of any criminal investigation or arrest operation."
"I see," said Sissy.
There was another long pause, but then Detective Bellman said, "On the other hand, you know and I know that we're talking about some decidedly weird shit here. We're talking about perps who can appear and disappear like they can walk through walls. We're talking about perps with nothing but kitchen knives who can wipe out two SWAT squads armed to the teeth with semiautomatic weapons. We're talking about people who can come to life even though they're supposed to be cremated."
"I know, Freddie. I know. But let me just say that-"
"I have to admit that I'm bewildered, Ms. Sawyer, and I'm very skeptical. But there wasn't nobody more skeptical than Mike Kunzel, including me, and even Mike could see that these stabbings weren't your garden-variety massacres, not by a long way. He could see how goddamned weird they were. So just for Mike, I'm going to let you in to the Giley Building for thirty minutes, if that's what you want-provided you never tell nobody what I allowed you to do, ever, and provided you don't get yourselves injured or, God forbid, killed. Where are you now?"
"We're just coming off the Roebling Suspension Bridge, by the ballpark."
"Okay, I'll meet you outside the Giley Building in five minutes."
Sissy said, "Thanks, Freddie. You won't regret this. They'll probably promote you to detective first class."
She switched off the cell phone and patted Frank on the shoulder. "He's given us thirty minutes' grace. So let's step on it, shall we?"
Detective Bellman was waiting for them when they parked outside the Giley Building. The street was still crowded with vans and Hummers from the CPD forensic teams who were painstakingly going over the parking structure next door, inch by inch and floor by floor. The media vans were still there, too, from Channel 5 and Channel 12 and WLW radio. After all, it had been the worst mass murder in Cincinnati since 1987, when male nurse Donald Harvey had killed forty of his patients at the Drake Hospital.
"I feel like I'm dreaming this," said Detective Bellman, as they gathered on the steps.
"Maybe that's the best way," Sissy told him. "After all, it is a dream, of sorts."
"I'm coming in with you," said Detective Bellman. "I know what you said, that my weapon can't harm him. But this is my responsibility, this case, and I owe it to Mike Kunzel to see it through to the finish."
One of the uniformed officers guarding the Giley Building unlocked the revolving door for them and they went inside. The lobby was gloomy, and their footsteps echoed on the marble flooring.
Jane Becker said, "I really don't want to do this."
"I don't think any of us do, honey," said Frank. "But remember the roses, okay?"
Sissy went to the center of the lobby, under the chandelier, and closed her eyes. She breathed slowly and deeply to relax herself, and then she allowed herself slowly to rise up through the building floor by floor. She passed by deserted offices, chairs tipped over, dead computer screens. She heard phones ringing, unanswered. But as she reached the twenty-third floor, she began to feel the faintest of tingling sensations, and her closed eyes were gradually suffused with opalescent light.
She rose higher, to the twenty-fourth floor. There was no question about it: Victoria was here, on the twenty-fifth floor, almost directly above her. She could sense her, almost as if she could actually reach out and stroke her hair. She could see her-a pale, flickering outline, with two dark smudges for eyes.
Victoria, it's Grandma. We're here. We're coming to find you.
Grandma? Where are you? I'm so scared, Grandma.
Don't say a word, sweetheart. Stay where you are. Don't let on that you can hear me.
He says he wants to kill us, Grandma. He says he wants to stab us and stab us and chop us into bits.
Don't you worry, Victoria. We won't let him hurt you, I promise. Just hold on.
She let herself sink back down again, down to the lobby. She opened her eyes. Molly was standing right beside her, biting her thumbnail with anxiety.
"Did you find her?" asked Molly. "Is she here? Oh, please tell me you've found her!"
"Twenty-fifth floor," said Sissy. "It feels to me like he's shut her up someplace dark."
"He hasn't hurt her, has he?"
"He's threatened her-but, no, he hasn't hurt her."
All this time, Deputy had been snuffling around the lobby. When he arrived at the center elevator, he let out a single sharp bark.
"Are the elevators working now?" asked Sissy.
"I hope so," said Detective Bellman. "I don't want a repeat experience of yesterday. I get claustrophobia in the Tower Place Mall, let alone an elevator car with seven overweight cops in it."
"Well…either we risk the elevator or we have to climb the stairs," said Sissy. "And I, for one, am not going to climb those stairs again. I don't have many breaths left in this life, and I don't want to use them all up in one day."
The indicator light showed that the elevator was up on the seventeenth floor. Frank pressed the button, and the lights gradually began to descend: thirteen-eleven-nine-seven.
Detective Bellman unholstered his gun and said, "Let's stay well back, shall we? Seeing as how this Red Mask character has a penchant for rushing out with his knives going like Edward Scissorhands."
With an arthritic groan, the elevator arrived at lobby level and the doors shuddered open. Detective Bellman cocked his gun and jabbed it into the elevator car, but there was nobody in there.
"Okay, folks. Let's do it."
They stepped onto the elevator. Frank had his thumb on the button for the twenty-fifth floor when they heard an echoing shout of "Wait!" It was Trevor, pushing his way through the revolving door. He jogged across the lobby and joined them, panting almost as hard as Deputy.
"Sorry-traffic. Is Victoria here?"
Sissy pointed straight upward. "Top floor. Red Mask has her locked up someplace. That's what it feels like, anyhow. He hasn't hurt her."
"I'm going to kill him," said Trevor. "I mean that. Painting or no painting, I'm going to rip his goddamned head off."
Frank glanced across the elevator car at Sissy and raised his eyebrows. Neither of them had ever heard Trevor talk so ferociously before. But then, Trevor's family had never been threatened before, not like this.
The elevator rose painfully slowly, with its mechanism grinding and squeaking, and it hesitated at every floor, and lurched, even though its doors stayed shut. None of them spoke as they rose higher and higher, although Deputy was growing increasingly agitated and kept jumping up on his hind legs and clawing at the doors.
At last they reached the twenty-fifth floor. The doors opened, and they cautiously stepped out. The offices were in darkness, and when Sissy saw the sign on the reception area she realized why: HAMILTON PHOTO PROCESSING, INC. All of the photographic equipment had been removed, but the windows were still blacked out, with only a few scratches to show that it was sunny outside.
There was a sour smell of developing fluids, and something else, too. Something rotten, like a dead animal.
Deputy wasn't put off by the gloom. He circled around the reception area, sniffing and wuffling, and then suddenly he began to pull Frank along the corridor off to their right.
Sissy followed close behind. She couldn't sense Red Mask at all, but she could feel Victoria. It was almost as if she could hear her singing, in another room.
"Left," she said, although she didn't need to, because Deputy was already tugging Frank around to the left. He was straining even harder on his leash, so that he sounded as if he were strangling.
The corridor was lined with black-and-white framed photographs of thunderstorms and city skylines and women half concealed in shadow. At the very end of it, there was a black door marked "Darkroom." Deputy rushed straight up to it and barked, and wouldn't stop barking.
"Sissy?" said Frank.
"Victoria's in there," said Sissy. "She's right on the other side of that door."
Frank wound Deputy's leash more tightly around his fist. "Trouble is, so is Red Mask."
"What do we do now?" asked Molly. "We have to get her out of there! Victoria! Victoria! It's Mommy!"
Frank touched his finger to his lips to quiet her. "All we can do is play it his way for now."
Trevor said, "I think we should kick the goddamned door down and rush him. Come on, there are three of us, right?-and only one of him."
"There were ten SWAT officers, Trevor, and two FBI agents, and only two of him."
"Dad-that's our daughter in there! And that's your granddaughter, too! We can't just leave her in there with that psycho!"
Abruptly, Deputy stopped barking and backed away from the darkroom door. Detective Bellman unholstered his gun and cocked it again.
"What is it, boy?" Frank asked him. "What's wrong?"
They heard a key turning in the lock, and the darkroom door swung open. Deputy's fur bristled and he lowered his head and growled. Inside the darkroom, only a red lamp was shining, so that at first they could see nothing more than a silhouette. A bulky silhouette, with a squarish head. But in front of this silhouette, there was a smaller, paler figure.
"Well, well, well," said Red Mask, thickly. "So you came in force, Molly? You brought your own little army?"
"Give me back my daughter!" Molly screamed at him. She tried to lunge forward, but Trevor took hold of her arm and held her back. "Give me back my daughter, you monster!"
Detective Bellman said, "Hands on your head, mister! Drop whatever weapons you're carrying, and down on your knees!"