The Nanny Murders Part 19

I ran over and stood between them. "Charlie, what are you doing? You can't just point a gun at people. These are my friends."

He waved the gun toward the window. "Let's go over there and talk, Miss Zoe." Charlie limped along, guiding me back across the room, wheezing as he stepped around chairs. Women huddled close, wide-eyed and silent.

"What the h.e.l.l is this, Charlie?" I asked. "What's the gun for?"

"Protection, miss. I told you. You're in danger. But don't worry. I'm here for you and the little girl."

Behind him, Susan pointed and waved, trying to send me some message I couldn't decode.

"You'll scare the children, Charlie. Put the gun away."

"I can't do that, miss. I followed you all the way over here. I believe you're next, see. It could happen any time. Just sit down and listen to what I have to say."

The gun pointed at my belly. No one had ever pointed a gun at me before. The muzzle looked cold and indifferent. I watched it warily and sat.

Coughing and hacking, Charlie peered through the gla.s.s at the children. Then he perched on the windowsill, facing me. I looked past him, searching for Molly, locating her in line for the vaulting horse, her back to us.

"The rest of you just go about your normal business," Charlie commanded. "And n.o.body open that door."

n.o.body moved. Women whispered, the tape of "Jingle Bells" repeated automatically, my heart pounded, and Charlie wheezed. But n.o.body moved.

"Please don't be afraid of me, miss," Charlie instructed. "The gun's for your protection. I can't sit by and watch anymore. I told you I'd protect you, and I will."

Behind Charlie, Gretchen and Davinder formed a wall around Susan, who was making hand signals at the observation window. She pointed at Charlie, miming that he had a gun. I prayed that if any of the instructors could see her, they'd get the message and get help.

"Miss, you haven't been careful. You've let evil get too close. I warned you-I told you he disguises himself. Why didn't you listen? He isn't sure how much I know, or I wouldn't be here. But I've seen things, his comings and goings. I'm the handyman. I have all the keys, see. And I have his brainwaves, see. I fixed the wiring. Reversed it, so I could read his thoughts, find out his plans."

I tried to make my voice sound calm. As long as he kept talking, he wouldn't hurt anyone. "You know his plans?"

He wheezed, then coughed deeply. Fire burned deep in his eyes. Sweat droplets swelled on his forehead. He leaned forward and enunciated more carefully, as if that would help me understand.

"I've told you. He won't stop. He's killed all those girls and he needs more. A fresh supply for his work."

Sitting behind Charlie, Leslie began to twitch. Her eyebrow flicked spasmodically. Her knee bounced involuntarily. I wondered if she was having a seizure. I looked at Karen. Her lips mouthed a silent question. "Who is he?"

"All those young women. Dead. So much waste-"

"Who's dead? What young women are dead?" Leslie cut in. "What's he saying?"

Charlie didn't respond. He went on, "See, the women weren't blood. They had false bonds, no true connections. That's why they had to die."

Leslie asked again, "Who? Who had to die? Answer me-"

I shook my head, trying to quiet her. Karen touched her arm. Behind them, blocked by Davinder, Susan continued miming that we'd been visited by a man with a gun.

Charlie continued. "But the work's not done yet. Life and death, love and hate, Satan and the Lord G.o.d. Everything's the same to him. He spits at it all, pastes it all together as a circle. His work is evil, Miss Zoe. And evil feeds on itself, begets more evil. It's an endless cycle. He'll go on killing until somebody stops him."

Leslie panted, "He means Tamara? The nannies? They're dead? How does he know that?"

Charlie gazed through the window. I looked out and saw Molly take a running jump and leap over the horse, clearing it by inches. Landing, she turned to see if I was watching.

Amazingly, I was. I even smiled and gave her a thumbs-up, just as if nothing were wrong. She grinned proudly and was moving on to the parallel bars when, beside me, Karen suddenly stiffened. Somebody shrieked. And Leslie tackled Charlie from behind, grabbing for the gun.

"You sonofaf.u.c.kingb.i.t.c.h! You killed them-"

Fearless, maddened, she clawed at him. When the gun went off, the bang was deafening.

THIRTY-EIGHT.

CHUNKS OF DRYWALL FLEW THROUGH THE AIR, AND A HOLLOW ringing m.u.f.fled all other sounds. Leslie stopped in midair, her face distorted in disbelief. Then she sank to her knees on the floor. Children turned to face the window; women shrieked. Karen and Ileana ran over to Leslie and held her, looking for wounds. Leslie hadn't been hit, but she gulped air, yelping like a wounded dog. In the gym, children froze, staring at the observation room window, large eyes searching for their mothers. ringing m.u.f.fled all other sounds. Leslie stopped in midair, her face distorted in disbelief. Then she sank to her knees on the floor. Children turned to face the window; women shrieked. Karen and Ileana ran over to Leslie and held her, looking for wounds. Leslie hadn't been hit, but she gulped air, yelping like a wounded dog. In the gym, children froze, staring at the observation room window, large eyes searching for their mothers.

Charlie got to his feet, holding the gun in the air. "Everybody calm down, now." He wheezed through the ringing sound. "I don't want anybody hurt." His voice broke into a fit of coughing. "Sit down, please," he continued. "I'm here for Miss Zoe. But I'll take care of all of you, all of you."

Coach Gene pounded on the door. "Everything okay in there? Open the door."

Shaking, I got up and crossed the room.

"Don't open it, miss."

I didn't answer. Charlie wouldn't shoot me. with trembling hands, I moved the chair; Coach Gene flew into the room, gaping at the hole in the wall. "what the heck's going on in here?"

"Just a little accident," I said. "But everything's okay." I looked at my terrified friends. Susan was beside me, smiling stiffly, indicating that Gene should play along.

"We're fine," she said, drawing his attention to Leslie, who was still yelping on the carpet. women cl.u.s.tered, hugging each other. Gretchen, Davinder, and Ileana huddled together, bug-eyed. Karen had moved to the doorway and now sheltered Nicholas in her arms. All eyes were riveted on Charlie. "Jingle Bells" continued its maddening endless loop.

"who's that?" Nicholas pointed to Charlie.

I remembered then that n.o.body knew. Crossing the room, I stood beside him. "Everybody. This is my neighbor Charlie." I could barely hear my own voice. It came from far away. "He wants to keep us safe, so let's all stay calm and let him help us."

Gene, pretending nothing was wrong, gave a nod and backed away. "All right, then. Okay. I see. Everything's under control, then. Nice to meet you, Charlie. Come on, Nicholas. Mom, why don't we take Nicholas back to cla.s.s? In fact, why don't all the moms come watch in the gym?"

"The women better stay with me," Charlie told him. "They're safer here."

Coach Gene's eyes darted from Charlie to the exit door. I thought he might run for it, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. Finally, though, he led Karen and Nicholas back to the gym: Karen glanced back at us as Gene reached for his cell phone. Help would come soon.

"Charlie thinks somebody may be trying to hurt me," I kept talking, trying to hold Charlie's attention.

"Dammit," Charlie gasped. "what's wrong with you? There's no maybe. He's about to do it. She knows." He pointed at Leslie, still whimpering on the floor. "She already knows what I'm talking about. Don't you read the newspapers? Don't you see the TV? I'm not making this up."

"We know that, sir. We all know." Susan's voice came from across the room. "And we appreciate your courage in trying to protect Zoe. And the rest of us, too."

She was going along with him, trying to calm him. But Leslie didn't get it. "What the h.e.l.l, Susan? He's not protecting any-"

"Shh." Susan squeezed Leslie's arm, shutting her up.

"Don't be afraid." Charlie ignored them, speaking softly to me. "As long as I'm with you, you'll be safe."

We sat for a few moments in silence. Waiting. Listening to Charlie's labored wheezing, wondering what to do. Then, over Charlie's shoulder, through the observation window, I saw Gene gather the children into a circle at the far side of the room by the pit. Uniformed policemen crept into the gym, taking cover behind stacks of mats, sneaking along the walls, leading the children out the back door.

"Charlie," I begged him. "Please, give me the gun."

"No, miss. Can't."

His forehead dripped sweat. His pupils were dilated, his breath short. He grabbed my arm. When he leaned close, I smelled sour wine and stale sweat. White globs foamed in the corners of his mouth.

"Charlie, please," I interrupted. "Put the gun away before someone gets hurt."

"You still don't get it?" Charlie coughed, holding up the gun. "Don't you realize what I've done? Coming here? I've signed my own death warrant."

"Charlie, please." Behind him, police had their guns drawn, aimed at the window. Susan waved at me, signaling that I should move away from Charlie, but I stayed put.

"No. He'll never let me live, not after this. Look. He's not alone. There are others like him all over the country. Where do you think all those missing young people are? All the kids who go to the mall and never come back, who hitch rides and disappear? They've been taken-just like the women-"

Susan couldn't be silent anymore. "Charlie, sir? The police are here. Put down your weapon or they'll take it from you by force."

He wasn't listening, didn't seem to hear her voice. "Remember, miss. Evil wears disguises, and as long as those like him live and breathe, caution's your only hope."

"Charlie, listen," I repeated Susan's message. "The police are here. They want you to put down your gun. Give it to me. Please." I held my hand out. His eyes widened, but he shook his head. No.

Cops were everywhere now. I could see five of them. If Charlie turned around, he'd see them scattered through the gym, guns raised. Any second, they'd rush the room.

Charlie slumped against the window and wiped sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his overcoat. The gun hung loosely in his hand. I sat beside him. Would he shoot me if I grabbed it?

"Sorry, miss." He looked at Leslie. "I wish I'd stopped him sooner. But at least I'm stopping him now." Charlie looked at me with glazed and somber eyes.

A voice called over the loudspeaker. "You, in the observation room. Charlie. This is Sergeant Bennings of the Philadelphia Police Department. You are surrounded by police officers. You have no way out. Put down your gun now and come out with your hands on your head."

Charlie turned and gazed out the window, gun raised. "I told you-he's closing in, miss. I'll stay by your side and hold him off as long as I'm able, but you have to be on guard, too. Mind my words. Trust n.o.body."

"Charlie, you have sixty seconds to release your hostages and come out of there peacefully."

"Please, Charlie," I said.

Leslie wailed. Susan gestured for me to move away. The rest of the mothers sat silent and still.

"Charlie, do what the man says," I begged. "I'll go out there with you. Please. We'll go together."

Susan came over and grabbed my arm. "Zoe. For G.o.dsakes move away from him."

"No-it's okay. Charlie and I are going to go out there together, right, Charlie?"

"They mean business, Zoe."

"Charlie? Let's go, okay?" I touched his shoulder and stood. "Zoe, I'm serious-move away-" "Just a second-"

"Dammit," Susan scowled. She stood glaring at me while Charlie leaned forward, peering through the gla.s.s. He looked exhausted, pensive. Seconds pa.s.sed, each one leaden, adding weight to the next. Thirty, forty. The room was silent. Motionless. The air too heavy to breathe.

When a minute had pa.s.sed, Sergeant Bennings began to speak again, but Charlie shouted over him. "Okay-zero hour-here we go! Get down!" He raised the gun and fired at the window. Gla.s.s shattered, shards soaring.

"No!" I screamed. "Charlie-the children!" Susan pulled at my arm; I yanked it away and pulled at Charlie, trying to stop him. With surprising strength, he shoved me away. Behind me, women shrieked and dropped to the floor. Susan ducked; someone ran for the door. Charlie shouted obscenities and kept firing, popping two shots, three, until suddenly what remained of the window exploded in a glittering shower. A gush of red burst from Charlie's hand and his gun flew through the air onto the floor. He turned to me with a look of surprise. His mouth opened, forming words I couldn't hear, and his skull exploded. Brains, bone, blood, bits of Charlie flew all over the room. Warm, sticky spray splattered my clothes, my face, my eyes. I couldn't see, squinted to find Molly through a warm, crimson veil.

On the floor, the ma.s.s that had been Charlie twitched awhile before it lay still. Susan led me to a chair. Then she was gone. Coach Gene stared from the doorway, his mouth moving, no sound coming out. Police in white jumpsuits shoved past him, clearing the room. Sometime, out of nowhere, Nick appeared, wrapped me in his arms, and carried me out. I saw events as a silent movie, heard no voices, no commotion, no cries. Long seconds pa.s.sed before I realized that I'd been deafened by the gunfire, so I couldn't hear any sounds at all, even my own screams.

THIRTY-NINE.

POLICE CARS BLOCKED OFF OUR STREET, THEIR STROBES LIGHTing Charlie's porch. Blue and white flashes pierced the night, outshining the Santa's red and green. Police swarmed all around and inside Charlie's house. Neighbors and pa.s.sers-by gathered on the sidewalks. Jake must have been working late again; he lingered at the curb, talking with a policeman. Phillip Woods stood on his porch. Victor peered through his blinds; I actually saw his hands. I sat on my steps, watching, breathing on my fingers for warmth.

Inside, Karen, Davinder, and Gretchen watched the children. Ileana and Susan had left their kids with us while they went to the emergency room with Leslie and Coach Gene, who'd become hysterical after the shooting. The rest of us stayed together simply because we weren't able to separate. We didn't know, couldn't imagine, how to return to the lives we'd left just that evening. Though nothing was said about it, each of us suspected that those lives had been, with Charlie's, blown away.

An ambulance had arrived at the Center to remove Charlie, and someone had given me a clean sweatsuit to change into. I had no idea where my old clothes were, the ones coated with clumps of Charlie. Nick had taken Molly to be with Susan and Emily, minimizing her contact with the frightful sight of her mother. Then he'd taken me to the locker room, where he'd helped me peel off my gore-soaked clothes and wash away the carnage that covered me. Under a steaming shower that had splashed his pant legs and shoes, Nick had washed my face and shampooed my hair. Then he'd stayed while I'd given the officers my statement. I'd begun trembling, shivering so badly that Nick had wanted to take me to the hospital. But I'd declined. I'd wanted to go home. To take Molly inside and lock the door.

Nick had driven us. My ears rang: I had trouble hearing. But I understood that Molly was asking questions and that Nick was answering. I heard him say that Charlie had been very sick. That Charlie had imagined things. That it was very sad, and Charlie was gone, but everyone was safe now. Everything would be okay. I wondered what she'd seen and heard, what she understood, but I didn't have the energy to talk to her about it yet. Even Molly was beyond my reach.

At home, Nick held me, kissed me, and promised to return in a few hours. I accepted the touches, the kisses, didn't question the fact that our relationship had somehow instantly resurrected itself. I watched Nick talk to Molly and hug her, then cross the street and talk with police before hurrying to his Volvo and driving off.

Women from gymnastics gathered with their children in my living room. I wasn't comfortable. I didn't want company yet couldn't bear to be alone. I knew I should talk to Molly but had no idea what to say. I stroked her cheek and hugged her, whispering trite rea.s.surances. But I couldn't sit, couldn't stay inside, paced from the kitchen to the office, the office to the living room. I couldn't stay away from the windows where I could look out at Charlie's house, as if somehow the house would explain things to me, set me straight. Finally, I wandered out the front door and sat on the dark icy steps, watching, waiting, realizing that what I was waiting for would never happen. Charlie would never again appear.

The police milled about. A couple of them protectively urged me to go inside. But I couldn't budge. Charlie's blood had spattered all over me. His life had spilled onto my skin, soaked into my pores. And it was my fault. I should have stopped it, should have been more forceful, grabbed his gun, protected him. I'd never believe that he'd intended to shoot anyone, but he'd shot first, and with children around the police had had no choice. What had happened to Charlie? Had there been a turning point, a precise moment when he'd lost it? Did he have some chemical imbalance? A brain tumor? A split personality? In a way, it didn't matter, now that he was gone. But I'd miss his pipe glowing in the dark, the warm aroma of his tobacco, his watchful concern, even his overprotective warnings. Tears stung my cheeks in the cold. Mourning Charlie, the irreversibility of death.

Suddenly, a policeman ran out of Charlie's house. Before he reached his van, he dropped to the curb, puking. I went down the steps, but a strong arm restrained me. "Stay back, ma'am."

Another officer yelled from the doorway, and radios began barking. Uniforms scurried into Charlie's door as a guy strung more yellow tape around the property. Men in overcoats arrived. An ambulance drove through the blockade, lights flashing. Heavy men in navy parkas carried a stretcher into the house.

"What's going on?" Karen stood beside me. She looked haggard.

"Dunno."

"A stretcher? Is somebody else inside?" "He lived alone."

Karen shrugged. "Hot tea?" She handed me a mug. "Thanks." My hands were trembling. Tea slopped onto the steps, melting the thin coating of ice.

"You better come inside, Zoe. It's really cold out here." "I'll be in. I just need to see this."

"Are you all right?" She looked me over. "You're not, are you?" Her eyes were sad, her voice gentle.

""No," I said. "Are you? Is anyone?"