Matt ducked back into the office. Abbey had someone with her? Who? It couldn't be Dale.
The tiny bell at the front door rang, and Abbey's voice followed it.
"...coming. I feel safer having someone with me," she said.
"I understand," came a second voice. A female voice. Matt thought it sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "I'm glad to help."
"He seemed like such a nice guy," Abbey said.
"He sure did," came the reply. "It must have been terrifying to learn you had a murderer at your very own house."
They were talking about him, Matt realized. His heart sank. Abbey wouldn't be giving him a ride tonight, or any other. Damn. He needed that ax. He couldn't bring himself to leave it behind.
"I should have known," Abbey said. "The way he stared at me when I asked him to chop some firewood. Gave me the creeps. I thought I was imagining things, but now I wonder."
"No use second-guessing yourself now," her guest said. She sounded younger, like a woman in her late teens or early twenties. "You're safe, and he's gone."
"Yes," Abbey said. "But I'd still appreciate it if you came home with me. You know, safety in numbers..."
The soft, sultry tone of her voice sent a shiver up Matt's spine. So Abbey played for both teams... interesting. He supposed it shouldn't come as such a surprise, but he hadn't really expected that. There would be more going on at Abbey's tonight than making sure it was safe. Poor Dale. He was right. Abbey was quite a vixen.
"Of course I will," the voice said.
"I just need to grab a few things first," Abbey said. "Will you wait here for a second?"
"Sure."
Footsteps approached from the front of the store. Matt looked around for a hiding place, not sure how she would react if she found him in her store waiting for her. He ducked behind a shelf full of old clocks and waited.
Abbey walked by, wearing her tight jeans and thin T-shirt. Her tennis shoes made almost no sound as she walked by Matt's hiding spot and into her office. She passed close enough so that Matt could almost have touched her, but she wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were focused ahead, not to the side, and Matt got a good look at her face as she passed.
Damn, she was gorgeous.
The memory of her face between his legs the night before came unbidden to his mind, and he found himself getting aroused. He shut his eyes and forced the image away. This would definitely be a bad time.
While she rattled around in her office, Matt poked his head around the back of the shelf and caught sight of the person with her. It was the young woman from McDonald's. Annie. She couldn't be more than twenty years old. Abbey was really robbing the cradle tonight.
Matt couldn't help but smile. Young Annie was in for quite a workout.
The sound of footsteps brought his mind back to the present. Abbey was leaving her office. The light clicked off, casting the whole building in darkness again, and Matt ducked back down behind the shelf.
Wait, he thought. It's just Annie. Matt knew he could handle the skinny girl from McDonald's. He was more worried about Abbey. She was solid and strong and could no doubt pack a good punch. With him already weak and reeling from his stint as a piñata, he didn't think he could fight off both of them. Still, he needed to get his ax. Maybe he would try to talk to her, after all.
He was just about to stand up when she walked by him again, and Matt's breath caught in his throat. He'd seen her right side as she walked into her office. Now, as she was walking out, he caught sight of the left side of her face.
And the large green sore on her left cheek.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Matt dialed the Crawford Police Department from a pay phone. It had taken him twenty minutes to find one, but he didn't have a cell phone and doubted anyone would let him in to use theirs. Word had spread around town that Matt might be a killer, and every person he passed shied away from him. As it was, he had to look up the number in the phone book. He'd almost called 911, but didn't know what he would tell them. He didn't even know Abbey's address. How could he inform them of what was going on?
No, he needed Dale.
The operator came on the line. "Crawford Police Department. Can I help you?"
"I need to speak to Dale Everett, please. It's an emergency."
"If this is an emergency, sir, you should call 9-1-1."
"No. I need Dale. Could you just get him on the line, please?"
There was a long pause. Then she said, "I'll see if I can get him on the line. I believe he's out patrolling."
"Thank you," Matt replied. He could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Abbey's van, her big garage, the house way out in the country, and her addiction. Dale hadn't known what the drug was called, but Matt would have bet anything those bottles Dale talked about were labeled ketamine. What was it all the Blake County Killer's victims had in common? They were all young, attractive brunettes.
Just like Annie.
There was a crackle on the other end of the line, and then Dale's voice came though.
"This is Dale, can I help you?"
"Dale, it's Matt."
Another long pause. Then, "I thought you were leaving town. It says here you're at the pay phone by Walton and Fitch."
"I was going to leave. I still am, but something's come up. Something important. I need to meet with you. Now."
"What's this about, Matt?"
In the background, Matt heard the receptionist ask if Dale was talking to "that Cahill fella."
"I can't tell you everything because there isn't time, but it's about Abbey."
"I told you I'm done with her."
You might be done with her, but she isn't done with the people of Crawford, Matt thought. "It's not Abbey I'm worried about. It's Annie."
"Annie? Jordan? The kid from McDonald's? What's she got to—"
"Can you just come here and get me? Please? It's an emergency, Dale. We don't have much time."
It's only halftime. The game isn't over yet, Matt.
"It might already be too late," Matt said.
"All right, I'm coming. But if this is some sort of—"
"Thanks, Dale. See you soon." Matt hung up the phone.
Abbey was the Blake County Killer. It all added up. He should have seen it. But she didn't have any sores on her face when he met her, and she seemed so nice. Plus he'd been taken in by her similar ability to see evil, and her story was almost as sad as his own. No wonder he couldn't put the pieces together until now.
Plus, she was one hell of a wild fuck, he admitted.
Matt shook his head. Focus! He needed to figure out how to get Dale to believe him.
One thing at a time, Matt, he thought. One thing at a time. Let him get here, first. Then worry about how to get him to believe you.
The street was dark and eerie but not entirely silent. A faint wisp of laughter rolled up the sidewalk. If he didn't know better, Matt would have sworn it was Mr. Dark. He looked behind him but saw no one. To his right was an empty building that looked like it had once housed a Burger King but now just stood silent sentinel on the sidewalk. To his left the empty street yawned, lifeless and black, with not a car in sight.
Must be my imagination. He tried to convince himself that was the case as he looked up and down the street. All the streetlights in this section of town seemed to be out, and Matt waited in near darkness for Dale to come. He stepped away from the phone booth and walked toward a wood and metal bench set back from the road, barely visible in the shadows of Fitch Street. Might as well have a seat while he waited.
Mat reached the bench and stopped cold. It was a coincidence. It had to be. There was no way the bastard could have known where he would be.
On the bench, stuck to the wooden planks, was a half-finished lollipop.
This time, it was not so easy to dismiss the mad laughter.
Matt turned to see the asshole standing right behind him.
"You!" Matt snarled, and clenched his fists. He took a step
towards Mr. Dark, who shimmered in the low light. "What did you do to Abbey?"
Mr. Dark licked his lips and flashed Matt a lascivious wink. "A better question would be: What haven't I done?"
"You sorry piece of shit." Matt swung his fist but connected only with empty air.
Laughter at his back. Matt swung around and launched another blow, a powerful roundhouse that would clean the clock of any normal man.
Mr. Dark wasn't there.
Overbalanced, Matt fell to the ground. He managed to get his right arm up in time to shield his face from the concrete, but he hit hard, scraping his palm and sending a sharp stab of pain through his left wrist.
"Son of a bitch!" Matt said, holding his hand close to his chest.
"I've been called much worse," Mr. Dark said. "Your lack of imagination is showing."
"Fuck you."
"No. Thanks for the offer, though. I've got to get going. Wouldn't want to miss the show."
"I know all about Abbey," Matt said. "And I'm going to stop her before she kills anyone else."
"You really are simple, aren't you?" Mr. Dark shook his head. "It makes me wonder why they chose you."
"Who? Chose me for what?"
"No matter," Mr. Dark continued. "You'll be in prison soon enough."
"What?"
Just then headlights pierced the night, and Matt had to blink at the sudden brightness. When they faded, he was left staring at a black-and-white hood with the words "Crawford P.D." painted in reverse.
The driver's door opened, and Dale stepped out, holding a flashlight. "Matt? What are you doin' on the ground? You okay?"
"I'm fine." Matt rose to his feet, looking left and right but seeing no sign of Mr. Dark. "But we need to get to Abbey's right away."
Dale balked. "Why?"
"I'll tell you in the car," Matt said as he stepped around to the passenger side. His wrist felt sprained, but he couldn't stop to see a doctor just yet. He crawled into the car and sat in the passenger seat, closing the door with a grunt of pain.
"I don't like this," Dale muttered as he got back into the car and closed his own door.
"Neither do I," Matt said. "Just hurry."
Prison, Mr. Dark had said. It took Matt a minute to figure out what he meant.
Abbey had taken Annie back to her cabin in the woods. The same place she'd taken Matt. The same place where he chopped several cords of wood for her.
The same place he'd left his ax.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Bullshit." The vein in Dale's forehead throbbed so hard Matt could actually see it. "There's no way Abbey is the killer."
How could he convince Dale without telling him about their ability to see evil? He'd never get Dale to swallow the idea that Abbey was almost eighty years old. Hell, Matt wasn't sure he believed it. If it wasn't for the picture that he'd mistaken for Abbey's mom...
Abbey's mom! That's it!
"Dale," he said, "who was the killer's first victim?"
"Abbey's mom," Dale replied. "Her name was Abbey, too. But she was an older lady. She'd lived here almost her whole life."
"Did she have any children?"
"Just the one. Abbey," Dale said. "But she didn't live in Crawford. She lived with her father up in Pocatah, Kentucky. Abbey moved here right before her mom died. Then she decided to take over the store since there was no one else. You should have seen her. She was a wreck."
"Did Abbey, the older Abbey, ever mention that she had a daughter in Kentucky?" Matt asked.
Dale grunted. "I can't recall if she ever did. But now that you mention it, I don't think so."
"So Abbey moves here, then her mom dies, and she takes over the store. Just like that?"
Dale didn't say anything. He just stared at the road ahead.
"You didn't find that suspicious at all?"
Dale shook his head. "She seemed so scared. So afraid. I never thought she could have..."
Matt understood. Dale had never considered that Abbey could be a suspect because he'd never wanted to. "The stuff Abbey has in little vials at her house," Matt said, "the stuff she has a ton of—it's ketamine, isn't it?"
Dale's mouth dropped open. "Yeah, that's the stuff. How did you know?"
"Isn't that the same drug the coroner found in every single one of the Blake County Killer's victims?"
Dale looked at Matt, and understanding lit his face.
"Son of a bitch," he said. "All this time. Could the answer have been right under my goddamn nose?"
"I bet if you call the Pocatah Police Department," Matt said, "you'll find out they have a string of unsolved murders. Murders that stopped three years ago. Right about the time that Abbey moved here."
"No," Dale said. "I still don't believe it. Not Abbey. There's an explanation. I'm sure of it. I'll drive you out to her place, but just to prove you wrong."
"I hope I am wrong," Matt said. Deep down, he knew he wasn't.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They pulled up to the house just after midnight. Matt had asked Dale to kill the car's headlights, but the officer had refused, insisting that there was nothing to worry about. Matt disagreed, but knew he couldn't win the argument, so he let it go. With any luck the two were in the bedroom, which was at the back of the house. If so, the house was wide enough to block the headlights and they could surprise her.
If not, then Abbey would know they were here.
Luck was not with them that night.
Abbey opened the front door and stood silhouetted by the light of her living room. She raised her left arm to her face, probably trying to block the car's headlights. Maybe they weren't such a bad idea, after all. "Who's there?" she asked.
Dale got out of the car. "Abbey, it's me."
"Dale? What are you doing here?"
"I just want to talk to you, hon," Dale said.
"Damn it, Dale! I thought I told you this was my place. Go home. I'll be there tomorrow."
Matt stepped out of the car. "I don't think that's going to happen, Abbey."
Abbey turned her head towards him. "Matt?"
"Yeah, it's me. And we both know you aren't going home tomorrow."
"I don't know what you are talking about," she said. She turned back to Dale. "You didn't tell me you brought company."
"We just want to talk to you," Dale said.
"Fine. But turn those goddamn headlights off. I can't see a thing."
Dale reached into the car. Matt caught a glimpse of something behind her back. It was long and straight and glinted dully in the light.
"No!" Matt shouted, but it was too late. The headlights snapped off, and Abbey brought the shotgun up faster than he or Dale could follow.
The shot sounded like a cannon.
Dale grunted in pain as his body flew backward in a spray of blood and gore. He landed in a heap a few feet away from the cruiser, blood flowing freely from a large hole in his thigh.
"Fuck!" Matt yelled, and dove behind the car just as another shot peppered the dirt where he'd been standing.
"I told him not to come here," Abbey said. "This is my place. My private place."
Matt poked his head around the back of the car just in time to see Abbey step off the porch. Now that the light wasn't directly behind her, he saw the huge gaping sore on the side of her face. The edges were rotted away, leaving nothing but dead skin and insect larvae. As he watched, the area of rot spread across her whole face, covering her nose and mouth. Even from ten feet away, the stench of decay was almost a physical presence.
But as horrifying as her face had become, it still didn't scare him as much as the shotgun in her hands. And she was coming towards the car.
Fuck.
Matt scrambled around to the driver's side, where Dale lay on his back in a growing pool of blood. The lawman's left thigh was a mess. Blood poured out of it like water from a pitcher. His breath came in rapid gasps that sounded like wet slaps. Dale's eyes stared up at the sky but didn't seem to settle on anything for more than a few seconds.
His whole body shook, making him look like he was having a seizure. Matt grabbed Dale's belt and slid it off, then jerked it tight around the injured man's upper thigh and cinched it into a makeshift tourniquet. The blood slowed, but didn't stop. It would have to do until he could get medical attention.
This was his fault. He had insisted Dale come to Abbey's. If he'd just left Crawford like he was supposed to, Dale would be fine and probably filing divorce papers right now. Just another person Matt had managed to hurt with his very presence. Maybe he'd be better off if Abbey took that shotgun to his head.
"You still here, Matt?" Abbey asked from the other side of the car. "Where'd you go? You can't hide from me, you know."
Matt would have to worry about Dale later. Right now he needed something from the fallen cop's waist. He reached down, trying not to look at the ruin of Dale's leg, and unclipped the holster for Dale's service revolver. He wiggled it free and brought it to his face. A .38 caliber Smith & Wesson, minus the safety and, thank God, sporting a full cylinder.
He brought it up just as Abbey rounded the back of the car, leading with her shotgun.
Matt was faster. He fired off two rounds as fast as the revolver would shoot, and one of them hit Abbey in her left arm.
She yelped in pain as the bullet spun her in a circle, sending her shotgun to the dirt. "You cocksucking asshole! I'll kill you for that!"
You were gonna kill me, anyway, Matt thought. He jumped to his feet and ran around the car, hoping to catch her on the ground, but all he saw of her was her backside as she ran back into the house, presumably for another weapon.
Matt sprinted up the yard to the doorway, not wanting to give her time to find another gun. With luck, he could catch her unarmed and force her to surrender, and then he could call the police. He didn't want to kill her any more than he'd wanted to kill Andy, but he couldn't let her hurt any more people, and Annie was probably still in the house. If she was even still alive.
He stepped into the house, looking left and right, but there was no sign of Abbey. A dull green telephone on the end table gave him an idea, and he pulled it off the hook and dialed 9-1-1.
THE DEAD WOMAN Page 6
