by Rick Hautala
Until the night Caroline died!
He drove her straight home this time, with no more detours; but when they pulled into the driveway of her parents’ home, he was grateful that she didn’t get right out and go up to the house.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, smiling at him in spite of the chill that had settled between them. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for tonight.”
She glanced at her watch. It was a little after eleven o’clock. Her parents would be in bed by now, but they had left the front-porch light on. The glow from it faintly outlined Frank’s face as she looked at him. He had a satisfied smile, but she thought there was also a pained tightness around his eyes.
“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” Frank said. “Only next time, I’ll try to remember to throw a blanket into the backseat.”
“Frank ... “ Elizabeth said, drawing out his name because she wasn’t exactly sure what she was about to say. Before she could say more, the night suddenly echoed with a rolling, distant boom that made both of them jump.
“What in the name of God was that?” Elizabeth said, looking nervously around. “It sounded like a cannon or something.” Frank was just as confused as Elizabeth. He leaned over the steering wheel and looked up at the night sky. When the sound didn’t reoccur, he shrugged and said, “I dunno. The flight path for the jetport goes over town sometimes. Maybe it was an airplane ... or maybe just thunder.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to rain.” Elizabeth said, staring up at the spread of dusty starlight. They waited in silence to see if the sound would come again. When it didn’t, Frank cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, you were about to say ... ?”
Elizabeth looked at him but said nothing.
Frank was watching her expectantly, fearing what she might say. Once it was obvious she was struggling to put her thoughts into words, he took a deep breath and said, “I know, I know. You were about to remind me that you’re still a married woman, and that you don’t think you should be dating me, much less making hot, passionate love to me on the beach, right?”
“Well — sort of,” Elizabeth said. The roaring boom was still echoing in her ears, and she couldn’t stop wondering what it might have been. She looked up at the house to see if either of her parents had awakened.
“But you are going to be getting a divorce, right?” Frank asked.
Elizabeth nodded but said nothing as her mind roiled with things she could — and should — say.
“And once you do — well, maybe then I can start hoping we can spend some time together.”
“It’s not that,” Elizabeth finally said, her voice taking on a hard edge. “I mean, if I want to, I can go out with whomever I wish to — now. It’s just that ... “
“That you don’t want to go out with me, is that it?” Frank asked.
“Tonight was a one-shot deal. Kind of like one last time for old time’s sake, huh?”
She heard the tremor in his voice, and it hurt her deeply.
“No — I mean, yes ... I mean — I don’t know,” she stammered as confusion swelled inside her like an ocean tide. “I don’t know what to think right now. I mean, going out tonight — even what we did out at the pond ... It was good — it was great, but —” She held her hands helplessly up in front of her face. “I just don’t know! I don’t know what I feel or think anymore!”
“Then it isn’t because of what I said earlier?” Frank asked. “You know, about all that crap that’s been happening around town?” Elizabeth shrugged. “Sure that stuff has me worried. I can’t help but wonder if maybe it is directed at me and if —”
“If it was,” Frank said, assuming an iron-edged tone of voice, “who do you think it might be?”
Elizabeth was stunned. She sat back in the car seat and took a deep breath, letting her lungs fill to capacity before she let the air out in a long, slow whistle.
“Is this something your husband might do?”
“Doug ... ?” Elizabeth said, followed by a short burst of laughter. “No! Don’t be ridiculous!”
Frank rubbed his hands together and said, “Hey! I don’t know him. I mean, I’ve met him a couple of times, but how would I know what he could or couldn’t do?”
“Well, you can be damned sure Doug wouldn’t do something like that!” Elizabeth said. “No matter how upset he was about me leaving him, he just ... he just wouldn’t.”
“You’re absolutely sure of that?’ Frank asked, pressing the point. Elizabeth turned to him as she felt a rush of anger. “What the hell is this, an interrogation?”
“No,” Frank said, shaking his head. “Not at all. It’s just that ... “
“Maybe that’s what all of this has been about, huh?” Elizabeth said. “Maybe you just wanted to see me on official business, and you thought if you could lull me by taking me out to the movies and the pond — that you could pry some information out of me! Is that what you had in mind?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Frank said with anger and hurt in his voice. He wanted to say more but fell silent.
Taking his feeble denial and his silence to mean that that had been his intention exactly, and that she had found him out, Elizabeth sighed sadly and said, “And to think that I let you ... that I let myself get suckered in!”
She reached for the door latch. The car door clicked open, and the dome light came on; but before she could shift to get out, Frank reached across the seat and grabbed her wrist.
“It wasn’t that at all! You’ve got to believe me, Elizabeth!” he said. His grip on her arm was firm but not painful.
“I’m not so sure I do,” she snapped back. The bright light inside the car hurt her eyes, and she found it impossible to look straight at him. She was trembling with anger. “And to think that I joked with you about trying to ‘take advantage of me’! That’s exactly what you were trying to do. Getting laid was the easy part! Will you please let go of me!” She struggled to break his grasp, but he held on.
Frank’s voice trembled as he spoke. “If that’s what you think tonight was all about —” he stammered, but then words failed him. He wanted to pull her to him and smother her with kisses, if only to convince her that he hadn’t had any ulterior motives tonight other than the obvious. Beyond that, he wanted her to know that, even after twenty years, he did still love her ... more than ever!
“What the hell do you think I’m supposed to think, then? You tell me!” Elizabeth said, her voice hissing with anger and hurt. “You make me feel as though ... as though everything is a setup just to get me to talk.”
“It isn’t,” Frank said. “It wasn’t. You’ve got to believe me.” He felt a slight measure of relief when she stopped pulling away from him. Easing the car door shut enough to turn off the dome light, she leaned back in the seat and took another deep, shuddering breath. Frank let go of her wrist and settled back in his own seat, feeling flushed and confused. He hated the way she could do that to him.
“So tell me the truth. Do you suspect that Doug had something to do with what happened out there?” Elizabeth asked. “I’ll bet you do, and you think I’ll be able to help you find something out about it, right?”
Frank shrugged and looked at her helplessly. “I have no idea what leads the detectives are checking out. Look, Elizabeth, I was unfortunate enough to be one of the patrolmen who was out there that night; but after that, as soon as the detectives arrived on the scene, it was all out of my hands. I went back to the station and filled out an incident report, and that’s it as far as I’m concerned. Except ... “
“Except what?”
“Except I don’t think it’s over,” Frank said softly. “And I think if there’s even a possibility that you are in danger of ... of something, then I want to help.”
Elizabeth was still simmering, but she controlled her anger as she asked, “So then why even mention Doug? I mean-why even bring him up?”
Frank forced a tight laugh but checked his impulse to reach out and take her hand,
gently this time. “Like a lot of things I’ve said to you in the past, it was just me, saying things without really thinking them through. I’m pissed at myself for spoiling tonight. I wanted it to be perfect.”
Elizabeth sniffed loudly but couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.
“It’s just that, as soon as I even mentioned what had happened,” Frank continued, “you said something kinda off-handed about how you thought it might be directed at you, and — quite honestly — that’s what has me worried, too.”
“Do the detectives working on the case think it’s directed at me?” Elizabeth asked. Her voice was constricted, and she looked at him with terror-filled eyes that glinted in the dark.
“They aren’t exactly forthcoming with what’s going on,” Frank said with a light laugh. “I don’t know. Jesus Christ, Elizabeth! You get me so worked up I can’t even think or talk straight. As far as I know, you don’t have anything to worry about, okay? Believe me, if I knew you were in any kind of danger, I’d tell you. I was just asking, casually, if you thought your husband could have done something like that-to get even with you or whatever. It was a simple, innocent question, and I should never have even brought it up.”
“But if you suspect Doug, then why don’t you suspect me, as well?” Elizabeth asked. “I mean, nothing even happened out at the cemetery until 1 came home. How do you know I’m not the one who dug up my uncle’s body’?”
“I don’t know it wasn’t you,” Frank replied simply.
“Oh, great ... just great! Who are you, Inspector Clouseau? ‘I suspect everyone; I suspect no one!’ “
“I don’t suspect anyone!” Frank said, his voice taking on an edge. “I filed my report, and that was the end of it for me. Look, Elizabeth, I don’t want you to think that I had any ulterior motives about tonight, all right? I just — it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and I just wanted to spend some time with you. I want to spend more time with you because I still —”
“Don’t!” Elizabeth said quickly, looking at him in the darkness of the car. She reached out and touched the side of his face, stroking his cheek with her fingertips before letting her hand drop back into her lap. She couldn’t stop the trembling building up inside of her as her mind raced to process everything she was thinking and feeling about tonight ... and all those other nights twenty years ago. She knew that if she didn’t say or do something soon, she was going to explode into tears.
“Elizabeth ... please, “ Frank said. He reached for her and tried to pull her close, but she held back.
She clenched her hands into tight fists just to stop them from shaking. “Let’s not ruin anything else tonight, all right?” she said tightly. “I had a good time. I really did, and I don’t regret anything that happened.”
“I do,” Frank said.
Elizabeth knew immediately that this was his own clumsy way of apologizing for all the wrong things he had said, tonight and all those years ago.
Leaning over toward him, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Thanks,” even as she thought that, if she had any sense left at all, this would be her last date with Frank Melrose. She opened the car door to get out, but just as she put her feet on the ground and began to stand up, a blaring sound filled the’ night, making her jump. She banged her arm on the open car door. “Shit!” she shouted, as sharp bursts of sound cut through the darkness like swift slashes of a knife.
“The town fire horn,” Frank said calmly. Elizabeth was still cursing her hurt arm, but he hushed her with a quick wave of his hand and said, “Shush! I’m counting the code.”
Elizabeth leaned down into the car as Frank counted the series of blasts on the fire horn. When there was a long pause, marking the end of the first cycle, they waited tensely for it to begin again so Frank could make sure he had gotten it right. He counted each blast with a light tap on the steering wheel. When the second cycle ended, he looked at her and said, “It’s three-three-five.”
“Holy shit!” Elizabeth said. “That’s the code for Brook Road! It must be somewhere nearby!” She straightened up quickly and glanced around the yard, suddenly fearful that the fire might be in her parents’ house or the bam out back.
Frank got out of the car, too, and looked around. Just before Elizabeth ran out to the backyard, he called her name and pointed up the road toward town.
“Look,” he said.
Elizabeth turned and saw a flickering glow of orange above the dark border of trees that lined the road. Thick smoke, looking soft gray in the moonlight, masked a long stretch of the starry sky.
“Come on,” Frank said, as he slid back behind the steering wheel and waved her into the car. “Let’s go see where it is. Maybe we can help.”
With a whining squeal of tires, Frank backed out of the driveway, and they raced into the night up Brook Road.
4.
Henry Bishop woke up to the sound of a floorboard creaking. He shifted around as he sat up in bed, listening intently to the silent house, waiting for the sound to be repeated. For several tense seconds, he held his breath; when the sound didn’t come again, he told himself to forget about it and go back to sleep. If there was any problem, like a prowler or burglar, Murf would be barking his ass off. With a sigh, he sank back into a tangle of sheets and blankets that were long overdue for a washing.
“Sum-bitch ... “ he muttered as he scrunched up his pillow and buried his face in it.
But now that his sleep had been disturbed, it wasn’t all that easy to drift back off. No matter how much he reassured himself that he had no reason to be nervous about burglars or anything else, he couldn’t settle down again. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering how in the hell such a small noise like a squeaking floorboard could wake him up.
“Ahh, fuck it!” he muttered. He swung the bedcovers aside and got out of bed. “Might’s’well go down stairs for a nip or two. That’ll help me get back to sleep.”
Without turning on the light, he shuffled across the bedroom floor and into the hallway, all the while imagining the smooth taste of a glass of whiskey. Once he was at the top of the stairway landing, though, he noticed something that made him freeze in his tracks. From downstairs, coming from the kitchen, he saw the faint flicker of what looked like candlelight. Either that, or else he had left a light on and his eyesight, adjusting to the darkness, was making it flicker. His hand reached out blindly for the hallway wall switch; then — again — he heard a floorboard downstairs creak.
“What the be’Jeezus?” he hissed. He tried to reassure himself that he must have left the light on in the kitchen; but, as best as he could remember, he had turned everything off. Besides, the light he could see really was flickering, so it couldn’t be just his failing eyesight.
Moving as silently as he could, he went down the stairs, noticing for the first time in his life how damned many of the steps squeaked. He wished he’d made it a practice to keep one of his shotguns in his bedroom, but his guns and ammunition were in the hall closet by the front door. If there was an intruder, Henry knew he was going to have a hell of a time getting the gun and loading it without being found out.
And where the fuck was Murf? Henry wondered all the way down the stairs. Murf should’ve been barking his sorry ass off!
At the foot of the stairs, Henry paused, trying to think through very clearly the next few steps he should take. Should he go for the shotgun in the hall closet, or just barge on into the kitchen and tackle whoever the fuck was in there? Surprise might work in his favor ... then again, the intruder might have a gun of his own.
Glancing back and forth between the closet door and the kitchen entry, Henry suddenly had any and all decisions taken out of his hands when a deep, resonant voice spoke from the kitchen.
“Ahh ... there you are, Mr. Bishop. I was wondering when you’d get around to coming downstairs.”
Henry was totally taken aback. He could do nothing more than stammer senselessly. His eyes were bulging out of his head as
he watched the flickering glow of light get brighter.
“Henry ... Do you mind if I call you Henry? Don’t be shy. This is your house, after all. Come right on in here so we can have a little talk. Will you?”
“Who the hell are you, ‘n’ what in the name of fuck are you doin’ in my house?” Henry snarled as he took several hesitant steps forward. The entire kitchen was suffused with a warm orange glow that might have been downright cheery if Henry hadn’t felt such a tight knot of tension deep in his groin. He entered the kitchen and saw the dark silhouette of a man standing by the sink. He was keeping one hand behind his back; that hand obviously held the candles, which were blazing, creating a yellow aura all around his black silhouette.
“‘N’ what in the fuck’d you do to my dog?” Henry snapped, as the realization came that something must have happened to Murf; otherwise, by now this guy — whoever the fuck he was-would have been tom to bloody pieces ...
Like Barney Fraser’s body in the woods, Henry thought, unable to keep the memory of that horrible, dead, pale face out of his mind.
“Have a seat, Henry. Please, have a seat,” the man said, indicating with a wave of his arm the solitary chair at the kitchen table. Henry didn’t have any company other than Murf, so he had never seen the need for a second chair. In spite of his impulse to charge the man, wrestle him to the floor, and then pummel the living piss out of him, Henry did as he was told and sat down.
“I want to know who the fuck you —”
“I’ll do the talking, if that’s all right with you, Henry,” the silhouette said. The voice was firm and commanding, and, against his will, Henry found himself nodding his agreement.
