“Jeff Hayes?”
“Yeah.”
“He killed your sister.” Eloise’s voice got small and whispery. “He killed his own little boy.”
“Eloise. Either Archie killed Charlie and hid the body, or the cult that Hayes and Archie were involved with from before, they’ve got him.”
Eloise reached out blindly, and Lena took both of her hands.
“It’s best you know what’s going on.” Lena licked a tear that dripped down the side of her face.
Eloise burst out laughing. “Charlie used to do that! Lick his tears when they rolled down.” Eloise put her head on her knees. “I want my baby back.”
“Eloise, you shouldn’t be here, facing this by yourself.”
“No one. I don’t want no one.”
“What are you doing? Are you eating? Getting any sleep?”
“Eating? I’m eating cake. Cake. I’m baking.” She pointed. “Look at all them boxes. They’re all full of cakes. I can’t … If I bake it’s the only way I can stand being in my head. Lena, you got to take those cakes with you. Please. Take the cakes.”
“Okay, Eloise. I’ll take the cakes.”
Eloise sighed deeply. “You take them.”
“I will.”
“I’ll help you load them in the car.”
“Fine. That’s good. And, Eloise, I want you to come home with me.”
“No. I got to be here in case Charlie comes home.”
“You sure?”
“I got to bake.”
“Okay,” Lena said softly. “You bake.”
“I’ll help you load them in. Is it cold? Do I need a sweater?” She looked at Lena, but her good eye would not hold contact. Eloise looked at the floor, then at Lena, then at the floor again.
“Better slip on a jacket,” Lena said.
Eloise stood up. She frowned and glanced around the room.
“Need a jacket,” Lena told her.
“Jacket.”
“Eloise. Mendez is working night and day on this, and so am I.”
“Let’s get them cakes loaded in,” Eloise said. “I got to bake.”
Lena cradled the phone on her shoulder, keeping her hands free to unplug the lamp and wrap the cord around the base.
“Help line,” said a female voice.
“I need to speak with Valerie.”
“She’s in conference.”
“Please tell her Lena Padget is on the line, and it’s urgent.”
“Ma’am, are you all right? Can someone else help you?”
“It’s not about me. Just give her the message, can you?”
“One moment.”
The doorbell rang.
“Shit,” said Lena.
The doorbell rang again.
“Shit. Just a minute!” Nothing to worry about. Hayes didn’t ring the bell.
The bell rang three times, quickly.
“Hello?”
“Yes?” Lena said.
“Valerie will be right with you. Can you hold?”
“I am holding.” Lena rubbed her temples. She heard the snap of the deadbolt unlocking, then the creak of the front door.
“Lena Bina?” Rick’s voice. “You in there?”
“I’m in here, Rick!”
“Are you naked?”
“No, I’m not naked!”
“Hello?” came a puzzled female voice from the phone.
“Valerie? It’s Lena.”
“Hi, Lena. What’s up?”
“This Valetta case—”
“Have you found the boy?” Valerie asked.
“Not yet.”
“Lena Bina, where are you, sweetie?” Rick again.
“I’m in here. Shut up, I’m on the phone. Sorry, Valerie. We’re still looking for Charlie. It’s Eloise I’m worried about.”
Rick stood in the doorway. “My God, what have you done? Did Hayes come for the furniture?”
“Rick, be quiet,” Lena said. “Sorry, Valerie.”
“Lena, what’s this about Eloise? I’ve talked to her before, at the shelter. How’s she holding up?”
“Not good. I … she … Could somebody, could you drop by and just talk to her some? Make sure she’s okay?”
Rick put his hands on his hips. “This place looks worse than when we split. What have you done with the couch?”
Lena put a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “It’s on the staircase to the basement.”
“That’s odd decorating, even for you, Lena.”
“I couldn’t get it all the way down.”
“Lena,” Valerie said. “Is Eloise Valetta alone?”
“Yeah. I tried to get her to come here, but she won’t leave the apartment. She’s in trouble, Valerie.”
Rick left, and Lena heard him go into the kitchen and open the door to the basement. A loud thump and scrape sounded from the staircase.
“Why don’t I go by there on my way home? Just check on her. Get her to talk,” Valerie said. “That be okay?”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to ask. You sound tired.”
“Up all night. Got a bad one going right now. With a husband who knows where we are.”
“How’d he find you?”
“Sent his sister to us on a trumped-up thing, so she’d get delivered to the shelter and find out where we were. Bastard.”
“Bitch.”
“Yeah, both of ’em.”
“Hell,” Lena said. “Can you leave?”
“For a while. We’re crawling with coppers right now. How’d it go with Walt?”
“Walt Caron, Mr. Empathetic Psychologist? What a sweetie. He blushed whenever your name came up. And he said he’d help, but I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“I’ll call and give him a prod.”
“Like you haven’t got anything else to do.”
“I wouldn’t mind an excuse to call him.”
“Go for it. Listen, I got to deal with Rick, or he won’t go away.”
“Lucky you.”
“Let me know about Eloise.” Lena hung up.
Rick stared at her from the doorway. “This room is so empty, it echoes. Lena Bina,” he shouted. His voice was amplified by the emptiness. “Are you moving?”
Lena scratched the back of her head. She’d kept the rocking chair in the room, and a side table. The phone was on the floor.
“No, I’m not moving. I’m just trying to breathe.”
“Get rid of the clutter, huh? Okay, Lena Bina, I gave up trying to understand you forever ago.”
“Would you quit calling me … What is it, Rick?”
“Let us just say the audition went well. I was … ahem … brilliant.”
“The … Rick, did you get the part?”
“Not yet. Call-back, though. I’ll go up again next week.”
“Rick, I’m happy for you.”
“Don’t get too happy yet, you’ll jinx me.”
“I jinx everybody these days. Did you do that thing for me?”
Rick sat on the floor. “How conventional of me to want a chair,” he said absently. “Yeah, it’s done. No nibbles yet, but it’s early. I’ve set up a couple of shadows, and I’m trying to ferret things out, but somebody is being careful.”
“Make sure they can’t track you.”
“They can’t. What are you going to do with that lamp?”
“Put it somewhere. I can’t put it in the basement, the couch is in the way.”
“Want me to help you move it?”
“I’m going to leave it there, so Hayes can’t sneak up on me from below.”
“New ideas in home security.”
“Rick, I’ve got a name for you.”
“No insults, please, I am doing you a favor.”
“To use on the bulletin board. Mr. Enoch. Put Mr. Enoch in there too, okay?”
“Mr. Enoch? Why does that make me think of that guy in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow? You know, the headless horseman one. What was that guy’s name?” Rick shut his eyes. “Archiba
ld Leach.”
“That’s Cary Grant’s real name.”
Rick cocked his head sideways. “Did you ever see Penny Serenade? But my favorite Grant movie is—”
“Rick, I got things to do. Can I walk you to the door?”
He stood up. “I’m going. I just … You’ll be okay, won’t you? While I’m out of town?”
“If I’m not, I’ll call Judith.”
“Good move, she’s bigger than I am. Be good, then, Lena Bina.”
Lena opened the front door. “Let me know what you find out.”
Rick nodded. “Testing, one-two-three.” He flicked the porch light on. “Hell, Lena, did it burn out again?” He stood on his tiptoes to unscrew the fixture. It was cool out, and the wind ruffled the carefully honed muss of his hair. “Hold the screws, Lena.” He handed her the nuts and bolts that held the glass bowl of the fixture. “Sounds like a fast-food whorehouse.”
“Ha ha. Oh, hell.”
The light bulb had been broken off in the socket.
“Think it was Jeff?” Rick asked.
“Hope so,” Lena said. “Me and him got business.”
“Be bold, be bold,” Rick said. “But not too bold.”
29
Lena sat on the rug with her back to the wall. A stuffed bear, the top of its head barely visible, was propped up in the rocking chair. The bear’s ears were held down with clothespins, and it wore a ball cap and sat with its back to the sliding glass door.
The television was on, the sound low but distracting. There was an open can of Coke on a table beside the rocking chair, but the bear never reached for it.
The phone sat on Lena’s left, the baseball bat on her right. She had spent the last two nights alone in the living room with the bear.
Hayes would come. Sooner or later, he’d come.
The cop who had taken her home the night Valetta attacked Eloise was right. A gun would have been better than a baseball bat. If she’d had a gun that night, Charlie would be home with his mother. And she might not be so afraid right now.
Rick had bought a gun after Hayes had killed Whitney and Kevin. And had gotten rid of it, when he found her stroking the barrel against her temple.
Some people, Lena knew, felt dizzy when they stood up high, so sure they would fall that they felt the urge to bow to the inevitable and jump. She had never heard of anyone else who had that same kind of suicidal feeling about guns.
The phone rang. She wondered if it was Mendez. He seemed to have a sixth sense when she was up to something.
She would bring him in on this, when the time came. Right now there was too much risk he would not approve. And for all his help and consideration, she knew better than to rely on anyone but herself. Cops moved too slowly and had too many rules.
“Hello?”
“Lena Padget?”
The voice was familiar.
“Speaking.”
“Walt Caron. You remember we—”
“Of course. Hi. Any luck?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I have it set up for you. To go and talk to Melody Hayes. She is very … She is doing well, actually. She just checks in, as a resident, around Easter, Easter is a hard time for her because … of various reasons. Usually she’s an outpatient. Unless there are bad spells. Her doctor is Delores Criswold, and she said it would be okay for you to come, but please get there in the afternoon. Don’t wait until dusk.”
“Don’t wait until dusk?”
“That’s what she said. She didn’t explain. Melody is very … keyed up. About talking to you. She wants to get it done right away. They asked if you could come tomorrow. I said I’d …”
Something moved outside, at the corner of the sliding glass door. Lena squinted, but saw nothing through the darkness. She had set the blinds at half mast so Hayes could see in and she could see out. He was supposed to keep his attention on the bear.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What again? They want me to come tomorrow?”
“Yeah. If that’s okay, I’ll call them back.”
“That’s fine. Where is she?”
“It’s a place on the outskirts of Nashville. Got a pen?”
She did. But no paper.
“Go ahead.”
“Rolling Ridge,” he said.
Lena wrote the name on her palm. “Rolling Ridge?”
“Right. Get on the Bluegrass Parkway, then take 65 South to Nashville.”
“Got that,” Lena said.
“Okay then, best way I think is, when you hit Nashville, take the Old Hickory exit—it’s right after Goodlettsville. Stay on that till you get to Little Creek—you’ll be going west past U.S. 41—then take Shaw Branch Road.”
“Is it on Shaw Branch?”
“Yeah. Be sure and—”
Something moved, outside the door. A large dark man-shape. Lena glanced at the bear. One of the ears had come unpinned.
“Got it, Walt,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Thanks a lot.”
“Uh … okay. I’ll call and—”
“Good. Thank you.”
Lena heard a squeak. The sliding door opened a crack.
“Don’t forget, then,” Walt said. “Before dusk.”
Lena hung the phone up gently.
The sliding glass door eased open, moving slowly along the tracks. The usual stick and scrape were gone, and Lena pictured Hayes coming into her house, oiling the tracks.
He moved very quietly, gently thrusting the blinds to one side, his head turned to the back of the bear. Lena’s fingers shook as she picked up the flashlight.
Hayes wore a large black overcoat that swayed against his legs. He moved quietly, until he stood just a couple of feet behind the chair. Lena switched on the huge black flashlight.
“Hello, Jeff.”
She heard him catch his breath. He stepped back, squinting, throwing his arm up in front of his eyes.
Not Hayes. A bald man, with his face painted—diamond patterns, black and white.
“That you, Lena?”
It was Hayes. He had shaved his head.
“Going to a costume party?”
He stared into the dark corners of the room, then at her. He knew where she was.
He smiled. “Welcome to the theater of cruelty.”
How like Rick he was. Give him a spotlight, and he would perform.
“The bread of life is broken.” He held up a hand. “And it is death. The rock shall crush thee, and thou shalt perish in the fount.”
“Gee, Jeff, I would’ve made popcorn if I’d known you were putting on a show.”
Hayes frowned. “So, Lena. How did you find out about Mr. Enoch?”
“You’d be surprised.” Lena held the baseball bat.
Hayes walked to the lamp and turned it on. Yellow light pooled in the center of the room. “Mr. Enoch is surprised. And unhappy. But I didn’t tell him who you are, because I don’t want anything to happen till I get all my reasons. Ninety thousand reasons, Lena. We still on for the deal?”
“Yeah.”
“Then get the money. Have it at hand.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll let you know. You still bank at Commerce, don’t you? Go to the Valley Road branch, and see the teller at the second slot from the front door. His name is F. Breeding. He works ten to five. He’ll have to let one of the vice presidents know.”
“Know what?”
“Banks get funny sometimes, Lena, when people take out large amounts. I don’t want some perky little teller calling the police, or checking to see if you’re paying a ransom. So do as I tell you. Make sure and go to F. Breeding. He’ll talk to a Mr. Franklin, and you won’t have to answer embarrassing questions. You got that?”
“Breeding and Franklin. And then what?”
“And then I’ll let you know.” Hayes cocked his head to one side. “I don’t want Mendez in on this, Lena. If I see him, or any cops, or see you go to the cops, the deal’s off. The money’s what I want, so I’m willing to
trade you the kid.
“And believe me, Lena. You don’t want Charlie going to the Easter services. They can be … draining. For now he is very sanguine. Afterwards, he will be exsanguine. You understand me?” Hayes did not smile.
Lena considered a dictionary.
“Be ready,” Hayes said. “And I hope Rick is good at covering his tracks on the boards. Mr. Enoch is looking. You don’t want him to find you. He is very hard on lambs.”
30
Rolling Ridge was a private hospital, likely expensive, consisting of one-story yellow brick buildings that were old but well kept up. A wide expanse of lawn surrounded six or seven low buildings and a network of interlacing sidewalks.
Lena checked her watch. Three-thirty. She’d come straight from the bank to Nashville, and she glanced at the canvas bag of money. Ninety thousand dollars. A bit much to fit in her wallet. If she and Hayes weren’t careful, the money would be stolen.
Should she leave it in the trunk, or carry it with her? Hayes might be watching for just such a chance. She’d carry it with her.
She parked her car—there were plenty of spaces. There were always too many or too few. Organ transplants might be possible these days, but parking lot design was still beyond societal skills.
Lena passed through the double glass doors at the front of the main building. The windows were threaded with wire mesh.
What would it be like to be inside looking out?
The receptionist was young, male, and solidly built. He wore a pair of chinos, a sport shirt, and a heavy leather watchband that made Lena think of restraints. His arms were thick and muscular, and Lena wondered if he did other things besides answer the phone.
Delores Criswold met Lena in the hallway. The beige-and-black-specked floor tiles were getting the once-over from a depressed-looking woman in a blue work smock. She swung the heavy buffing machine left and right, putting a shine on the ingrained dirt.
Criswold was short, rounded, with black, gray-flecked hair. Her eyes, behind steel-rimmed glasses, were alert and kind. She shook hands with Lena.
“I ’preciate you letting me come,” Lena said.
Dr. Criswold looked at her speculatively. “Walt explained about the little boy. I hope you find him.”
“I’ll find him.”
Criswold narrowed her eyes. “Melody is very strong. She’d have to be, to survive the things she’s been through. But this is a difficult time of year for her. Please use good judgment when you talk to her.”
Satan’s Lambs Page 14
