Aunt Denise, Mimsy’s youngest sister, used to call him delicate. She was only ten years older than Andy, but she always treated him like a little kid. ‘Don’t worry about him so much,’ she’d tell Mimsy when she came to take care of him when Mimsy was going away overnight. ‘Andy’s okay,’ Denise would say. ‘He’s just a little delicate.’

God, how he hated that word. Delicate. Made him sound like some damned fairy. Well, he wasn’t a fairy, and if anyone knew that it ought to be Denise. Hell, he knew she knew it. The way she walked around the apartment flashing her goodies in that see-through nightie when she came to take care of him when Mimsy was away. The way she’d tease him mercilessly when she caught him sneaking peeks. Bitch.

Sometimes Andy’d peek through the keyhole when Denise was in the bathroom taking a bath or shower. He always liked doing that, at least until that last time. There he was, fourteen years old, down on his knees, his eye pressed against the door, and, boom, she whips it open and catches him in the act. Bitch.

‘Was there something you wanted to see, Andy?’ she asked, standing over him without a stitch on with a smirky little smile on her face. Her voice oh so sweet, butter wouldn’t melt.

‘No, no. I was just . . . just here.’

‘Haven’t you ever seen a naked girl before?’

He didn’t answer.

‘You haven’t, have you?’

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Just got to his feet and stood there blushing. He was sure she could see the bulge in his pajamas where his erection was pushing out. Sure he was going to explode and start squirting all over himself.

‘Well, go ahead and have a good look, Andy,’ she said, with a mean little smile. ‘Just don’t touch. That wouldn’t be right, now would it?’ Bitch.

He remembered her closing the door, leaving him on the other side. He was sure she’d tell Mimsy what he’d done. She never did, but the threat was always there. After that, when she came to stay over, the bathroom keyhole was always covered. He never saw her naked again.

No, Andy shook his head sadly, he liked girls alright. As much as anyone. It was just that they didn’t like him back. None of them did. Thinking about it, he felt the old sense of despair breaking out. He tried to push it away. He didn’t want to go there. Not now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself.

His mother was gone now, taken by cancer nearly five years ago. He missed her. He really did. Even though, if he was going to be super honest about it, her being dead wasn’t all bad. Apartment 1F was all his. It didn’t stink of dead cigarette butts anymore, and he didn’t have to hide his stash of magazines or videos or worry about her finding them. It also meant he wasn’t always being hassled to go out and find a nice girl.

Somehow Mimsy never got it. Girls didn’t like him, not even ugly girls. Occasionally he worked up the courage to convince some girl he found on Match.com or eHarmony or Craigslist to go out with him. One who was ugly enough or desperate enough to give him a try. But it never worked. There never was a second date, and Andy was tired of being dumped on, stood up, and turned away. Besides, he didn’t really want an ugly girl. He wanted a girl like Lainie. Now even she’d been taken from him. It wasn’t fair. God had really fucked him over.

The hell with it. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. In one sense he still had Lainie and he always would. He double-locked the door to 1F, latched the chain, and brought out his box of DVDs from their hiding place behind the false panel in the closet under the stairs. He set the box down next to his favorite chair, a brown corduroy La-Z-Boy recliner.

It was Lainie moving into 2F three years ago that first gave him the idea to install the spycams. Someone really worth looking at taking the apartment. Someone a whole lot sexier than Denise. He remembered showing Lainie the apartment, remembered following her through each of the empty rooms, showing her how big the closets were and how much light the windows let in, pointing out the new appliances in the kitchen, hoping against hope that she might want the place, absolutely certain that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Those incredible eyes. That gorgeous face. That amazing body. Maybe the best part of it all, maybe the best moment in his entire life, was when Lainie turned to him at the end of the tour, smiled, and said, ‘It’s perfect. I’ll take it.’

Christ, it had been all he could do to keep himself from pumping his arms in the air and shouting ‘Yes!’ like some halfback who just scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl. Somehow he managed to hold himself in. Managed to just smile back calmly and say, ‘Great. I’ll run downstairs and print up a lease.’

Yes, Goff taking the apartment was what finally gave him the courage to turn his long-imagined fantasies into action. He knew exactly what he had to do, exactly what equipment he needed for the job, exactly how to make it work. Of course, why wouldn’t he? What with him being a former video professional and all.

Andy’s mind went to that cop who caught him in 2F last night. Guy treated him like he was some kind of pervert. Sure he was turned on by Lainie’s underwear, but so what? Who wouldn’t be? Lacy black thongs pressing into her you know what. Andy should have known the bastard was still there, but he was sitting in that chair just out of range of the bedroom spycam, and it’d been so quiet up there so long, he figured the guy was gone. Bastard sure fooled him.

Twenty-Two

‘Look, you’re her shrink,’ said McCabe. ‘You know how her mind works. If anyone knows where Abby would go to hide from a killer it ought to be you, right?’

Wolfe shook his head helplessly. ‘I’ve already told you what I think.’

‘Kelly?’

‘Yes.’

‘He says he doesn’t know where she is.’

‘Have you searched the place?’

‘Are you suggesting Kelly may be lying?’

‘All I’m suggesting is that Kelly’s unpredictable. The minute anyone starts thinking they know who or what John Kelly is, it’s time to think again.’

‘Aren’t you the one who placed Abby at Kelly’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? I thought Sanctuary House was supposed to be for sexually abused runaways. Mostly teenagers. I hadn’t heard Abby was abused, and she’s not a teenager.’

‘She wasn’t, and she’s not. At the time, I wanted her out of Winter Haven. She was doing well. Staying on her meds. The voices were quiet –’

‘The voices?’

‘Yes. Abby hears voices. Auditory hallucinations. Common among schizophrenics. At that point, they were under control. But none of the halfway houses I usually work with had space, so I called Kelly and talked him into letting Abby work at Sanctuary House as a staff assistant, a kind of an unpaid intern/big sister. Convinced him her illness wouldn’t get in the way. I thought taking on that kind of responsibility would be good for Abby. Build confidence. Self-esteem.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Yes. For several months it worked very well. Abby was proud of the trust people were placing in her. Especially Kelly. She worked hard. Did a good job.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘She fell in love with Kelly.’

‘I thought Kelly was gay.’

‘He is. She fell in love with him anyway.’

‘What happened?’

‘It kind of blew up in her face. In our sessions I told her pursuing Kelly wasn’t a good idea. She said she couldn’t help how she felt. So I suggested it was time for her to leave Sanctuary House.’

‘What happened next?’

‘She went to Jack. Told him how she felt. Made explicit sexual advances.’

‘She told you that?’

‘Eventually, but Kelly did first. He was worried about her. Said he told her he thought that she was a terrific young woman but that her feelings were inappropriate. That it was an impossible situation and that it would be best all around if she left Sanctuary House.’