Paying The Piper - 37. Chapter 37

Stuart pulled into his driveway at breakneck speed, wheels spinning over the loose gravel. He seethed over the confrontation with Steve and Rob. He'd been tempted to shoot them both; they deserved it. But in the back of his mind he knew there was the slightest chance that he wouldn’t get away. That his plans would be interrupted before they were complete.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. Steve was nothing more than a nuisance and Rob gave new meaning to the word inept. Even if Steve spilled the details of their conversation to Rob, Stuart doubted the deputy would believe any of it. Still, it made sense to speed his plans to completion. It never hurt to think ahead. If fact, life – as a rule – demanded it.

It pained him that Cynthia hadn't understood that until it was too late. She'd lived in the moment, always in the moment, even at the hour of her death. It suited, actually. Heaven was nothing more than an eternity of moments, each more glorious than the next. And soon, they would experience them together. Stuart smiled at the thought, his first genuine expression of the day.

He hurried around the side of his house and started across the backyard toward the garden shed. It was a modest dwelling, nothing like the McCoy mansion, and yet Stuart had always believed it respectable. Perfect for the two of them, Cynthia and him, and how ever many kids they decided to fill it with. He sighed, bemoaning the loss of their unborn children. Cynthia would be disappointed too. He made a note to comfort her about that when he saw her.

He reached the shed and fumbled in his pocket for the keys. The sturdy padlock opened easily, and he swung the door open prepared for the sight of Braden's dead body. He was greeted with a chuckle instead. "Why aren’t you dead?" Stuart hissed.

Braden laughed at the petulant tone. "Not dead yet, Cobb. Sorry to ruin your day, you freak." Braden coughed weakly and prepared himself for another vicious kick. When none came, he squinted at Stuart’s feet. His eyes widened. "No boots?" he wheezed. "And a visit in the middle of the day? Tell me, you psychopath, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Stuart felt himself begin to shake. Nothing was going according to plan. "You should be dead," he said through clenched teeth.

"Sorry. But I’m not going to give up and die because it’s convenient for you. If you want me dead, you’re going to have to do it yourself."

Stuart’s eyes widened and he sucked in a great breath. A second later, however, his anger drained away and his grin returned. "I don’t think so. I admit I panicked when you tried your pitiful blackmail scheme, but I won’t make the same mistake twice." He crouched down.

Braden reached for the strength to strike out – Stuart was so close. But his body refused to cooperate.

Stuart saw his frustration and laughed. "You’re not so scary," he cooed.

"Not nearly as scary as you," Braden said, prolonged pain forcing honest words from his dry throat.

"Now, now," Stuart said. "Sticks and stones." He stood up. "Save your strength, Braden. You’ve made it this far, it only makes sense for you to see it to the end. Ready for a field trip?"

Braden forced air into his lungs. Each breath was agony. "To where?"

Stuart clapped his hands once. He rubbed his palms together as though preparing to savor a delicious meal. "Back to the where it all started."

**********

Stuart hummed as he drove. The sun was setting as he pulled up in front of the McCoy mansion. Stunning, he thought, the way the sun reflected off the windows. He wished Cynthia were there to enjoy it with him. Of course, it surely didn’t compare to the miracles of heaven.

He glanced up at the house. It looked empty, yet Elizabeth McCoy’s car was parked in the round drive. "Hmmm," he said as he inspected the grounds. The left side of the house boasted a wide walking path to the swimming pool and tennis court. The right side, however, housed the east gardens. Those, he remembered, were where Cale used to host his spectacular parties when the elder McCoy was away. Stuart had never been invited to Cale’s parties. It wasn’t that Cale had disliked him in school. It was more that he hadn’t seen him.

Stuart cringed at the memories. Stuart the Invisible. Stuart who was never picked for games, because whichever team got stuck with him always lost. That was about to change. Tonight, his team would be enjoying a well-deserved victory.

His eyes focused on the east gardens again. Perfect. He was positive he could find a suitable place among the flowers for Braden to wait out the festivities. And if, when Stuart was finished, Braden was dead, so be it. If not, then he would finish what he had started. Stuart shut off the engine and got out of the car.

************

Elizabeth wandered through the house, no particular destination in mind. She wasn’t aimless so much as she was impatient. She missed Rob. She glided through the living room, but when she passed the first of six tall windows that lined the wall, she pulled up short.

Walking along the side of the house, a limp body thrown over his shoulder was Stuart Cobb. Elizabeth gasped and clutched the curtain for support. As she watched, Stuart stopped. He glanced over his shoulder at the window. Elizabeth gave another little cry and ducked behind the heavy curtain. She waited a minute, then risked a peek. Stuart was gone.

She dashed for the library, her heart hammering in her chest, and skidded to a halt by the huge desk where Cale kept his cordless phone. She pressed the ‘on’ button and hit the speed dial for Cale’s cell. Almost immediately, she faltered. As the phone dialed the number and the ringing started, Elizabeth hung up. Who to call? Her first instinct was Cale, but it was a decision driven by habit more than anything else. Casting furtive looks at the window, she dialed the station. The phone rang four times before Quent’s recorded message began. With a soft sob, she pressed the ‘end’ button.

She tried Rob’s cell phone next. It also rang four times before transferring to voicemail. "Where are you? Where are you?" she chanted to herself as she ended the call without leaving a message. She pressed the ‘on’ button a fourth time. This time, when she hit the speed dial for Cale’s cell phone, she let the call go through.

"Hello?" Cale answered.

Elizabeth frowned. The connection was terrible, and echoed as though Cale were in a cave. "Cale!" she cried. "Please, I need your help. Please—" The phone was snatched from her hand. With a cry, Elizabeth spun around. Stuart stood behind her, holding the tiny handset. He shook his head and "tsked" softly. As Elizabeth watched in horror, he disconnected the call.

Stuart slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and advanced on Elizabeth. Whimpering, she backed up, but within two steps, her thighs bumped the desk. Stuart reached out toward her. When his fingers brushed her arm, he grinned.

Elizabeth screamed.

***********

Drew pulled his jeep up to the school’s loading area and parked it between two dumpsters. He and Cale slipped out and climbed the short set of metal stairs to the service dock.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Cale asked.

"I think it’s a fantastic idea. Inspired."

"Inspired, but not exactly legal," Cale added.

"It’s a fine line."

Cale sighed. "Drew, with you everything’s a fine line."

Drew chuckled as they approached the door. "True. But if Stuart’s school records are here, then it’ll be worth it. We might discover whether Steve’s suspicions have any merit." He shuddered. "Can you imagine Jim counseling students? How on earth did he get that job?"

Cale shrugged. "His past issues were news to me. I wonder how many people even know that he was a troubled child."

"Quent knew," Drew reminded him.

Cale sighed. "Well, there’s a history there. Quent, Braden, Jim. Let’s just say their relationship was a bit adversarial."

Drew turned to Cale with a curious expression. "How do you know that?"

"My father. They all went to school together."

"Sounds like a blast," Drew murmured as he turned away. "Keep an eye out." He ran his hand over the metal door at the top of the ramp before sliding his fingers over the lock, examining it.

"Keep an eye out for what?"

Drew paused in his examination of the lock. "Good point." With Quent laid up and Rob babysitting Steve, they were hardly in danger of being bothered by the police.

"I think I’ll just keep an eye on you. That’s proved to be the safest course of action."

"Quite the contrary. It’s almost gotten you killed three times," Drew said as he reached into his back pocket for his tools. He looked to chose one at random, but Cale knew better. Drew knew exactly what he was doing.

"That may be how you look at it," Cale said. He glanced around the quiet alley. "The way I see it, plastered to your side is the safest place to be."

The lock clicked open and Drew stood. "That’s very romantic." He gestured Cale through the door. "I hope I don’t let you down."

Cale stole a quick kiss as he passed. "You won’t."

The school was tomb-silent. It was hard to believe nearly seven hundred students had filled the halls only a few hours ago. "Nice school," Drew said as they walked. "Looks new."

Cale nodded. "My father gave a grant to the town to build it. It’s barely fifteen years old."

Drew did the math in his head. "Convenient to have it done just in time for his son to attend."

Cale snorted. "That’s one way of putting it." His eyes roamed the trophy cases and bulletin boards as they walked. Nostalgia washed through him. His pace slowed as his mind wandered. Drew’s hand on his arm brought him back to the present.

"This must bring back good memories."

Cale shrugged one shoulder. "It brings back memories." At Drew’s questioning look, he shook his head. "Another story for another time. The records office is in the basement. The quickest way from here is through the locker rooms in the gym."

They walked silently until they reached the gymnasium. It still held the stale smell of sweat from earlier in the day. Cale took a deep breath as they pushed open the swinging door to the locker room.

Drew stopped just inside and ran a calloused thumb over Cale’s cheek. "What is it about this place?" he asked in a soft voice.

Cale grazed his lips over Drew’s thumb. "Just memories."

Drew’s eyes darkened. "Not good, I take it."

Cale took several seconds to answer. "I didn’t like who I was back then," he said. He pointed to a large door set against the far wall. "That’s it."

Drew considered pressing the issue, but Cale was right; this wasn’t the time or place. He followed Cale through the door and into the basement. As before, he let Cale lead and soon they were at the records storage room.

Drew hit the switch for the one bare bulb in the ceiling and closed the door behind him. The resulting whoosh sent a cloud of dust flying and both Drew and Cale sneezed.

"Ugh," Drew said. "Let’s make this quick."

Cale coughed. "Where do you want to start?"

Drew turned in a circle. "Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll start there." He pointed to the closest cabinet. "Why don’t you start on the other side and we’ll meet in the middle."

Cale nodded and they went their separate ways.

*********

Rob reread the text on his report for the third time, but it was no use. He couldn’t concentrate with Steve banging on the door down the hall.

"Skinner!" Steve yelled. "Damn it, would you please listen to me! I need to talk to you!"

Rob clenched his teeth and tried to block out the pounding, but if anything, his focus worsened. With an angry growl, he pushed back from his desk and stalked down the hall to the detention room where Steve was being held.

"Hey, Mullen," he barked through the door. "Quite fucking around or I’ll get the Doc back here to give you that shot he promised."

He thought he heard Steve laugh. "He won’t come. He’s too busy fucking murdering people to bother with you."

"That’s a tired old line, Mullen. Give it a rest." Rob headed back to his desk.

"Elizabeth’s next, you know."

Rob froze as Steve’s voice drifted through the door.

"And then Cale. And then God knows who else. You want that on your conscience, Skinner?"

Rob swung back and in two quick moves had unlocked the door and stepped inside. The door had barely closed behind him when down the hall, at his vacant desk, the station phone started to ring.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rob demanded, once he was in the room.

Steve tried to look smug, but the expression was at odds with his trembling hands. "He told me exactly what he was going to do. He’s going to get Elizabeth first, in order to lure Cale in. And then he’s going to kill them both."

Rob waved him off. "You’re crazy. No one who plans on committing murder actually tells anyone about it beforehand. That’s insane."

Steve nodded. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes. It is."

Rob stared at Steve in disbelief, unaware that at that moment, his cell phone, sitting on his desk near his coffee cup, began to ring.

Rob shook his head. "He doesn’t have a chance in hell of getting away with it. He’d get the chair for sure." Frowning, he wondered whom he was trying to convince.

Steve’s smugness returned, stronger than before. "He doesn’t plan on giving you the satisfaction."

Rob inhaled sharply. His mind was demanding he go to Elizabeth, but he couldn’t leave Steve alone. As secure as the holding cell was, in an emergency, Mullen would have no way out of the building.

Steve sensed Rob waffling. "Don’t let him kill anyone else."

The thought of Elizabeth lying in a puddle of her own blood, not unlike Cynthia Mullen had just two weeks before, propelled Rob into action. "We’re going," he said.

Steve eye’s widened in surprise. When Rob gestured him out of the cell, his steps were tentative, as though he expected to be shoved back in. "I didn’t think you’d believe me," he said.

Rob took his arm and pulled him down the hall. "I’m not sure I do. Completely. You can convince me on the way."

Steve eyed Rob suspiciously as he steered him through the station. "What magic word did I utter that caught your undivided attention?"

Rob pushed Steve through the front door and locked it behind them. "Elizabeth," he said.

***********

"Cale," Drew called. "Over here."

Cale looked up from his filing cabinet. "You find something?" He shut the drawer he'd just opened and walked over. Drew was flipping through a file he'd pulled from an overcrowded drawer. Cale squinted at the handwritten notes, barely visible in the meager light.

Drew licked his lips and started reading. "Student: Stuart Cobb. Date: October twenty-second. After a couple of student complaints concerning his behavior, Principal Trask has decided that I should meet regularly with Stuart Cobb in an informal setting. First weekly visit with S. started with a brief discussion of his schoolwork and grades. After being a mediocre student most of his academic career, N. is quite suddenly making top marks in all of his classes. Transcript of discussion attached."

Drew and Cale looked at each other. Without comment, Drew flipped to the next page and the attached transcript. "Do you want me to read it?" he asked.

Cale nodded. "I can barely see it in this light."

Drew cleared his throat and begun.

S: Why are you bothering me about this? Aren’t you glad I’m doing better? That’s your job, right? To make sure I do good.

COUN: Of course, Stuart. I am very happy about it. Your standardized test scores are excellent. I’ve always thought you could do better in your classes.

S: Then why all the questions?

COUN: I am merely wondering what caused your sudden change of heart.

S: Why do you care?

COUN: Stuart.

S: Fine. It’s because I have to get into college. A good college. I have to make a lot of money.

COUN: I hear that a lot. It’s nothing to be defensive about.

S: I’m not defensive.

COUN: How much money do you want to make? It might help me steer you in the right direction, career wise.

S: A lot. I have to take care of…

COUN: Take care of...

S: Never mind.

Cale took a deep breath and stepped back. "Jesus. This goes all the way back to when we were in school. How much do you want to bet the complaints were from Cynthia?"

"Rob told me that Stuart had been following Cynthia around for years – even when they were younger and in school."

"That’s a lot of years to obsess," Cale pointed out.

Drew just pursed his lips and flipped through the next several pages. Several pages in, another document caught his attention. He read, "Student: Stuart Cobb. Date: January ninth. Weekly meeting with S. Stuart returned from Christmas vacation sullen and withdrawn." Without consulting Cale, Drew turned to the next page and the transcribed conversation.

COUN: Did you not have a good Christmas, Stuart?

S: It was fine.

COUN: Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?

S: Not really.

COUN: It might help if you get it off your chest. And, believe it or not, I might be able to help.

S: I doubt it. Can you make the mill reopen?

COUN: No. I can’t do that.

S: Can you get her father a new job, so they don’t have to spend next Christmas eating at a soup kitchen?

COUN: Who, Stuart?

S: Never mind.

COUN: Stuart, the mill closing was hard on many people. But it was out of our control.

S: Professor Stahl, why did he do it?

COUN: Who?

S: Angus McCoy, why did he close the mill? I hear it was just because he wanted to. Do you think that’s true? Mr. Stahl? Did you hear me?

COUN: Sorry, Stuart. I was a bit lost in thought. Some people are just bad, son. You can’t change that.

S: Do you think Angus McCoy is a bad person?

COUN: Yes, Stuart. Yes, I do.

S: So do I. I hope he burns in hell.

COUN: You shouldn’t speak about people like that.

S: Sorry. But I do. He doesn’t deserve all that money. He didn’t work for it, not really.

COUN: He worked for it.

S: Not really. Not as hard as you work. Not as hard as I’m going to work. Mr. Stahl? Are you listening to me?

COUN: It’s time for you to get back to class.

S: I bet Cale will never eat his Christmas dinner at a homeless shelter.

"Fuck," Cale whispered. "I don’t know who’s scarier. Stuart or Jim."

Drew moved closer to Cale until their arms brushed. Cale gave a weak smile. "Scared?"

"Yes," Drew answered. He didn’t return the smile. "Jim should never have been given this kind of responsibility. Especially considering his past issues." He flipped through more of Jim’s notes and came to the final transcript. It was dated June first.

COUN: I’m glad you came. I wanted to wish you good luck. And congratulate you on a very impressive year.

S: Thanks, Mr. Stahl.. Can I ask you a question? A personal one?

COUN: I will do my best to answer.

S: When someone you love is doing something bad - something wrong - is it your responsibility to help them?

COUN: I believe that it is.

S: What if they don’t listen to you? If they don’t agree with you?

COUN: Keep trying, Stuart. If you truly love this person, you can never stop trying to help them.

S: Never?

COUN: Never.

S: Mr. Stahl?

COUN: Yes?

S: Once something is tainted by sin, how do you make it pure again?

COUN: That depends on what you’re talking about.

S: A person.

COUN: Do you believe in God, Stuart?

S: Of course.

COUN: Only God can forgive your sins.

S: You mean you have to die?

COUN: No, you simply have to ask. Stuart? Do you understand?

S: What if they won’t ask?

COUN: Then they'll have to pay the piper, son. Everybody pays eventually..

S: Is that bad?

COUN: Yes. It is.

***********

Drew led the way out of the basement, his mouth set in a grim line. Cale hadn’t managed to pry three words from him since they'd read Jim’s file on Stuart.

Halfway to the stairs, Cale’s phone rang. He flipped it open, noticing as he did that not only had he missed some calls, but being underground has cut his signal strength to almost zero. "Hello?" he shouted into the phone.

"Cale, please. I need your help. Please—" Elizabeth’s voice exploded in a rush of static. Before Cale could reply, the phone went dead. Cursing, he tried dialing her back, but she didn’t answer. He checked the missed calls. All three had been from Quent. Cale wasn’t surprised the calls hadn’t come through, especially considering how deeply under the school the records room was located. After trying Elizabeth one more time with no success, he shrugged and stuck the phone back in his pocket.

Drew watched with narrowed eyes. "Who was it?"

"Elizabeth. Said she needed help with something, but the phone cut out before she could tell me what it was." He slipped past Drew to the bottom of the stairs.

Drew grabbed his arm as he passed. "Was she in trouble?"

"No," Cale said. "Don’t worry about it. She always calls with the most inane things. I’m sure it’s nothing."

Drew didn't seem convinced. As they exited the school, he called Quent’s house. When the answering machine came on, he left a brief message. "It’s Drew. Listen, some new evidence has come up in the Cynthia Mullen murder. I have a quick stop to make at Cale's house, then we’re heading over to your place with it. Put the scotch away."

Drew flipped his phone shut and joined Cale in the jeep. Cale chuckled under his breath. "He really likes you, huh?"

Despite everything, Drew smiled. "Yep. Although he’s yet to admit it."

Cale snorted. "Baby steps."