One rainy night, p.19
One Rainy Night, page 19
He burst to the surface screaming.
The warm fingers of the rain tapped his face, entered his mouth, and his scream twisted into laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ Doug wanted to know.
‘Everything’s beautiful.’
‘It’ll be beautiful if we find her.’
‘I call first tibbies.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Hey, you got Cyndi and Bud got Sheila. It’s my turn.’
‘Whoever finds her first,’ Doug said. Turning away, he called in a sing-song, ‘You-whooooo, Maureeeeen. Where arrrre youuuuuu?’
Lou scanned the dark surface.
No Maureen. Could she hold her breath this long? he wondered. What if she’d drowned? Better for her to drown than get away. But the idea pulled at him with disappointment. He wanted her alive. He wanted to make her blood burst out. He wanted to bury himself in her hot gore.
Lights suddenly pushed away the darkness around the pool. Peering through the black shower, Lou saw Buddy by the switch panel at the rear of the house. Then the pool lights came on. Instead of the brilliant shimmering blue that Lou remembered from summer night parties, the water looked murky. Like used dishwater. Its surface, calm except for ruffles set in motion by Doug swimming toward the deep end, was spickled with tiny geysers spashed up by the raindrops.
Lou turned in a slow circle, scanning the depths. Though the water was cloudy with gray, he could see the bottom. At least at the shallow end. When he studied the other end, he realized he couldn’t make out the drain at the deepest point. So the gloom obscured the very bottom.
Maureen couldn’t be that far down, he thought. Not if she’s alive.
And dead, wouldn’t she float to the surface?
Doug stopped beneath the diving board, reached up and grabbed its edge. ‘I don’t think she’s in here,’ he called to Lou.
‘Me neither.’
Buddy walked out to the end of the board and gazed down.
‘You see her?’ Doug asked.
Buddy shook his head. ‘Dive on down and check the bottom.’
‘Thanks, but no thanks.’
‘Do it.’
‘You and the horse you rode in on. I went under a minute ago and it scared the shit out of me.’
‘Scared of the dark?’
‘You wanta check the bottom, help yourself. Have fun.’
‘Fuckin’ woos.’
‘I don’t think she’s in here, anyway,’ Lou called. ‘She must’ve climbed out and run for it.’
Shivering, he waded to the side of the pool. He tossed his barbecue fork onto the concrete, then boosted himself up. At once, the rain began to soothe his chill. Twisting around, he sat on the edge and scooted backward. He stretched out. The rain poured down on him, caressing away the cold from the pool, melting his goosebumps, covering him like a warm blanket. He shut his eyes and opened his mouth.
It felt so good.
He didn’t want to move.
His drifting mind imagined that the rain was blood. Maureen’s blood. She was suspended above him, maybe in some kind of a harness that held her horizontal over the ground. She was naked and sobbing. Blood poured from wounds all over her body. Blood from her face spilled onto Lou’s face. Blood from the severed stub of her tongue dripped into Lou’s mouth. Blood from her breasts splashed against his chest. From her vagina came the blood that pattered the front of his pants and soaked through, hot against his groin. He imagined the harness lowering her slowly. Closer and closer. Soon, she would be on him.
‘Get off your ass!’ Buddy shouted. ‘Doug, get out of there. We gotta find that bitch and put her down.’
Yanked from his fantasy, Lou groaned. But then he realized it had only been make-believe. When we find her, he thought, it can get real.
10
Trev steered up the driveway and stopped under the carport.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Lisa asked. ‘I know Maxwell’s sister.’
He shut off the lights and engine. ‘This isn’t Chidi’s house.’
‘What?’
‘It belongs to the man who ran the pizza parlor. I’ve got to see if his daughter’s here.’
‘Oh, for godsake,’ Francine muttered.
‘I won’t be long. Sit tight.’ He opened the car door, then hesitated, wondering whether he should leave the key in the ignition. A crazy woman had answered the phone. She might still be inside. She might not be alone. If something should happen to him . . .
But if he left the key, Francine might just drive away.
‘What is it?’ Lisa asked.
‘Nothing. You two keep your eyes open. Don’t be afraid to use those guns if there’s trouble.’ He pulled out the ignition key. Then he dragged the shotgun across his lap. He climbed out, locked the door, and shut it.
As he stepped past the rear of his car, he heard thumping from the trunk. His prisoner. He wondered if she had enough air.
Don’t want her to suffocate, he thought.
So he propped the shotgun against the bumper and unlocked the trunk. The lid sprang up, shoved by the girl. ‘Hey!’ he yelled as she scurried to her knees. ‘Get down!’
She snarled. Before she could leap, his fist caught the point of her chin. Her arms flew out. Her head snapped back and rang against the underside of the trunk lid. As she started to slump away from him, he reached in. With both hands, he grabbed the shoulder straps of her jumper. He tugged her forward and down so the lid wouldn’t hit her, then slammed it shut.
‘Damn!’ he gasped. He struggled for air.
Just trying to be a nice guy, and she goes for me!
He felt angry and betrayed, but mostly he felt scared.
As if he’d offered a nice chunk of meat to a stray dog, and the damn thing had turned into Cujo.
Should’ve expected it, he told himself. He picked up the shotgun. Consider it a lesson. Don’t trust anyone, and watch your ass or they’ll take it apart for you.
Still shaken by the encounter, Trev stepped around to the passenger side of his car. He climbed two stairs, tried the knob of the house door, then peered through the glass.
Liam’s kitchen. Its lights were on. He saw no one, alive or dead.
On the table were Liam’s salt and pepper shakers. China Leprechauns. Trev’s throat went tight. He’d spent a lot of time at that table, drinking Guinness and laughing with Liam and Mary. They’d seemed a bit like leprechauns, themselves. Full of blarney and mischief. They never tired of joking about themselves, a couple of folks from County Kerry coming to the States and opening a pizzaria. Sure, ’n there’s no accounting for the whims of a Kerryman.
Trev’s vision went blurry. He blinked his eyes clear, then stepped down to the driveway.
If the woman who’d answered the phone claiming to be Maureen wasn’t a guest, she’d broken into the house. Better to find where she entered, and go in that way, than to smash through a door or window.
Keeping his shotgun ready, Trev passed the bushes at the corner of the house. He looked over the low stucco wall of the porch. The front door – what remained of it – was shut. Light spilled out through a ragged gap above the handle.
Someone had bashed through the door.
Trev pictured a wild, axe-wielding woman bursting into the house, going after Maureen.
She would’ve had some warning, though. All that noise. Maybe she got out in time. If she was inside, at all. And if she didn’t try to defend the place.
At the door, Trev crouched and peered through the gap. The living room lights were on. He didn’t see anyone. On the carpet just inside were dark water drops and footprints, but they faded away after the intruder had gone a short distance.
Only one set of footprints. Made by sneakers. Large for the shoes of a woman, but it had been a woman who answered the phone.
A big gal. But apparently alone.
He tried the knob. It turned, and he eased the door open until it met the wall. He stepped into the house.
He closed the door. He pulled off his hat and plastic hood, and dropped them to the floor. That was a lot better. Now, his vision wasn’t limited to the eyeholes. The cool air felt good on his face.
A few strides took him to the center of the living room. The sofa, easy chairs, lamp tables and television stand were flush against the walls. Nobody could be hiding behind them. Nobody seemed to be lurking in the corners. He saw no bulges in the window curtains.
Trev moved slowly toward the dining room. The chandelier above the table was dark. The only light was that which spilled in from the living room. Stopping in the archway, he sank to a crouch. He peered through the bars of chair and table legs. Staying low, he scanned the rest of the room. Nobody.
Over to his left, the kitchen door was shut. A strip of light showed at the bottom. He had checked the kitchen from the door beside the carport, but someone might’ve entered after he’d headed for the front.
Leave it for last, he decided.
Beyond the kitchen door was the opening of the short hallway that led to the two guest bedrooms and the bathroom. The master bedroom was on the far side of the table, just to the right. Its door stood open. It was dark inside.
Trev rose from his crouch. He sidestepped silently to the right. As he rounded the end of the table, he could see down the hallway.
Dark. Except for a strip of light beneath the bathroom door.
His breath hitched. His heart kicked.
Easy, he told himself. The light doesn’t mean she’s in there. Go charging, she might just pop out of a room and plant an axe in your head.
He crept to the doorway of the master bedroom. He scanned the darkness. Nothing moved. All he heard was his thudding heartbeat. Bracing the shotgun with his left hand, he eased into the room and elbowed the light switch. Lamps came on at both sides of the bed. He studied the beige carpet and found no water stains. To the right of where he stood, the closet door was shut.
She might be in there. Or hiding at the far side of the dresser or bed.
Probably in the bathroom, he thought. But this was no time to take anything for granted.
Trev strode quickly forward, stepped up onto the bed, and walked across it. The mattress was springy under his feet. The bed creaked a little, but he doubted that the noise would carry beyond the room. Nobody beside the dresser. Nobody hiding alongside the bed. Turning around, he made sure the closet door was still shut. Then he stepped down, knelt, lifted the hanging coverlet, and checked the space beneath the boxsprings. Suitcases. He let out a trembling breath, then got to his feet.
Only the closet remained. He dreaded opening its door. But he had no choice.
He stared at it as he made his way around the end of the bed.
If the woman was in there, she’d probably heard him walking on the bed. She might even be able to hear his approach. Though his shoes were silent on the carpet, the plastic bags encasing him in their slick heat made crinkling sounds that might be picked up by keen ears behind the door.
He imagined her waiting in the darkness, the axe raised overhead.
He took a deep breath and held it. Reaching out, he closed his hand around the knob. He clamped the shotgun’s stock tight against his side, hooked his mittened fingertip over the trigger, jerked the door open wide and leaped back.
Nobody lurched out at him.
He saw only rows of clothing on hangers. Liam’s shirts and pants along the right side, Mary’s blouses, slacks and dresses to the left.
Liam hadn’t gotten rid of her things yet. Now, he wouldn’t have to.
Shoes on the closet floor. Trev crouched to make sure nobody was hiding among the hanging garments.
And saw a pair of feet, legs bare to the knees where they vanished behind curtains of clothes. His breath shot out and he lurched backward. His calves struck the bed. He dropped onto the mattress.
‘You in there.’ His voice was high and shaking. ‘Come out. Right now.’
Silence from the closet.
What if it’s Maureen ?
Maureen would’ve answered.
‘Maureen?’ he asked.
No answer.
‘OK, lady. Come out or I’ll shoot.’
‘Trevor?’
A chill squirmed up his spine.
‘Are you Trevor, the guy that called?’ Whoever she was, she sounded scared.
‘I’m Trevor.’
‘You . . . you’re one of them.’
‘I pretended to be one of them when we talked. I’m a police officer. Come out of there. Now.’
‘Did you get the stuff on you?’
‘No. But you did.’
‘Yeah, but . . . I don’t wantcha killing me.’
‘Just come out.’
Deep in the shadows of the closet, Mary’s clothes slid toward the front. Trev heard hangers skidding on the rail. A woman squeezed her way clear, stood up straight and faced him.
‘Don’t you shoot me, now.’
Trev got to his feet. He kept the shotgun trained on her chest.
She stepped forward.
Trev let her stride through the doorway, then said, ‘Hold it right there.’
‘Yes sir.’ She halted and stared at him. She looked terrified.
She was a big woman, just as her footprints had indicated. Probably over six feet tall, with broad shoulders. Her brown hair was matted down. She looked to be in her mid-thirties. A pretty face, with hints of creases where they’d be if she grinned and laughed a lot.
She wore a faded green bathrobe. Probably Liam’s. It was tight across her shoulders. The sleeves ended well above her wrists. Her chest wouldn’t let the front close completely, but the edges of the robe met at her waist where the cloth belt was tied. The robe reached almost to her knees.
Trev saw no black on her skin.
‘You came in from the rain,’ he said.
‘Yeah, I did. And I know what you’re thinking. But I ain’t one of them. Not any more.’
She didn’t seem like one of them. But Trev kept his guard up and kept the muzzle pointed at her chest. Her skin looked pale and sleek between the lapels of the robe.
‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘Honest.’
‘You didn’t sound OK when we talked on the phone.’
‘Well, I weren’t OK then. I still had the black on me. But then I took me a bath and now I’m OK.’
He stared at her, confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, it passed. You know? I just went real wild when the rain got me. I was out for a walk and the rain got me and I just run around wild for a spell. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. Then I got my hands on a hatchet out in a tool shed and I busted in here. I gotta tell you, I was all hot to bust some heads. I ain’t in here but a few minutes, and you called up. You said you’d come on over, so I figured I’d knock your brains out.’ She frowned at Trev. She nibbled her lower lip. ‘I’m right sorry about that. But it was like I had a hoodoo on me? I wanted to bust your head something fierce.’
‘But not now?’Trev asked.
‘Not after I got clean. I stripped down and took me a hot shower. You know? The rain out there, it felt so darn good. But I didn’t want to go outside, what with you coming over. So I figured the next best thing’d be a hot shower. But it didn’t feel the same, at all. And before I know it, I don’t feel like bashing heads no more.’
‘The shower cured you?’
‘Well, it’s like I said. All that wild feeling just leaked right out of me. All I felt then was scared. So I come in here and hid.’
‘There’s nobody else in the house?’
‘I sure don’t think so. I ain’t seen anybody but you.’
‘Let’s have a look. You go first.’
He followed her out of the room.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Sandy Hodges.’
‘In there,’ he said. Sandy stepped into the first guest room and turned on the light. ‘Stand over there and don’t move.’ She stepped to the far wall. She watched while Trev searched. He found no blood, no body. A woman’s clothes were hanging in the closet, and he supposed they must belong to Maureen.
Where are you?
At least she wasn’t in this room.
Nor was she in the next. The second guest room had a convertible sofa that was still pulled out. Green pajamas were wadded on top of the sheets. For a moment, Trev wondered who’d been sleeping here. Then he remembered that Liam had mentioned using one of his spare rooms. The poor man hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed since Mary’s death.
‘Are you OK?’ Sandy asked.
He shook his head. ‘I knew the people who lived here.’
‘Well, I hope they’re OK.’
‘Let’s check the bathroom.’
She led the way, opening the door and stepping over the damp, black clothes heaped on the floor: socks draped over sneakers, corduroy pants, a flannel shirt with panties and a bra on top.
A moist white towel hung from the shower curtain rod. The tub was empty, its enamel still beaded here and there with clear drops of water.
Trev leaned against a wall. He felt weak with relief.
She’s not in the house. Sandy didn’t bash her head in. God knows, Maureen might be dead or in bad trouble, but at least she isn’t here. She could be all right.
‘Where’s your hatchet?’ he asked.
‘Under my duds,’ Sandy said.
Stepping away from the wall, he nudged the pile with his shoe until he spotted the wooden handle.
‘You’d better get dressed,’ he said.
Sandy raised her upper lip. ‘I can’t put them things on. They’ll get me all dirty and I might go wild again.’
He supposed that was true. ‘You don’t want to go out in that,’ he said.
‘Well, I don’t much wanta go out at all.’
‘I can’t leave you here.’
‘I don’t see why . . .’
‘Maureen might come home.’ There was a roughness in his voice that made Sandy draw her head back.
‘Well, I wouldn’t hurt her or nothing.’
