by John Saul
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more. If he turns up here, we’ll call you.” They said good-bye, and Jack hung up the phone. He turned to Rose, and the worry he had not allowed to show in his voice was etched on his face.
“It’s like the others, isn’t it?” he said.
Rose nodded mutely. It was too much like the others. And then she remembered Sarah. Sarah had not been standing behind her sister at the head of the stairs. She glanced upward and saw Elizabeth still standing where she had been, waiting to be told what Mrs. Stevens had said.
“Where’s Sarah?” Rose said, finding her voice.
“Sarah?” Elizabeth repeated the name. “In her room, I guess. Or the playroom.” She fell silent and appeared to be listening. “Just a second,” she said. “I’ll look.”
They heard her footsteps in the hall as she made her way first to Sarah’s room, then to the playroom. When they heard her approaching the head of the stairs again, and did not hear the soft murmur of her voice speaking to her sister, they knew that she had not found Sarah. Elizabeth reappeared at the head of the stairs and started down.
“She’s not up here,” she was saying. “She’s probably with Mrs. Goodrich.”
As they began searching downstairs, Rose knew they would not find Sarah. Instead of joining in the search, she went into her little office and sank into the chair at her desk. For some reason she found some security there, some security she was suddenly sure she was going to need.
“Well,” Jack said, trying to keep his voice steady. “She isn’t down here, either. Mrs. Goodrich thought she was upstairs.”
“She’s got to be here,” Rose said desperately. “Look upstairs again. She might be in our room, or the guest room. And the attic. Look in the attic.”
She did not volunteer to join in the search, for she was sure it was useless. Sarah was not in the house. Rose sat in her desk chair and listened as Elizabeth and Jack made their way systematically through the house. There was a silence as they searched the third-floor attic; then she heard them on the second floor, and finally coming down the stairs. They came into the small office, and Jack shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “She’s not here.”
“I didn’t think she would be,” Rose said. “Not when she wasn’t in her room.” They looked at one another, unsure of what to do next.
“The barn,” Elizabeth said suddenly. “Maybe she went out to the barn.” Without waiting for an answer from her parents, she left the room, and they heard the front door open. And then they heard Elizabeth scream.
It was not the same sort of scream they were used to from Sarah, the frustrated scream of a child who finds herself unable to communicate by any other means. Elizabeth’s was a scream of horror. It froze Jack and Rose momentarily, then they were on their feet, racing for the front door. They found Elizabeth on the front porch, staring wildly out at the field. They followed the direction of her eyes, and Rose felt a scream emerging from her own lips. She was able to suppress it only by clamping her hand over her mouth.
From the woods, a small form had emerged, and was now making its way across the field toward the house. It was Sarah, and even from here they could see that she was soaking wet and covered with mud. And there was something else. Something that streaked her face and arms, and stained her clothing with a redness that they knew was not mud.
It was blood. Sarah was covered with blood.
“Jesus God,” Jack muttered, his mind almost unable to accept what his eyes were seeing. And then he remembered that Elizabeth, too, was watching the strange apparition that was coming slowly across the field. He took his daughter’s arm and pulled her into the house.
Elizabeth seemed dazed, and she did not resist as Jack led her upstairs and into her room.
“Stay here,” he said. “Don’t come downstairs until I come up to get you.” He looked at her closely, and saw that her face was pale and she was shaking. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, and her mouth moved. “What’s wrong with her, Daddy?” she said in a small voice. “Is she hurt?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “But it will be all right. Just stay here, and it will be all right.” Elizabeth, suddenly seeming much younger, peered up into his face, and he gathered her into his arms. She began sobbing quietly.
“It’s going to be all right, honey,” Jack whispered. “I’ll take care of her.” He rocked her gently, and she calmed down. He laid her on the bed. “Try not to think about it,” he said. “I have to go down and help her now, but I’ll be back in a little while. Try not to think about it,” he repeated, and knew that there was no way she would be able to blot what she had seen out of her mind.
Rose was still standing on the front porch, her hand still clamped over her mouth, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Sarah was still in the field, getting closer to the house, moving slowly, the object she carried dragging in the mud behind her. It was getting colder, and there was snow mixed with the rain now.
Small sounds started to come out of Rose as she tried to come to terms with what she was seeing. The object in Sarah’s hand was clearly visible now, and as the realization of what it was came to Jack he had to fight down the rising nausea in his stomach.
It was a child’s arm, and it had been severed at the shoulder. It seemed to be badly lacerated, and the blood was slowly oozing from it, dripping from the ragged stump that bumped through the mud behind Sarah.
Sarah seemed unaware of the rain and snow, or of the cold. She moved forward steadily, her vacant eyes fixed on her parents as they stood on the porch waiting for her. Jack wanted to go to her, to pick her up and carry her home, but he was unable to. Helplessly he stood next to his wife as their daughter came toward them.
And then she was home. She stood at the bottom of the steps to the porch and stared blankly up at them. Then she lifted the severed arm and held it out, presenting it to them as if it were a gift.
The hysteria she had been holding back swept over Rose. Her mouth opened jerkily, and the scream that had been struggling in her throat burst forth to resound across the field. The trees in the woods almost seemed to tremble with the screams that tore out of the tormented woman’s being. Her eyes began playing tricks on her, and all she could see was the arm, the bloody arm, suspended against a background that was fast going black. It seemed to grow before her eyes, and then all she could see was the stump, the ragged flesh surrounding the bone. Her screams rose to a hysterical pitch.
Elizabeth’s first scream had awakened Mrs. Goodrich, and she had sat peering dazedly at her television set, unsure whether or not it had been the source of the sound that had awakened her. When she began hearing Rose’s screams she realized that it had not been the television. She got to her feet and headed stiffly for the front of the house.
The anguished cries grew as she approached the front door, but it wasn’t until she was on the porch that she realized the cause. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bloodied, mud-covered child. She fought down the nausea and glanced at Rose, quickly realizing that it was the mother, not the daughter, who needed immediate attention.
“Take care of Miz Rose,” she commanded Jack. She moved forward and, swallowing hard, disengaged Sarah’s fingers from the wrist of the dismembered arm. Taking Sarah by one hand and holding the grisly arm in the other, she led Sarah into the house. She took her quickly to the kitchen, and stood her in front of the sink. Then she wrapped the arm in a towel and set it aside. She began working on Sarah, stripping her clothes from her and wiping her off. Then she wrapped the child in an old blanket from her own room and went to the phone. She dialed the number for the police station and asked for Ray Norton.
“Ray,” she said. “This is Mrs. Goodrich out at the Congers’. You’d better get out here fast. Something bad’s happened. And bring a doctor with you. That one from White Oaks, if you can get hold of him. He knows us.”
The police chief started to ask some questions, but the old housekeeper cut him off.
> “When you get here,” she said. “I’ve got other things to do.” She hung up the telephone and returned to Sarah. The child sat meekly waiting, and offered no resistance as Mrs. Goodrich led her upstairs to the bathroom.
Mrs. Goodrich’s command had brought Jack to his senses. He grabbed Rose and shook her.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Mrs. Goodrich is taking care of her.” When Rose continued screaming, he shook her harder and yelled at her. “It’s all right!” he shouted, and her screams suddenly stopped. She stared at him, her mouth working, her eyes wide.
“Come on,” he said. He led her into the house and forced her to come with him to the back study. He poured two large tumblers of brandy and handed one of them to Rose. “Drink this,” he commanded. “You need it.”
Wordlessly she accepted the glass and drained half of it. Then, shakily, she sank to the sofa.
“What shall we do?” she breathed. “Oh, God, Jack, what shall we do?”
“Call Dr. Belter,” Jack said quietly. “I’ll call Dr. Belter. And Ray Norton.” But neither of them made a move toward the telephone. They simply sat there, staring at each other, trying to assimilate what they had seen. They were still there, sitting in the study, when Ray Norton arrived.
He bad been getting ready to go home when the call came. He had known immediately that something was wrong. Very wrong. In all the years he had known her, he had never known Mrs. Goodrich to use the telephone. So he called the White Oaks School and told Dr. Belter to meet him at the Congers’. Then he had gotten into his car and raced out the Conger’s Point Road, using the siren for the first time since he had had it installed.
The front door stood open, and he didn’t bother to ring the bell. He went in and closed the door behind him. He could hear water running somewhere upstairs, but there were no other sounds. He started for the stairs, then changed his mind and went down the hall to the back study. He opened the door and saw Jack and Rose Conger sitting quietly by the fireplace, their faces pale. Neither of them moved when he came into the room.
“Mrs. Goodrich called me,” he said softly. “She said something happened out here.”
“Yes,” Jack said dully. “Only we don’t know what.” He fell silent, and Ray Norton moved closer.
“Are you all right?” he said. “What happened?”
“You’d better call Dr. Belter at the White Oaks School, Jack said.” I was going to do it myself, but. His voice trailed off again.
“It’s done,” Norton said. “Mrs. Goodrich told me to call him. He’s on his way.” He paused, unsure whether he should wait for the doctor before pressing Jack and Rose for information. Whatever it was, it seemed to be over now. He got a feeling of shock from the house, but not of emergency. It was as if something terrible had passed over them, leaving them stunned. He decided to wait for the doctor. He noted the empty glasses in the hands of both the Congers, and, though he supposed that he shouldn’t, he refilled them.
“You look like you need this,” he said gently. He sat down, and together they waited for Dr. Belter. The sound of running water upstairs suddenly stopped, and the house was silent. Then Rose began to cry, very softly.
It was almost thirty minutes before they heard the doorbell ring, and Ray Norton stood up to answer it. Then they heard the heavy clumping of Mrs. Goodrich’s feet coming down the stairs, and the murmur of voices. A moment later the housekeeper opened the study door and let the psychiatrist in. Without waiting to be asked, Mrs. Goodrich came into the room and closed the door behind her.
“I put her to bed,” she said. “She’s asleep. And I looked in on Miss Elizabeth. She’s scared, but she’s all right.”
Dr. Belter looked curiously at Jack and Rose Conger.
“What happened?” he said, and when there was no answer, he turned to the housekeeper. “What happened?” he asked again.
“Well, Mrs. Goodrich said shortly.” It isn’t pretty, and I don’t know for sure what it’s all about. I was in my room, watching television, and all of a sudden I heard the most awful commotion. It was Miz Rose, and she was screaming. ’Course, I didn’t know who was screaming till I got to the front porch, and after I got there I didn’t pay much attention. It was Miss Sarah. She was standing there, in the rain, all covered with mud and blood. And she had something in her hand.”
“What?” the doctor asked when the old woman fell silent. Mrs. Goodrich shot a glance toward Rose. “What was she carrying?” the doctor pressed.
“It—it was an arm,” Mrs. Goodrich said. “It’s in the kitchen. I left it there when I took Miss Sarah up to the bathroom.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Ray Norton breathed. He looked helplessly at the doctor, wondering what to do. Dr. Belter realized he would have to take charge for the moment.
“You’d better come with me,” he told the police chief. “I don’t see what good it will do right now, but we’d better have a look at it.”
The two men went to the kitchen and unwrapped the bloodstained towel. Ray Norton felt his stomach rebelling at the grisly sight.
“A child,” Dr. Belter said. “It’s the right arm of a child.”
Norton nodded dumbly. “How old?”
Dr. Belter shrugged. “Hard to say, but it looks like a small child. No more than eight or nine.”
“The same age as Jimmy Tyler,” Ray Norton said softly. “And the blood hasn’t coagulated yet.”
“It couldn’t have happened very long ago,” the doctor said. “It must have been this afternoon.”
They rewrapped the arm and returned to the study. Ray Norton looked at the Congers uncomfortably.
“I know this is going to be hard,” he said, as gently as he could, “but I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”
“I know,” Jack said dully. “Can Dr. Belter take Rose upstairs? I think she ought to lie down. I saw everything she saw.”
“Of course,” Norton replied, signaling the doctor to take Rose from the room. He waited till they were gone, then sat down opposite Jack.
“What happened, Jack? Take your time. I know it must have been awful, but I have to know what happened.”
“I don’t know. We got home from White Oaks, and Sarah wasn’t in the house. We searched, and then Elizabeth said she might be in the barn. She was going out to look, and when she got to the porch, she screamed. Rose and I went out to see what was wrong, and … we saw her.” He winced a little, seeing the gruesome scene once more. “She was covered with blood, and she was dragging that—that thing. God, Ray, it was awful.”
“She was coming out of the woods?”
“Yes.”
“Well. I know this isn’t going to be pleasant for you, but I’m going to have to put together a search party. If Sarah found that thing in the woods, we’ve got to find the rest of the—” He broke off, not wanting to say what was in his mind.
“My God,” Jack whispered suddenly, “I forgot.”
Norton jerked his head up.
“It’s Jeff Stevens,” Jack continued softly, staring helplessly at the policeman. “He’s missing too.”
Norton stared back at Jack in disbelief. “Jeff Stevens?” He repeated the name as if he’d never heard it before. “The kid in the old Barnes house?”
Jack nodded dumbly.
“Shit,” Norton muttered under his breath. Then: “Are you sure?”
“It’s all the same,” Jack said hopelessly. “He was in this area, he didn’t show up at home. Just like the others.”
Norton stood up. “I’ll call his parents. I wonder if his father will want to be part of the search party.”
“I suppose,” Jack said. “We have to find out what’s happening, don’t we?” He paused a moment, then went on. “I’ll come along too, Ray. The least I can do is help look.”
Norton shook his head. “Not you,” he said. “You’ve been through enough.”
He went to the telephone and began making a series of calls. By the time he was finished, Carl and Barbara Stevens were on
their way over and a search party had been organized. He looked out the window toward the woods. It had begun snowing, and it seemed to be falling harder each minute.
As he watched, the woods slowly disappeared into the snowstorm.
They searched the woods, first in the fading light of dusk, then using lights, but they found nothing. If there was a trail, the snow covered it, and as the night wore on the storm grew. After four hours they gave it up. The search party returned to the house on Conger’s Point, but soon they began drifting back to town. There was nothing to be accomplished on the Point. In town, where there were no Congers to overhear, the people of Port Arbello could talk.
In the house on Conger’s Point, only Ray Norton and Dr. Belter remained. They sat in the study with Jack Conger, and the three of them talked. There was no talk of whether something should be done with Sarah; only of what should be done. Jack Conger was tired. He was tired and he felt terribly alone. He sat with the doctor and the police chief only because it was his daughter they were discussing, his family. But he was beyond caring what they decided to do. He would do whatever had to be done. He poured himself another drink and seated himself by the fire. He envied Rose, who lay sedated and asleep upstairs.
Dr. Belter was just finishing a long explanation of the details of Sarah’s illness. When he was done, Ray Norton lit his pipe, something he rarely did, and leaned back.
“Well, I just don’t know what to do,” he said at last. “I’m going to have to tell people something, you know.”
Dr. Belter smiled tightly. “Tell them what you want. If you ask me, which I suppose you’re about to do, I don’t have any answers. I wish that search party had found something. But they didn’t, and we can’t change that.”
Norton nodded his agreement. “Let me ask you a question. Is it possible, at all possible, for Sarah to have killed the children?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Belter said hesitantly. He didn’t like to deal in possibilities. He had seen so much that he was inclined to think that practically anything was possible. He saw that his answer was going to be unacceptable to the chief of police, so he weighed his words carefully.
