He smiled.
“Hi,” she said.
“Morning.” He started toward her. The doorbell rang. He paused. “Shall I get it?”
“Please.”
“You might have some explaining to do. What if it’s your mother?”
“It’ll serve her right. Besides, I lead a much too sheltered life.”
He crossed to the nightstand, set down the mug, then left the room.
Normally a morning person, this day she could hardly drag herself from bed. Her sleep had been anything but restful.
“It’s Carl,” Jake said from the doorway as she headed for the bathroom.
“What’s he doing here?”
“I’m afraid it’s my fault.” Jake crossed to the phone, connected it. “I shut off the phone last night.”
“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I have group this morning,” Jake said. “Will you be all right?”
“Yes. I’ll call you later from the office. Jake ... ?” She watched him turn again. “Thanks.”
He smiled, nodded, then left.
As she dressed she thought about Jake sharing her bed and holding her in his arms all night. Jake, just by being there, had helped to soften the horror of the nightmare. Then she thought of Carl waiting for her in the other room, and a heaviness invaded her chest. Everything she’d been trying to bury these past hours resurfaced.
She found him pacing in the kitchen. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. When he spoke, the stale odor of alcohol reached her.
“What am I going to do?” he said quietly.
“Carl...” She felt sick. She had to tell him. She had to tell him what she saw, whether it was real or not. She stared at him, trying to find the words. “Carl, I—”
“Look, now’s not a good time. I tried to call but no one answered. I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left for work. I hafta get back to the job now, but if you have something more to tell me, something you didn’t say last night... well, we could meet later... for lunch.”
She paused, then, “There’s a deli next to your construction site. Do you know the one I mean?”
His expression froze. He nodded.
“Twelve-thirty okay?” she asked.
He stared at the floor, nodding his head woodenly.
Several minutes later as she backed her Jeep out onto the street, she saw Carl sitting in his pickup, staring out the windshield, his face devoid of expression. She felt a tremendous knot in her stomach.
Carl sat in the leather recliner that Maggie had given him for his birthday, the TV remote control in his hand. He stared absently at the screen, flipping from channel to channel indiscriminately, his thoughts on Maggie.
He lifted the beer to his mouth and drank until it was gone.
“Maggie, I haven’t given up. Don’t think I’ve given up. I’ll find you, babe. Damn right. I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I do.” He crunched the can, let it fall to the floor.
The big tomcat jumped up in Carl’s lap. It purred, watching him warily with large yellow eyes. The cat rarely came around Carl. Conan was Maggie’s misfit, one of an endless line of misfits that she’d taken in.
“Hey, guy, you gotta be awful damn lonely to seek comfort from me,” Carl said. He reached out and scratched the tom’s backside near its stubby tail. Carl remembered the morning he’d started up his pickup and nearly pissed his pants when he heard the damn thing screeching under the hood and saw orange fur flying to hell and back. Fan blade. Within an instant Maggie’s long-tailed cat turned bobtailed. He’d really gotten hell for that one.
“Miss her too, don’tcha?”
The cat kneaded Carl’s stomach, purred louder.
“I haven’t given up on her, ol’ guy. No way. No fucking w—” Carl’s voice caught.
He hugged the cat to him, buried his face in the long fur, and cried.
At the deli Carl looked no better than he’d looked at her house that morning. He looked worse.
Jake had called, offered to go with her, but she had declined. She couldn’t expect him to hold her hand through everything. She agreed to have dinner with him that night.
Carl brought a beer to the small table where Robbi sat.
She opened her meat loaf sandwich, lifted out the lettuce, and added catsup.
“You should eat something,” she said.
“Yeah, maybe later.” Carl dropped into a wooden chair. He gulped down half the beer before setting the bottle on the table.
She pushed half a sandwich toward him.
He smiled weakly, ignored it, and looked around the deli restlessly. His gaze came back to her. “He killed her, didn’t he? I mean, that’s what you saw?”
“Carl, I’m ... I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. He finished the beer and continued to swallow long after it was gone. He stared at the quartz wall clock, mesmerized, as though the vaulting second hand was beyond his comprehension. Then he laughed, a deep, humorless laugh. “Christ, we don’t know for sure if Maggie’s dead. I mean, you go into a trance and see someone who looks like my girl being killed by some psycho. Shit, you could be on drugs and I’m about to tear myself up over an hallucination.” He chuckled this time, shook his head like it was a good joke on him. “There’s no way we can be sure anyone was killed last night, especially Maggie.”
“That’s right, Carl.” She avoided his eyes.
“Right.” He slammed down the beer. “Right!”
Robbi touched the back of his wrist, consoling. He snatched at her hand. “You called the police?”
“Yes. Two detectives came out and took a statement.”
“Did they believe you?”
“I don’t know. They’d like more than what I had to offer. I have nothing concrete. Even if we find him, without evidence we have very little. One of his victims wore a gold and silver ankle bracelet. Now, if that turns up ...”
Carl stared off into the distance, apparently deep in thought.
“Carl... ?”
“We had a fight that night. It was over something . .. something so goddamn stupid I can’t even remember. She stormed out and I let her go. Can you imagine how that makes me feel? The last time I lay eyes on the woman I love, we’re screaming at each other.” A tear dropped on the tabletop. “I didn’t tell her I loved her. I didn’t tell her good-bye. I—” His voice cracked.
Robbi felt tears form in her own eyes.
Both his hands now held hers. Gazing down at them, he stroked her fingers pensively. “Robbi,” he said softly, “help me.”
“Oh, Carl...”
“Help me find her. I can’t stand to think of her lying in a filthy hole with God knows how many other rotting bodies.”
Robbi closed her eyes, saw the shaft and the tangle of limbs, and quickly opened her eyes again, nauseated. She pushed her half-eaten sandwich away.
“He’s going to kill again, and you know it. Someone else’s girl will end up in that hellhole, food for the worms.”
“Carl, please,” she said, tossing her paper napkin over the now-revolting sandwich. The psychic’s words came back to her—Lost angels ... lost and crying out to be found... to be free to go on with their journey.
“Someone’s got to stop him,” Carl said.
“I’m not even sure what he looks like.”
“Let him know who you are. Give your identity away. If he knows there was an eyewitness to his crime, he’d hafta shut you up. We’ll get the S.O.B. when he comes after you.”
Roberta’s heart leapt into her throat.
“Oh, that’s great, Carl. And if he finds out who I am and comes after me, a lot of good I can do you, or anyone, if I’m dead.”
“I won’t let him get near you.”
“How are you going to stop him?”
“I’ll move in with you. I have a gun. You’ll be safe.”
“Don’t ask me to do something like that.”
“It won’t be forever. Robbi, please, I
’m begging you.” There was such despair in his eyes, his voice. But he was asking too much. Much too much.
She rose abruptly, grabbed her purse, and hurried away before he could stop her.
When she returned to the center there was a message to call Gladys Sardi. Belinda Sardi’s mother? Robbi sagged under the weight of so much anguish. In her job she saw pain and suffering daily. But while under the roof of the shelter, the residents were afforded a certain measure of peace and well-being.
There was nothing she could do to help Belinda or Maggie now. And what could she offer Gladys Sardi and Carl? The answer was obvious. She could give them an opportunity to bury their loved ones and get on with their lives as best they could. But there was only one way to do that. He would have to be caught. And to catch him she would have to put herself in jeopardy— offer herself and wait for him to come after the bait. A heavy price.
She picked up the phone, started to dial the Sardis’ number, then put it down again. Not now, she told herself. She needed time to gather her strength. So much was happening at once.
She made it through the remainder of the day, her mind occupied with the business of the shelter. The committee meeting ran on and on, finally ending at eight P.M. Among the debris of fast-food wrappers littering her desk, she was finally alone in her office.
Roberta rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pounding in her head. She needed an aspirin, she needed sleep, she needed a vacation from all this. She called Jake and begged off on dinner, saying that she was going straight home to bed.
“Roberta, you need a break. Listen, tomorrow take the day off. Come with me and a group of kids to the lake. I could use an extra hand or two.”
“Jake, I—“
“No excuses. I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning. Beach clothes.” He hung up before she could protest.
Before going home, Robbi, concerned for Carl Masser, dug his number out of her purse and made a call. There was no answer. She locked up and left.
Carl Masser continued to drive slowly, hoping the rising dust from his pickup wouldn’t be noticed. Right after lunch with Roberta he had driven out to the Paxton estate, though he steered clear of the main house and its occupants. It took him relatively no time to locate a wide logging road that cut through the forest into the mountains.
From this dirt and gravel road were dozens of narrower roads shooting off like fingers, crisscrossing one another. Each one ultimately ended in dense trees, steep gorges, or streambeds. He had spent the entire afternoon driving up and down unused logging roads. Occasionally he explored a hiking trail which either circled back to the main road or petered out after so many yards.
Nearing nine o’clock, as daylight gave way to dusk, Carl sat parked just off the road, wondering what to do next. He was hungry and thirsty, not to mention frustrated. He cursed himself for rushing off like an idiot without thinking to bring supplies—water at least. He had found several tiny streams and had drank until his stomach hurt, but that had been hours before and he was dry again.
The last vestiges of light faded. A few minutes more and it would have been too dark to see the faint but distinct cloud of dust down the road. Carl sat up, forgetting his thirst, and watched an old battered pickup slowly pull onto the gravel logging road and move away in the opposite direction. The pickup had turned off from a road he’d investigated earlier and had determined a dead end.
When the truck was out of sight, Carl slipped on a Windbreaker and took down the Remington 30-06 rifle from the gun rack in the rear window. From the toolbox in the bed of the pickup he lifted a sheetrock knife and dropped it in the pocket of his nylon jacket.
On foot he cut across the rocky terrain to the smaller road, then followed it for a quarter mile to a wide, dry flat creek. The road continued again some twenty feet upstream. About a mile farther up the mountain, Carl followed tire tracks to a shelter formed from solid rock and manzanita. Under the natural canopy he found blotches of darkened earth. He squatted on his heels, took a pinch of dirt, and sniffed it. Motor oil.
Adrenaline raced through his veins. From above, by plane or chopper, the old pickup would be visible. Carl searched for and located what looked like a deer trail through the manzanita. He crashed through it, unmindful of the spiny branches.
It was nine sharp when Roberta pulled into her driveway. Someone sat on the front steps reading a paperback by the dwindling light. She recognized her sister immediately.
Tobie ran to Robbi, hugged her. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi. How’d you get here?”
“Caught a ride in with Hanley about three.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Didn’t want to be a pest. I got water from the hose and plums from the tree in the back. And I had my book.”
“Well, aren’t we little Miss Resourceful.” They went inside arm in arm. “It’s great to see you, Tobe, but I’m afraid I’m going to be very poor company tonight. I’m zonked.”
‘That’s okay.”
“Better call Mom and tell her you arrived safe and sound.”
“She has one of her headaches.”
“Oh.” Robbi pulled her blouse out of her skirt and unbuttoned it as she moved toward her bedroom. “There’s a six-pack in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Beer?”
“Root beer.” She undressed to her underwear, went into the bathroom, and began filling the tub. “If you’re hungry you can toss a TV dinner into the microwave. It’s all I have.”
Several minutes later Tobie came into the bathroom. She sat on the hamper, flipped the pop top on the root beer, then said, “Can I stay awhile, Rob?”
Robbi, washing her face, looked at her sister in the mirror. “You mean now instead of August?”
“Yeah, and longer than a week?”
“Oh, Tobe, I don’t know what to say. Any other time I’d be thrilled to have you. But things aren’t too good right now. In fact it couldn’t be worse.” Robbi sensed danger and she didn’t want her sister involved. Tobie was better off at home.
The girl stared down at the A&W can in her hand. She pressed her lips together, a halfhearted nod followed.
“Next month,” Robbi said. “For two weeks, at least. Movies, Circus Circus, the mall, we’ll do it all. Promise.”
Tobie grinned. “Oops, there’s the buzzer on the nuker.” She hurried out. “Is it okay if I turn on the TV and eat in the living room?”
“Sure.” Robbi shut off the tap, poured a generous amount of Epsom salts into the water, stripped off her underwear, and climbed into the tub. She settled down with a deep sigh, her head resting on a folded towel.
THIRTY-ONE
Through the gray haze of cigarette smoke, Joe Eckker watched. The blonde sat alone at the end of the bar, dropping quarters into a video poker machine. Every so often she looked up, her cool gaze sweeping the room as if watching for someone.
Lifting his beer mug, he closed his eyes and drank deeply. When he looked back toward the bar he saw a shimmering aura surrounding the woman. The aura began to rise from her in radiating waves to spread throughout the entire room. The strange odor came. Friction danced along nerve endings. The familiar warning signs.
He rose quickly, knowing that soon he would feel confused, agitated. No one could see him like this. They’d think he was crazy. They always thought he was crazy.
He strode toward the back exit, down the long dark hall. He burst through the door into the alley only moments before his powerful muscles were gripped by the violent, relentless spasms—
Robbi gasped, sputtered as her throat filled with water. She was drowning.
She threw herself forward in the bathtub, coughing, trying to clear her lungs. She inhaled greedily, felt her throat open at last to receive the air. Clutching the side of the tub, she laid her face against the cool white porcelain and breathed in tight, ragged breaths.
She looked up to see Tobie standing in the doorway, her face anxious.
“Robbi, you okay?”
“Yeah. Just took in a little water.”
Tobie came into the room, sat on the hamper again. “You had a vision, huh?”
Roberta nodded, but volunteered nothing.
After several long moments Tobie said, ‘You had a vision about Ronnie once, didn’t you?”
Just the mention of her brother’s name made her heart ache. “Once.”
Tobie sat on the floor, her back against the hamper. “How come our own father doesn’t like us?”
Roberta sighed. How many times had she asked herself that same question? She thought she knew why he hated her, but she would never understand his indifference to Tobie. “I think he loved Ron so much, that when he died, all his love died with him.”
“Does he blame you for Ron’s death?”
Roberta considered the question for a long time. “I don’t know.” But Roberta blamed herself.
The Jeffrey pines gave off a sweet scent of vanilla. If not for the full moon, the forest would have been impenetrable. Nearly an hour had passed since Carl had left the natural carport to follow the deer trail. His search had turned up nothing.
Again he cursed himself for the fool he was. Rushing off without provisions had been the dumbest thing he’d ever done. But hell, he told himself, there was nothing rational about this whole fucking mess. His woman disappears. An amateur psychic tunes into it like it was As the World Turns, then tells him Maggie’s been killed just when he felt they were getting close to finding her.
Carl continued on, blazing a new trail, no longer eager or confident. It was impossible at night without a light. How did he expect to find what he was looking for in the huge forest? He’d be lucky to find his way back to his truck.
Fifteen minutes more, that’s all. Then he’d give it up for the night. Tomorrow, with the proper provisions, he’d return, comb every inch of this range.
Eckker had come to in the alley, his back against the rough stucco exterior of the building. Two male cats squared off at his feet, hissing, then wailing in that godawful, mournful cry of challenge. He kicked out at them. Instead of sending them off, the sudden movement surprised them into combative action. They rushed at each other, screaming; fur flew in clouds.
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