The Door to December

by Dean Koontz

  Mondale was silent.

  Dan said, “Why’d you send them down to Westwood, Ross?”

  “I guess you didn’t know, but I’ve decided to provide police protection for the McCaffreys.”

  “Even with the current manpower shortage?”

  “Well, considering the Scaldone killing tonight and the extreme violence of these crimes, it seemed prudent to—”

  “Stuff a sock in it, you son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  “I know they were going to kill Earl and Laura—”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “—and snatch Melanie—”

  “Have you been drinking, Haldane?”

  “—and then go back later and report that Earl and Laura were already dead when they got there.”

  “Am I supposed to be making sense out of this?”

  “Your confusion almost sounds genuine.”

  “These are serious accusations, Haldane.”

  “Oh, you’re so smooth, Ross.”

  “These are fellow officers we’re talking about here. They—”

  “Who’d you sell out to, Ross?”

  “Haldane, I advise you—”

  “And what did you get for selling out? That’s the big question. Listen, listen, hold on a sec, bear with me, let me theorize a bit, okay? You wouldn’t have sold out just for money. You wouldn’t put your entire career on the line just for money. Not unless it was a couple of million, and nobody would’ve paid that kind of dough for a job like this. Twenty-five thousand. Tops. Probably fifteen. That’s more like it. Now, I can believe Wexlersh and Manuello would have done it for that kind of money, maybe even less, but neither of them would’ve whacked Earl and Laura without your approval, without a guarantee of your protection. So I’d say they got the money, and you got something else. Now what could that something else be, Ross? You’d sell out for power, for a really important promotion maybe, for a guarantee of the chief’s post and maybe even a mayoral nomination. So whoever bought you is somebody who controls political machinery. Am I getting warm, Ross? Did you trade Laura and Melanie McCaffrey for those kinds of promises?”

  Mondale was silent.

  “Did you, Ross?”

  “This sounds worse than drunk, Dan. This is spacey. Are you on drugs, or what?”

  “Did you, Ross?”

  “Where are you, Dan?”

  Dan ignored the question. He said, “Manuello and Wexlersh are at that apartment in Westwood right now, gagged and hog-tied, one on the commode and the other in the bathtub. I’d have flushed them both down the drain if they’d have fit.”

  “You are high on something, by God!”

  “Give it a rest, Ross. Paladin is sending a couple of men over there to babysit your boys, and I’ve already called a reporter at the Times and another one at the Journal. Called the division over there, too, told them who I was, told them there’d been an attempted murder, so they’ve got uniforms on the way. It’s going to be a circus.”

  After another silence, Mondale said, “Is Mrs. McCaffrey going to give a statement accusing Wexlersh and Manuello of attempted murder?”

  “Beginning to worry, Ross?”

  “They’re my officers,” Mondale said. “My responsibility. If they’ve actually done what you say, then I want to be absolutely sure they’re eventually indicted and convicted. I don’t want any damned rotten apples in my barrel. I don’t believe in covering up for my men out of some misguided sense of police brotherhood.”

  “What’s the matter, Ross? Do you think I’m recording this call? You think someone’s listening in? Well, there’s no one listening, no tape, so you can drop the act.”

  “I don’t understand your attitude, Dan.”

  “Nobody does.”

  “I don’t know why you suspect me of being involved.” He was a lousy actor; his insincerity was as obvious as a lisp or a stutter. “And you haven’t answered my question. Is Mrs. McCaffrey going to give a statement accusing Wexlersh and Manuello of attempted murder, or isn’t she?”

  Dan said, “Not tonight. I’ve taken Laura and Melanie away from there, and I’m keeping them with me, well hidden, for the duration. I know you’re disappointed to hear that. They’d have sure made easy targets for a sniper if they’d hung around, wouldn’t they? But I’m not telling anyone where they are. I’m not letting them meet with any cops from any division, either to give a statement or to identify Wexlersh and Manuello in a lineup. I don’t trust anyone anymore.”

  “You’re not talking like a responsible cop, Dan.”

  “I’m such an imp.”

  “For God’s sake, you can’t take personal responsibility for the McCaffreys.”

  “Just watch me.”

  “If they need protection, you’ve got to arrange it through the department, which is what I thought I was doing when I sent Wexlersh and Manuello over there. You can’t handle this by yourself. Good heavens, these people aren’t your own family, you know. You can’t just take charge of them as if it’s your legal right or something.”

  “If they want me to, I can. They aren’t my family—you’re right—but just the same . . . I’ve got something at stake here.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “You said it yourself, at the Sign of the Pentagram tonight. This isn’t an ordinary case for me. That’s why I’m holding on so tight. I’m attracted to Laura. And I pity the girl. What I feel for them is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt for other victims, so you keep that in mind, Ross.”

  “Right there’s reason enough to disassociate yourself from this case. You’re no longer an objective officer of the law.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “This explains why you’re so hostile, hysterical, filled with all these paranoid conspiracy theories.”

  “It’s not paranoia. It’s real, and you know it.”

  “I understand now. You’re distraught.”

  “I’m just warning you, Ross—back off. That’s why I even bothered calling you. Those two words: back off.” Mondale said nothing, so Dan said, “This woman and this child are important to me.”

  Mondale breathed softly into the phone but made no promises.

  Dan said, “I swear to God I’ll destroy anyone who tries to hurt them. Anyone.”

  Silence.

  Dan said, “You may be able to keep Wexlersh and Manuello quiet. You might even find a way to have the charges dropped and the whole thing covered up. But if you keep coming after the McCaffreys, I’ll find a way to break your ass. I swear it, Ross.”

  At last Mondale spoke, but not to the point, as if he had heard none of Dan’s warning. “Well, if you won’t let Mrs. McCaffrey make a statement, then Wexlersh and Manuello can’t be arrested.”

  “Oh, yes. Earl Benton can make a statement. He was pistol-whipped. By Wexlersh. Earl’s at a hospital, getting patched up.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Get serious, Ross.”

  Finally, out of frustration, Mondale showed a little of what he was really feeling. The dam didn’t break, but a hairline crack appeared in it: “You bastard. I’m sick of you, sick of you and your threats, sick to death of having you hanging over me like a goddamned sword.”

  “That’s good. Get it out, Ross. Get it off your chest.”

  Mondale was silent again.

  Dan said, “Anyway, if Earl’s released from the hospital, he’s going back to that apartment to talk with the uniforms who answered my call, give them a statement, see to it that Wexlersh and Manuello are booked on charges of assault and battery plus assault with intent to kill.”

  Mondale had control of himself now. He wouldn’t lose it again.

  Dan said, “And if the doctors want to hold him overnight for observation, then police from this division will be coming here for his statement. Either way, Wexlersh and Manuello aren’t going to skip out on this one . . . unless you work your buns off to slip them free of the hook. Which I figure you’ll have to do
in order to keep them quiet.”

  No response. Just heavy breathing.

  “When and if you finally smooth it over, Ross, you might be able to convince Chief Kelsey that you and Wexlersh and Manuello weren’t involved in a plot to snatch the girl and kill her mother, but the press will still figure something was going on, and they’ll never quite trust you again. Reporters will always be sniffing around you for the rest of your career, waiting for you to put a foot wrong.”

  Silence.

  “You hear what I’m saying, Ross?”

  Silence.

  “At best, you’ll hold on to your captain’s bars, but you won’t be on the mayor’s short list for chief. Not anymore. Now, see, this is a warning, Ross. This is why I called you. Listen close. Listen good. If you keep coming after the McCaffreys, you’ll be completely ruined. I’ll see to it. I’ll personally guarantee it. You’re half ruined now, but if you keep coming after them, you won’t even remain a captain. I’ll bring you down all the way. No matter who put you up to this, no matter how powerful and influential he is, he won’t be able to save your ass if you try to touch the McCaffreys again. He won’t be able to save you from me. You get the picture?”

  Silence. But it was a silence with an emotional quality now, and the emotion it radiated was hatred.

  Dan said, “I still have to worry about the FBI, and I have to worry about whoever was financing Dylan McCaffrey and Willy Hoffritz, because somebody out there wants that little girl real bad, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep worrying about you, Ross. Tonight, you’re going to relinquish your place on the special task force and hand the whole case over to someone else until you’ve cleared up this cloud of suspicion hanging over Wexlersh and Manuello. Understand? I’m not suggesting this, Ross. I’m telling you.”

  “You shithead.”

  “Sticks and stones. Listen good: If you don’t say what I want to hear, Ross, I’m going to hang up, and when I hang up, it’s too late for you to change your mind.”

  Silence.

  “Well . . . good-bye, Ross.”

  “Wait.”

  “Sorry, got to go.”

  “All right, all right. I agree.”

  “What?”

  “What you said.”

  “Make it plainer.”

  “I’ll take myself off the case.”

  “Very wise.”

  “I’ll even take a week of sick leave.”

  “Ahhh, not feeling well?”

  Mondale said, “I’ll get out of this, walk away from it, but I want something from you.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want Benton or you or the McCaffreys giving any statements about Wexlersh and Manuello.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Nonsense. The only way we have a hold on you is if we get those two creeps booked for attempted murder.”

  “Okay. Let Benton give his statement. But in a couple days, when you feel the McCaffreys are safe, then Benton retracts his accusations.”

  “He’d look like a fool.”

  “No, no. He can say someone else beat him up and that he took a bad knock on the head, he was confused and he mistakenly accused Wexlersh and Manuello. In a couple days, he can say his head cleared and then he remembered what really happened. He can say it was some other bum who beat on him and that Wexlersh and Manuello actually saved his ass.”

  “You’re in no position to demand anything from me, Ross.”

  “Goddammit, if you don’t give me an out, a glimpse of light, then I don’t have any reason for playing along with you.”

  “Maybe. But if we’re bargaining, then I want something else too. I want the name of the man who got to you, Ross.”

  “No.”

  “Who wants the girl, Ross? Tell me, and we’ve got a deal.”

  “No.”

  “Who convinced you to use Wexlersh and Manuello this way?”

  “Impossible. I tell you, and I’m really finished. I’m dog meat. I’d rather go down now, fighting, than rat on anybody and maybe wind up like those bodies in Studio City—or worse. I give you the McCaffreys, and after a few days, you give me Wexlersh and Manuello. That’s the deal.”

  “You’ve got to at least tell me if he’s the one who financed the work in that gray room.”

  “I think so.”

  “Is he government?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You have to do better.”

  “I just don’t know. He’s the kind of guy who could be a conduit for the government, or maybe he financed it himself.”

  “Rich?”

  “I’m not giving you his name, and I’m not giving you so many details you could guess his name. Hell, I’d be signing my own death warrant.”

  Dan thought a moment. Then: “He say anything about what they were trying to prove in that gray room?”

  “No.”

  “This guy, this one who got to you, this one who financed that crazy research . . . is he doing the killing, Ross?”

  Silence.

  “Is he, Ross? Come on. Don’t be afraid to talk. You’ve already said too much. I’m not insisting on his name, but I’ve got to have an answer to this one. Is he responsible for Scaldone and those bodies in Studio City?”

  “No, no. Just the opposite. He’s scared that he’s going to be the next target.”

  “Well, who’s he afraid of?”

  “I don’t think it’s a who.”

  “What?”

  “This is crazy . . . but the way these people talk, they’re so scared you’d think it was Dracula who was after them. I mean, from things I’ve heard, I somehow get the idea it’s not a person they’re afraid of. It’s a thing. Some thing is killing everyone connected with the gray room. I know that sounds like horseshit, but it’s the feeling I get. Now, damn it, do we have a deal or not? I back out of this, give you the McCaffreys, and you give me Wexlersh and Manuello. Is that agreeable?

  Dan pretended to think about it. Then: “Okay.”

  “We got a deal?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mondale laughed nervously. His laughter had a filthy edge to it, as well. “You realize what this means, Haldane?”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “You make a deal like this, you drop charges against men you believe to have intended murder . . . well, then you’re just as dirty as anybody.”

  “Not as dirty as you. I could float in a sewer for a month and eat whatever drifted by, and I still wouldn’t be half as dirty as you, Ross.”

  He hung up. He had eliminated one threat. No one would be using police badges to get close to Melanie. They still had an army of enemies, but now there was one less variety of them.

  And the beauty of it was that he had not given up anything in return for Ross Mondale’s retreat, had not even slightly dirtied his hands, because he didn’t intend to uphold his end of the bargain. He would never ask Earl to withdraw his accusations against Wexlersh and Manuello. In fact, when the case was finally broken and it was safe for Laura and Melanie to appear in public, Dan would encourage them to testify, as well, against the two detectives, and he would add his own testimony to the record. Manuello and Wexlersh were finished—and by extension, so was Ross Mondale.

  chapter thirty

  At twenty-five past midnight, the hospital released Earl Benton.

  Laura was shocked by the bodyguard’s battered appearance even after the blood had been cleaned off his face. On the side of his head, doctors had shaved a spot half as large as the palm of a hand and had closed the wound with seven sutures. Now it was covered with a bandage. His lips were purple and swollen. His mouth was distorted. One eye was black. He looked as if he’d had a close encounter with a truck.

  His appearance affected Melanie. The girl’s eyes cleared. She seemed to swim up from her trance to peer more closely at him, as if she were a fish rising to the surface of a lake to examine a curious creature standing on the shore.

  “Ahhh,” she said
sadly.

  She seemed to want to say something more to Earl, so he leaned toward her.

  She touched his battered face with one hand, and her gaze moved slowly from his bruised chin to his split lips, to his black eye, to the bandage on his head. As she studied him, she chewed worriedly on her lower lip. Her eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, but no sound came from her.

  “What is it, Melanie?” Earl asked.

  Laura stooped beside her daughter and put one arm around her. “What’re you trying to tell him, honey? Think one word at a time. Take it nice and slow. You can get it out. You can do it, baby.”

  Dan, the doctor who had treated Earl, and a young Latino nurse were watching attentively, expectantly.

  The child’s tear-blurred gaze continued to move over Earl’s face, from one battle scar to another, and at last she said, “For m-m-me.”

  “Yes,” Laura said. “That’s right, baby. Earl was fighting for you. He risked his life for you.”

  “For me,” Melanie repeated with awe, as if being loved and protected was an entirely new and amazing concept to her.

  Excited by this crack in Melanie’s autistic armor, hoping to widen it or even shatter the armor completely, Laura said, “We’re all fighting for you, baby. We want to help. We will help you, if you’ll let us.”

  “For me,” Melanie said again, but she would say no more. Although Laura and Earl continued to coax her, Melanie did not speak again. Her tears dried, and she lowered her hand from Earl’s injured face, and that faraway look returned to her eyes. She bowed her head, weary.

  Laura was disappointed but not despairing. At least the child seemed to want to come back from her dark and private place, and if she had a strong desire to recover, she would probably do so, sooner or later.

  The emergency-room physician suggested that Earl stay overnight for observation, but in spite of the drubbing that he had taken, Earl resisted. He wanted to return to the safe house and make a statement to the police, thereby pounding a few nails into a tandem coffin for Wexlersh and Manuello.