Before he could mumble his thanks, a series of clicks sounded in his ear, and then the phone began to ring in his ear again. On the third ring, someone picked it up and said, “MCI Billing department. Mrs. Clark speaking. How may I help you?”
“Yes, this is—uh, Harold Toland calling,” Alex said. He considered disguising his voice but decided he didn’t need to. “My most recent bill has quite a few long distance calls from several states, and I have a—well, it’s a rather unusual question. You see, my—uh, my wife is traveling east, and she’s been calling me just about every day. To check in, you see. Well, some of the calls have already shown up on the bill I just got last week, but you see, her last call was several days ago, now, and she said she was going to stay where she was for a few days but I—well, she gave me the number she was calling from, but I lost it. I was wondering if you had—you know, in your computer or whatever, some kind of record of the calls that will eventually be showing up on my bill.”
“Well, that all depends on the carrier she used.”
“Oh, we’ve used your company for years. I can give you the account number if that will help.”
“How recent was this call?” Mrs. Clark asked.
“Oh, just a few days ago—the end of last week. Thursday, I think.”
“Was it a collect call?”
“No, she dialed direct and charged all of them to my—I mean to our account. I don’t know for sure, but I’m fairly certain she used our phone credit card.”
“Well then, Mr.—”
“Toland.”
“Mr. Toland, if you give me your account number, I can run a billing check on those calls for you. I can’t guarantee anything until the next bill is due, but if the information’s in our computer, I’ll notify you within the next three business days.”
“Oh, sure—yeah, that’d be terrific,” Alex said. He let out his breath, unable to believe his good luck. This was almost too easy. “I feel like such an idiot, you know, losing the number like that. Oh—by the way, will you be notifying me by telephone or by mail.”
“We’ll send a printout report to your home address. Mind you, this is not your monthly bill, just a—”
No, that won’t do, Alex thought, and before he could stop himself, the words came out, cutting off Mrs. Clark. “No, that won’t do!”
“Well, that’s the normal procedure, Mr. Toland,” Mrs. Clark said. There was a harsh authoritarian tone in her voice that made her sound like a scolding school teacher.
“Well, you see, I’m a salesman, and I’ll be on the road quite a bit this week and next. I really wanted to call my wife back tonight and see how she’s doing.” He decided against elaborating further just so there’d be less of a chance that he’d get caught up in a lie.
“Okay, Mr. Toland,” Mrs. Clark said, apparently softening. “Tell you what. Give me your account number, and I’ll see what comes up on the computer right now.”
“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks—thanks a lot,” Alex said.
He cleared his throat and hardly dared to breathe as he slowly read the account number from the top corner of the bill. It was almost lost beneath the scrawls of his doodle. There was a long period of silence on the line after he heard Mrs. Clark punch the numbers on her computer keyboard. Alex closed his eyes and wished to hell he had a beer to slug down while he waited, but if his luck held, this was going to be a whole helluva lot easier than he’d expected it to be.
“Mr. Toland?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t quite know what to make of this, but it appears that the last call your wife made to you was from a pay phone.”
“A pay phone?” He licked his lips and hoped to hell his voice didn’t betray his anticipation. “Well, she—I know she’s been doing a lot of driving, so she may have, but I—”
His mind went almost blank as he mentally tried to form his next question.
“Could you please give me that phone number’?”
“I don’t quite see the point if, as you say, she called you from there several days ago.” After a short pause, Mrs. Clark read the number, and Alex scribbled it across the woman’s face he had drawn.
“And where exactly did she call from? Can you tell?” Alex asked, unable to keep the sharp edge of command out of his voice.
“It’s from area code 207. That’s the state of Maine.”
“Maine?”
“The whole state. The exchange number indicates that your wife called from the Portland area. Now, this may not be the call you were wondering about— Well, yes. Apparently it is. It was last Thursday, just after three o’clock in the afternoon. The total charge came to only… sixty-one cents.”
“Portland, Maine, huh? Well, Mrs. Clark, I want to thank you very much for your help with this.”
“Oh, it was nothing at all,” Mrs. Clark said. “My pleasure. And thank you for using MCI. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of any more assistance to you.”
Alex sank back into the couch and let a wide, wolfish smile spread across his face. “Oh, believe me,” he said, almost laughing out loud. “You’ve been a great help.”
“Well, as I said, that call originated from a pay phone. I’d suggest, if you or your wife know anyone in the Portland area, you might want to give them a call.”
“Oh,” Alex said, “I don’t know about that.”
It took a great effort not to leap up from the couch and let out a wild whoop of joy.
“As a matter of fact, in a day or two, after I take care of a few things around, here, I was thinking about heading out to Portland, Maine, myself. Thanks again for your help.”
Before Mrs. Clark could say anything, he hung up the phone and, leaning his head back against the couch cushion, started to laugh. Wave after wave of laughter ran through him, and before long, he closed his eyes and had to double over, he was laughing so hard.
This was all falling into place much too easily!
3
While her aunt’s back was turned toward her, Krissy slipped into the small bedroom and eased the door quietly shut. The wooden floor creaked softly under her feet, but it had a muffled, quality that was almost comforting, like walking on crunchy, fresh snow. After so many days of sitting in the back seat of the car, her legs felt all gummy and weak. It felt funny to walk, sort of like being an invalid who had just gotten out of bed after a long illness.
The tattered window shade was drawn all the way down, turning the wide band of sunlight that filtered through it into a deep yellow, almost muddy color. Scattered beams of bright light angled through small holes in the shade and lanced the floor like laser beams. The lighting in the room reminded Krissy of the color of the river water the time last summer when her mother had taken her and Billy for a riverboat ride on the Missouri River. The dust suspended in the air was suffused with a subtle, shimmering glow that made the air look dense, like it was alive with sparkling flecks of gold. A wasp, trapped behind the shade, buzzed and bounced against the glass, seeking escape. Krissy watched its small, distinct shadow dart from side to side as the rasping buzz grew steadily louder.
Yeah, this is nice… really nice… Krissy thought, letting the warm, comforting feeling of the room fill her. I kinda like it here.
Forgetting all about the bad smell she had noticed in the apartment before, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her thin chest expand to its fullest. The wasp’s buzzing grew louder, until it seemed to fill the room. A curious tingling sensation spread up from Krissy’s feet, twining and curling around her body like a mild electric current. The hairs on the backs of her arms stood up and began to sway subtly from side to side. Her cheeks and forehead tingled like the time she had splashed some of her father’s after shave on her face.
All sounds and sensations were deadened except for the high-pitched buzzing of the trapped wasp. That sound created such a lulling peacefulness that Krissy felt as though she had jumped into the Missouri River and was drifting down to its swirling, muddy bottom. She was surrounded by w
armth and a tugging, yearning feeling that made her almost want to laugh—or cry—out loud.
“Krissy?”
She barely heard Aunt Cindy call to her from out in the hallway, but she ignored the call as she walked slowly to the center of the bedroom and stood there, her arms held up, suspended a little bit away from her sides. Looking down, she saw one sneakered foot, illuminated in sharp detail by a harsh beam of sunlight. The worn floorboards stood out in sharp detail, but everything else around her seemed dark and very distant. She had the sudden, disorienting feeling that her feet were lifting off the floor, and she was drifting, floating in the air and spinning lazily like a top. All the while, though, her gaze was fixed on the suffused wash of yellow light that came through the window shade. Motes of dust glittered like flecks of gold… shimmering planets, spiralling in the still air. As her vision sharpened, she thought she saw them forming levels that made a gossamer stairway leading up to, and through, the window shade.
“Krissy…”
When she heard her name called a second time, she thought for a moment that it was the buzzing sound of the trapped wasp; but then it came again, softly… teasingly.
“Krissy…”
This time she knew that it wasn’t the wasp, and it wasn’t her aunt’s voice. This voice sounded … different, somehow, as though it was muffled through some kind of filter or something. A wave of chills tingled up Krissy’s back, but she kept her unblinking gaze fastened on the embracing yellow light and the shimmering stairway. The light pulsated and began to spread like a slow stain, filling the room with enclosing arms of stifling heat.
“Krissy…” the voice repeated, sounding both fainter and clearer at the same time.
“Umm… I do kinda like it here,” Krissy whispered. She heard her own voice, but had the odd sensation that it was someone else’s. She licked her lips, feeling their rough, dry texture, like sandpaper, and was mildly surprised that she could make even the tiniest of sounds.
“Krissy… you’ll be… safe here…”
The eerily detached voice continued to whisper, saying words that seemed barely connected. They seemed to be coming at her from all directions at once… or else they were echoing inside her head, like distant memories.
“You have… to… believe in… me… you’ll be safe here…”
Krissy’s eyes began to fill with tears as she stared, wide-eyed into the light, which throbbed heavily now, keeping time with her high, hammering pulse. The electrical tingling that surrounded her body became stronger, almost painful. Hot pin prickles ran up and down the length of her body. She wanted to cry out, but even though she swallowed hard and licked her lips, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make a sound. Her gaze was held fast by the amber light that swirled in front of the window, surging and twisting like thick strands of honey, suspended in midair.
At some point—she had no idea when—she realized that the liquid spill of light was assuming subtle, indistinct shapes. Like the voice talking to her, the shapes melted from sight before she could quite grasp them. Then, in a single, shattering instant, she realized that the glow of light was taking on a vaguely human appearance. She saw eyes, wide open and staring at her. Long streamers of hair framed the face, cascading like fast-moving storm clouds, and a mouth with full lips pursed as though about to speak.
“You have to… trust me… believe in me… you’ll be safe… here… at least…for a… little while…”
The words echoed with a hollow rumbling sound inside her head, like someone was shaking a large sheet of metal. Each syllable made her ears flutter painfully, but the few words she did hear and understand made her feel welcome… welcome and safe.
“Krissy!”
Again, her aunt’s voice called from the hallway, louder this time, piercing, like the high screech of tires on a wet road. In the space of a heartbeat, the glow of light and the face inside it faded away. A clutching of sour nausea gripped Krissy’s stomach when she turned around just in time to see the bedroom door fly open so fast it hit the wall and rebounded with a vibrating rattle. Aunt Cindy’s dark silhouette was framed in the doorway, looking scary and big.
“Oh, there you are!”
Krissy’s skin felt like stretched leather as she looked at her aunt, swallowed, and forced herself to smile. A dull pressure in her lower stomach made her want to go to the bathroom.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was dry and croaked like an old woman’s.
“Good Lord, Krissy! Don’t ever go sneaking away like that! You had me really scared!” Aunt Cindy said.
Krissy regarded her aunt with a tight, fearful gaze, but she was only vaguely bothered by the expression of concern she saw on her aunt’s face. Aunt Cindy’s voice sounded too harsh, too real, she thought, and she was angry at her for bursting in here and making that shiny face she had seen—and almost recognized—disappear so quickly.
“I was just… was just checking the place out,” she said. Her voice caught and almost choked off, but she was amazed that she could even speak at all.
Taking a fluttering breath, she walked over to the window and snapped the shade up so fast it flapped loudly against the roller. The motion raised a cloud of dust, and the sudden blast of light stung her eyes, almost making her sneeze, but her gaze was instantly fastened on the trapped wasp.
It was dead on the windowsill, nothing but a dry, empty husk. As Krissy stared at it, her vision became a watery blur, but she didn’t even consider whether it was from crying or from the bright light. Sniffling loudly, she turned and looked back at her aunt.
“So, do you think we’re… Are we gonna live here?”
Aunt Cindy’s expression softened as she took a step toward her and shrugged, slapping her hands together. “Gosh, I don’t know, honey… Maybe.” She seemed to want to come over and hug her but was holding herself back.
Flicking her forefinger, Krissy snapped the dead wasp onto the floor, surprised that it didn’t suddenly fly up and try to sting her. For an instant, she considered stepping on it, grinding it to dust under her toe, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Well,” she said distractedly; she was unable to stop wondering how long that wasp had been dead there between the shade and window, “If we do, can this room be mine?”
Aunt Cindy considered for a moment, then nodded and said, “Sure. I don’t see why not.” She still sounded a bit bemused.
“Oh, good,” Krissy replied, nodding as she reached for the edge of the shade and pulled it back down. When she turned around to scan the rest of the room, the soft yellow glow of light was back, filtering through the shade and softening everything so once again the room looked old and faded. Any hint of a ghostly face or anything else was gone, but even the prospect that this room might be haunted didn’t seem to bother her. She believed what she had seen and heard, even though she couldn’t explain the really weird way it had made her feel. She hadn’t been really scared, but it didn’t make her feel completely happy or secure, either.
“Yeah,” she said warily, her voice no more than a sigh. “She said—I mean, I think we’ll be safe here… at least for a little while.”
Chapter Nine
The Fun Begins
Alex was wide awake more than an hour before dawn on Friday morning. The small amount of sleep he had gotten had done him little good, and three cups of black coffee hadn’t helped. He felt all tight and trembling inside; “Wound up tight as a tick,” as his mother used to say.
It was now a little before eight o’clock in the morning, and time to get things started.
After spending most of the last three days trying to figure out every possible angle of what he had planned, he couldn’t conceal his nervousness as he sat down on the couch in his living room and picked up the telephone. He stared without blinking for several seconds at the wash of dull orange sunlight that lit up rectangle of the faded carpet. The floor was littered with gray clots of dust, empty beer cans, and old newspapers; and there was a real bad smell of
rotting food in the room. Shaking his head as though dazed, he exhaled noisily and started dialing the number in Chicago, which he had gotten the day before from directory assistance.
This was it—the first step.
If he fucked this one up, everything else he had planned to do would go down the shitter.
The telephone receiver was slick and cold in his sweating hand as he started punching the eleven numbers for the Chicago Hilton. Before pressing the last number, though, he hesitated, his mind flashing on his fear that, in spite of everything he had thought of, there still had to be something he had not taken into account. But when he thought about what that asshole Harry Toland and his fucking wife, Cindy, had done to him, his resolve stuck. Grinning grimly, he pushed down hard on the last number and pressed the phone to his ear.
The phone began to ring at the other end of the line and was picked up after three short beeps.
“Chicago Hilton,” said a woman’s voice, clipped and almost British-sounding. “How may I direct your call?”
“Yeah—uh, room 1237.”
“One moment, please, and I’ll connect you.”
A cold, hard tingling passed through Alex’s body, squeezing his chest as he listened to an assortment of clicks and buzzes on the other end of line; then the phone began to ring again. He sucked in a shuddering breath, but his lungs still felt like they were on fire and about to explode.
“—Umm—’ello,” said a sleepy-sounding voice. It was a woman’s voice, but Alex couldn’t tell from those two slurred words if it was the same woman he had heard on Harry’s answering machine last week.
Squeezing his nose shut with his fingers and purposely making his voice rattle, sounding thick with phlegm, he said, “Hi, yah… it’s me.”
“Huh?” The woman’s voice still sounded sleepy, but she seemed to be coming around slowly. “Who’s me?”
“Me—Harry… Who’d you expect?”
“Harry?” said the woman, sounding both surprised and perhaps a bit suspicious, but certainly fully awake now. “What’s the matter? Why, you sound absolutely terrible!”
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