Downfall (An Intervention Novel)

  Terror clutched him. Was Tyson baiting Lance to cause more chaos for Emily?

  So what would Tyson do now? If his insanity had escalated to the point that he’d start a fire and murder someone else the same night, after already killing two others, would he just sit by and wait to hear about his accomplishments on the news? Or would he be agitated enough to do more?

  Kent speed-dialed Barbara’s phone.

  Barbara jumped awake at the sound of her cell phone ringing. Groggy, she grabbed it off of the table next to her and saw that it was Kent. She flipped it open. “Hello?”

  Kent cleared his throat. “Babe, it’s me.”

  She frowned and sat up. “What is it?”

  “I’m in Birmingham.”

  “Birmingham?” she said, turning on the lamp. Emily, lying next to her, stirred awake and squinted up at her. “Kent, what are you doing there?”

  “It’s a long story. But let me talk to Lance.”

  “Okay.” She lowered the phone and looked at the empty bed next to them. “Where’s Lance?” she asked Emily.

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Barbara got out of bed and threw open the door. Lance wasn’t in the hotel hallway. She ran to the banister that overlooked the lobby. “Lance!” she called, not caring who she woke up. But he wasn’t there.

  “Kent, he’s gone!”

  Kent muttered something she couldn’t hear.

  “What’s going on?” she shouted. “Tell me!”

  There was a pause, then Kent spoke. “We found Carter dead. Let me talk to Emily, and you call Lance from the landline. Get him back there.”

  Terrified, Barbara went back into the room, put her cell on speakerphone, and thrust the phone at Emily. “Lance is gone. Carter Price is dead.”

  “What?” Emily took the phone. “Kent, what happened?”

  “It’s Jack Tyson from Haven House,” he said. “He’s the one doing this.”

  Emily froze and looked up at Barbara. “Jack? His last name is Tyson?”

  “Who is he?” Barbara asked as she tried to call Lance.

  “He got kicked out …” Emily’s voice trailed off. “Kent, Lance might be with him right now.”

  Barbara listened as Lance’s phone rang through to voice mail. “He’s not answering.”

  Kent grunted. “He was in the hall when I left two hours ago. I told him to go back in.”

  “He did come in,” Emily said, “but he told me he was upset about Tyson being at April’s. He went back out to talk on the phone so he wouldn’t wake up mom. He might have gone over there.”

  “Barbara, find Lance. Keep calling him. I’m calling Andy, but you get him home!”

  When he hung up, Barbara redialed. Again, it went to voice mail. “Lance Covington,” she yelled. “If you’re with Jack Tyson, get away from him now and call me! He’s the one who killed those women and set fire to Kent’s house …” Her voice broke. “Oh, Lance, please call me and let me know you’re all right!”

  She hung up, ready to implode.

  “I’ll text him,” Emily said. “Maybe he’s not answering because he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble for sneaking off.”

  “Yes,” Barbara said, wiping her tears. “Do that.”

  She waited as Emily texted Lance. As they waited for an answer, Barbara searched the hotel phone book for April’s parents, dialed the number.

  Her mother answered. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Nelson … I don’t know your first name, I’m sorry. I’m Barbara, Lance’s mother.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m Nan.”

  “Nan, is Lance there with April? I need to talk to him.”

  “Hold on.” She heard sheets rustling, and there was a long pause. Lance still hadn’t texted back, but Barbara braced herself, praying he would come to the phone.

  Finally, Nan came back. “Barbara, he’s not here. I just got home a little while ago and April wasn’t here. She didn’t leave a note.”

  “Is my car there?”

  “No. Maybe she’s out with Lance.”

  “Nan, do you know if she’s seen a guy named Tyson tonight?”

  “Probably. I know he was trying to get her to go out with him tonight, but she told me she didn’t want to. I guess he could have changed her mind. I was a little distracted at the time, so I’m not sure.”

  Barbara bit back the urge to tell the woman that she’d better get in the game, because her daughter was probably with a killer.

  Trying to calm her voice, she said, “Nan, try to reach your daughter. Her life could be in danger.”

  When she hung up, Emily shook her head. “Mom, he still hasn’t texted.”

  “Where is he?” Barbara shouted.

  Emily crutched across the floor in her pajamas, clutching her phone so she wouldn’t miss Lance’s text. But nothing came. “I knew this guy Lance kept talking about was bad news. I told him to stay away from him.”

  “Emily, why didn’t you put this together?”

  “Because I didn’t call him Tyson. I only called him Jack. His last name was on a file somewhere, but if I ever saw it, I don’t remember. But Jack knew how close I was to Lance. He’s targeting him to hurt me. All this stuff with April. It’s not about her at all. It’s about Lance. It’s about me!”

  Barbara called Kent back, put him on speakerphone. “Can you trace where his cell phone is? Can you find him, Kent?”

  “I’m working on it. Emily, any way you can get this guy’s cell phone number?”

  She thought of Lance’s other friends. There weren’t many. But some of her college classmates were graduates of that high school. Maybe someone knew Tyson. “I’ll make some calls.”

  “Good. Hurry! I’m headed home, and Andy’s putting an APB out on Tyson’s car. We’re running data on him to see what we can find out. Keep calling Lance. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Chapter 49

  As Kent raced back from Birmingham, blue lights flashing in the grill of his unmarked car and his siren wailing, his shoulder ached where he’d been shot months ago. Fatigue and lack of sleep never did it any good, and the stress of knowing Lance was with the killer made it even worse.

  He’d left Bo with the Birmingham police to answer questions about Carter and Tyson, and now he burned up I-20, taking his speed to the top of his car’s capability. There was no time to waste. Fortunately there weren’t many cars on the road this time of night.

  He’d already had Andy send units to Tyson’s house to pick him up. But as Kent had suspected, he wasn’t home.

  He called Andy again. “Where are we?” he asked.

  Andy’s words came in rapid fire. “We’re still trying to track down his car. Nothing yet. But I have Jack Tyson’s rap sheet. Several drug charges. Last incarceration was just a few weeks ago. He went to jail in April after violating probation. Was in for four months.”

  “That was because Emily turned him in. What kind of car is he in?”

  “2000 Maxima, black four-door, tag XLB-321. But if he was at your house and later at this girl April’s house, when could he have killed Carter?”

  “Could have killed him earlier. The body was cold, but I didn’t have time to wait for the medical examiner.”

  “Couple more things on the rap sheet,” Andy said. “Went to juvie for two arson charges, one at twelve and again at fourteen. So the whole arson thing, it’s not without precedent.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, actually. The guy is diagnosed with bipolar schizoaffective disorder.”

  Kent winced. He was no shrink, but he knew that bipolar schizoaffective disorder was much worse than bipolar alone. It was characterized by psychosis, hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions of grandeur, in addition to mania and depression. “So he could suffer from psychosis and delusions. He probably uses drugs to medicate his symptoms, but when he’s using, his illness would escalate.”

  So if Emily was the cause of his having to return to jail, and Tyson had p
sychotic delusions from his chemical imbalance and paranoia from the drugs, he might have built that “betrayal” up in his mind. And if he’d overheard Bo’s and Carter’s conversation about murdering each other’s wives, he might have seized the opportunity to turn the rehab talk into reality. The power he would feel at making all these things happen would feed into his sense of grandiosity.

  But why now? He’d been out of jail for several weeks. Why had it all begun this week?

  Kent made it back to Atlanta in record time and hurried to the hotel where Barbara and Emily waited. Barbara was a wreck, as he’d expected. She’d dressed, and now she paced in the hotel room, that same look of determination on her face that she’d worn when he’d first met her.

  “Kent, we have to go look for them,” she cried. “Lance is in danger. He’s trying to protect April, but Tyson will kill him. Lance doesn’t even know Tyson is the one.”

  “Every cop on shift right now is looking.” Kent went to Emily who sat on the bed, talking on the phone. When she got off, she said, “I got Tyson’s cell phone number!”

  Barbara looked at her. “How did you do that?”

  “I called a guy I know from AA who went to Lance’s school last year. He used to buy dope from Tyson.”

  “Great,” Kent said. “I want you to text Tyson. Tell him you’re craving. Ask if he can hook you up.”

  Emily’s eyebrows lifted. “He won’t believe that. He’ll know I’m looking for Lance.”

  “But he’s delusional,” Kent said. “And if it’s you he’s trying to hurt, Lance is just a tool for him anyway. Make it look like he can get right to you if he wants you. If he texts you back, tell him you want him to come pick you up.”

  “Kent, I don’t want her going anywhere with him!” Barbara shouted.

  “She’s not going to meet him,” Kent said. “We’re just baiting him.”

  Barbara seemed to hold her breath as Emily texted Tyson:

  Tyson, this is Emily Covington. I’m really jonesing for crack 2nite. Can u hook me up?

  They waited, watching the phone, each praying silently.

  In a few minutes, her phone chimed.

  “What does he say?” Barbara demanded.

  Emily read. Well well. The lovely Emily needs my help? She looked at Kent with dull eyes. “Jerk.”

  “Okay, ask him if Lance is with him. Ask him to come get you, too.”

  She typed:

  I know my brother’s with u. Can u come get me 2?

  After a moment, he texted back.

  Busy now. Lance about 2 fly.

  Barbara grabbed the dresser, almost fell. “What is he doing?”

  Kent stood up and steadied her. “He’s just trying to yank Emily’s chain. That’s the whole purpose of his relationship with Lance and April. Emily, tell him it has to be now.”

  Emily texted:

  Can’t wait till morning. Come on I have a hundred bucks.

  This time there was no answer. They all stood frozen, staring at the phone.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” Barbara whispered.

  Kent had Andy check out Tyson’s cell phone service and found out what tower he’d pinged on those last texts. He was somewhere near Decatur, within a fifteen-mile radius of that cell tower. At least they knew he was still in the Atlanta area.

  Chapter 50

  Tyson sped down Howard Avenue at ninety in a fifty-mile-per-hour zone, windows rolled down and his hair blowing in the wind, heavy metal music pounding in his ears. In one hand he clutched the .44 magnum that had gotten April into his car.

  But she was a buzzkill. She sulked and cried, trying to make him give her the gun and return her phone. But he couldn’t do that. She’d done what he wanted—called Lance to come rescue her. Moron that she was, she still didn’t realize that she was just a pawn in a game … just a way to get to Lance, who was a way to torture Emily.

  It had all been too easy. Tyson had forced April into his car and told her to call Lance to come to her rescue. Her cryptic, desperate call about the tower was sure to draw him out. Lance was probably on his way there.

  Just where Tyson wanted him.

  It was just too fun. One by one he’d dismantled their lives. He was in control, setting things right. Carter’s death had thrilled him.

  Lance’s would be even more fun, because it would twist the knife in Emily. Then he’d take care of her last.

  He reached the intersection where the Decatur water tower stood, that landmark where his father’s life had changed and his family’s slow death had begun. What had paralyzed his father was now his own stage.

  “Please take me home,” April cried. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Not till you climb with me,” he said. “I want you to see the lights. Feel the wind and the cold from up above the ground. Get high up there in the sky.”

  He loved her terror.

  He pulled over the curb with a bump and rolled as close as he could to the chain-link fence. Clutching his gun with his left hand, he made April hold the pipe and filled it with his right. Her hand shook so bad that she couldn’t hold it still, but he managed to light a flame under it. He took a long, deep hit, then thrust it back at her. “Come on, baby. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “No,” she sobbed. “Tyson, I won’t tell anybody about the gun. Please … just let me go.”

  He felt the rush working through his brain cells, igniting his neurons. “No, baby, you’re gonna climb. Come on, you’ll love it.”

  “You could fall like your dad.”

  “No, I don’t fall,” he assured her. “I never fall. I fly, baby.”

  He used the gun to force her out of the car. She was trembling head to toe, wind tossing her hair. He made her climb the four-foot fence, and he followed, anxious to reach the top.

  Lance saw Tyson’s car when he reached Paden Circle. He turned the corner, went over the curb onto the grass.

  Then he saw them, climbing the tower.

  He groped for his phone. As it lit up, he saw that he’d had several calls and texts from Emily and his mother. He’d forgotten the phone was on silence.

  No time to call them back now. He had to call the police.

  The 911 operator answered.

  “There’s a guy holding a girl hostage at the Decatur water tower!” he blurted.

  “Is he armed?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But please … hurry. He could kill her.”

  He cut off the phone just as he heard April’s scream. Leaving the phone on his console, he bolted out of the car.

  Tyson saw the headlights illuminating them. Lance had come.

  Perfect.

  A car door slammed. “Tyson!” Lance yelled.

  Tyson had almost gotten her to the top. “Go over the rail, onto the catwalk,” he ordered.

  Whining and blubbering, she froze.

  Tyson glanced back. Lance had jumped the fence and was coming toward the ladder.

  “He’s got a gun!” April screamed.

  Lance didn’t back down. He came closer, as if he thought he could disarm Tyson by sheer will. “Drop the gun, Tyson!” he called up.

  “Climb, April!” Tyson said, jabbing her leg with the gun.

  Lance started climbing. “Tyson, I called the police when I got here … they’ll be here any minute.”

  “Perfect,” Tyson said. “The bigger the audience, the better. Nobody stops me. Not my mother, who’s been laying in bed in her own blood for four days … and surely not the police.”

  He summoned all the strength of the drugs pulsing through him to get himself and April onto the catwalk.

  As Lance climbed the tower’s ladder, he heard April crying. “April, the police are coming,” he called. “Just do what he says.”

  “The police can’t help you, precious,” Tyson said to April, then called down to Lance, “and big sis can’t help you either, Lancelot. She talked about you all the time. About how the worst thing that could happen would be if you followed in her foo
tsteps, got into drugs, ruined your life like she did.”

  Sweat dripped into Lance’s eyes. “How do you even know her?”

  “She worked at Haven House. High and mighty, got me thrown in jail.”

  Lance froze on the ladder, trying to make sense of what Tyson had said. Then it came to him. Tyson … he’d committed all these crimes. He had killed those women, bombed Emily’s car, set fire to Kent’s house … “All this … is about her? You’re the one?”

  Tyson laughed like a demon in a burning church.

  Now more than ever, Lance wanted to reach Tyson and put an end to all this. But Tyson was insane. He might push April off the tower without a thought.

  Lance tried to distract him. “You killed your mother?” he asked. “Is she really dead in her bed?”

  “Yeah, I killed her,” Tyson said through his teeth. “She nagged me, she tortured my dad—I put him out of his misery, too. Now I’m free. I’m the Avenger!” He raised his arms and screamed out a victory shout.

  Nausea swept over Lance, but he fought it back. Where were the police?

  April sobbed, gulping wind. Lance pulled himself up, his breath coming harder, his lungs unable to keep up. He thought of Tyson shooting his mother, leaving her in her bed for days.

  God, please get the police here!

  Tyson’s cell phone chimed with a text. Emily again? He came out of his victory stance, pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  Tyson, I’m really jonesing for crack 2night. Can u hook me up?

  He laughed. She must know that he had Lance.

  Or maybe she really did want a hit. Her sober act was destined to fail. The drugs had a stronger pull than any decision she could make.

  His mind raced in a million directions as he watched Lance climbing higher. April sat on the catwalk, legs bent, arms hugging her knees. He thought of Emily, craving and crawling, of his father locked in that wheelchair, of his mother lying in the bed where he’d leveled things with her four days ago. The freedom her death had given him had opened the floodgates, allowing him to do all that he’d done this week. Allowing him the power to be the great Avenger.