Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  The bookshelf gave up no clues— except for the nearly complete collection of Eugene's books. It took her a moment to realize that Eugene's second book, If Frogs Could Fly, was the missing title. It was a delightful frolic about a redheaded boy whose classmates tormented him endlessly about his carrot top— until a wizard garbed in the disguise of a cardinal gives the young boy his wish, to be able to fly.

  Jennifer had not worked at Grand Street Press when the book was originally published, but she knew every one of Eugene's works by heart, and she felt a surge of fear. In the book, the main character flew far from home to seek out adventure and to find friends who wouldn't make fun of his red hair. It was a harrowing adventure story filled with near tragedies, not to mention the fact that the boy's parents were hysterical with worry.

  Jennifer's heart drummed in her ears as she thought through the possibilities of the missing book, coupled with the missing page in the other book. The evidence was circumstantial, but it certainly marked Crush as a prime suspect in the kidnappings— at least, in her opinion.

  She forced herself to continue her search. If she could find one solid bit of evidence that Mimi or Tommy had been in the house, then she could call the authorities and demand action. Maybe there was even a clue as to where he was holding the children. She remembered Mimi's frightened voice and gritted her teeth in determination. If there was any way possible, she wanted to see those kids safe in their own beds before another night came around.

  She went through the rest of the bookshelf. There were the standard childhood stories, from fairy tales to the more modern Dr. Seuss classics. Her flashlight beam returned to the top row of Eugene's works— all first editions, none of them signed. Jennifer's eye for detail noted that they'd been well read. Unlike most of the toys in the room, Eugene's books had seen a lot of use.

  She had an impulse to take them, but knew it would be foolish. She crept out of the room to explore the bathroom.

  Obviously decorated for a child's pleasure, the bath had cartoon-figure puppets over the water knobs and a host of floats ready for bathtime. It was all perfect, except for the fact that Crush had never married, had never owned up to being the father of anyone's child, and didn't even have nieces or nephews as far as Jennifer had been able to deduce.

  She opened the medicine cabinet and found a variety of neatly boxed first-aid salves and sprays. There was also a new box of cartoon-character bandages and a prescription. Using a washcloth to touch the bottle, she saw that it was nearly empty and she recognized the name of the drug. It was a well-known antidepressant written out for Crush.

  The drug was powerful, and sometimes had side effects of irrationality. Dr. Kyle Fontana was the physician who'd prescribed them, a name Jennifer wasn't familiar with. She committed his name to memory for further use. Replacing the bottle exactly as it had been on the shelf, she went into the hallway and paused to listen for James.

  It was five minutes short of the time for their rendezvous and her findings had made her nervous as a cat. She looked around for Familiar, but there was no sign of him. She knew it was her imagination, but there was the sense that someone was watching her. Someone hiding just around a darkened corner. Someone who did not belong in the house any more than she and James did. Someone who'd seen the evidence of Crush's obsession with the idea of a child. She couldn't suppress a shudder. It was all too sick.

  Lingering at the base of the stairs Jennifer waited for James— and the black cat who'd slipped so stealthily away.

  In the stillness of the night something heavy dropped against the floor and Jennifer held her breath. Had James broken something? Maybe that was what Familiar had gone to investigate.

  She listened intently for some sound from above. The seconds ticked away, the old house as silent as a tomb. Dread crept along her skin, inching deeper into her heart as she heard no sound of James above her. Had something happened to him?

  "James." She went to the foot of the stairs and called his name softly. He didn't answer.

  "James!" she whispered louder.

  There wasn't a sound from above, but just down the hallway a door hinge creaked.

  Jennifer gripped the stair banister so hard she thought she'd leave her finger imprints in the beautifully carved wood. Someone was in the house. Maybe it was James. But why hadn't he answered her? Maybe it was someone trying to hide the children!

  The old floors creaked under Jennifer's weight as she moved down the enormous central hallway and back toward the living room. She checked the den to make sure James wasn't waiting for her at the window. A frilly cluster of azalea blossoms bobbed gently on a breeze, but the window was empty. James was not there.

  The door hinges moaned softly.

  It could have been the wind blowing a screen door, or the settling of an old house, but Jennifer knew it wasn't. Someone was creeping around Crush Bonbon's house.

  Jennifer checked her watch. There were five minutes left before they absolutely had to clear out of the house. Five minutes, and there was a door that she'd failed to open. A smaller door that looked as if it led to storage, or a cellar, or a prison.

  Pushing her imagination along to gruesome images was the sound of something moving around in the darkness behind the door. Jennifer tried to convince herself that she'd imagined the soft, scuttling sound, but even as she tried to deny it, she heard it again.

  The door was slightly ajar when she got there and she felt her nerve begin to give out. What if someone was down there? Someone waiting for her. A trap. It had been an assumption that Crush lived alone. A logical assumption. He was single. He'd never been married. He'd certainly been hatched, so he wouldn't have a mother. She tried to play to her own sense of humor because she was so afraid. Every corpuscle of her body screamed for her to leave, to get out of the house. Not to open the door to see what was in the room.

  She could wait for James. He'd be down momentarily. Or she could wait for Familiar. The cat had to be somewhere in the house. But waiting wasn't part of her nature.

  Before she could think of all the dire things that could happen to her, she pushed the door open and saw a narrow flight of steps descending into what seemed to be a basement.

  "Oh, brother." She took a breath and went down.

  It was a tiny room, damp and claustrophobic. A string dangled in the beam of her light and Jennifer pulled it, flooding the tiny basement with the glare of an overhead bulb. She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed to find a washer and dryer— and Familiar perched on the washer.

  "Meow." He patted the lid of the washing machine with one paw.

  "Sorry, I don't do laundry or windows," Jennifer answered as she arched the light around the room. It was a creepy place with enough cobwebs hanging from the corners and eaves to catch every mosquito in lower Alabama. But it was empty. Completely devoid of other human habitation. And it was obvious that it had been Familiar who'd made the door creak when he'd slipped inside. "I could skin you and wear your hide for a winter hat," she said as she walked toward the cat.

  Familiar slapped the washing machine again, demanding her attention. "Meow."

  "Where's James?" She stepped closer to the cat. His whiskers were covered with cobwebs. "So you've been exploring, too."

  "Meow." He slapped the lid so hard the machine gave an empty echo.

  "Okay, already." Jennifer moved him aside and lifted the lid. At first she couldn't make out what was inside, and then she reached both hands in. The telephone was lighter than she'd expected. She lifted it out and clutched it to her chest, unwilling to believe that she'd actually found what she'd broken into the house to search for. The instrument she held was a cellular phone— one without a battery, she discovered as she examined it. Now she only had to find out if it was the phone stolen from J. P. Frost's car.

  Combined with all of the other evidence she'd discovered this evening, she could nail Crush Bonbon. To the wall. And rescue Mimi and Tommy.

  "Good work, Familiar," she said. In a milli
on years she'd never have thought to look in the washing machine. Never. With her free hand she scratched the cat's chin. Instead of a purr, he snagged her hand with his claw in a gentle but unrelenting grip.

  "Hey." She felt her delicate skin begin to prickle, but the cat didn't let her go. "What is it?"

  "Meow!" He jumped to the ground and ran up the stairs. Halfway up, he turned to look at her and cried again, this time with a note of panic in his voice.

  "If you're hungry, I can't feed you here," she said, closing the washing machine lid and reaching for the string to turn out the light. She wanted to return everything to normal. She didn't want to tip Crush off to the fact that someone had been in his home. If he knew the phone was gone, he might make a run for it, and there'd be no telling what would become of Mimi and Tommy.

  "Meow!" There was a sharp reprimand in the cat's tone, as if he clearly told her to do something very unladylike.

  As soon as she pulled the light string, Jennifer regretted that she hadn't turned her flashlight on. With the telephone clutched against her chest, she fumbled for the flashlight that still hung around her neck.

  There was the sound of footsteps scuttling through the kitchen and she knew instinctively that something terrible had gone wrong. The footsteps were quick, furtive.

  And they didn't belong to James.

  Before she could open her mouth or even think to try to hide, she heard Familiar's angry hiss and growl and the sound of the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut.

  The lock slid into place with a final click.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jennifer's only comfort in the damp darkness of the small cellar room was the big black cat who sat beside her on the steps and licked her elbow. "We were stupid, Familiar." She had been locked in for only a few minutes, but it was long enough to ascertain that the door had been firmly secured with a thumb bolt, and that no amount of pounding or prying with the limited tools in the basement could free her. She would be set free only when someone came home and released her. A someone she didn't want to confront face-to-face— Crush Bonbon, most likely.

  Getting caught was the least of her worries, though. Given her current circumstances, she now knew what the sound of something heavy dropping on the second floor had been.

  James. Hitting the floor because he'd been knocked out.

  And she'd failed to go check on him. He could be seriously injured.

  Or worse.

  "Meow." Familiar nuzzled her side as if he'd read her mind and wanted to offer the only solace he could. In the pitch blackness, his whiskers tickled her tender skin.

  "We have to get out of here." She spoke calmly, forcing her mind past the panic and anguish she felt. If she was going to help James, she had to keep a clear head.

  Someone knew she was locked in the cellar— the same someone who'd latched the door. But it couldn't have been Crush. He was still on the air!

  So who was it? Did he have a cohort? Anna Green? She buried her head in her hands and squinched her eyes tight against the blackness. The total lack of light and the smallness of the room made her feel as if she might faint. She hated small, dark places.

  The cat beside her tensed and sprang up to the door. Putting all of his fifteen pounds into it, Familiar slammed the door and cried as loudly as he could.

  "Hush!" Jennifer crawled up on her hands and knees after him. She hadn't gotten far with her next plan, except to hide under the steps to try to trip whoever came down after her. That way she'd stand a chance of making it to the second floor to check on James. But Familiar was scratching at the door like a mad creature, and if there was any element of surprise, he'd give it away.

  "Familiar!" Just as she reached for him, the door sprang wide open and a shaft of bright light blinded Jennifer. She dropped to her stomach and tried to roll against the wall, cellular phone hugged to her chest, in a blind maneuver of self-defense.

  "Ms. Barkley!" The voice was shocked. "Are you hurt?"

  Jennifer's eyes adjusted to the bright light and she saw the silhouette of a young girl standing at the top of the steps.

  "Judy?"

  "Are you hurt?" The girl bounded down the steps. "We have to get out of here. Crush went off the air half an hour early. I was listening but I had to wait until my parents went to sleep before I could come over here to warn you. What are you doing in the basement? Where's Mr. Tenet? What's going on here?"

  The volley of questions was more than Jennifer could manage. She scrabbled to her feet and ran up the steps with Judy on her heels. There were several questions she had to ask the young girl, but they would have to wait— until she could find out about James.

  "Where are you going?" Judy stood at the open window, ready to flee. "We've got to get out of here. He could come back any minute. You could go to jail. Then what would Eugene do?"

  Jennifer ignored her as she rushed up the stairs to the second floor. There were two identical bedrooms on either side of the landing. She chose the left one, the one that would have been above the "children's room," and went inside. Judy had not had any compunction about turning on the lights downstairs, and Jennifer followed suit. She hit the switch and then gasped.

  Behind her, Judy stopped dead in her tracks. "Holy cow. Is he dead?" she asked.

  Jennifer took in the blood that had spread from the gash on James's head to the way his body was sprawled on the floor and the pallor of his normally glowing skin.

  He looked dead.

  She hurried to his side and knelt beside him, forcing back the flood of strong emotions that threatened to choke her. She touched his cheek and found it warm, and his chest moved shallowly with his breathing.

  "He's alive." The relief was almost debilitating.

  "James." She touched his cheek softly and looked up to see Judy exiting the room as if her feet were on fire.

  There was no time to worry what the young girl was up to. "James." She checked his head. He'd been struck with something very heavy and blunt. There was a gash and a lot of swelling, but the bleeding had stopped. She had no idea how serious the damage might be, but at least it hadn't crushed his skull.

  "Here." Judy returned with a glass of water.

  "He can't drink water."

  "I know." Without hesitation, Judy poured the cold water on James's face.

  His body jerked and flailed, and he swung out wildly with his fists, narrowly missing Jennifer's face. "W-what the hell?" he sputtered as he pushed himself to a sitting position.

  "James." She put both hands on his chest and pressed him back to the floor and held him with all of her weight until she could determine that his vision was slowly clearing. Fear that he might be horribly injured and that the sudden return to consciousness would aggravate his injuries gave her strength. "James, it's me, Jennifer."

  "Somebody coldcocked me," he said. "From behind."

  "I know." She eased the pressure off his shoulders and gently touched his face. He seemed rational. But she knew by the heart-tripping response she'd felt when she'd seen him injured that perhaps she was not. She had too many feelings for this man. "Are you okay?" She felt such a tide of tenderness that she had to look away from him for fear he'd too clearly read it in her eyes.

  "I have no idea. My head is throbbing, and you tried to drown me." His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. She looked as if she were about to cry. This was not the Jennifer Barkley he'd come to know…and care deeply about. He touched her hair.

  "Give me a break," Judy said, sighing and rolling her eyes. "We've got to get out of here."

  "I didn't provide the cold water." Jennifer eased to the left so he could see a grinning Judy Luno standing behind her.

  Arms akimbo, Judy was ready with an explanation. "It's what they do in all the cowboy movies when someone's been knocked unconscious. We don't have time to fool around here. Crush could be back any minute. That's why I came to warn you guys. He went off the air half an hour early when Mrs. Franklin went to pieces and they couldn't get her to quit c
rying. It was terrible. She was begging whoever took Tommy to bring him back. She said she'd sell her house to pay them. Then Mrs. Frost got all wired about Mimi and she started crying. It was awesome."

  Under the constant flow of Judy's words, James eased himself to a sitting position.

  "Then Mrs. Franklin had some kind of medical fit and they had to call 9-1-1 and the ambulance came. You could hear the siren and all of that on the radio. My folks were, like, glued to the radio, and they hardly ever listen all the way through one of Crush's shows." She took a deep breath. "So when the ambulance came for Mrs. Franklin, Crush was telling everyone how she looked with her hands clenched together and all of that, and Mr. Frost arrived and said if Crush didn't stop using the agony and distress of others for self-promotion he was going to mop the floor with him and wring him out like a dirty rag!"

  "Wait!" Jennifer held up a hand. "You heard all of this on the air?"

  "Right. And Mrs. Franklin came to when the ambulance men gave her something and she was wailing and moaning. She thinks Tommy is dead, and Crush said Uncle Eugene ought to be arrested. Then there was a big argument, and Mr. Frost said something very nasty, and there was the sound of something breaking and a scream and they started playing music."

  "It's a talk radio station," Jennifer said.

  "I know. And the music was awful. It was some old group from the dinosaur age. Devoe, or something like that." Judy rolled her eyes. "My dad said it was some tape one of the deejays had left in his car too long and it had warped. But you guys had better get up, get your butts in gear and get out of here."

  "Meow!" Familiar stood in the doorway and cried.

  "I think he's trying to tell us something," Jennifer said, gathering the telephone into her arms. The cat was too smart by far.

  Strange shadows danced across the far wall of the room as a car's headlights swept the house. Someone, most likely Crush, had turned toward the house and had started up the long, winding driveway.