But that was just a tiny part of a much larger picture. It was as if his very way of seeing had suddenly changed. He was looking out at the room, and he was also looking down at himself, as if he were Constance. And at the same time, he was looking at the farmhouse from outside. And at the same time he was sitting at a table in a restaurant in the town, sipping a coffee.
It was almost like what happened at his grandparent’s house, and at his mom’s, the outside view, except to a much greater degree.
It was too much. For a few seconds, he had been lifted out of his body and given a much larger view of the world. He seemed to see out of many eyes. Seemed to feel out of many skins. As if he were a hundred miles wide, with a thousand eyes, and these eyes, his eyes, in this bedroom, were only two of many. No more and no less important than any other.
And with the shift in perception, seemed to come knowledge that he could not have, had never had until this moment. Knowledge and memories.
For just an instant he was standing again in the drugstore. But not at the phone. This time he was standing at a rack of greeting cards, looking at the pharmacist’s counter where Mr. Garagee was preparing a bottle of pills, and standing in front of Garagee were two people, and he felt fear at their presence.
Shep! And Mom!
And that was the final straw. He fought back out of the fog, up out of the swimming darkness, back into the room.
“Mom!”
Constance pressed her hands to his shoulders. “Shhh. Sleep.”
“What’s happening to me?”
“Something good. Something wonderful.”
The pressure of her hands pushed him back to the cot. He closed his eyes. This time, the fog did not encroach upon his mind.
He was floating in water. Black water. Slipping under. Drowning. In sleep.
Shep stopped the car in front of the Marchmount Motel office. Gravel crunched under the tires.
“Should I come in with you?” Bonnie asked.
“Wait here until I check it out.” He got out of the car, but before closing the door he slid back in again. “One room or two?”
Bonnie considered the question. Two rooms would seem to fill the bill for propriety, but she did not like the idea of being alone.
“One would be better, don’t you think? A double?”
“Okay. Mr. and Mrs.?”
“I guess. Sure.”
He got out again and closed the door. He stood at the side of the car and stretched. A crescent moon of sweat darkened the back of his shirt. From the passenger seat, she could only see his torso, and when he stretched the lines of it became taut and angular. Her mouth felt dry, and she looked away.
Shep looked in the window again. “Back in a sec.”
She nodded and watched him walk into the office. The door swung closed behind him. He stood at the desk a minute, then walked out of her view. She could see nothing through the door glass.
A car went by on the road, engine clacking unhealthily, and she craned her neck to see. She caught the tail end of a blue pickup disappearing behind a windbreak of trees. It was the first vehicle she had seen on the road since arriving in Marchmount. After its passing, silence again pressed in, and the town returned to its dormant state. It felt like she and Shep were visiting a graveyard, disturbing things best left quiet in the ground.
She was still trying to relieve herself of the uneasiness that thought had caused when the office door opened and Shep came out. In the door behind him stood a young woman wearing a baggy T-shirt and cut-off jeans. Her face was round and shiny. She stood in the doorway and eyed Shep as he got back in the car. He was blushing.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He backed the car up in a spray of gravel, and drove to the end of the motel. When he had parked in front of Room 16 he turned off the ignition. His face was still red. “Felt a bit strange. Registering as Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.”
What was really strange, Bonnie thought, was seeing this big, dangerous man, blushing about a thing like that. She shook her head as she got out of the car.
“Did you ask her about Evan?”
“She hadn’t seen him.”
“Did you believe her?”
Shep stuck the key in the room door and turned. It opened with a squeal.
“I don’t know.”
He had just crossed the threshold when he stopped short and leaned against the door frame. The redness disappeared from his face and he became deathly white.
“Shep, are you all right?”
“No.”
He seemed to sink lower on the frame. Bonnie dropped her case and put her arm around his waist. The heaviness of him surprised her. He leaned on her and she led him to one of the beds. Sweat had popped out across his forehead. His pupils were fully dilated.
“Jesus, Shep, what’s happening?”
His big brown hand wandered to his neck and stroked the sweat-stained bandage. The edges of it unraveled.
Shep shook his head, as if trying to clear it of a dream. He groaned softly.
“I see things,” he said hoarsely.
Bonnie sat down on the edge of the bed. She touched a hand to his forehead. The heat made her skin sting.
“What things?”
She pushed him so that he fell back on the pillows. His eyes were open, but staring blindly. His chest was rising and falling very rapidly.
“A room. I’m spinning. There are people around me. Evan is there. There’s a doorway.”
It was Evan’s dream. The nightmare that had made him wake screaming.
Shep shook his head again. Sweat sprayed off his face.
“Oh. Oh.”
He groaned again, then sat up abruptly. He blinked and turned to her.
“It’s getting worse every time.”
“What is it, Shep?”
His eyes went faraway again. “It’s like I wake up somewhere else. I know I’m still in this room, but at the same time I’m in that other room, and these people are talking to me, egging me on. Come on over, they say. You’re almost there.”
“Just like Evan.”
“Right. The same thing.”
“Is it the cut?”
“I think so. It is some kind of infection, I’m sure of it. Maybe a drug of some kind. I don’t know.”
He tugged at his shirt and the top two buttons popped. His chest was dark red, bubbled in a rash like Evan’s.
Bonnie stared at it, shaking her head.
“It’s not just a cult, is it?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know, Bonnie.”
His voice was soft and fearful.
Bonnie shook her head, unable to assimilate it all. She had entered a world where all the rules had suddenly changed, where bodies and minds were malleable, easily broken.
“What are they, Shep?”
“I don’t know.” He lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes.
Bonnie fell onto the other bed. She lay there, eyes closed. They should be doing something, but she could not move. The heat was oppressive. She should get up and turn on the air-conditioner, but even that seemed like too much exertion.
I don’t want to find Evan, she realized. I don’t want to see what he’s become.
But even as she thought that, she remembered his voice on the phone, the fear in it, the pleading. Damn it, she was not cut out to be a mother. She wasn’t prepared. She didn’t know what to be feeling, never mind doing. Why hadn’t she let Tom and Roberta take the boy? They had wanted him.
She rolled over and pressed her face to the pillow.
“What is it?” Shep asked. “Are you okay?”
“No. I was thinking about Evan. I’m a terrible mother. I should never have taken custody.”
“This would have happened anyway. Would you be worried less if your in-laws had lost the boy?”
“That’s not the point.”
“You’d feel less to blame, maybe. But really, you wouldn’t be. Nobod
y’s to blame, unless it’s your ex. And these bastards.”
“I know, I know.”
“Now, you’ve got a chance to do something, to get him back.”
“Do I?” She didn’t believe it.
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“And then you be a mother to him, like you want to be.”
“How do you know I want that?”
He looked at her and smiled for the first time in a long time. “It’s written all over your face.”
Bonnie let her face fall to the pillow again. Damn it, damn it, damn it. He was right, of course. She wanted to be a mother to Evan, to make up for the time she had missed, but wanting just wasn’t enough. Not when you were talking about parenthood.
Shep got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She heard water running, and when he came back his face looked refreshed. He opened one of his cases and rummaged around. He tried to hide it from her, but she saw the gun he pulled out. She sat up on the edge of the bed and glared at him.
“Why don’t you unpack, get settled in. I want to check something out.”
“Check what out? Where are you going? Why do you need the gun?”
“I won’t be long. There’s just something I want to check out.”
“Shep, I don’t like this. I don’t want to be alone.”
“I promise, I’ll be back soon, and we’ll go looking. I promise.”
Bonnie didn’t know what to say. She nodded silently. She had to trust him. She had no other choice.
He smiled at her once, then opened the door and left. Feeling sick and frightened, she opened her case and began to unpack.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Shep parked around the corner from the drugstore, on a street that appeared to be residential. He sat in the car a few minutes, window down, smoking. He could see a school yard and children kicking a ball. Not much else.
When he finished the cigarette he flicked the butt out the window, locked up the car, and walked back to Main Street. Pedestrians were strolling. Most were locals, overdressed for the weather, walking with purpose. A few were tourists, dressed in shorts and T-shirts, walking aimlessly with ice-cream cones in their hands, peering in store windows as if they might find treasures here the city would never see. Lake Abewogan was close by, with its campsites and recreational facilities. Marchmount was the nearest town.
Shep walked past the drugstore, and without looking directly through the window saw a couple of customers inside. He kept walking, crossed the street, walked back. Teenagers outside a video store watched him, but with no hint of distrust. These were not city kids.
He crossed again. As he approached the drugstore the door opened and two women came out, talking animatedly, carrying a small paper bag. Shep pushed through the door before it had closed properly, scanned the aisles quickly, and latched the door. He searched for a CLOSED sign but could not find one.
He walked past the magazines and kneeled by the pay phone. The footprints were clear. He ran his finger through the dried dirt.
Garagee peered over the top of his work counter.
“Can I help you?”
Shep walked to the back.
“Hi,” he said.
“Oh, it’s you.”
His eyes, which had been friendly, now turned cold.
“It’s me,” Shep agreed.
“What do you want?”
“It’s about the boy.”
The line of Garagee’s lips straightened.
“I didn’t see any boy. I told you that. I told Sheriff Risely that.”
Shep nodded. From the front of the store came the sound of the door being tried. Garagee frowned.
“Did you lock the door?”
“I did.”
“You can’t do that! I’m open until six!”
He came around the counter, and Shep held up the Beretta. Garagee came to a complete stop, and his cold eyes were suddenly wide. His straight-line lips broke into a nervous smile.
“Now, that’s really not necessary,” he said.
“Come here,” Shep said.
Garagee moved where the gun pointed. Shep led him to the pay phone. He pointed at the footprints.
“Those are a child’s footprints.”
“Looks like it,” Garagee agreed.
“Recent.”
“Looks like it.”
“You said nobody had used the phone.”
“Well, I suppose they could have, when I wasn’t looking.”
Shep raised the gun and motioned for Garagee to move back to the counter. Shep followed closely. He followed Garagee behind the counter, then made him sit down. Garagee was shaking. Despite the air-conditioning, his forehead glistened with sweat. His eyes moved nervously, and he blinked as if dust were falling.
Shep leaned on the work counter and pointed the gun at Garagee’s stomach. He found the photograph of Evan in his pocket and held it out.
“This is the boy I’m looking for.”
Garagee looked down at the photograph and took a deep breath and shrugged.
“I haven’t seen him.”
Shep squeezed the trigger. Garagee screamed. Shep’s ears rang from the explosion. The bullet had shattered the wood of the seat between Garagee’s legs, barely an inch from his crotch. His pants were covered in splinters.
“Let me tell you something about myself,” Shep said. “Up until last year, I was a cop. I know when people are lying to me. I know when they’ve got something to hide. And you, Mr. Garagee, are hiding something.”
Garagee took a shaky breath and shook his head.
“Something else you should know. I’m no longer a cop. I’m looking for some people. The people who killed my brother. The people who took this boy. And I’m getting very angry.”
Garagee looked down at the photograph. He was very pale. He looked up at Shep.
“What’s your name again, son?”
The question caught Shep by surprise. He looked into Garagee’s eyes, and realized the fear there was mingled with something else. Something that might have been pity. It disconcerted him, and for a moment he was at a loss. The gun wavered.
The moment stretched.
“My name is Shep Thomas.”
“Shep. That’s an interesting name. Short for Shepard?”
Shep nodded.
“Shepard, you’ve got yourself mixed up in something here that is way, way over your head.”
Shep brought the gun to bear. “The boy was in here, wasn’t he?”
Garagee nodded. “He was.”
“Why did you lie?”
Garagee shook his head.
“You know where he is.”
“No, I don’t.”
“But you know the people who’ve got him.”
Garagee shrugged.
“Tell me where they are.”
Garagee looked up at him again and smiled. “No.”
Shep kept the gun steady.
“Are you frightened of them?”
“No, but you should be.”
“I am frightened.”
“Then go home.”
Shep sighed. He kneeled down and pressed the barrel of the gun into the hollow of Garagee’s throat.
“Listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. I need to find the boy. Why won’t you help?”
“The boy will no longer be what you expect him to be,” Garagee said softly.
“Mr. Garagee, tell me where he is, or I will kill you.”
Garagee looked into Shep’s eyes, then closed his own eyes.
Shep stared at him, suddenly off balance again. He lowered the gun. Garagee’s eyes remained shut. Shep looked around himself. On the counter was a photograph. In the photograph was Garagee, beside him a woman who looked very tired. Beside her, another woman.
Shep poked Garagee with the gun. Garagee opened his eyes.
“Give me your wallet.”
“If you want money, there’s a hundred odd dollars in the till.�
��
“I want your wallet.”
Frowning, Garagee dug into his pocket. He handed the wallet to Shep. Shep dug out the driver’s license and looked at it. He studied the address.
Garagee blinked, suddenly catching on.
“Now, wait a minute.”
Shep pushed the gun back into his throat. He nodded at the photograph on the counter.
“Is that your wife?”
Garagee said nothing. His upper lip trembled.
“The other woman your daughter?”
No answer.
“Any chance they’ll be at your house?”
Garagee made a harsh clicking noise back in his throat.
“Mr. Garagee. Tell me where the boy is. Tell me where I can find him. Tell me, tell me the truth, or I will shoot you, and then I will go to your house, and I will kill whomever I find there.”
And as he said it he meant it, meant it with everything inside of him. He would do it. He would take a life and destroy it, in this quest.
Garagee’s eyes glistened. “You’re a fool, Shep.”
“Tell me.”
“You’ll regret it if I do.”
“Tell me. Tell me now.”
Shep squeezed the trigger. The back of the chair splintered, and the bottles behind Garagee shattered, spilling blue and pink pills across the floor. A thin trickle of blood flowed from a crease in the skin of Garagee’s neck, soaking into his shirt. The front of his pants darkened with a spreading stain. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he was trembling. “Tell me,” Shep whispered.
Bonnie had just finished moving her clothes into the dresser next to the bed when the knock sounded at the door.
She went to the door, but did not open it.
The knock came again.
“Yes?”
“Miss Laine? Sheriff Risely, here.”
Bonnie chewed her lower lip. She did not trust Risely.
“I’m busy,” she said through the door.
“I’m sorry about that. Miss Laine, we’ve got to talk. It’s about your son.”
“What about him?”
“Please open the door.”
Although some inner sense warned her against it, Bonnie unlatched the door and opened it. Risely nodded at her, but he did not smile. He looked very serious.
“We might have something. Can you come with me?”
Nightscape Page 23
