He was scared to death.
iii
Bimsley pulled up behind Anders’ patrol car, stepped out, and saw the dead boy in the street. Teachers, neighbors, and kids lined the fence and the road. He found it hard to believe, with all the people, that no one had seen anything. Anders had taken several statements, but all he got was the boy’s name.
Flies buzzed in the air. Howard’s mouth was open in a perpetual scream, his eyes staring in horror behind gold-rimmed glasses. Bimsley noticed half a dozen black widows crawling over Howard’s body.
It isn’t a boy at all, Frank thought, then looked at the spiders.
Howard Colorcup looked like a mummy drained of every ounce of life.
Frank thought again of the brougham, Sadie’s dead eyes under the cloak. Whatever was happening was only the beginning, he knew. Howard’s death would not be the last.
The ambulance pulled up, doors opened, and the paramedics chatted briefly with Anders. Anders pointed to Bimsley. Bimsley felt trapped in limbo. The paramedics asked him several questions. Frank only shook his head. When the paramedics saw the boy, they exchanged a glance. The first thing they did was clear the spiders off Howard’s body. They had to use a shovel to pick him up.
iv
Malcolm Alister was in a state of shock over Howard’s death. He simply couldn’t believe it. His grandfather had told him to listen to the radio, and the news had been right there. Malcolm had grown fond of the boy’s quiet charm, but that didn’t make Howard’s death any easier to accept. Malcolm didn’t think he’d believe it until he sat in Mrs. Dunbar’s class and saw the empty desk Howard normally sat at.
Maybe I should have gone to that stupid party after all, he thought.
He had to talk to somebody. Malcolm didn’t feel comfortable opening up to his grandfather, not after the old man had made such a turnaround. Let him enjoy his reawakening. Malcolm wanted to tell him, wished he could, in fact, but decided against it.
Maybe you really did imagine that man on the horse, he thought. Maybe it was all in your head.
Twice? Yeah, and maybe Howard’s death is just in your head, too.
With the horrors in Ellishome, Malcolm realized he had to talk to Jamey. He would tell the butcher everything.
Algernon was upstairs, scrubbing the floors, putting up new drapes in the bedroom. He’d made several trips into town over the past week for cleaning supplies, household items, even new clothes. It hadn’t taken much, but he’d gotten the car running again after three years of immobile silence in the garage. The Queen Anne was coming to life. Even Mrs. Harding had stopped by on occasion to help.
He didn’t think his grandfather would let him leave, but it was a risk he had to take. Malcolm prayed the old man would be too preoccupied to notice him gone.
Malcolm crept out the front door, letting it shut quietly behind him, and walked down the steps. It was a cool morning. He mounted his bicycle and began to pedal down Shadowbrook Lane.
v
“I had a feeling you’d show up, son,” Jamey said, when the dark-haired boy came into the shop. “Sooner or later, I knew you’d show.”
Malcolm had parked his BMX outside. Jamey stood behind the counter much the same way Malcolm remembered him He was relieved to see the man wasn’t cutting through carcasses, but wiping down the meat case.
“What can I do for you?” Jamey asked. The butcher looked as troubled as Malcolm felt.
“I guess you know about Howard Colorcup?” Malcolm said, pushing his glasses onto his nose.
“I think everyone’s heard about that by now,” Jamey said.
Malcolm nodded and looked at the floor. He shuffled his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Do you think you could’ve prevented it?” Jamey asked.
Malcolm looked at the butcher. “I don’t know. My friends wanted me to go this skate party we had at school. But I didn’t want to go. I keep thinking if I’d been there…I don’t know. Howard was so quiet…so shy. He was part of the group we had, me and these other kids.”
Jamey nodded.
For a while, they didn’t say anything, Malcolm looking at the floor while Jamey studied him.
“Look, son—”
“I know who did it,” Malcolm said, suddenly.
Jamey nodded again.
“We have to stop it,” Malcolm said, looking the butcher dead in the eye.
“Well, just wait a sec’ there, son. Don’t get too carried away just yet.”
“Do you think I’m getting carried away?” Malcolm said, defensively. “People are dying! Kids are dying. No one’s gonna be able to do anything about it, because they don’t know what it is. No one knows!”
“That’s because there’s nothing anyone can do,” Jamey said. “Believe me, Bimsley has talked to me on more than one occasion, asking if I’ve seen anything strange or suspicious in town. Kind of gave me the impression maybe Bimsley’s seen something strange or suspicious. Then you come in and tell me your story. What do you think? People are scared. And the people who are scared are the people who know something.”
The way Jamey said it gave Malcolm a chill.
The man continued:
“It strikes me as odd. But are you gonna tell the whole town about what you saw that day? Someone didn’t see a boy’s life taken in broad daylight? Come on! Yes, it’s odd. Very odd.”
“Someone saw him,” Malcolm said. “Someone had to have seen him.”
Malcolm’s tone was full of conviction, and the look scared Jamey.
“You don’t believe any of this, do you?” Malcolm said, with accusation.
“Now, wait a minute there, scholar,” Jamey said. He faced Malcolm, leaving the rag on the counter. “Don’t go pulling that stuff on me. That ain’t fair. I never said that. I asked you to come by for a reason, to pay me a visit, all right? If I thought you were telling stories, I’d take you up by your collar and tell your granddaddy everything about it. I don’t think it is nonsense. That’s the thing. I shouldn’t believe you; that’s the other. I shouldn’t believe a word of it. There’s nothing that convinces me what you’re saying is true. But, I’ll give you this…something is going on here. I know it just like everybody else knows it. You think the town isn’t aware of it? You think the people here, including myself, haven’t thought about how terrifying it is having four people dead in the space of a month, and no one’s rottin’ in a cell because of it? I do happen to know Frank Bimsley is wracking his brains—that he is up all night because of this thing. All you have to do is look at him, and you can see it. Most people are so scared they don’t know what to do. They’re taking it out on our sheriff. They come in here day in and day out. Murder scares people, boy. Child murders scare ’em even more. It’s evil. And I’ll tell you another thing…when people and kids are found the way they are, it makes a guy wrack his brains all the more. There is no explanation. There is not one thing about it that makes sense. Not to me and not to anybody else. So, when you come in here and tell me about phantom creatures and evil monsters, I don’t necessarily rule it out. Why? Because, despite all the nonsense, it’s the only thing that does makes sense. And when you have something of that sort providin’ all your answers for you…well…you’ve got some pretty hairy problems, yes sir. You’ve got some pretty hairy problems, indeed.” Jamey paused, taking a deep breath. “I believe you, son, because I don’t understand why you’d make up something like that. I can come up with a few suggestions, sure. But it doesn’t explain why you’re here now, does it? You don’t strike me as the foolin’ type. In fact, you’re a little too high strung and serious to play pranks.” Jamey stepped closer. “Don’t think this town ain’t scared, boy, because it is. The reason no one does anything is because they don’t know what to do. They’re scared. They’re scared bad, and the only thing they can think of to do is to lock their doors and keep their children safe. Something terrible happened to those kids, that farmer and his wife. Something had a good go at them. And when someone
does not pay, when no one is sitting behind bars, then people start to worry. They begin to wonder when it might be their own kids, or when it might be themselves. If you can’t walk around in the middle of the day because you’re afraid you won’t make it home, then you have got yourself some pretty serious problems to consider. It’s no way to live. And people know it. There’s nothing more frightening than that.”
Jamey finished this tirade and took a deep breath. Malcolm looked at the floor, absorbing it all. He hadn’t thought of it the way Jamey described, and he felt a pang of guilt because of it.
“Sorry,” Malcolm said. “I guess…I guess I’m just as scared as everybody else.”
“Welcome to the club, son. At least you know you’re not alone.”
Malcolm looked into the face of Jamey Argason, who smiled. Suddenly, Malcolm didn’t feel as bad as when he’d first come into the shop. How long had he been here? Five minutes?
“Come on, son,” Jamey said. “Let me teach you a little about the finer arts of meat carving, and meantime, you can tell me your life story.”
Malcolm smiled, a wave of relief washing over him. He was glad he’d talked to Jamey. His grandpa might find him gone, but Jamey could ease the old man’s mind if Malcolm asked him. Besides, he was only ten-years-old. His life story wasn’t that long.
vi
If it took all night, he would do it. Hollandsworth and Anders were patrolling the west side of Ellishome; Aimes and Gillman took the north; Jeffers and Sommersby split the east and south ends between them, while Bimsley took every central location. This had been a routine maneuver, and they had been doing it since Sadie had been killed. But to all his deputies, it might as well be a perfectly routine patrol through a perfectly normal town. Bimsley asked his deputies if they’d seen anything strange, but no one ever said anything, and none of them were acting as though they’d seen anything strange. He couldn’t very well admit it himself, could he?
Need to take a vacation, Sheriff?
Having them out on patrol eased his mind at least, because the last time he’d stopped in for a beer at Suds, he’d gotten an earful from Jacob Cuthbert, owner of the local furniture store in town:
“The whole place is goin’ up in flames, Sheriff,” Cuthbert said. “Might want to let the locals handle it around here. Get more done that way.” He turned to his bar buddies and laughed.
Bimsley shook his head. “You know what, Jacob?” Bimsley said, turning to the old man. “A comment like that could lead to a night on the cot. It wouldn’t bother me one bit.”
“Probably more work than you’ve done in some time, aye, Sheriff?” Jacob looked to his bar buddies and laughed once again. “One thing’s for sure…me and my friends here can go out and get this business taken care of right now and come back with the problem solved before sunup would be my guess. I’d be willing to lay a hundred on it and the thirty-ought-six I got in my gun cabinet.”
Bimsley sighed and stood up, shaking his head. “Lynching will get you to that jail cell even quicker, Jacob. So, if that’s what you want, then just keep it up.”
Jacob laughed. “Maybe you should be out there wrangling up some clues instead of sitting here having a cold one.”
Bimsley shook his head. He reached into his wallet and threw several bills on the counter. “Thanks for the beer, Mort, but I think I’ve had my fill for the day.”
Jacob chuckled behind him, as though he’d won that particular round, and Bimsley let him have it.
The streets were empty and quiet. School had closed for a few days. In his lap was a steaming 32 oz cup of coffee. He’d been drinking a lot of it lately, and he was getting the jitters. Frank drove the police car slowly along Main Street, shining the high beam into storefront windows, looking for…well…anything.
But he knew…
The car crept along shops and street corners. It was quiet and still. Ellishome had retired early.
It wasn’t a complex town, but it was now, a puzzle he feared he’d never solve.
He’d visited the murder scenes, trying to find something, an idea on how to capture and kill whatever was stalking these streets. It would be easier, he thought, if he could just put a name to it.
He’d started smoking again, too. He was smoking now, his left arm hanging out the window with a Camel between his fingers. That taste was welcome, and he enjoyed it, one of the few things he was able to enjoy these days.
Frank turned right on Juniper Street where he’d first seen the brougham. The shadows moved, coming to life. The headlights turned to murk, something obscuring his view.
He rubbed his eyes, then opened them again. Just an illusion. He was jumping at everything. His eyes were playing tricks on him, which was no wonder, considering how long it had been since he’d gotten a good night’s sleep.
Not a stray dog or a cat. No movement from anywhere
He took a drag off the cigarette, inhaling deeply, and blew smoke out, watching it billow against the dashboard. He took a sip of coffee.
He’d talked to Howard’s baby-sitter as well. She hadn’t been very helpful except for giving him the number of the hotel where Howard’s parents were staying in California. They were flying in tomorrow. Telling Howard’s parents that their boy was dead—that he had no idea what had killed him—had not been the bright spark of his day. It was like the McCall boy all over again.
Frank backtracked every scene, every interview in his mind, trying to think of something he might’ve missed, something that would lead him to a logical explanation, but he knew—just as he knew patrolling these streets was futile—this thing…whatever it was, wasn’t going to show itself anytime soon.
Frank ground his cigarette into the ashtray and lit another. He steered onto Watercress Road. Nothing stirred, but a pall descended without his knowledge, a quiet rustling like wind in the trees.
He kept driving, took another drag, and sipped his coffee. He was nowhere closer to finding anything than when he’d begun hours ago. He would be no closer tomorrow, the next day…or the day after that. He hated to admit it, but he knew that was the truth.
There was a deep chuckling coming from outside in the shadows. He told himself it was just his imagination, but Frank knew better.
The thing was laughing at him.
CHAPTER XIII
Howard Colorcup’s funeral had come and gone, a small, quiet gathering on a blustery Monday morning at Meadow’s Hill Cemetery, where Sadie and the Pattersons had also been buried. Howard’s parents had flown in from Los Angeles, his mother like an immobile zombie with a constant question on her face, wondering how this could’ve happened. Howard’s father was a stout, burly man standing mute beside his wife. No doubt, the shock was still present. For Seth—who’d already attended Sadie McCall’s funeral—the occasion was all too familiar too soon.
He’d tried to call Kinsey to see if she could get out of the house, but to no avail. Kinsey’s mother was being over-protective and wouldn’t let her do anything. Seth said he would see her soon, but she asked him to call her later. Her mother couldn’t stop her from talking on the phone, she’d said.
Seth couldn’t help feeling sad and a trifle angry. Ellishome did not seem the same town it had been over the summer, but at least Kinsey still wanted to hear his voice.
He looked out the back door toward the mountains, thought about Ben, and wondered when he’d see the tiger again. Masie spent her morning in front of the television watching the news, waiting for any mention of Ellishome.
The phone rang, and Seth went to the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Seth?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“Jeez! Don’t you recognize a classmate when you hear him? This is Malcolm.”
“Oh,” Seth said. “Hey, Malcolm.”
“Can you get out of the house for a while?” Malcolm said, getting right to the point. “Eddie and Gavin are meeting me down at Cinema Three.”
“Gee,” h
e said, thinking of Masie. His mother wasn’t here to reprimand him. “I don’t know. I doubt it. How were you guys able to get away?”
“Well, we’re not alone. I think we all did some persuasive talking. I’m calling from a payphone downtown. Make it if you can. I’ll give you half an hour. I’m waiting for Eddie and Gavin. Are your parents there?”
Seth didn’t say anything about having only one parent. “No. Just my sister. She’d probably let me go. Why do you want to get together anyway?”
There was a long pause, then Malcolm said:
“I want to talk about what killed Howard.”
Seth’s mind reeled.
“Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“Just making sure you’re still there. Can you come down?”
“Why do you want to talk about that?”
“Because I know what killed him,” Malcolm said.
In a way, it made perfect sense, of course. Others would know about Ben’s enemy. If Malcolm had seen this creature, maybe others had as well.
“I’ve seen it,” Malcolm said. “I’ll explain later.”
“You’ve seen it?” Seth asked, and had a sudden desire to explain everything.
You’re not alone. I’m always with you.
Seth looked out the back door to see if the tiger was in the meadow.
“Yes,” Malcolm answered.
“When?”
“I’ll explain later. Can you come or not?”
“I’ll do my best,” Seth said.
“Good,” Malcolm said. “I’ll see you in a bit…hopefully.”
Seth managed to convince his sister, though she made him promise to be back before their mom came home.
“Are you gonna be with friends?”
Seth nodded. “Yes. Three. And we won’t be gone long. We’re staying right in town.”
“As long as you’re not alone, I think it’s okay.”
“Thanks, Mase,” he said, and went to his room to put his shoes on.
Snapdragon Book I: My Enemy Page 29
