Code 61

by Donald Harstad

  “Where the hell'd he get to?” asked Sally.

  A very good question. My first thought was that he'd just climbed out of the ravine when I dropped the night scope, and had gone deep into the trees. Either that, or he knew about that private cable car arrangement.

  In my experience, the most exotic explanation is just about invariably wrong. “Probably back over into the trees,” I said. Even with a night scope, there was no way that one or two of us would be able to track him down in the trees, the underbrush and the rain.

  I looked at Borman. “Not one of our better nights,” I said. “How about giving Sally and me a ride back up to the Mansion? That's probably where he's headed.”

  “Sure. You think he's really Peale?”

  It was somehow reassuring that it had occurred to Borman, too. “Not now. This car isn't something snatched off the lot, it's a rental.”

  “Oh.”

  “But be damned careful. Somebody else could be doing some hunting tonight, too.”

  “Right.” He sounded just a little unsure. Good. At least he'd keep his doors locked.

  “Okay,” I said, “after you drop us off this time, come back down around here, and set up someplace where you can watch this car. If he sees us leave, I think he might try to leave.”

  “Could he try to get back to the Mansion on us?” I liked that. It was the first time Borman had used “us,” and it made me think he might be coming around.

  “I dunno,” I said. “He's a persistent bastard, but he's gotta give up sometime.”

  We piled in Borman's car, and off we went. We'd find out.

  When we got to the top of the drive, and we were getting out of the car, I turned on the night scope to check the front of the house. The thing flickered, and went dead.

  “Shit,” I said. I tapped it a few times. Nothing. I tapped it a bit harder with the heel of my hand. Nothing. I removed the battery, wiped it with my hand, and reinserted it, making sure it wasn't shorting out due to the rain. No luck.

  “What's wrong with it?” asked Sally.

  “Battery seems dead. Nothing works.”

  “Great.”

  “Well,” I said, “that just means we stay here near the front. I don't want to go making a lot of noise stomping through the brush.”

  Borman rolled his car quietly back down the hill, and Sally and I trudged the last few yards to the edge of the gate and the wall. We found a relatively dry spot where a pine branch hung over the wall, and hunkered down there.

  “Did you bring the case for the night scope?” Damn. Of course I hadn't. I'd left it at our first surveillance point.

  “We'll find it at first light,” I said. “Ought to be about six-thirty or so, up here on the bluffs.” I looked at my watch. It was 01:19. “About five hours from now.”

  We watched the front of the house in turns, after about 01:45. One of us would doze a bit under the trees, in a crouch with our back against the tree trunk, while the other watched. We agreed on thirty-minute shifts. Sally stood first watch.

  Sally was the one watching at about 04:40 when we heard the noise. I wasn't dozing at the time, and joined her at the wall before she even tried to get me.

  We both listened. Nothing. Just the patter of raindrops, and the heavier dripping from the eaves of the house, striking the porch roof.

  “What was it?”

  “It sounded to me,” said Sally, “like somebody hitting something. Thumping sound, like wood on wood. Two, maybe three times.”

  “I only heard one,” I said. “Loud, but soft, you know?”

  “Yep.”

  “Loud footsteps, maybe?”

  “I don't think so,” she said. “Maybe like somebody throwing a snowball at the side of the house.”

  Obviously there was no snow. But she'd described the sound perfectly.

  We waited. Any more dozing was out of the question. I really missed that night scope.

  About ten minutes later, I could have sworn I heard a muffled male voice, angry. It sounded like it came from inside the Mansion.

  “You hear that?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Shhh.”

  It was quiet again, but not for as long.

  Even in the dark, we could see the front door fly open as a figure ran down the porch steps, slipped, fell flat in the driveway, rolled, got up, and came running toward us as fast as it could go. The sound of bare feet slapping onto the drive was audible even at our distance, and got louder as the figure approached.

  Sally and I didn't utter a word. We just both started moving quickly to our left, to intercept whoever it was.

  We beat whoever it was to the gate by about two seconds.

  “Stop!” I said it loud enough to be clearly heard. The figure didn't even slow down.

  I didn't have time to think, I just stepped out, lowered my right shoulder, and got bowled over by the impact. But I hung on, and rolled on top.

  Sally shined her flashlight on us, just in time for me to see Toby's mouth open as he took a deep breath and screamed right in my face.

  I was startled, but clamped a hand over his mouth, and said, loudly, “It's just cops!”

  He went silent, but I kept my hand in place. His eyes were darting, and I could feel his chest heaving under me. I shifted, to let him breathe, and he started to try to get up.

  “Stay put!”

  He was looking right at me, but I don't think he had the slightest idea who I was.

  “Get ten-seventy-eight,” I said to Sally. If we ever needed help, it was going to be now. Whatever had scared Toby out of that house….

  His first words, at least those that were understandable, were “Oh, fuck, oh shit.”

  “Toby, what are you doing here?”

  I got a frightened, blank look. Sally stopped talking on her portable long enough to say, “He signed himself out.”

  Of course. Voluntary commitment meant that he could sign out of the treatment center whenever he wanted to.

  “Listen up!” I said to him. “Get a grip!”

  “He's here!”

  “Who?”

  “Dan, you dumb fuck! He's here, I gotta go … ” And with that he began to struggle to get away from me.

  “Settle down, damn it!” I needed him to at least stop struggling.

  It was then that he brought his fist up and smacked me on the left side of my head. I think it was a reaction, nothing more, but I responded by hitting him squarely in the face. I felt his head thud back down into the drive, and saw his eyes cross. But he stopped struggling.

  “Ow,” he said groggily. He had one of those instant nosebleeds, that looked much worse than it was, because the rain was keeping his face wet. “That hurt.”

  No time for an apology, although I was aware of a surprised look from Sally. I was just glad I hadn't hit the stud between his eyes.

  “Tell me what's happening in there!”

  “Don't fuckin' hit me again,” he said.

  “Talk!”

  “Dan's back, man. He's in there, and he's really, really pissed. I told you fuckers, he's not gonna like this shit. I told you!”

  “Who all's in there with him?”

  “What?”

  I grabbed him by the collar, becoming aware for the first time that he was clad in flannel pajamas. “Get your shit together,” I said. “Tell me who else is in that house with Dan.” I said it slowly, and fairly quietly.

  He snuffled some blood in his nose, grimaced, and said, “Me. Me, and Kevin, and Huck and Melissa.”

  “What about Hanna?”

  “I dunno,” he mumbled, sniffed, and then sneezed, covering both of us with a fine spatter of blood droplets. “Excuse me.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  I had a dilemma. We had to get into the house, and fast. I didn't want to take a chance and leave Sally out here with Toby, in case Dan got by me and came out this way. Yet, I didn't want to have to drag Toby into the house with us, either. I couldn't cut him loose, and have him wandering ab
out, because he wasn't in any condition to be left on his own.

  I stood him up. “We're going into the house. Come on.” I started guiding him toward the Mansion, and he actually took two or three steps before it dawned on him.

  “No way!” He started to twist, and I was afraid he'd tear his pajamas and break free.

  In a moment of inspiration, I grabbed both his arms, and got right back in his face. “I think Dan's out here.”

  His eyes widened.

  I was lying, but what the hell. It was his turn to be deceived.

  I must have been very convincing, because Sally reached for her gun, and started to look behind her.

  The three of us hustled across the drive, and up the porch steps. Toby was looking behind us all the way. Good. Sally had her service weapon out, and I pulled mine, as well.

  “What did the office say?”

  “Borman's on his way up now,” she said. There wasn't a hint of a quaver in her voice. Dispatch training.

  “And?”

  “They're rounding up everybody they can get,” she said.

  Just as we reached the door, I heard an engine roaring up the drive. Borman. We paused on the porch, as he came steaming up the drive, through the gate, and slid to a halt just a few feet from the bottom of the steps. He jumped out, and came running up the steps.

  “Whaddya got?” he asked, breathing heavily.

  We told him, in about five seconds.

  “Now,” I ended, “you shove Toby here in your car, lock the doors and make sure the cage is tight. Then follow us in.”

  He didn't even ask a question. That was the way it was supposed to work.

  Sally and I entered the house.

  As we passed through the main doors, the patter of the rain was filtered out, and the sudden quiet was remarkable. I hadn't realized how much the sound of the rain had pervaded our world outside.

  We stood still, the sound of the water dripping from our rain gear making the only noise in the whole, huge house. It was completely dark, and very warm in contrast with the outside temperature.

  “Use your Mini-Mag,” I said, “and see if you can find the lights.”

  A moment later, the overhead light in the entryway came on.

  We looked around. Nothing appeared disturbed. I holstered my gun for a second, slipped out of my raincoat and let it drop to the floor. I pulled my gun again. “Take off your coat,” I said softly. “It'll be quieter.”

  I heard her removing it. Silence again. Then, a little bump of a sound, from the direction of the inglenook under the stairs. I glanced at Sally. She nodded that she'd heard it, too. The two of us moved very slowly toward the foot of the stairs, and into the darkness again.

  Sally shined her light into the inglenook. Curled up under the wooden bench seat was a body clad in a flannel nightgown. Hanna.

  “Hanna,” I said. “You all right?”

  She simply stared.

  “Hanna?” said Sally.

  “Go away,” Hanna hissed.

  “Where's everybody else? Come on, Hanna, tell me,” I said evenly.

  At that point, there was a noticeable suction in the air as the main doors opened and Borman came in. Hanna curled up tightly, and covered her eyes with her forearm.

  “Leave me alone. Go away.”

  “Hanna, look at me. Tell me where everybody is.”

  She did look at me, but she didn't speak. Then her gaze shifted up, toward the staircase. I didn't know whether she was looking for an escape path, or hoping to see someone start down the stairs.

  “Just tell me where everybody is,” I said quietly. “That's all you have to do.”

  “I don't know,” she said, in a faint, shaky voice. “Maybe you better go upstairs.”

  “Why upstairs?” I hoped.

  “I'm not going up there,” she said. “But I think you better go upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” I asked. “Who all's upstairs?”

  “I think Melissa and Huck are up there,” said Hanna. “Please don't talk to me. You'll make him mad at me.”

  “What's going on up there?” I asked.

  “He's angry with them,” she said, very calmly and simply. “I heard it.”

  “Where's Kevin?” asked Sally.

  “He left,” said Hanna. “Please, please don't talk to me anymore.”

  “There will be some more police coming,” I said. “Don't be afraid of them. Officer Borman here will take you to his car. You'll be safe there.”

  Before he could protest, Sally and I were already on the bottom steps. I was leaving him with his car, because I thought he could more ably hold his own against Dan Peale, if he showed up to get at the two in the car. Sally was good, but I thought she'd be better off with either Borman or me. And I wasn't too keen about going upstairs alone, to tell the truth.

  I reached out and flipped the switch at the bottom of the stair, and the chandelier above the landing came on. We headed up the stairs.

  At the top, I looked down the hall. Everything seemed perfectly fine, except for one jarring note. There were wood splinters on the hall carpet, near the door across from Edie's room.

  “Whose room is that?” Sally whispered.

  “Edie's on the right, Melissa on the left, I think,” I said. I saw the switch plate, and turned on the hall light.

  “Oh boy.”

  “Let me go first,” I said.

  “No problem.”

  “Keep alert.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Except for the sounds of our muffled steps on the carpet, it was absolutely quiet. A very bad sign.

  I glanced in Edie's opened door as we got to it. It seemed empty. I stuck my head in. All looked to be as we had left it the last time we were here. Except for some purplish flowers on the bed.

  “It's clear,” I said, as I pulled back into the hall.

  We crossed diagonally to Melissa's shattered door. It had obviously been hit very hard.

  “You stay here in the hall. He could be anywhere. Don't come in unless I tell you to.”

  “Okay,” said Sally.

  I looked more closely at Melissa's door as I entered her room. It had been struck repeatedly with considerable force, probably kicked. There were two places where something had penetrated completely, and the removal of whatever it was had pulled fragments out into the hall. Probably the kicker's foot.

  I reached around the door frame, found the light switch, and turned it on.

  The door was off its hinges at the bottom, and I pushed it back with my shoulder as I crossed the threshold. The first thing I saw was the overturned chair. The low bookshelf under the window was also overturned, the books spilled out onto the rug. The curtains had been pulled down, the dangling rod bent but still in the bracket. The window was opened about three inches. I moved my eyes to the right, and saw that the mattress was half off the bed frame, and the sheet and blankets were on the floor. There was a broken bed lamp near the head of the bed, and a framed picture all askew on the wall beside it. In the plaster wall was a large dent, at about my eye level. Another, a little lower, with what looked to be blood in the center. I followed the logical line downward, and there was a pool of blood on the floor, at the corner of the bed. And a foot with a bloody, white cotton sock on it just visible as it protruded from the space between the bed and the wall.

  I was over there in two steps. I peered down into the narrow space, and saw a crumpled body in a pair of pink polka-dotted cotton pajama bottoms and a blue T-shirt. The body was on its left side, facing the wall, and the knees were drawn up toward the chest, and the right arm was bent over the head, the elbow covering the face, in a familiar protective posture. The left arm wasn't visible. There was quite a bit of blood, mostly dried.

  The purplish red hair told me it was Melissa.

  I put my gun in my holster, and leaned gingerly on the bed, reached down, and felt for a carotid pulse. She flinched, startling me, and filling me with relief at the same time.

  “Melissa,”
I said, “it's me, Houseman. We're here. It's going to be all right.” There was a slight movement, and her left hand moved, just a bit. She made a weak “thumbs up” sign.

  “Sally!”

  I unclipped my walkie-talkie from my belt, and called Dispatch, as Sally entered the room, and hurried over.

  “Comm, Three, ten-thirty-three.”

  Because we'd prerequested help, the dispatch center was unusually alert.

  “Three, go,” came snapping back.

  “Comm, we're at the Mansion, we have a civilian down, multiple injuries, need a ten-fifty-two. This is ten-thirty-three.”

  It never hurts to repeat the 10-33.

  “Ten-four, Three.”

  I shoved the walkie-talkie in my back pocket, and watched as Sally lay on the bed, reached down, and took Melissa's pulse. We couldn't move her, in case there was a spinal or severe internal injury, until we got help and some equipment.

  “I can't see my watch,” said Sally. To read her watch and take Melissa's pulse, she had to have both arms down into the small space that contained the victim. It was too dark in that crack to see the hands. “Tell me to 'go' and 'stop' when fifteen seconds are up.”

  I looked at my watch. When the second hand reached the numeral six, I said “Go!” I watched it sweep through fifteen seconds. “Stop!”

  “Okay, when the fifty-two goes ten-eight,” said Sally, “tell Comm to relay we have rapid, shallow breathing, weak pulse of ninety-five.”

  I did. “Comm, Three, when the ambulance starts to roll, tell 'em victim has rapid, shallow breathing, weak pulse of ninety-five.” They had me repeat it, and I complied.

  I didn't want to leave Melissa, but we didn't know what else we had going on. I checked her bathroom, found nobody, and came back into the bedroom. I took a second to study the scene more closely, and tapped Sally on the shoulder.

  She looked up from Melissa. “Yeah?”

  “Looks like the door was kicked in fast. While she was sleeping. Looks like she tried to escape out the window and he got in too fast. See?”

  Sally looked around. “Yeah.”

  “And he slammed her head into the wall,” I said, indicating the dents. “Twice, at least.” I didn't say it, but it looked as if he'd shoved the back of her head into the wall the first time, and the face into it the second, as there didn't seem to have been much blood on the back of her head. “How's she doing?”