Fire Spirit (21 page)

‘I went outside to talk to her. I guess I felt angry with her for leaving me. At the same time, I wanted to put my arms around her and tell her how much I'd missed her. When somebody you love kills themselves, there's so many questions that you don't know the answers to, and never will. That's what really makes it unbearable. You're forever asking yourself why they did it. You're forever thinking, was it
my
fault?'

‘What happened when you went outside?'

Jack pulled a face. ‘She wasn't there. Well, what did I expect? I walked around the house but there was no sign of her. But I couldn't believe that she was only some kind of mirage. The sun had been shining on her hair and she had cast a shadow across the decking. A mirage can't do that.'

Ruth said, ‘Did you tell anyone that you'd seen her?'

‘How could I? I'm supposed to be Mr Pragmatic. If the chief had gotten to hear about it, he probably would have suspended me and sent me off to the nuthouse.'

‘Jack – lots of people think they see their loved ones after they've been bereaved. After my father died, I kept seeing men who looked exactly like him. In the street, in the supermarket. Once or twice I even called out to them, but then they'd turn around and they weren't him at all.'

Jack shook his head. ‘Unh-hunh. This was different, believe me. This wasn't a woman who looked like Lois. This
was
Lois. Besides, there's no way in and out of my back yard except through the sunroom.'

‘So what are you trying to tell me? How is this relevant to the Creepy Kid?'

‘I saw her again,' Jack told her. ‘It was, what, about a week later. She was standing in the same place, wearing the same dress, looking at the house in just the same way. It was foggy that morning, so she looked pretty ghostly. This time I didn't go outside as soon as I saw her. I stood there watching her to see what she would do. After about five minutes she walked off, crossed the grass and disappeared behind the yew tree. When I went out, she was gone. Vanished.
Desaparecido
. Same way you told me that the Creepy Kid had vanished.

‘Two days after that, she turned up one more time. I came into the sunroom and she was outside the window, right up close, staring at the urn on the window sill – staring at her own remains as if she couldn't believe it was her. I could even see her breath on the glass, that's how close she was. I went up to the window and looked out at her, but she didn't look back at me, didn't lift her eyes toward me even once. Then she walked off again, like she had before, and disappeared behind the yew tree. I didn't follow her. What was the use?'

‘So what did you do?' Ruth asked him.

‘You won't believe this, but the first thing I did was talk to a pastor – Mike McConnell at St Luke's. Mike – well, he was very understanding, very sympathetic, even though he probably thought that I was bananas. But he said that I should forgive myself for Lois taking her own life, and that instead of keeping her remains in an urn, I should set her free. He said that was why most people commit suicide. Whatever it is about life that's getting them down, they want to be free of it.

‘So, the same afternoon I took the urn to the community garden at Ivy Tech. Before she got sick, Lois used to love it there, growing her own fruit and vegetables. I walked around and emptied out the urn as I went. Discreetly, you know, between the rows of potatoes. I said a kind of a prayer for her, too, commending her soul to God. Lois was never religious, no more than I am, but I didn't want to limit my options – just in case there
is
a God and He was happy to take care of her for me.'

Ruth laid her hand gently on top of his, but said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

‘Lois never appeared to me again. Sometimes I wish I hadn't scattered her remains, because at least I'd be able to see her now and again. But if Mike McConnell was right, I gave her what she was looking for, which was freedom.'

Ruth said, ‘You really believe that something similar is happening here? You think the Creepy Kid may be dead, and cremated, and he keeps turning up because somebody is holding on to his remains?'

‘Sounds insane when you say it like that, doesn't it?'

‘Yes, it does.'

Jack thought about it for a while. ‘You're right,' he told her. ‘I need a couple of hours off. We'll figure this out, won't we? Maybe it won't be the sun shining through a glass flower-vase, but then again it won't be mirages, will it? Or ghosts, or dead kids looking for their ashes.'

FOURTEEN

N
adine was giving Bronze Star a final polish with a large rubber curry comb when she heard the stable door bang shut. The weather had been squally all morning so it didn't surprise her, but Bronze Star snorted and whinnied and pawed at the floor of his stall as if something had unsettled him.

‘It's OK, boy,' Nadine reassured him, and patted his flanks. ‘Nothing to be scared of.'

Bronze Star had always been a nervy horse, which made him unsuitable for children and inexperienced adults to ride, and last spring Nadine's father had talked about selling him and buying a more docile animal. After all, at Weatherfield Stables they made their living out of renting out horses and giving horseback riding lessons. A jittery creature like Bronze Star was a liability rather than an asset. If only a few people could handle him, he still needed feeding and veterinary care, as well as insurance. It was only because he was Nadine's favorite that her father had relented and allowed her to keep him. Nadine believed that Bronze Star could understand everything she said to him, and that he would have answered her, if he could, like a neurotic version of Mister Ed.

The stable door banged again, and then again. Nadine put away her curry comb and her dandy brush and buckled up her kitbag. She gave Bronze Star one last kiss on the nose, and then she let herself out of his stall and bolted the door.

It was then that she looked along the length of the stable and saw three men standing there, posed like gunfighters at the OK Corral. They were all dressed in black ankle-length coats and they were all wearing white masks – one of them fixed in hysterical laughter, one of them scowling, and the third one totally expressionless. Behind them, the stable door was swinging open in the wind, and outside it was dark and raining hard, with intermittent flickers of lightning. Raindrops were sparkling on the men's shoulders.

‘Can I help you?' Nadine called out. The men's appearance didn't unduly disturb her. Some of the people who came to Weatherfield Stables to rent out horses were wearing the most bizarre costumes, especially when they were out on a stag night or celebrating a special birthday. Nadine had catered for Vulcans, and X-Men, and Flintstones. Last month a party of Knights Templar had turned up dressed as geisha girls.

‘Help us?' the man in the laughing mask called back to her, looking around. He coughed, and then he said, ‘That depends.'

‘I'm sorry?' said Nadine.

The laughing man slowly walked right up to her, a little too close for comfort. She tried to see his eyes, but the slits in his mask were totally black and empty.

‘I said, that
depends
,' he repeated. His voice was coarse and catarrhal, as if he were suffering from a heavy cold or asthma. ‘What I need to know is, are you going to do what we want you to do, without argufying, or are you going to give us trouble?'

‘Why should I give you trouble?'

‘I don't know. Think about it. You might scream, for instance. You might complain. You might shout out for help.'

Nadine dug into the pocket of her padded vest and took out her cell. ‘Let me call my dad. Whatever you want, he can take care of you better than me. I only do the cleaning up around here.'

But the laughing man gripped her wrist and forcefully pried the cell from between her fingers. ‘Now, come on. We won't be needing your old man for this. This is something that only
you
can help us with, honeybun.'

‘So what do you want?' Nadine asked him. She was feeling panicky now. ‘Look – my dad will be here at any minute. He can help you. He knows all of the rental charges and stuff like that. He can work out discounts, too. You know, three rentals for the price of two.'

‘Ah,' said the laughing man. ‘The thing of it is, we didn't come here to rent no horses.'

‘Then, I'm sorry, but what
did
you come for?' Nadine retorted. ‘If I can help you with something, arranging some riding lessons, I'll help you. But if not, I really think you'd better leave.'

The laughing man leaned toward her, although his feet remained where they were, so that he was tilted at what seemed like an impossible angle. ‘Well, well,' he said, thickly. ‘You
are
the feisty one.' He coughed, but when he had finished coughing, he said, ‘Look at you. Curly blonde hair, cute little turned-up nose, eyes as big as breakfast plates. I do declare you look good enough to eat, from the toes upward.'

‘Please, go,' said Nadine. Her throat felt tight and her heart was beating so hard that her ribs hurt. She knew that her father had driven into the city to meet his tax accountant, and that he wouldn't return home for hours. Her mother was in Cleveland for three days, visiting her sister, and the only people left in the house were Cora, the maid, and Duncan, the odd-job man, who could fix anything that needed fixing, but who was no brighter than a mirror with its face to the wall.

‘No, no, doll face, we're not going,' said the laughing man. ‘Not until we get what we came here for. And the way it looks, what we came here for is
you.
'

‘I don't even know who you are,' said Nadine. ‘How could you possibly want me?'

‘You're the stable girl, aren't you? Or rather, the
un
stable girl. Or a pretty good likeness, anyhow, except you're much better looking. And you
smell
a whole lot nicer than she did, too. You smell of talcum powder, and freshness, that's what you smell of. Much more desirable than sweat and horse-shit and unwashed hair.'

Nadine said, ‘Really – I don't know what you're talking about or
who
you're talking about, but you really need to leave, right now.'

‘Oh, we're not leaving, not yet awhile,' said the laughing man. He had an unusual accent which she couldn't exactly place. ‘We have an ex-or-cism to perform, and we can't leave here until that's carried out, no sir, yip-a-dee-doodle. We have to put some souls at rest, and right some wrongs. Some terrible wrongs, the like of which you can scarcely imagine. So, no ma'am, we're not leaving.'

‘Who are you?' Nadine demanded. She was feeling bolder now, because she was growing angry and frustrated, and her adrenaline level was rising. Bronze Star whinnied and kicked against the door of his stall, and he could obviously sense that something was wrong.

The laughing man said, ‘It doesn't matter who we are, sweetheart. Not to you, anyhow. But the first thing I need you to do is to take off all of your clothes.'

‘
What
?' said Nadine. ‘Are you crazy? I'm not taking off my clothes! Just get out of here before my dad comes back!'

The laughing man shook his head. ‘We know where your dad is, honeybun, and we know that there is absolutely zero chance of him arriving home for another five hours at the very outside. So why don't you behave like a good little girl, the sort of girl who's used to pleasing her visitors, and get yourself naked?'

‘No way!' Nadine shouted at him. ‘No damn way! Now, get the hell out of here!'

‘OK,' said the laughing man, in his muffled, cardboardy voice. He lifted both hands as if in surrender. ‘If you won't cooperate freely, out of your own goodwill, then I guess we'll have to try something else.'

He clicked his fingers, and when he did so, the expressionless man reached into his coat and drew out a thin-bladed kitchen knife, at least eight inches long.

Nadine screamed, ‘
No
! What are you going to do?
No
!'

She ducked left, and then right, and tried to dodge around him, but the laughing man effortlessly caught her sleeve and twisted her around. He pulled her up close to him and she could smell a strong medicated liniment.

‘I'm really, truly sorry,' he told her, and then he coughed, and coughed again. ‘Sometimes, we have no way of escaping what has to be done, and this is one of those times.'

The expressionless man walked across to one of the stalls on the opposite side of the stables, where a six-year-old chestnut mare called Maggie May was watching them. He took hold of Maggie May's plaited mane and pulled her head toward him. Maggie May snickered and resisted at first, and tried to back off, but the expressionless man pulled her harder. ‘Come here, you fucking four-legged pain in the ass.' Then he held the kitchen knife close up to her windpipe.

‘
No
!' Nadine screamed at him.

But the laughing man pushed his white mask right into her face, so that he was only two or three inches away from her, and whispered, ‘
Your
choice. I asked you to cooperate, did I not? I asked you to act real nice and I didn't ask for nothing more. Now let me ask you one more time. Please, cooperate. We won't harm you if you decide not to do what you're told, but this horse will die, in a way that you never saw a horse die before.'

Nadine was shaking all over. ‘Are you cold?' the laughing man demanded. ‘Don't tell me you're
cold
! We want you to take off all of your clothes, and we can't have you feeling the cold!'

‘Please let me go,' Nadine pleaded with him.