Close Your Eyes: A Novel Part 32

Lynch pushed him closer to the cliff's edge. "Don't play dumb. The guy who lived in the apartment."

The waves crashed against the rocks beneath them, driven by the ferocity of the wind. "I-I didn't know his name." Bergen's voice trembled. "I came over that night, cleaned up what I could, then left. There was ten thousand dollars for me on the dining-room table."

"Your fee?"

Bergen nodded. "The guy told me I'd get another ten thousand once the job was done."

"Tell me what you know about the man who lived there. What happened to him?"

"I'm telling you, I didn't see or talk to anybody else."

Lynch pushed him even closer to the ledge. "Then how did you get in?"

The winds howled around the rock structures below that they could not see in the darkness.

"Two keys in a little black plastic bag," Bergen said quickly. "They were jammed between the sidewalk and the gra.s.s near the front door. The guy told me to let myself in, then take the keys with me when I left. I never saw anybody."

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

Lynch shoved him harder toward the cliff. Bergen's foot caught a rock sticking out of the ground, and he fell headlong into the void.

Until, at the last instant, Lynch pulled back on the handcuff links. Bergen teetered over the cliff's edge as a fine mist sprayed him from the rocks below.

"You're crazy!" he screamed. "You're gonna kill us both!"

"It's a distinct possibility. These rocks are slippery." Lynch raised his voice to be heard above the wind. "So how about you stop jerking me around so that we can go home? Tell me what happened in that apartment. And tell me exactly what happened to Jeff Stedler."

Bergen threw his shoulder back for balance. "I don't know!"

"You cleaned up his blood, didn't you?"

"No!"

"What?"

"I said no. No blood."

Lynch pulled him back a couple of feet. "Don't bulls.h.i.+t me."

"I'm not. There wasn't a drop of blood in that apartment, I swear. No splatter marks, no bullet holes anywhere ... Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I've cleaned and patched a lot of 'em."

"Then why were you brought in?"

"There was something else there on the carpet. Something yellow."

"p.i.s.s?"

"No. Brighter, almost fluorescent. I don't know what it was."

Lynch pulled him back farther still. "Keep talking."

"It wasn't on the wall or anywhere else. Just the dining-room carpet. I rush-ordered a carpet piece and replaced it the next night."

"Kudos, by the way. It was a perfect match for the rest of the carpet in there."

"If it was so perfect, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Well, it looked perfect."

"Look, I don't consider myself an artist or anything like that, but I know my job." Bergen no longer sounded quite so breathless. "I know what needs to be done to make a carpet look lived on for two, five, or twenty years. But is it true this woman could really smell the difference?"

"It's true."

"d.a.m.n."

"Did you ask what the yellow stuff was?"

"Yeah, I tried cleaning it first, and it helps to know what you're dealing with, you know? Anyway, the guy didn't tell me s.h.i.+t. I was on my own. It wouldn't come out, so that's why I had to rush-order another piece."

"What did you do with the stained carpet you pulled out?"

"Aah, I tossed it in a Dumpster someplace."

Lynch thought about it. "Okay, you're going to show me that Dumpster and tell me exactly the day and hour that you tossed it."

"Hey, I don't remember exactly where it was. How am I supposed to-"

Lynch spun Bergen around and once again pushed him toward the ledge.

"Wait!" Bergen yelled. "Dammit, wait!"

Lynch stopped. "Yes?"

Bergen paused, trying to catch his breath. "Okay, maybe I do know where the Dumpster is."

"I thought you might. Now tell me something else that will keep me from considering you expendable."

"What if ... I told you that the carpet sc.r.a.p is still in there?"

Lynch slowly turned him around. "After all this time?"

Bergen nodded. "Because that Dumpster is the one in the driveway of the house I'm renovating. You stood eighteen inches away from it."

"It hasn't been emptied?"

"Not since that night. I'm telling you, it's still there."

Lynch leaned closer. "You'd better not be lying."

"I'm not. I swear I'm not."

"We'll soon see." Lynch pushed him toward the path that would take them back to his car. "Okay, we've seen enough up here. Sometimes it's fun to take a little time and just be a tourist in your own town once in a while, isn't it?"

CHAPTER.

13.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, LYNCH stood in the driveway at the one-story fixer-upper while Bergen waded through piles of construction debris in the twenty-yard Dumpster.

Bergen popped up and gestured with his flashlight. "This might go faster if you helped, you know."

"I'm standing watch."

"Is that what you call it? Look like s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around to me."

"The last thing I need is to get stuck in that metal mausoleum if your employer comes to silence you. You were right to go into hiding. Once it was known that we'd found you, you became a liability."

"That's how I figured it. I've been in tough spots before, but I've learned if I drop out of sight for a while, it usually blows over."

"This one might be different. You might think about leaving town."

"You'd really let me do that?"

"Just keep looking."

Lynch glanced up and down the residential street. No sign of trouble, but he'd be happier when could get away from anyplace where Bergen might be expected. On the other hand, any attempt on the man's life would prove invaluable if he could manage to grab the killer in the act.

Very cold. Kendra would not be pleased at that thought. Nor would she approve of his dangling Bergen over the rocks at Sunset Cliffs. Oh well, he missed Kendra, but working alone did have its advantages.

"I found it!" Bergen's voice echoed in the Dumpster. "I've got it."

Lynch heard broken gla.s.s and boards knocking each other. Then a large piece of carpet, almost identical to the one he had seen at the FBI lab, snaked over the edge of the Dumpster and fell to the driveway. Lynch picked it up and angled the surface toward a streetlight. There was a brighter-than-bright yellow stain about eight inches in diameter.

Bergen climbed out of the Dumpster and pointed to the stain. "What did I tell you?"

"Just like you said, Bergen. Lucky for me that you got lazy on this job. Seriously, your own driveway?"

Bergen sighed. "I was tired, okay? I really didn't think anybody would know. And believe me, it would be far from a slam-dunk to dump this behind a restaurant or something. If someone happens to see a rolled-up carpet being dumped in the middle of the night, the first thing they think is, ooh, dead body. At least here it blends in with the other stuff I've been tossing."

"I can't argue with that." Lynch carefully rolled up the carpet with the fiber side in. "And you definitely helped your cause by turning this over to me."

"Wasn't a hard choice to make. Either this or the rocks at the bottom of Sunset Cliffs." Bergen chuckled. "You weren't really going to throw me down there, were you?"

Lynch didn't answer.

Bergen's smile vanished as he studied Lynch's expression. "I ... see."

"Do you? What's better is that you saw and understood up on those cliffs." Lynch picked up the carpet and hoisted it onto his shoulder. "May I give you a lift someplace?"

"Back to my car, I guess. In the morning, I'll swing by my place, gather a few things-"

"Wrong. You're going to get in that car tonight and drive."

"Where?"

"Out of town, out of the state, preferably somewhere you've never been before. Follow your own advice and lie low until things cool off. You're not going home to pack up a few things, you're not going to stop at your favorite bar for a good-bye drink, and you're not going to make one last booty call to whomever you've been seeing. You're just going to drive." He paused. "Feel free to call me if you get into a jam."

"You have a business card?"

"My number is now in your cell-phone directory. Adam Lynch."

Lynch walked toward his car with the carpet roll on his shoulder. "Oh, and there are six different ways I'll be able to find you it if becomes necessary. If you're lucky, you might think of three or four of them. Hide yourself from everyone else. But don't try to hide from me, Bergen."

The Following Morning

7:45 A.M.

Kendra's cell phone rang as she came out of the showers at the hospital.

Lynch.

She felt a mixture of curiosity and annoyance as she accessed the call. "Why are you calling me? Did you find out something important about Jeff?"

"Not yet. Maybe I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice. I haven't had anyone barking at me lately. I think I'm beginning to miss it. Neurotic, right? Where are you?"

"I'm still at the hospital. They gave me a bed so that I could stay close to Olivia."

"What about your kids?"