by John Saul
“And he would have been right,” Elaine agreed.
“For all the good it did him. Anyway, Osprey couldn’t have slipped her moorings by accident. Somebody cast her lines off the dock, but I can’t get that police chief to do anything about it. It’s like he just doesn’t care.”
“I don’t think he does,” Elaine said softly. Before Jeff could ask what she meant she changed the subject. “What are you going to do now?”
“Go back up north, I guess, and start over. But without Max it isn’t going to be easy.”
“Can’t you stay here awhile?”
“I’m broke. I can pay for one more night at the hotel and that’s it. But I want to stay and find out what happened to Max.” He looked deeply into Elaine’s eyes and his voice took on an intensity that almost frightened her.
“Somebody killed Max, Mrs. Randall. I don’t know who, but somebody killed him. I have to find out why.”
Elaine studied the young man opposite her and tried to weigh what he had said. Still in shock, she thought, and badly shaken up. Yet what he had said made sense. If his brother had been as careful as Jeff claimed—and she had no reason to doubt it—then it seemed unlikely that the trawler’s getting loose had been an accident. And if it wasn’t an accident …
“Look,” she said suddenly. “If it’s that important for you to stay around here for a while, you can stay with us. It’s primitive, but it’s free.”
“With you?” Jeff seemed totally bewildered. “But you don’t even know me.”
Elaine smiled warmly at him. “If you hadn’t said that I might have been worried. Anyway, that makes us even: you don’t know us, either. Believe me, after a couple of days we’ll know each other very, very well. The house we rented isn’t big and it doesn’t have any electricity. I’m told the plumbing works but I’ll believe it when I see it. There’s a couple of bedrooms upstairs, guest rooms, and you might as well be the first guest.” Before Jeff could reply Elaine glanced at her watch and stood up. “Come on, we’ve been here long enough. If Brad isn’t through with Mr. Whalen yet, something’s gone wrong. And the movers must think we’ve died.”
“Movers?”
“I told you we were just moving in. That was a sort of a lie, really. We haven’t moved in yet. As a matter of fact, we just got to town half an hour ago.”
Taking Jeff by the arm, she led him out the door.
They almost bumped into Brad as they turned the corner onto Main Street, and Elaine knew by the look on his face that something was wrong. “What’s happened?” she asked.
Brad stared at her blankly for a moment, then chuckled hollowly. “You won’t believe it,” he said. “Whalen didn’t remember renting the house to us.”
“Didn’t remember? Are you serious?”
Brad nodded. “That’s why he looked so surprised when we walked into his office. He thought we were gone for good. I had to show him the lease before he’d give me the keys to the house. I guess we were right when we thought he was in some kind of trance the day he showed us the place.” He saw Elaine turn slightly pale and decided now was not the time to pursue the subject. Instead, he made himself smile genially at Jeff Horton. “I assume Elaine invited you to stay with us?”
“If it’s all right with you, Dr. Randall.”
“My name’s Brad, and of course it’s all right with me. If she hadn’t invited you I would have. We’d better get going though, or the movers are going to dump our stuff in the street. Whalen’ll lead us out there, just to make sure the place is all right.”
As if on cue, Harney Whalen emerged from the police station and stared balefully at the three of them. When he spoke his words were obviously directed at Jeff.
“I thought you’d be on your way by now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jeff said softly. “Not till I find out what happened to my brother.”
Whalen’s tongue worked at his left cheek as he thought it over. “Still staying at the hotel?” he asked finally.
“He’ll be staying with us,” Elaine said flatly, as if to end the discussion.
“That so?” Whalen said. “Well, I guess it’s none of my business, is it. You want to follow me?”
“Sure,” Brad replied. He turned and signaled the movers, who were lounging against the fender of their truck half a block away. They ground their cigarettes out and climbed into the cab. “We’ll be right behind you,” Brad called to Whalen, who was already in his police car. Whalen’s hand, black-gloved, waved an acknowledgment, but he didn’t speak. Instead he simply started his engine and pulled away from the curb, his face expressionless as he passed them. The Randalls, with Jeff Horton, followed. Behind them, the moving truck closed the gap.
Harney Whalen drove the black-and-white slowly and kept his eyes steadily on the road. But he was driving automatically, guiding the car almost by instinct. His mind was in turmoil.
Jeff Horton wasn’t going to go home.
Instead he was going to stay in Clark’s Harbor, stirring up trouble.
And the Randalls. Where had they come from? He searched his mind, trying to remember having signed a lease.
His mind was blank. He remembered showing them the house, but as for a lease—nothing. Absolutely nothing.
More trouble.
Harney Whalen didn’t like trouble. He wondered what he should do about it.
And he wondered why strangers kept coming to Clark’s Harbor. It had never been a good place for strangers.
Never had been, and never would be.
20
The procession made an odd spectacle as it moved out of Clark’s Harbor, the black-and-white police car leading the way with Harney Whalen at the wheel, his eyes fixed firmly on the road in front of him, an odd look on his face: a look that would have told anyone who happened to see it that Whalen’s mind was far away. Behind him were the Randalls, with Jeff Horton in the back seat. Elaine made sporadic attempts at conversation, but all three of them were preoccupied with their own thoughts, and they soon fell silent. The small moving truck brought up the rear.
It’s almost like some bizarre funeral cortege, Elaine was thinking. She glanced out the side window of the car and saw several people standing on the sidewalk, having left whatever they had been doing to watch the newcomers make their arrival. Their faces seemed to Elaine to be impassive, as if the arrival of the Randalls would have no effect on them whatsoever—something to be observed that would not change their lives. And yet, as she absorbed their strange impassivity, Elaine began to feel as if there was something else, some fear that they were trying to cover up. She glanced quickly at Brad, but he was concentrating on the road, unaware of the watching faces on the sidewalks. Then they turned up Harbor Road, leaving the village behind.
The procession headed north on the highway, passed Glen Palmer’s gallery, and quickly disappeared around the bend that would take them close to the coastline. Harney Whalen increased his speed, and the car and truck behind him accelerated. They were cruising at the speed limit when Whalen suddenly noticed the two children in the road ahead. For a few seconds he kept up his speed, bearing down on Robby and Missy Palmer, the car hurtling forward straight toward them. Whalen felt himself freeze at the wheel, unable to move. Then, as the gap between himself and the children quickly closed, he forced his right foot off the accelerator, hit the brake, swerved, and leaned on the horn.
Missy scrambled off the pavement into the ditch almost before the sound of the horn split the air. But Robby remained in the road, turning slowly to stare at the oncoming car as if he didn’t recognize that he was in danger.
“Robby!” Missy screamed. And then the horn was followed by the shrieking of tires being ripped loose from their grip on the pavement as the police car began to fishtail. Finally Robby moved.
It was a lazy movement, slow and methodical.
He stepped casually out of the path of the speeding police car, then watched idly as it skidded in a full circle, left the pavement, and came to rest
on the opposite side of the street. As soon as it stopped Harney Whalen leaped from the driver’s seat and started toward Robby.
Brad Randall was already bringing bis car to a halt almost on the spot where the children had been. He hadn’t seen anything until Whalen’s brake lights had flashed on, the sound of the horn had hit him, and the police car had gone into its skid. Only at the last instant had he seen Missy leap off the road, then Robby moved slowly away from the path of the car.
“My God,” he said as he brought his own car to a stop. “He damn near ran them down. Didn’t he see them?”
“He must have,” Elaine said. She paused a second and a strange note crept into her voice. “Those are the Palmers’ children! Are they all right?”
Before Brad could answer, Elaine had scrambled out of the car and knelt beside Missy. The little girl was sobbing, and Elaine gathered her into her arms.
“It’s all right. Everything’s okay. Nobody’s hurt.”
“He did it on purpose,” Missy sobbed. “He tried to run over us.”
“No,” Elaine purred soothingly. “Nobody did that. Nobody would want to run over you.”
Then Harney Whalen was there, standing over her, his face pale, his hands shaking. “What the hell were you kids doing?” he demanded.
Elaine pulled the sobbing Missy closer to her and stared up at Whalen, her brows knitted into a scowl of anger.
“Didn’t you see them?” she demanded. “They must have been right in front of you.” She looked quickly around, searching for Brad, needing his support. Then she saw him crouched down next to Robby, checking the boy over. “Is he all right?” she called.
“He’s fine,” Brad replied. “Not a scratch on him. Just scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Robby replied.
“If you aren’t you should be,” Brad said, tousling the boy’s hair. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to walk in the street?” Then he turned to Whalen.
“Didn’t you see them?” he asked, echoing Elaine’s question.
“It happened so fast,” Whalen said. “All of a sudden there they were.”
“You must have seen them in plenty of time,” Brad protested.
Whalen stiffened and glared at Brad. “Well, I didn’t,” he said. “But I saw them soon enough. Nobody got hurt; nobody except me even got shaken up. So that’s that, isn’t it?”
“Is your car okay?” Brad asked.
“It’s fine,” Whalen assured him. “The shoulder’s almost level on that side.” He started moving toward the car, but Brad stopped him.
“Don’t you think we should offer the kids a ride home?”
Whalen glanced from Missy to Robby, then back to Missy.
“How about it? You two want a ride in the police car?”
Robby’s face brightened immediately but Missy frowned.
“No,” she said with finality.
“We can take you home,” Elaine offered.
“That’s all right,” Missy said. “We can walk.”
“Are you sure?” Elaine looked anxiously at the little girl, almost as if she thought the child should be unable to walk. Missy unconsciously pulled away from her. “We’re not supposed to ride with strangers,” she said carefully.
“We’re not strangers,” Elaine countered. Missy looked at her thoughtfully, then shook her head.
“We don’t want to,” she said. Her lip began to quiver, as if she were about to begin crying again.
Elaine stood up, shrugged, and sighed. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right …” she began. She looked helplessly at Brad, but he was staying out of the situation, faintly amused by his wife’s efforts with the children. Whalen, accepting Missy’s decision as final, returned to his car and began maneuvering the vehicle back onto the road.
Reluctantly, Elaine followed Brad back to their car, where Jeff Horton was still sitting in the back seat. Twice she looked back at the children, but they didn’t move. Robby was watching the police car, but Missy seemed not to be watching anything. It was almost as if she were waiting for something, but Elaine hadn’t a clue as to what it might be. She got into the passenger seat next to Brad just as Harney Whalen finished turning the police car around. A minute later the procession was once more under way.
“He wanted to run over us,” Missy said to Robby as the two cars and the truck disappeared from view.
“He didn’t either,” Robby replied. He glared at his sister, wishing she weren’t so stubborn. “How come you didn’t let us ride in the police car?”
“I don’t like that man. He wants to hurt us.”
“That’s dumb. Why would he want to hurt us?”
“I don’t know,” Missy said petulantly. “But he does.”
Robby decided not to argue the point. “Well, we could have ridden with the Randalls.”
“Mommy and Daddy don’t want us to ride with strangers.”
“They aren’t strangers. He used to be my doctor, and they’re moving into the house on the beach.”
“Well, I don’t know them,” Missy insisted. “So they’re strangers.” Then she looked at her brother quizzically. “How come you stayed in the street?”
“I didn’t,” Robby replied.
“Yes, you did. I yelled at you, and you just stood there.”
Robby scratched his head thoughtfully. “I don’t really remember it,” he said. “It happened too fast. Anyway, I got out of the way, didn’t I? I didn’t just jump like a scared rabbit like some people did. Let’s cut through the woods and go home by the beach,” he suggested.
“I don’t want to,” Missy objected. “I don’t like the beach.”
“You never want to do anything,” Robby said scornfully. “If you don’t want to go by the beach, you can stay on the road by yourself.”
Missy’s eyes widened with indignation. “You can’t leave me here. Mommy says we’re supposed to stay together.”
“But she didn’t say we’re always supposed to do what you want. Come on.” He started across the road, but Missy stayed where she was. When he got to the other side, Robby turned around and glared at his sister.
“Are you coming, or not?”
Missy felt torn. She didn’t want to go through the woods, didn’t want to walk on the beach. For some reason the beach scared her, even though she knew it didn’t scare Robby. Most of all, though, she didn’t want to walk home by herself.
She wondered what her mother’s reaction would be if she showed up by herself. Mommy might punish Robby for leaving her alone, but she also might punish Missy for not staying with her brother. She made up her mind, on the theory that being a little bit scared was better than being punished.
“Oh, all right,” she said, and hurried across the highway to catch up with Robby, who was already hunting for a path into the forest.
Harney Whalen pulled as far up the narrow driveway as he could and still leave room for the Randalls and the truck to get in ahead of him. He switched off the engine but didn’t leave the car immediately.
He was still bothered by what had happened. He had tried to act as if it had been the children who had been careless. But he knew they hadn’t been.
He knew that he had seen them in plenty of time.
He had frozen at the wheel.
He had nearly killed them both.
And he didn’t know why.
For a moment it had been very much like the few seconds before he went into one of his spells. Time seemed almost to stand still, and something happened to his muscles—he lost control of them, as if his body were a thing apart from himself, operating under its own volition.
But always before it had been all right: usually he was alone when something like that happened. Alone, where no one could get hurt.
This afternoon two children had almost been killed. He decided it was time to have the talk with Doc Phelps that he had been postponing for so long.
The decision made, he got out of the police car and walked over to the Randalls, who wer
e waiting for him together with Jeff Horton.
“Something wrong?” Brad Randall asked him.
“I’m okay. Just thought I heard something in the engine.”
Without further words, he led the way along the path that took them out of the forest and through the tangle of driftwood. He opened the kitchen door, surprised that it wasn’t locked, then handed the key to Brad.
“There’s only the one key,” he said. “It fits both doors, and I have the only copy. If you want another one you’ll have to get Blake to cut it for you.”
“I doubt we’ll ever lock the place,” Brad said.
“Suit yourselves,” Whalen said noncommittally. “City people always seem to think they’re a lot safer in the country than in town. But there’s nuts all over the place.” His eyes went to Jeff Horton, and Jeff felt himself flush with anger, but he kept silent.
Whalen led them through the house, halfheartedly apologizing for the mess, but not offering to have it cleaned up. “Sometimes I think I ought to just tear the place down,” he muttered.
“Why don’t you?” Brad asked. Harney looked surprised, and Brad realized the chief hadn’t intended to speak out loud.
“I don’t know,” Whalen mused. “Just never get around to it, I guess. Or maybe I just don’t want to. I come out here every now and then. Gets me out of the house.” He started to leave, then stopped and turned back to face the Randalls once more.
“I’m going to tell you folks something,” he said heavily. “Clark’s Harbor is an inbred town. We’re all related to each other, and we don’t take kindly to strangers. And it isn’t just that we’re not friendly. It’s something else—whenever strangers come to town the whole place seems to get sort of out of whack, if you know what I mean. So don’t expect things to be any good for you here. They won’t be.”
