She gasped, froze, couldn't will herself to move until the thing that had been her brother reached for Carter once again. Then she flung the sheet aside, leapt from the bed and raced for the door, her hand too slick to hold the knob and turn it. She heard Cart begging, gagging, heard nothing else but the wind that tore into the room, scattering papers and sheets and rippling the bedspread as if a serpent were trapped beneath it. She prayed and grabbed the knob with both hands, finally got it to turn, and yanked the door open.
Again she cried Frankie's name, but she didn't turn around. Instead she sprinted down the hall toward the staircase, passed the fire station and skidded to a halt, her shoulder slamming into the wall as she spun around suddenly. There was a hose behind the glass, and a red-handled ax. She hesitated, then pulled the door open, grabbed the ax from its rack and started back to the room.
Cart wasn't screaming.
The wind pushed a sheet of motel notepaper into the hall.
She moved slowly, pushing her bare feet along the carpet until she reached the door.
Then a hand touched her shoulder and she whirled, holding the ax high and ready. Her eyes opened, and a tear welled in one. "Daddy?" she whimpered. "Daddy?" Just before she screamed.
***
The wind died. Nothing moved.
The only sound was the surf's roar as it slammed into the woods, the tide so high now the beach remained flooded.
A single gull drifted over the tops of the trees.
The patrol car was parked at the curb in front of Cameron's house, engine still running, its lights flaring. Montgomery and Tabor were standing near the hood, arguing heatedly though their voices were low. Colin couldn't hear a word they were saying, but he could guess. From the moment Garve had arrived and seen the liquor glasses, smelled their breath, he hadn't believed two words either had told him, especially when they searched the immediate area and found no trace of Vincent's body. The only thing that saved them was the blood on the grass and the blacktop; the only thing that kept the chief from driving off was Peg's and Matt's corroboration of Tess' condition.
As Montgomery had feared, Tabor had driven straight to the cliffs when he couldn't get hold of the doctor. He had found the picnic site, and had fought his way through the wind down to the first ledge along the path. There was no blood, no shards of bone, no strips of cloth. There was nothing to prove Tess May-fair had landed there; she was gone.
In disgust, Colin had walked away from the argument. He stood leaning against the station wagon's tailgate, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. It was all too damned ridiculous, and he wanted to go home. He didn't give a damn about Vincent and he didn't care about Tess and it would be just fine with him if he could crawl into bed and pull the sheets over his head and pretend it was Saturday morning, and he was going to see Peg.
He looked around and wondered where all the people were. It was a solemn and universal truth that neighborhoods were incapable of ignoring the police, especially when they were parked in front of that neighborhood's most prominent house. But there was no one. Not even Bill Efron-who could easily have seen everything from his front window-had bothered to come over to find out what the trouble was.
Like everything else today, that wasn't right at all.
He's mad, Lilla had said, he's very, very mad.
The gray bundle at the shack.
"Ridiculous," he muttered, trying with a violent shudder to banish the abrupt sensation that all of this was not a grim sequence of unpleasant coincidences. Then he looked over at the two men and saw them watching him, frowning slightly, either pity or sympathy twisting their lips. "Jesus."
He pushed away from the car and walked down the drive, trying to look everywhere but at Tabor, his neck muscles taut and lips pressed to a hard line as he willed someone, anyone, to come out of a house and head their way with a dozen morbid questions.
"The point is," he heard Garve say, "somebody stole the damned body. Lombard, most likely. Who the hell else?"
"There was no one out here," Montgomery insisted.
"You were watching the whole time?"
A silence.
"I thought so."
Colin shook his head and looked to his left, to the curve of the street as it headed inland toward Neptune. The wind had picked up again, still lifting over the houses and barely ruffling his hair.
And in the distance he could hear it-the namesake of the storm.
Screaming.
A faint and undulating wailing as the wind charged over the sea and dragged the dark clouds behind it.
He looked down at his windbreaker and saw it darkening in patches, then wiped a hand across the back of his neck, and it came away damp-the seaspray was thickening to a condition much like drizzle.
"Colin!"
He turned. Montgomery was standing at the patrol car, the passenger door open. Garve was rounding the hood to the driver's side, yanking down his hatbrim.
"Colin," Hugh said, "we're going with Garve to hunt for Tess and Vincent. C'mon."
Deputy Ross at your service, he thought sourly, and had taken a single step toward the cruiser when he saw Lilla. She was running up the street, had just reached the curve and was heading for the dunes. He called out, and pointed, and broke into a slow trot that increased to a sprint when she saw him, threw up one hand and veered sharply away. A car door slammed, another, and the engine turned over. He reached the corner and leapt the curb, nearly tripped on the dune's loose sand, scrambled on hands and feet to the top. Lilla was below him in the shallow trough; she'd fallen, her legs pumping hard to drive her up and away.
"Lil!"
She didn't look back, as he slid and ran down the slope at an angle to keep from stumbling. Shells skittered from under his feet; sawgrass lashed at his legs and stung his outstretched hands.
"Lilla!"
She was at the top of the second dune when he reached her, lunged forward and caught one ankle. She fell with a shriek and kicked out at his head. He ducked and backed to his knees, pulling at her, dragging her toward him until he was able to snare the other leg.
"Goddamn it, Lil!"
She broke away with a vicious kick at his arm, rolled and scrambled feverishly until she was headed back toward the Estates. He followed with a curse, leapt and tackled her, heard her thump against the ground and groan at the impact. He knelt and shoved her to one side to grab for her waist, and she sat up awkwardly and lashed out with her fists. One cracked against his jaw and he blinked, momentarily stunned, though he managed not to release her. He dove on top of her, pinning her and rolling over until they almost returned down the slope. He yelled, and she answered, spittle flying from her mouth, her eyes so wide he thought they would split open. Once beneath him again her head whipped from side to side while he sat on her stomach and trapped her arms against the ground. Then he looked up.
A wave hissed over the first dune and filled the trough with foam.
Lilla took advantage of the momentary distraction to buck him off his knees. He sprawled to one side, but instead of running away she lunged for his throat, her teeth snapping at his cheek, his neck, while he clawed his fingers into her hair and tried to force her away. She shrieked. A wave crest launched by the wind splattered them, drenched them. He jerked up his head and butted her. She tried to twist her wrists free, and butted him in turn, directly on the lips. His mouth filled with blood, and when he spat, her face was freckled.
Then Montgomery was on her back, yelling and unable to pull her off. Tabor appeared a moment later, and Colin couldn't see what he had done, but within the space of a gasp her mouth slackened and her eyes began to close. He shoved and Doc pulled, and she toppled to her side, unconscious, the fingers of one hand digging weakly in the sand.
"I… God!" he said, pushing himself to his hands and knees, spitting blood and discovering a loose tooth with his tongue. "God almighty."
Tabor said nothing. He lifted Lilla without effort and cradled her in his arms, looked
once at the sea spilling over the dune, and headed back for the car. Montgomery helped Colin to his feet and supported him as they returned, saying nothing directly, only muttering to himself.
They put her in the back seat with Hugh; Colin was in front, eyes closed, his head against the seatback. His mouth was numb, and he could feel the upper lip beginning to swell. He licked at it once, tasted his blood, grunted when Garve swung the car around and headed down for Neptune.
"She needs help," Hugh said quietly, gently.
"Yeah," Tabor said as if disgusted with himself.
"We can put her in one of the cells until we can get her to the mainland."
"All right."
"I'll get-damn, I left my bag at Efron's!"
The cruiser turned right onto Neptune and sped up. The wind shoved at it, faintly screaming.
It wasn't quite dark enough for the headlights to do any good.
Colin sighed loudly.
"You all right, Col?"
He tested his lips, his tongue, before he said, "Sure. Just banged up."
"Strong."
He sat up, half turned, and looked at the girl lying across Montgomery's lap. Except for the rise and fall of her chest, she could have been dead.
"I don't believe it," he said. "I don't believe it."
"She's crazy," Tabor said flatly, and winced.
"She's scared to death," he said.
"Of what, Gran's ghost?" Tabor said.
Just as Colin turned to answer yes, Tabor slammed on the brakes. Montgomery yelped, and Colin braced himself against the dashboard as the cruiser skewed wildly on the slick wet tarmac, spinning in a complete circle before it finally stopped.
Tess Mayfair was standing in the middle of the road.
Lilla groaned.
"Christ," Montgomery said, leaning across the seat and pushing up his glasses. "My God, look at her!"
She was less than six feet away from the hood, her dress nearly gone, her forehead indented and her nose bent harshly to one side. Her lips were smashed, her chest exposed and gaping, and when she started to walk forward Colin shoved as far back as he could, watching silently as Garve fumbled his revolver from its holster.
"It's… it's a miracle," Montgomery whispered. "She oughta be dead."
Tess reached the patrol car and stared at them. Suddenly the car began to rise. Colin yelled, and Hugh fell over Lilla. Tabor, without thinking, reached his left hand out the window and fired two shots. The first went wild, the second struck the massive woman in the hollow of the throat. Her head jerked but there was no blood from the wound. Tabor fired again, hitting her right shoulder. The dress tore, and bone chips flew, but the car kept on rising.
Then Colin slammed his left foot on the accelerator.
The cruiser shuddered, tires smoked and squealed, and as Tabor grabbed the steering wheel the vehicle slowly moved forward, toppling Mayfair out of sight. There was a sickening thump, a skewing sideways, and Garve stopped, trembling violently, ten yards away.
"You killed her," he said as Colin turned around. Garve was trembling. All Colin said was, "Look." Tess Mayfair was standing in the middle of the road.
FIVE
Matt was disappointed. He had ducked through the heavy door to the small cell block when his mother had answered the phone, expecting to find something far different. There were three cells ranged along the back, but none of them had straw matted on the floor, or red-eyed rats cluttering in the dark corners, or thick cobwebs swinging gently from rotted beams on the ceiling. There was.no rickety pallet, just an iron-rimmed cot bolted to the wall, with a thin mattress and pillow rolled up at the foot. There were no rusted chains hanging from the cinder-block walls, just a narrow shelf over the beds holding a handful of tattered paperbacks donated by the library. And there was no old man hanging by his wrists from rusty old shackles, his beard tangled and filthy and hanging down to his ragged trousers, his teeth old and yellow, his eyes dull and white. There wasn't anyone there at all.
It didn't smell, and it wasn't damp, and there were no signs of bullet holes or whip marks or even escape tunnels as far as he could tell.
He stood on tiptoe and tried to see through one of the high windows, though he knew that all he'd be able to spot would be the back of the Clipper Run's hedging around its parking lot. He supposed that anyone staying there would have to be content with a view of the sky unless there was someone in there with him to hold him up for a look.
Then he heard his mother's voice, soft and urgent. He turned and looked through the door, saw her talking on the telephone again. She had her back to him, and he couldn't hear what she was saying. But that was all right; he didn't want to. It might be someone telling her more about Mrs. Mayfair. He didn't want to know more. He had seen enough.
When his mother laughed quietly, he turned back to the cells and walked to the last one on the left. He held onto the barred door with one hand and warned Billy Bonny again between huge chaws of tobacco that he'd better not try to escape. Twice in one day was plenty; the next time it happened, he wouldn't be responsible for what the townspeople did if they caught him. The Kid was somber and contrite, hung his head abjectly and nodded. Matt didn't believe him for a minute, but he moved to the center cell where he found Jesse trying manfully to grab hold of the window sill and haul himself up. Jump, grab, slip, fall-over and over and over again until Matt was laughing and pointing, and Jesse was whirling around with fire in his eyes, his hands slapping leather that was no longer there. Silly, Matt told him; you're just being silly. Jesse looked awfully mad, but there was nothing he could do except kick at the wall and swear eternal vengeance.
The last cell, opposite the door, was empty. Cole Younger had been in there before they took him away to hang him, and now it was waiting for its next resident to show.
"Matt?"
You guys just better watch it, he cautioned with a sneer, and went back to join his mother.
"What are you doing, deputy?" she said.
"Watching the bad guys, like Chief Tabor said I should."
"Okay. You're not getting into trouble?"
"No, Mom," he said, wondering how that was possible with nothing in there to break.
"Well, listen, I think we ought to-"
She stopped with a hand to her chin when the police cruiser came to a squealing, rocking halt at the curb, its front bumper less than an inch from the front of Colin's car. Peg was out of her chair and at the door before Matt could say anything; then he hastily stood to one side as Colin hurried in with Lilla cradled in his arms. Matt thought she was sleeping, maybe even dead, and paid no attention to his mother's low questions or Doc Montgomery's clipped responses. He watched Chief Tabor grab for the phone on his desk, watched as Colin opened the first cell and kicked the mattress flat. Lilla didn't move when laid her down, and Colin backed out in a hurry, slammed the door shut and forced the bolt home with the heel of his hand.
Matt reached out to touch him, pulled back and bit his lip. "Mr. Ross? Mr. Ross, is she all right?"
Colin leaned hard against the wall, knees bent, one hand on the boy's shoulder while the other brushed back through his hair. "I don't know. I hope so, pal."
He was a funny color, and sweat was pouring off him. Matt didn't know whether to put an arm around his waist or ask him a question or… or what. Then he heard his mother in the front office.
"Impossible," she declared firmly. "Absolutely impossible."
Colin closed his eyes.
Matt sidled around him and stood in the doorway. There was a feeling in the room now that he didn't like at all.
Chief Tabor was sitting at his desk, Doc Montgomery standing at the window, and his mother was between them with her hands on her hips, looking from one man to the other with an expression he recognized all too well-Matthew, the next time you tell me a story like that I'm going to tan your behind, you understand me?
"Listen," Garve said, one hand lifted weakly from the blotter where he was trying to stand a pencil on end
. "Listen, you can say that all you want, Peg, but there were three of us there, and we saw what we saw."
"And I saw her go over that cliff," she insisted, eyes narrow and chin stubbornly set. "I saw her."
"I don't doubt that, believe me."
"But-"
Montgomery rapped his knuckles on the door frame. "A little order here, please," he said. "We aren't going to solve anything by arguing over what's inarguable."
"You're crazier than he is," she told him. "For God's sake, Hugh, you're a doctor!"
"That's right."
"Then-"
"Then nothing," he snapped, yanking off his glasses. He stared at them, blew on one lens, put them back on. His voice sounded hoarse. "She took a bullet in the throat, one in the shoulder, she was run over by the length of the car, and as God is my witness, Pegeen, she was standing up and moving the last time we saw her."
"Then for God's sake, why isn't anyone out there to help her?"
Neither man answered. Montgomery looked out at the street and pulled at his mustache while Tabor opened a desk drawer and took out another pencil.
"Garve? Garve, for Christ's sake!"
Matt didn't like the feeling at all. It was almost like the time they came and told him his father was dead, and he felt so bad because he couldn't bring himself to cry. He was supposed to, he knew that, but all he could think of was that there'd be no more beatings and no more lies and no more broken promises, and his mother wouldn't go to bed crying at night. It was almost like that-something unreal and not right, yet this time there was something more, something that almost had an odor to it, and it came from the two men who were trying not to look at his mother.
"All right," she said, temper and fearful confusion making her voice thin and high, "Why don't I ask Colin, okay?"
"Ask," Montgomery said. "Ask away."
Matt jumped then when Colin walked past him into the room. He started to follow, but changed his mind immediately when he saw his mother's face shift from hope to disbelief.
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