Bogeyman

by Gayle Wilson

  29

  W ithout thinking, Blythe straightened up and began to run toward Cade, again screaming his name. The third shot was so close the bullet brushed her hair, causing her to duck.

  With the realization that the shooter was now targeting her, the shock she’d felt watching Cade fall was replaced by a fierce instinct to protect her child. She turned and grabbed Maddie, carrying her down with her, as she threw herself onto the charred boards of the kitchen floor. The pale pink sweatsuit would provide too clear a target against the blackened material around them.

  She thought for a second or two about lowering Maddie back into the pit of the old well where she had been hiding and then crawling in with her. But what had been a place of safety then would now become a trap. All he would have to do would be open the trapdoor and fire down at them.

  Like shooting fish in a barrel.

  She pushed the image from her mind, trying to think. Cade had fallen backward. And his hat had spun off in that direction. Which meant…

  Keeping Maddie shielded under her body, she raised her head a couple of inches, her eyes searching the line of trees where she’d seen the dark figure the night of the fire. Had he again come through the woods from Salter Road?

  If so, he would disappear back that way when he was finished, leaving no sign he’d even been here. No sign but their bodies.

  Not Maddie, she vowed, remembering what he’d done to Sarah. She would never let him reach Maddie.

  She could see nothing in the woods except the dark, straight trunks of the trees. She knew in her heart that he was out there, just as he had been the night of the fire. She could feel him. Waiting for her to make a mistake.

  She turned her head, trying to see Cade. Of course, if he were still conscious, he would be doing exactly what she was—giving the killer as little target as possible.

  “Cade?”

  The killer knew where she was. There was no need for silence. If she could just know that Cade was there…That he was aware of what was going on…

  “Cade?” Although this time she pitched her voice to carry against the wind, again there was no answer.

  “Mama?”

  “Shh,” she soothed automatically, turning back to Maddie.

  With her right hand she cupped the little girl’s cheek, offering what comfort she could. She’d come too far to let him win now. She had Maddie in her arms once more, and she would never let anyone take her away from her. Not as long as there was breath in her body.

  She looked back toward the woods, wondering what he was doing. Using the trees for cover, was he even now drawing closer to their position? The forest continued to the right of the property, forming a semicircle. And with the garage on the left…

  She turned her head to survey that area. Although she could see nothing out of the ordinary, she wondered if he’d used the seconds she’d cowered here, head down, to flank them?

  He had all the advantages. He could see her, but she had no idea where he was. If she tried to move, she’d expose both of them to that deadly rifle fire. There wasn’t enough left of the house to provide cover for any maneuver she could think to make. And, forced to keep her head down as she was now, she might not even be aware of his approach.

  “Mama?”

  “Shh. Be quiet, baby. I need to listen.”

  The wind would mask most sounds. By the time the killer was close enough to make any she could hear, it would be too late.

  With that realization, she eased her grandfather’s Colt out of her jacket pocket. Despite acknowledging that it might be their only hope, she was strangely reluctant to have it so close to Maddie. Until today, she had seen her role as keeping guns away from her daughter.

  Now…Now it was to defend her with one. As well as with her own life.

  And there has to be a better place to do that than this.

  Raising her head again, she examined as much of their surroundings as she could, given her limited field of vision. The refrigerator she’d noticed before made a ninety-degree angle with the one remaining wall.

  If she could get Maddie into that corner, she would be protected on two sides. And the killer would have to come around in front of them. When he did—

  When he did, then she would kill him, Blythe vowed with a cold determination. There was no doubt in her mind she was capable of that. She was capable of anything to protect Maddie.

  A noise to her left brought her head around. Even before she identified its cause, she had swung the Colt around to point it in that direction and pulled back the slide. Instead of the figure she had expected, a piece of debris, disturbed by the wind, had tumbled off what remained of one of the interior walls.

  When she’d controlled her panic enough to be able to think again, she knew they had to move. They were too exposed. Too vulnerable. They would be, until she found a location where she could see what was going on around her.

  She turned her head, again looking at the refrigerator. It offered the only viable protection in what was an otherwise indefensible position. And to get them there…

  “Maddie, can you do something for me? Something very important.”

  The small head moved affirmatively against her shoulder.

  “You have to do exactly what I tell you. You understand?”

  Another nod.

  Blythe laid the pistol on the charred floorboards beside her. Then she took Maddie’s chin in her hand and turned her face toward the kitchen.

  “You see the refrigerator?”

  Within the grasp of her fingers, the child’s chin moved up and down.

  “That’s where I want you to go. I want you to go and hide in the corner between the refrigerator and the wall. The corner on the right side. You remember which is your right?”

  Another nod.

  “Show me.”

  The little girl held up her right hand. Blythe folded the tiny fingers down as she lowered it to keep him from seeing.

  “Can you do it, baby? Can you go to the corner on the right side of the refrigerator?”

  “Are you coming, too?”

  “As soon as I can. I want you to go first, and then I’ll come, but…It’s like a game, Maddie. Like hide-and-seek. You have to crawl. You have to crawl like a little baby. Without raising your head.”

  “Or he’ll shoot me, too?”

  What had she expected? That Maddie wouldn’t know what had happened to Cade? As she’d told him, her daughter was a very bright little girl. From the beginning, she had understood far more about what was happening than the adults around her.

  “He won’t shoot at you if you crawl, because he won’t be able to see you.” Blythe had no choice but to take advantage of the child’s quick perception of the danger they were in.

  “And then you’ll come too? As soon as I get there?”

  “I promise. As soon as you’re over there, I’m on my way.”

  “Could you just come with me now?”

  “I have to stay here until you get there, sweetheart. Then I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Are you going to shoot him?” Maddie’s eyes fell to the gun.

  If he gives me half a chance.

  “You just stay down, okay? Just crawl like a little bitty baby. And I’ll be right behind you. You ready?”

  Maddie nodded, her eyes wide.

  “Remember, to the right side of the refrigerator. Show me your right.”

  This was something Maddie had known for over a year. Her right hand from her left. Her right shoe from her left. Obediently, she again lifted her right hand, this time keeping it low.

  “Good girl. Now just crawl to that side. And stay down. Understand?”

  Another nod.

  Blythe lifted her head again, scanning the line of trees. Then she rolled onto her side, freeing the child she’d been protecting with her own body.

  “Go. Go now.”

  With one last pleading look, the little girl turned over and, as she’d been instructed, set out at a crawl across
the few feet that separated her from the refrigerator.

  As soon as she’d started crawling, Blythe had torn her eyes away, focusing again on the woods where the shots had originated. Propped on her elbows, she held the weapon out in front of her, her left hand attempting to steady the right.

  Off to the side, she could hear the scrambling noises that indicated Maddie’s progress. There was no response from whoever had shot Cade.

  “Mama.”

  The plaintive whisper brought Blythe’s head around. Maddie was sitting with her back in the corner formed by the wall and the refrigerator, exactly where she’d been told to go.

  Good girl. My very good girl.

  “You promised.”

  Blythe nodded, and then, throwing another look toward the tree line, she began her own journey. Keeping her head down, she used her elbows and knees to propel herself across the charred floorboards, the gun clutched awkwardly in her right fist. Although she presented a larger target than Maddie had, again nothing happened.

  Unable to believe when she made it to the relative safety of the corner, she eased up into a sitting position with Maddie behind her. Then, her body again shielding her daughter’s, and her grandfather’s heavy pistol held out in front of her, she waited.

  She knew he would come for them. He’d gone too far not to. It was only a matter of when and how he’d approach. And unless one of the teams of searchers came to this location…

  As if in answer to that thought, she watched, unbelieving, as a Sheriff’s Department cruiser rounded the curve in the two-lane and headed toward the burned house. She raised her left hand, waving to attract the attention of the driver.

  Despite her position near the back of the house, by some miracle he must have seen her. The car pulled into the driveway behind Cade’s.

  Although Blythe couldn’t tell who was driving, she knew she had to warn him. As soon as she heard the car door slam, she shouted, “He’s in the woods. He has a rifle. He shot Cade.”

  By that time the driver of the cruiser had walked out far enough from behind Cade’s car that she could see him. The distinctive shock of white hair left no doubt as to her rescuer’s identity.

  “Stay down, Hoyt,” she yelled.

  The former sheriff obeyed immediately, although he continued moving toward the house at a low crouch. Heart in her throat, Blythe watched as he stooped beside Cade.

  With the piles of rubble between them, she couldn’t see what Hoyt was doing, but she assumed he was feeling for a pulse. Maybe trying to staunch the bleeding.

  After a few seconds, he straightened, bringing a walkie-talkie up to his mouth. Calling for an ambulance? Or reinforcements?

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s alive. Barely,” Hoyt said. “What the hell happened out here? You got your girl?”

  “She’s here. She’s okay. He was hiding out in the woods. He shot Cade. Please, be careful.” If he shot Hoyt, too—

  “Okay, I’m coming over. I’m gonna get y’all out of there.”

  “Did you call an ambulance?”

  “Yeah, baby, that’s all taken care of. Now let’s see if we can draw this snake out of his hole.”

  Blythe watched in horror as the old man began a broken field run across the yard. Once more, however, there was no response from the shooter in the woods.

  It made no sense. Whoever was out there had shot Cade, and yet he wasn’t responding to Hoyt’s open challenge.

  As she watched the man she’d known since childhood run toward her and her daughter, the first inkling that something about this wasn’t right was quickly followed by a dozen others.

  Someone she trusted. Abel Comstock had said that about his daughter’s murderer.

  There would have been few people in poor Sarah’s life those words would have applied to. Her father, of course. Her minister. Teachers. Her doctor.

  A highly respected county sheriff?

  As the links in the chain of thought that led her to that conclusion were being forged in her mind, Hoyt began to slow. And he was no longer crouching, Blythe realized. He was walking upright as he came directly toward the corner where she had taken refuge to protect Maddie from a vicious murderer.

  A murderer Sarah Comstock had known and trusted?

  A killer who had refused to arrest Sarah’s father because he, of all people, had known that Abel wasn’t guilty?

  Those questions fought with her lifelong trust of a man who’d been like an uncle to her. Someone she had not only trusted, but loved.

  Despite that, she began to bring her grandfather’s Colt up, desperately trying to align its muzzle with the center of Hoyt’s chest as he continued to walk toward them.

  “Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t come any closer, Hoyt.”

  “What the hell’s the matter with you, girl? You know me. You’ve known me all your life.”

  Even as he chided her, he didn’t slow. Measured and unafraid, he continued to come closer.

  “So did Sarah. She knew you, and she would have trusted you.”

  “Put that thing down, Blythe. That’s a bunch of foolishness, and you know it. Put that gun down ’fore somebody gets hurt.”

  “Not Maddie. Not my baby, Hoyt. You aren’t going to do to her what you did to Sarah.”

  “That’s plain crazy, Blythe. What in the world would your grandmamma say to what you’re accusing me of?”

  In spite of the fact the Colt was centered on his chest, Hoyt didn’t seem concerned. For the first time Blythe wondered if what she was thinking was crazy. She had known Hoyt Lee all her life. He had been a friend of her father’s.

  A friend of Abel Comstock’s as well.

  And in all those years, Hoyt had never made an improper advance to her. Despite his protective, almost avuncular attitude, he had never once, by word or deed, stepped across that invisible line.

  “Put it down, baby, ’fore you go and do something you’ll regret the rest of your life. I know how much stress you’ve been under…” As he said the last word, Hoyt stepped across the rubble that had once been the front wall of the Wright homestead.

  “I thought you said you’d called someone,” Blythe accused, trying not to allow the heavy pistol to waver. “An ambulance for Cade. If he needs one, why aren’t you over there seeing about him?”

  “’Cause there ain’t nothing I can do for him. And because the paramedics, who can, are already on their way.”

  She tried to think how much time had elapsed since he’d spoken into that walkie-talkie. Four minutes? Five?

  Long enough that by now she should be able to hear their sirens in the distance. But all she could hear was the wind.

  And then, as relentless and implacable as the tapping on the window had been, Hoyt Lee’s footsteps as they moved across the scorched floorboards toward her.

  30

  “D on’t, Hoyt. Don’t come any closer.”

  Blythe raised the gun, trying to keep it aligned on his chest as he advanced. The reality that she might actually have to shoot him to make him stop had finally impacted on her brain.

  She could feel Maddie cowering down behind her, trying to disappear. Any doubt she had about the killer’s identity should have been destroyed by the child’s reaction. The long years’ memories of this man, of his relationship with her family, of his many kindnesses to her, warred with that conclusion.

  “Baby, you need to put that down before you or your girl gets hurt. Ain’t no telling how long it’s been since that thing’s been fired.”

  He was right, of course, but he was also trying to frighten her. To make her doubt his intent, which in the rational part of her mind she knew was to kill them. The emotional part, however, was still dealing with what would happen if she pulled the trigger.

  “Don’t make me do this, Hoyt,” she begged. “Please.”

  He was close enough that she could see the blue of his eyes. So certain was he of her inability to fire, he still hadn’t raised the gun he carried in his right hand.r />
  “Give me that ’fore you hurt somebody.” As he spoke, his tone one of exasperated amusement, Hoyt stepped around the opening of the old well where Maddie had hidden.

  Hidden from him, Blythe remembered. Because Sarah had told her to. Sarah, who knew exactly who and what he was. Sarah—

  He was almost on them, his hand held out as if he actually expected her to place her grandfather’s pistol into it. If he got any closer, he would be able to reach out and take it from her. And if he did…

  The time for warnings was long past. If she was wrong, she would have to live with the consequences. Because if she was right…

  She began to squeeze the trigger, surprised by the amount of force it took to make it move. She applied more, as she watched Hoyt’s eyes widen in realization. He lunged forward, attempting to knock the gun to the side.

  The hammer fell, but nothing happened. The empty click of the misfire echoed inside her head as Hoyt’s hand connected with hers, still joined around the butt of the Colt.

  Despite the force of his blow, she didn’t lose her grip. She tried to bring the gun around again, but Hoyt’s second blow exploded against the side of her face.

  Although it was powerful enough to turn her head, she was unaware of the pain. All she was aware of was Maddie, her head buried against her back.

  The Colt was wrenched from her hands. She grabbed at it, but Hoyt lifted it out of her reach. She scrambled to her feet, fingers curved into claws as she tried to get at his eyes.

  Hoyt swatted her back with his forearm. As she fell, he dexterously reversed the pistol he’d taken from her, holding it by the muzzle as he raised the butt high above her head.

  She dodged, lifting her arm to take the brunt of the threatened strike. The pistol came down on the bone of her upraised wrist, sending shock waves up her arm. The agony was so great that for a vital few seconds she was paralyzed by it.

  In that moment, she became aware that Maddie was screaming, the same mindless shrieks she had listened to so many nights since they’d returned to Crenshaw. Was this the nightmare her daughter had seen in her dreams? This rather than Sarah’s murder as she’d thought?