"Jamie was always odd, nervous, unstable. Grenville was patient with it because Jamie was trying to reform, because he was very useful.... He still believes Jamie innocent of any wrongdoing...."
The way she said "Grenville."
There we have it, Dr. McDevitt thought. She's doing this for Grenville Hawkes. She will run over me, sacrifice Jamie, turn her back on her own ethics, for Grenville Hawkes.
Louisa Kahne, who'd always been above that sort of thing.
"Besides," she continued, "Jamie is an orphan, we have no way of knowing what he might be genetically disposed to."
"I'd stake my reputation this is a trauma-induced psychosis. He has no organic symptoms at all."
Louisa took a determined breath. "Phillip, Jamie is committed here under my orders. I have the authority to release him into my custody. I am going to go finish the paperwork now."
Dr. McDevitt was familiar with that expression—he'd seen in on Dr. Johnas Kahne's face many a time.
You couldn't budge the old goat when he was like that, and his granddaughter was the same.
He felt a stab of despair on Jamie's behalf.
"Louisa ..."
"Yes?"
"Be kind to him."
"Have I ever been otherwise?"
"Many times, when it suited your purpose. And this is one time more."
She left, and he measured the extent of her guilt by the lack of her anger.
Dr. McDevitt paced his office for a minute. He tried to think of some way to prevent this—other than going to Jamie and provoking a bout of full-blown hysteria—easily done, but which his medical ethics could not support—he could think of nothing.
Suddenly, he had a determination to go meet Grenville Hawkes.
He'd heard enough about the man to form some opinions— Jamie had no idea how revealing his comments were.
He went to the visiting lounge. Through the French doors he could see a tall, dark-haired man strolling through the room, flipping a magazine, examining the checkerboard.
He went in.
"Mr. Hawkes?"
The man turned. Handsome, in a commanding, confident way, aristocratic, smooth-mannered. "Yes?"
It was worse than Dr. McDevitt had even imagined. This man is cold, he thought, he is dangerous, he has secrets—
"Dr. McDevitt." The doctor held out his hand.
Grenville's handshake was surprisingly warm, and his voice deep and vibrant.
"You have been treating Jamie? I am grateful. Louisa has told me of the progress he's been making."
His dark eyes burned into the doctor's soul.
Dr. McDevitt's profession required a degree of hiding his thoughts, and he hoped Mr. Hawkes would not be aware of how deeply he was repulsed by him.
And I have to turn that—it was ridiculous to think of Jamie Sommers as a child, but it was the first term to spring to mind— confused young man over to this sinister presence....
"I want you to know, Mr. Hawkes, Dr. Kahne is doing this entirely against my recommendation. Jamie Sommers is not ready to be released."
"Is that your opinion? I am sorry. Jamie seemed quite himself to me. A little quieter, perhaps, but then, he was always somewhat reticent... and so very happy to be going home."
"A ten-minute conversation is not enough on which to base an opinion—I see Jamie daily and he is a very sick man."
"Dr. Kahne does not agree. And I must support her. Of course, my personal feelings must not interfere in a medical argument, but I will be glad to give Jamie a home again. He was always very useful. And I'm quite fond of him, besides."
This man has come for his dog, Dr. McDevitt thought. Nothing more.
The doctor felt his anger mounting. Between Louisa Kahne and Grenville Hawkes he was helpless. And Jamie was lost.
Neither cared a smidgen for Jamie Sommers. His sanity, his safety, his happiness wouldn't matter a whit to either.
And Louisa must have lost all perception if she didn't realize what kind of man this Hawkes was—
Jamie, with all his criminal background, was a child beside him....
"So you won't change your mind?" Grenville smiled, and it chilled the doctor's heart. "Surely it's not up to me. Dr. Kahne is making her own decisions."
Like hell, Dr. McDevitt thought. He couldn't rescue Jamie, but he still had something to say to Grenville Hawkes.
He had no business provoking this man. For Jamie's sake, if not his own.
It was a mad, dangerous thing to do...
(In fact, five minutes later, Dr. McDevitt was in the pharmacy, gulping down two tranquilizers.)
He anticipated anger, but not the deadly look he received in answer, when he asked slowly: "Tell me, Mr. Hawkes—what really happened to Kellen Quinn?"
Last Scam
Hawkes Hall, Hawkes Harbor, Delaware June 1965
Jamie pulled the package of baloney from the ice chest and sat at the kitchen table. He inspected the loaf of bread for mold—it was spooky, the way things went bad so fast in this house—took a half-hearted bite of his sandwich.
He hadn't been able to eat his lunch at the Coffee Shoppe, not with the news he'd heard, but couldn't swallow much now. It was too close to sunset.
The bite felt like a piece of jagged cement in his belly. He tossed the rest in the trash.
He looked around the kitchen idly. It still needed a lot of work, but the Vampire was rarely in it, there were other things to do first. Jamie knew he should be lighting the candles in the great hall. If he waited much longer, he'd be shaking so badly he'd waste matches.
And the goddamn Vampire might notice. It noticed everything.
Jamie had seen an antique icebox in Betty's Old Stuff store, he could get block ice at the cannery. Maybe it wouldn't be too newfangled for the Monster. It would work better than the ice chest, look better in the room, too.
He'd just have to pick the right time to ask....
Sighing, he picked up the matchbox. No use dreaming of leaving... he'd tried often, early on...
Jamie almost jumped out of his skin as he turned the corner into the great hall.
"Kell!"
Kell started, too, then smiled.
"How are you, Jamie?"
"How'd you get in here? The door's locked."
"And when did a locked door ever stop me from gaining entry, lad? Surely your brains haven't totally turned to mush."
"You gotta get outta here!" Jamie's stunned nerves began to hum. "Kell, it's almost sundown!"
"So it is. And the war is over in Troy. You have any other earth-shaking news for me, Jamie?"
"You have to leave!" Jamie ran to look out the window. He tried to gather his thoughts. "I heard the mayor ran you outta town today. They found out you were scammin' Lydia Hawkes."
When he'd heard that piece of news, Jamie had felt more than he had in months—relief, grief, envy so strong—thinking of Kell shipping out, feeling an ocean wind—and a final empty loneliness ...
"Invited me to leave—quite persuasively."
Kell walked around the room, studying the books on the tall secretary shelves, the weapons on the wall, the mess of wood and shavings from the repairs of the windowsills.
Jamie swallowed. He knew that tone. Kell sizing up a job. And Kellen Quinn on the track of money could be a very dangerous man.
"All right, Jamie, let's not waste time. Where's the money?"
"What money?"
"Oh, come off it, Jamie "Kell said impatiently. "This is me you're talking to. I saw you making a deposit at the bank with my own eyes, a week ago. You never made a transaction in your life, without something sticking to your fingers. You think I haven't known you've been up to something here besides repairman for this Grenville Hawkes? Mr. I'll-never-hold-a-land-job Sommers? It's made me sad, boy, to think of all the deals I've cut you in on, that you'd be holding out on me. Sad, and very angry, Jamie."
"Kell, I don't have any money! He's gonna be here any minute!"