Code 61 ch-4

by Donald Harstad

Sally was a good dispatcher. She repeated exactly what I'd said into her mike. While she did, it occurred to me to try the little infrared searchlight that was a part of the scope. It only had a range of about twenty-five yards, but it made everything within that distance much clearer through the scope. It also drained the battery about four times as fast.

  The beauty of the IR searchlight is that people can't see it without a night scope of their own. Wily, those Russians.

  Sally had a hand on my raincoat as I slowly threaded my way into the ravine. The rocks, which had been slippery the other day, were like greased marble now. It was very slow going.

  “I can't see shit,” said Sally.

  “Good thing,” I said. “Stop here.”

  She did. “What for?”

  “He's got to be down the ravine from us,” I said.

  “Let me watch for a few seconds. I think I should be able to pick up movement.” I must have watched for a good fifteen seconds, which seemed like forever. Nothing. No sound, no sign of Chester.

  “See him?”

  “Nope. Nothing.”

  “Can I,” asked Sally, “take a peek at where we're going? It'd help.”

  Good idea. As we were transferring possession of the night scope, there was a rattling among the rocks somewhere below us. We fumbled the scope, and I heard it hit what sounded like a wet branch, and then a sharp click as it struck a rock.

  “Shit.”

  “Sorry, I'm sorry,” said Sally.

  “You got a flashlight?” I asked, disgusted with my self.

  “Yeah, a Mini-Mag, in here somewhere… ” And I heard the sound of her raincoat being unzipped and pulled about as she tried to find a path to her utility belt.

  “Not your fault,” I said, waiting for her to hand me the light. I wasn't going to move, because my only orientation for finding the night scope was the knowledge that it was just about straight down from my feet.

  I saw the glow of her little flashlight still inside her raincoat. She must have hit the switch. She was about to cast light all over the place as she brought it out.

  “No! Turn it off!” I whispered as loudly as I could.

  She tried, she really did. I think she reached her other hand inside the twisted raincoat to try to turn the light off without fumbling it, too. In doing so, she lost her balance, and disappeared with a thud and a bump and a rush of raincoat against branches.

  It was thunderously quiet.

  “Shit, Houseman” came a faint voice. “I fell.”

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  I slowly bent my knees, hanging on to a branch. I had no idea whether I was on a large rock, or just a small one, and I sure as hell didn't think I'd help Sally if I came crashing down on her.

  “What's wrong?”

  “My butt hurts,” she said.

  “You still got that flashlight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go ahead and turn it on,” I said. “We gotta get you up.”

  The light came on right beneath me. She had fallen about four feet.

  “Anything else hurt?” I asked.

  “Just my butt,” she said. She slowly got to her feet, which brought her head to about the level of my knees. “Everything else seems fine.”

  Although the rock I was standing on was pretty big, I was about three inches from the edge. I took about a half step back, and said, “As long as you're down there, see if you can find the scope.”

  She shone the light downward, and said, “Got it.” She reached down and handed it up to me.

  I laid it on my rock, and reached down with my left hand. “Grab hold, and I'll get you up here. Turn off the light before I pull, okay?”

  She did. I counted three, heaved, and up she came.

  I peered through the night scope as soon as she was stable on the rocks. It still worked. One thing about Red Army gear, it's known for being rugged. I panned down the ravine. Nothing.

  “See anything?”

  “Nope. Even if he didn't hear us, he's long gone.” I decided a little more noise didn't really matter. “See if you can reach Borman,” I said. “See what he's got down at the bottom of this ravine.”

  She did. He reported that all he could see was what he thought was a car. I guessed he still had his lights off. At least he was getting better at following instructions.

  “Tell him we're on the way down, and we think the suspect is ahead of us.”

  She did, and we began moving down the ravine again. It took us about five or six minutes, but we made it to the bottom.

  With my night scope, I could see the car Borman meant, along with Borman and his car about fifty yards up the road, off on the shoulder. There was no sign of our intrepid Mr. Chester. I looked back up the ravine, and over the parts of the bluff below the trees. Nothing.

  “Tell Borman to come on over,” I said. I was disgusted with myself, and with the way things had turned out.

  We checked on the car. A rental out of Jollietville, Wisconsin. No wants, no reports of any activity concerning it. Just a bland car.

  We looked into the car from the outside, but there was nothing in the interior except a receipt on the passenger seat. I could see the header of the rental company on the pink paper. No name. The doors were locked. Lack of clutter was to be expected from a rental. None of us could read the information on the sheet through the rain-spattered window because the drops reflected our flashlight beams. In a moment of inspiration, I lifted the night scope to my eye, and hit the zoom button. No reflections, and the paper became twice as big. “William Chester,” I said. “Rented yesterday, at one-fifteen P.M.”

  When such a simple thing as thinking to use the night scope makes you feel better, you know you're having a bad night. The fact that it was a rental though, and not stolen, confirmed in my mind that Chester definitely was not our vampire.

  “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 about, 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 fi
nd 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.