The Unwanted

by John Saul

  Cassie gasped, and her eyes widened fearfully. “Eric and I—something happened at the dance, and we left early. So we went out to Miranda’s cabin.…”

  Rosemary glared at the girl furiously. Miranda’s cabin, she thought dumbly. Everything I’ve been through, and she went for a walk in the marsh. All the things I imagined, all the things I was afraid of, and they were out hiking! The last vestige of her self-control dissolved. “How dare you? I don’t know if Diana put up with this kind of thing, but I can tell you that I won’t. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know your father thinks I’m too hard on you! But let me tell you something, young lady—your father isn’t here now, and as long as you’re in my house, you will obey my rules!”

  Cassie’s eyes glistened with tears. “I didn’t do anything—” she began, but Rosemary cut her off.

  “Didn’t do anything? This afternoon you walked out of here against my wishes, and were rude to me as well. And tonight you promised to be home no later than eleven o’clock. You didn’t come back when you said you would, and you didn’t even bother to phone. Do you really think you can just walk back in and not expect anything to happen? I was about to call your father!”

  Cassie felt a chill of fear. Rosemary was going to call her father just because she’d stayed out too late? But that didn’t make any sense. She must already know about Lisa. “You’re going to call Dad?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Wh-why?”

  Rosemary glared at her, about to lash out again, but then checked her fury. It wasn’t Cassie’s fault—not all of it. For a moment she was tempted to tell Cassie what had happened with Ed Cavanaugh, then changed her mind. There wasn’t any point, and besides, it was all over now. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “At least you’re home and you’re all right.”

  But Cassie didn’t hear her, for the panic she’d felt in the cabin was flooding back over her now. “You’ve been talking about me, haven’t you?” she demanded.

  Rosemary gasped in surprise at the accusation. “Cassie—”

  “You have, haven’t you?” Cassie insisted. Who was it? What had they said? And why wouldn’t Rosemary tell her? “Was it that doctor? The one who thinks I’m crazy?”

  “Cassie …” Rosemary said again. She took a step toward her, and Cassie backed away. Her eyes looked wild now, darting from one corner of the room to another, as if she were searching for something she expected to attack her at any moment.

  “You’re just like Lisa, aren’t you?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she choked back a sob. “She hates me—she hates me, and she wanted to kill me tonight! But it wasn’t my fault! I didn’t do anything, but everybody hates me!” She spun around and fled from the room, and a moment later Rosemary could hear her feet pounding up the stairs.

  Rosemary sat still for a moment, then forced her body to relax. What had happened? What on earth had gone wrong? She hadn’t accused Cassie of anything at all. She’d been angry, yes. But not that angry.

  And yet—

  Cassie’s words echoed in her mind.

  I didn’t do anything, but everybody hates me.…

  But nobody hated her, not really. And to say that Lisa Chambers wanted to kill her … it sounded …

  She hesitated, then let herself formulate the word in her mind.

  It sounded paranoid.

  Suddenly her fears—all of them—closed in on Rosemary once again, and once again she felt the urge to call Keith. He couldn’t get home tonight, but tomorrow …

  No! she told herself. You’re upset, and you’re not thinking clearly, and you’re overreacting to everything. Stop it! Just stop it!

  Doing her best to shut out everything that had happened that day, she began going through the habitual motions of closing up the house for the night. Not that there was any point to locking up, she thought ruefully.

  Deep in her gut she knew that the day was not yet over, and that she would get no sleep tonight.

  “We have to get rid of him, Mom,” Eric said.

  His voice was emotionless, but the cold hatred in his eyes twisted at Laura’s heart. Not him, too, she prayed silently. Don’t let him turn out like his father. Please! “We can’t,” she whispered. “Please, Eric—don’t talk like that!”

  “Why not!” Eric demanded. “He beat you up this morning, and he hit you again tonight! For God’s sake, Mom. What are we supposed to do? Just wait around until he actually kills one of us?”

  Laura’s eyes widened, and her hand dropped away from the new bruise on her cheek. “Eric! He’s your father, and he loves you. You mustn’t talk like that.”

  “Why not? And he doesn’t love me, any more than he loves you. For God’s sake, Mom, he tried to kill me tonight!”

  “He was just angry,” Laura tried to explain, but the words sounded hollow even to herself. “You shouldn’t have gone off with Cassie like that. You know what he told you, and you deliberately disobeyed him.”

  “So now it’s my fault that he beats us up?” Eric exploded. “You don’t expect me to buy that, do you? Now, are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

  “He—he found me over at the Winslows’,” Laura whispered. “I thought you and Cassie might be there. And he found me there.”

  “He hit you just because you went over to the neighbors?” Eric’s rage drove the last vestiges of fear out of his mind. “I’m gonna call Templeton again. Maybe you won’t tell him what happened, but I bet Mrs. Winslow will.” He reached for the phone, but Laura put out a hand and stopped him.

  “He was here,” she whispered, her voice twisted with the sobs she was struggling to control. “Rosemary called him after … after …”

  “After what?” Eric said tightly. His jaw was working, and his voice was taut with fury. “Did he beat her up too?”

  Laura shook her head, and buried her face in her hands. When she spoke, Eric could barely hear her. He had to ask her to repeat her words. Finally she dropped her hands from her face and stared at her son expressionlessly. When she spoke again, her voice was flat, as if the words no longer meant anything to her. “She says your father tried to rape her. And she says she’s going to press charges against him.”

  Eric stared at his mother speechlessly, then sank into a chair. His mind was whirling, trying to sort it out. His father must have gone crazy. Finally, after it had sunk in, he looked at his mother with bleak eyes. “I hope she does,” he said softly. “And I hope they lock him up.”

  “Eric—” Laura tried to protest, but he only shook his head.

  “He was trying to kill us, Mom. I don’t know why he was pissed at Lisa, but—” He fell silent as he realized the truth. “Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, his face turning ashen.

  “Eric?” Laura breathed. “What is it?”

  “It wasn’t Lisa at all. She was dressed like Cassie. That’s who he thought it was. He thought Lisa was Cassie. And he wanted to kill her so bad, he would have killed me too.”

  Laura clamped her hands over her ears, trying to shut out what Eric was saying. “No,” she whimpered, rocking back and forth in her chair. “No, it isn’t true … none of it—”

  “It is. Mom,” Eric said softly. “And it’s only going to get worse.” His voice hardened, and his eyes flashed dangerously. “But he won’t hurt us anymore, Mom. I won’t let him. I’ll kill him, Mom. If he tries to hurt me again, I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

  Gene Templeton got out of his car and started out into the blackness over the beach and the marsh. He reached back into the car, switched the headlights on, and twin beams of light cut through the rain, casting an eerie glow over the sand and the surf beyond. As far as he could tell, there was no sign of the white pickup truck. He started to slam the car door, then thought again and switched on the flashing lights on top. If Lisa Chambers was still out there somewhere, there was no use letting her think Ed Cavanaugh had come back again. Finally, flipping on the powerful flashlight he always carried in the car, he started through the rain toward the c
abin where Miranda Sikes had lived. With any luck at all he would find Lisa Chambers there.

  Twenty minutes later he was back.

  The cabin had been empty, but the stove was still warm. So at least part of Eric Cavanaugh’s story had been true. But what about the rest of it?

  His bones beginning to ache, he began his search of the beach. It was easy to find the tire tracks where the truck had left the parking lot and started across the sand, but the tracks quickly disappeared where the rising tide and the pounding surf had washed the beach clean. He began walking east toward Cranberry Point, playing the light on the sand just above the surf line. About a hundred yards up the beach he found what he was looking for.

  More tire tracks, this time leading toward the marsh. He followed them across the beach and over the dunes, then traced them as they led back and forth along the edge of the wetlands. The truck seemed to have turned twice then found what it was looking for. Though the rain, increasing now, was quickly washing them away, there were still the remnants of two short tire tracks perpendicular to the tide line, where it appeared that the truck had been parked for a while.

  Cautiously, Gene Templeton approached the marsh, searching with his light for a break in the reeds. Three times he called out Lisa’s name, but the rain muffled his voice, and he could hear no answer except for the flappings of a bird.

  Finally he found a narrow path with two sets of footprints still faintly visible in the packed mud and sand. He followed them for a few yards and came to a place where it looked as though someone had either knelt or fallen. From there a single pair of footprints continued along the path.

  But off to the left some of the reeds had been broken and the marsh grasses were bent.

  Here, apparently, was where Lisa Chambers had left the path. Templeton played his light out into the marsh, wondering vaguely whether he was hoping to get a glimpse of her or not. If she was still here and had neither seen him nor responded to his calls—

  He abandoned the thought, knowing too well where it led.

  The darkness was momentarily washed away by a sweep of headlights, then by another set of beams. Templeton turned and saw two cars turning off Cape Drive into the parking lot. A moment later they were joined by a third, then a fourth.

  Great, he reflected sourly. Just what I need. A search party that thinks it can comb a fucking swamp in the middle of the fucking night. I’ll wind up with half the town caught in quicksand. He quickly retraced his steps and started down the beach. By the time he got back to the parking lot, Fred Chambers was busy giving orders to three of his friends, all of whom, the police chief noted silently, had kids about the same age as Lisa. As he stepped into the group, Chambers eyed him almost belligerently.

  “Did you find her?” Lisa’s father demanded.

  “I just got here, Fred,” Templeton replied. “How come you’re not home with Harriet?”

  “You think I’m going to sit at home when my little girl’s missing? I’m not that kind of man, and you know it!”

  “I also know there isn’t much any of us can do out here right now,” Templeton said. “I was just about to call a couple of my boys to give me a hand, and I could use some of the fire volunteers too.” He nodded toward Clyde Bennett, who was the unpaid assistant fire chief of the village. “You want to take care of that for me?” Bennett’s eyes flicked toward Fred Chambers, then he nodded and went to Templeton’s car. A few seconds later he spoke quickly but quietly into the microphone of the car’s radio. “As for the rest of you,” Templeton continued, “if you want to poke around, I can’t stop you. But I don’t want any of you going into the marsh. Not tonight. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t worry about you guys and Lisa too.”

  The two men he was speaking to said nothing. Both of them seemed to be waiting for Fred Chambers to contradict the police chief. But when he spoke, Chambers didn’t argue.

  “What about Cavanaugh?” he asked instead. “Have you picked him up yet?”

  Templeton shook his head. “Nope. Right now I’m a lot more interested in finding Lisa than I am in finding Ed.”

  “But what if he’s got her?” Chambers began.

  Templeton cut him off. “If he does, then we’re too late already. I’m betting he was so drunk he didn’t even know what he was doing. And if he was, Lisa probably got away from him, which means she might still be out there somewhere. But I can’t find her if I have to stand here with you all night. Go home, Fred. Go home and take care of Harriet, and as soon as I know what’s happening, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

  For a moment Templeton thought the banker was going to argue with him, but then he saw Chambers’s shoulders sag in resignation.

  “Okay,” Fred agreed, all the authority in his voice suddenly gone. “It’s just—Christ, Gene, I just feel so helpless. And you know how I am.…”

  “I know,” Templeton agreed. Got to try to run everything, whether you know what you’re doing or not, he said silently to himself. Then, aloud: “It’ll be okay, Fred. We’ll find her.”

  He led Chambers back to his car, still trying to reassure him, and as his deputies and the members of the fire department began to arrive, turned his attention to organizing a search party. “I want you to work in pairs,” he told them. “It’s dangerous out there. So be careful. But we’re going to search the marsh foot by foot. Let’s just hope she’s out there somewhere.” Finally, as the men began moving carefully over the treacherous paths of the marsh, he returned to his own car.

  It was time to find Ed Cavanaugh.

  The bottle of bourbon on the greasy dinette table was only one-fourth full, and the sink of the galley held half-a-dozen empty beer bottles. But for some reason the alcohol hadn’t made Ed feel any better. He reached down and fished in the little refrigerator under his seat for another beer, then cursed softly when he realized there wasn’t any more. Tipping the bottle of bourbon to his lips, he poured a long slug into his mouth, then slammed the bottle back onto the table as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat to his stomach. Vaguely, he heard the topside hatch open, and glanced up to see Gene Templeton standing at the top of the companionway. “Well, look who’s here,” he drawled, gesturing toward the empty seat opposite him. “Pull up a bunk and have a drink. I’m buyin’.”

  Templeton’s eyes flicked over the cabin, and he found himself almost relieved that there was no sign of Lisa Chambers. “Thought you and I ought to have a little chat, Ed,” he said. He moved into the grubby interior of the fishing boat, and wondered how even Ed Cavanaugh could stand the mess. Everything in sight was covered with grease, and the sole of the cabin was strewn with a tangle of ropes, tools, floats, and odd bits of net. Trying to ignore it, he slid into the dinette opposite Cavanaugh and poured himself a shot of whiskey he had no intention of drinking.

  “Saw your truck up on the street,” he said, doing his best to sound casual. Ed was so drunk, he might just be able to catch him completely off guard. “Just thought I’d drop in and say hello.”

  Cavanaugh’s brows arched skeptically. “Well, ain’t you the sociable one,” he grunted. “And why shouldn’t my truck be up there? It against the law to park on the street now?”

  “Just thought you might have let Eric have it tonight,” he offered. “It being Saturday night. Know what I mean?” he added, forcing the kind of lewd wink Cavanaugh was so good at.

  Ed snickered drunkenly. “Little shit’ll be lucky if I even let ’im live, after tonight.” He laughed mirthlessly. “An’ I bet he’s so scared he never even says boo to me again.”

  “Scared?” Templeton asked. It was working. Cavanaugh was going to admit to the whole thing. “How come he should be scared?”

  “ ’cause of what I did,” Ed told him, a boozy cackle bubbling out of his throat. “Caught him down on the beach with Cassie Winslow and scared the piss out of both of them.”

  Now it was Templeton who frowned with puzzlement. “What are you talking about, Ed? What did you do?”

  Su
ddenly Cavanaugh’s expression took on a look of cunning. “Oh, no,” he said. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to pin it on me, ain’t you? But I didn’t do nothin’. All I did was chase ’em around, till they ran into the marsh. An’ I tried to save her. I really did.”

  “Tried to save her?” Templeton echoed, a tight knot of fear forming in his stomach. “Tried to save who?”

  Ed eyed him blearily. “Cassie,” he mumbled. “Ain’t you listenin’, Templeton? Goddamn bitch went off the trail and got caught in the quicksand. Tried to get to her, but jus’ couldn’t do it. Jus’ couldn’t do it …” His voice faded away. He reached for the bourbon bottle, but before he could grasp it, Gene Templeton’s hand closed on his wrist.

  “You’ve had enough, Ed,” he said quietly. “In fact you’ve had a lot more than enough. I’m taking you in.”

  Ed’s eyes opened in drunken surprise. “Me? What for? What did I do?”

  Templeton regarded the other man with a mixture of pity and contempt. “You don’t know, do you?” he asked quietly. “You really don’t know.”

  Chapter 23

  It’s not real. None of it is really happening at all. It’s all a bad dream, and I’m going to wake up, and everything’s going to be fine. Even as the thoughts flitted through her mind, Rosemary knew it wasn’t a dream and that she wasn’t going to wake up. A numbness had settled over her, and when her eyes wandered to the clock above the sink, she could barely believe it was only a little after two A.M. The weariness that suffused her mind and body insisted that it must be close to dawn.

  And at dawn, she was now certain, she would still be numbly awake, still be dressed, still be sitting up somewhere in the house, waiting.

  Waiting for what?

  For word that Lisa Chambers had been found? But all of them knew, though no one had yet said it, that when Lisa was found she was going to be—

  She couldn’t say it, couldn’t deal with it.

  Tiredly, she faced Gene Templeton, knowing that whatever had to be said, had to be said by her. Laura Cavanaugh seemed to have retreated into some secret place inside herself, and Eric and Cassie had sat listening impassively as Templeton repeated what Ed Cavanaugh had told him. Once or twice Eric shook his head as if to deny his father’s version of what had happened on the beach. Cassie had revealed no reaction whatsoever, but merely listened in silence, her expression completely impassive. As Rosemary had watched the girl, she had the strange feeling that Cassie already knew what Ed had told the police chief.