Ghost Light (15 page)

“No, what?”

“Something’s been bugging me.”

“What, honey? You can tell me.”

“Well… I—I just don’t… don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what, honey?” Cindy asked.

She reached down casually and scruffed the little girl’s hair. It seemed like over the last week, Krissy had started to come out of her shell—at least a little bit. She was smiling a little more easily, now, and several times she had even started an argument with Billy, fighting back and sticking up for herself when she wanted to try the Nintendo game. In a week filled with work and stress, that was one of the few things that actually gave Cindy a slim ray of hope that she hadn’t completely ruined these kids’ lives by taking them away from their father.
Their father!

Every time she thought about him, a clear image of Alex would form in her mind, making her blood run cold. The word
murderer
would shout inside her brain and echo hollowly, and then she would be filled with the cold, hollow sense of loss she still felt for her sister… would
always
feel for her sister!

“I don’t like the way she’s always watching us,” Krissy said. “I… I see her there almost all the time.”

“Huh? Who’s watching us?” Cindy asked.

She felt a mild ripple of apprehension but didn’t want to let it show as she looked back over her shoulder, thoroughly expecting to see someone—a police officer or security guard, walking purposely toward them.

“That lady… in our apartment,” Krissy said.

Cindy could feel the little girl’s skin go cold under her touch, and she remembered that night in the motel, somewhere in the Midwest, when Krissy had started screaming in her sleep about the lady… the blue lady.

“I—uh, don’t know who you mean, honey,” Cindy said, hoping the little girl didn’t notice the slight quaver in her voice.

“In the apartment next to us. What, haven’t you seen her?”

Cindy bit her lower lip and shook her head.

“Every time we’re going either up or down the stairs, she’s there in the door. There isn’t much light inside her apartment. It sorta looks like she has just the TV on, and it makes her face look all… all weird.”

A shiver raced up Cindy’s back. They had been so busy all week, and running in and out of the apartment so much, that she hadn’t even considered if there was someone living in the other apartment on their floor. At least so far she hadn’t seen anyone or heard anything, even late at night. Was there really someone there, or was this more of Krissy’s fanciful imaginings?

“Have you seen her?” Cindy asked.

“Uh-huh. Almost every time we go up the stairs, she opens her door, just a crack, and peeks out at us. I only see, like, her one eye, but she just stares at us… at me, I think.”

“If you haven’t really seen her, how do you know it’s a lady, then?” Cindy asked. The chill was getting worse. She wished she could blame it on the store’s air-conditioning.

“Cause I can see her hair… she has blue hair.”

3

A
s Friday morning slipped slowly toward noontime, the tension winding up inside Alex was getting so bad he really thought his head might explode. More than anything else, he wanted to slug down a beer or two just to steady his nerves. But he knew that once he started drinking he might not be able to stop.

Shit, no!
he told himself.
I can stop drinking whenever I want to… I just might not fucking WANT to.

He knew the last thing he needed right now was to blunt his edge, which was honed razor-sharp after only a few hours of sleep and more than his usual amount of morning coffee. Just like talking this morning to that woman—he still had no idea what her name was—he was fearful that something might come up that he hadn’t thought about.

He had to be able to think fast.

Before heading out to Portland, Maine, he had to wrap up one or two more things. The next on his list, after a short phone call from the phone booth in front of the Big Apple at the corner of 30th and Cedar, was a quick trip over to Harry’s house—for one last look around and to do a little something he thought might be necessary.

He looked up the number for Harry’s hardware store in the directory and then dialed it. After two rings, someone answered the phone. It sounded like a young kid. Alex asked to speak to Harry without offering his name. He piled it on thick, using a phony Southern accent, which at least was easier than trying to sound like he was sick with the flu.

“I’m sorry,” said the sales clerk, “but Mr. Toland is busy with a customer right now. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Y’all have any idea when he’ll be done?” Alex asked. He still hadn’t been asked to give his name and was hoping he could railroad the rest of this conversation without having to.

“Well—I dunno for sure,” replied the young man, sounding as though it was taking him quite a bit of effort to pull all of these salient facts together. “He said something about going out and not being available until sometime in the afternoon. Say, could I ask who’s calling?”

Damn!
Alex thought. He had a story ready but would have preferred not to use it, just in case he somehow got caught up in a lie.

“Sure thing. This here’s Hank Wallace. I’m a salesman for Owens-Cornirg.” He let his voice drag on every other word, hoping the accent was convincing. “Yah see, I just took over this here sales territory last week, and—well, I don’t have my ’pointment book handy, but I thought for sure I had a meetin’ scheduled with Mr. Toland for late this morning, for, uh—” He checked his watch and saw that it was already a quarter past eleven. “I think it was for ’leven o’clock, but I’ve been running a little late, here, and cain’t make it for least half an hour, Could you leave Harry that message, that I’ll be by just as soon as I can?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” the clerk replied, “but I think Harry said something about not wanting to—”

“I’d ’preciate that, son,” Alex said, speaking over the young man. “I’m none too familiar with this here city and just got a little mixed up is all. Tell him I’ll be there as soon ’s I can.”

With that he hung up quickly. He checked the coin return to see if his quarter had dropped back out, then got into his car and drove straight to Harry’s house. He knew he should still be very cautious about being seen anywhere near the house—especially if what he had planned to do today really did happen—but the alternative was to be as bold as brass, and just pull into the driveway and walk into the house like he fucking-A belonged there.

Why the hell not?

So that’s exactly what he did. He pulled up to the top of Harry’s driveway and stopped right in front of the kitchen door. Before getting out of the car, he pulled on the pair of rubber gloves he’d gotten from under his kitchen sink. After digging the house key out of his pocket, he got out and walked quickly to the side door. His hand shook as he slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door knob twisted in his hand. He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it quickly behind him.

Moving swiftly, he walked over to the telephone answering machine. His first impulse was to smash the shit out of the machine, but then he thought better of it. If things got fucked up—or even if they
didn’t
—and the police came around later, a broken answering machine might look a little suspicious. Instead, he followed the wire down to the outlet on the wall and loosened the plug, jiggling it just enough so the machine shut off but the plug was still in the socket.

“There,” he whispered, satisfied that if Harry’s lover tried to call, she wouldn’t be able to leave a message. There was no telling what she might want to say to “baby-doll” before she came over with her kettle of hot chicken soup and her mouthful of ice cubes.

Satisfied, he was about to leave but happened to glance at Harry’s appointment calendar on the counter. A telephone number, written in red ink and circled at the top of the page, caught his eye. It had an area code of 207.

“Shit, that’s in Maine,” he whispered.

He glanced over his shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone was standing nearby, watching him. The doorway and windows were clear, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was somewhere close, watching him. Shrugging it off, he tore a corner from the bottom of the page and quickly copied down the number. Once he got to Maine, all he would have to do is call directory assistance and ask for the address. Snickering under his breath, he replaced the pen on the counter. Confident that he had left no fingerprints with the rubber gloves, he left, making sure to lock the kitchen door behind him.

“Christ on a cross, this is, almost too fucking easy,” he said.

He almost laughed out loud as he got into the car and started it up. When he thought about what he was going to do next, though, the smile quickly melted from his face like spring snow. This was it—the big one. Up until now it had all been penny-ante stuff. He backed around and pulled out of Harry’s driveway, heading for downtown. From there, he intended to cross the bridge over to Council Bluffs, Iowa, and drive straight to the Buzzy Bee Motel.

That’s
when the real fun would begin!

Motel Rendezvous

J
ust in case the horny old bastard couldn’t hold himself back and got there early, Alex arrived at the Buzzy Bee a half hour earlier than he probably had to.

He pulled into the parking lot and drove slowly around the building complex once, but he didn’t see Harry’s bright red Camaro. He figured Harry either hadn’t arrived yet or else was driving someone else’s car. Doubts and dark worries began to fill his mind.

What if Harry had gone first to the woman’s house, or decided to surprise her by meeting her at the airport?

What if she had a chance to tell him someone had called her earlier that morning, pretending to be him, so they decided not to come out here today?

And what if Harry had guessed it was Alex who was screwing around, and had called the police who were on their way over here right now?

There was no way of knowing, so Alex told himself not to worry as he parked between two cars facing the motel office and killed the engine. So far he hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing illegal. As long as the cops never found out he had broken into Harry’s house a couple of times, he was clear. He took a deep, steadying breath, glanced at his watch again, and checked to make sure the things he had brought along for the afternoon was still under his car seat. Then he settled down in the seat to wait.

Time passed slowly.

It seemed as though he checked his watch every other goddamned minute. Off to the west, a wide band of purple storm clouds was coming up fast, shadowing the outskirts of Omaha across the river. It would be raining and thundering soon, and Alex wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he contented himself with the thought that there were always going to be things he wasn’t going to be able to control. Eventually, everything would work out as long as he didn’t do anything rash or stupid. He tried to calm himself by thinking how he would just have to be patient and wait. He wasn’t going to make a move unless he was positive he could keep it all under control.

Yeah, those were the key words, here…
patience and control
.

Of course, he had no idea if Harry was going to show up at all. The woman in Chicago could have contacted him a dozen different ways, especially if she had started thinking that it hadn’t been Harry she had talked to this morning. But like it or not, this was one of those things he couldn’t do anything about. If this plan all went to shit, then fine; he’d just have to come up with something else. It wouldn’t hurt to try to find out the name of that woman. But he had plenty of time, and he was patient. At this point, about all he could do was hope he had been convincing enough to keep that woman away from the motel and Harry’s house—at least until later this afternoon—and that Harry would show up.

Then he could take it from there.

Alex rolled down the window and inhaled the hot air, tainted with the smell of exhaust from the nearby highway. It was almost nauseating. Cars and semis speeding past on the highway created a loud, numbing backdrop of noise. He wished he had a beer to help stop the rushes of excitement and expectation that were racing through him. Hell, even a warm one would go down pretty smooth right now.

No!
he told himself.
All I have to do… all I CAN do is wait… wait and see what—if anything—happens
.

2

H
arry got out of his car and walked into his kitchen only seconds after Alex had pulled out of the driveway, but he didn’t see—or notice—Alex’s car, and even if Alex had left any obvious signs that someone had broken into the house, Harry was in such a hurry to get ready that he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

After yanking off his necktie and tossing it along with his sports coat onto the counter, he walked quickly through the kitchen, heading upstairs. He glanced at the answering machine and saw that there were no messages but was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice the power light was off. Whistling jaunty tune, he went into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes, started the shower, and stepped in.

The water felt good, almost stinging as it hit his body like hundreds of blunt needle points. Still whistling a hodge-podge of tunes, be shampooed his hair and started washing his body.

Damn, but didn’t the water feel terrific!

And, he told himself, this was only the beginning. It was going to get infinitely better as soon as he saw Elizabeth. From then on, it was going to be one
hell
of a great afternoon!

“What a wonderful life, a wonderful life,” he sang out loud to no particular tune.

After not seeing Elizabeth for more than a week, he got horny as hell just thinking about her. He had tried calling her at the Chicago Hilton this morning, but she had already left. He wasn’t too worried, though, because they had confirmed the time of their rendezvous over the phone last night.

And—
Goddamnit!
—he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her!

Just thinking about her full, round breasts and the ways she used her mouth and legs gave him an instant erection. It no longer bothered him that thinking about her thrilled him in ways that thinking about Cindy never did—or, if it ever had, it had been so long ago that he could no longer remember. Elizabeth had rekindled his life, giving it a new spark and energy which, until he had met her, he had been afraid had been lost forever.

He had told his employees that he had a dentist appointment at two o’clock and not to expect him back at the store until three-thirty or four. That would give them two full hours at the motel. Two hours in which they could screw until they were raw! About the only concern he had right now was that, as soon as they were in bed together, he would shoot his wad so fast he’d be useless for the rest of the afternoon. But then he smiled, remembering some of the little tricks Elizabeth knew to help him maintain his interest. His erection throbbed almost painfully as he lathered up the washcloth and scrubbed his crotch.

“Yes
sir-ee
,” he yelled, leaning his head back and gurgling as his mouth filled up with water. He couldn’t restrain himself from shaking his sudsy fists over his head as he whooped with joy.

“By
Jesus
, this is going to be one
hell
of a great afternoon!”

3

“F
uckin’-A! There he is,” Alex whispered when he saw the bright red Camaro pull into the parking lot and stop in the empty parking lot by the front office door. His body stiffened, and his hands clutched the steering wheel like claws as he leaned forward, prepared to duck out of sight below the dashboard if he had to. He was barely breathing as he watched Harry Toland get out of the car and, moving with a jaunty, almost effeminate step, walk up to the front door.

“Yeah, it sure as hell looks like you’ve done this plenty of times before,” Alex said to himself. “What do you do, have an arrangement with the manager to rent a room by the hour? You lousy son of a bitch!”

He considered the plan he had concocted and then wondered if, instead, it might not be better to try to get a few Polaroid shots of Harry with his mistress. Not a bad idea… just a little something to show Cindy once he found her.

And make no mistake—he
would
eventually find her… and his kids! In spite of the anger that boiled up inside him like lava, he hadn’t lost focus of what he was doing and why. He wanted his goddamned kids back. No one was going to take them away from him without paying dearly!

He lost sight of Harry behind the flash of sunlight reflecting off the plate glass windows, but after a while Harry came back outside, got into his car, and started it up.

Oh, fuck! What’s he doing? Is he leaving? Maybe he called her from the office to make sure she was on her way, or she had somehow gotten a message to him! Maybe the whole gig was up!

Alex watched anxiously as Harry backed the Camaro around. For an instant, it looked like he was going to leave, but then he cut the wheels sharply to the left and drove down the line of units until he parked in front of the next to the last door. He got out of the car and looked around, a satisfied smile splitting his face as he leaned his head back and took a deep breath. In one hand, he held a dozen red roses wrapped in a cone of shiny green paper, and a bottle of champagne; in the other, he tossed a room key up and down like a wise-guy flipping a coin.

“Yeah, awright!” Alex said, unable to stop himself from smiling as he watched Harry unlock the door, step into the darkened room, and close it behind him. He glanced at his watch again and saw that it was just past one o’clock.

“Just like fucking clockwork,” he whispered.

Alex fished the paper bag out from under the car seat and opened it up, spilling the contents onto the seat beside him. After pausing a second to steel his resolve, he picked up the rubber gloves and pulled them on; then he slipped the hunting knife into his hip pocket and opened the car door. As he stood up, he pulled his tee-shirt down to cover the knife as best he could. His hands were already sweating ferociously inside the rubber gloves. After glancing nervously around to see if anyone had noticed him, he made his way quickly across the parking lot to the unit. At the door, he made a fist and knocked twice, lightly.

4

H
arry arrived at the Buzzy Bee not more than five minutes late. He was a little bit concerned when he didn’t see Elizabeth’s car in the parking lot, and his concern grew when he found out she hadn’t registered yet or even left a message for him at the front desk. Usually, if she was going to be late, or if there had been a change in plans, she’d call and let him know. After he got a room, signing in as he always did as John Donne, he made a quick call to Eppley Field, the Omaha airport, to confirm that her plane had landed on time. Telling himself not to worry, that he was just being over anxious and she was probably caught in traffic and would be right along, he went to the room, stripped back the bedspread, and started plucking off rose petals and sprinkling them all over the clean, white sheets. When he was finished, he had a quick impression that the bed looked like it was splattered with blood. He wondered if he should get rid of the petals before Elizabeth arrived.

“Damn… satin sheets would have been better,” he said, smiling to himself. “Yeah… black satin sheets.”

He laughed aloud, remembering the time they had rented a room in a fancy hotel downtown. They’d had so much trouble trying to keep from slipping off the satin sheeted bed.

But no, he decided, this looked nice… romantic, and if nothing else, Elizabeth would get a laugh out of it. He went into the bathroom, picked up the ice bucket, and was about to go for some ice for the champagne when there came a light knock at the door.

“Come on in. It’s unlocked, honey,” he called out, starting toward the door. What he had been about to say next instantly died on his lips when the door swung open, and the dark silhouette of a man filled the doorway. The man moved quickly to enter the room, kicking the door shut behind him and quickly snapping the deadbolt lock shut.

“What the fuck—” Harry shouted, backing up into the room. He wasn’t sure if it was real or not, but he thought he heard the distant, throaty growl of thunder.

At first he didn’t recognize the man, but as soon as he shut the door and the sunlit glare from outside was cut off, he saw that it was Alex Harris.

“Christ, Alex! What the—? How did you—?”

Harry’s voice caught in his throat when he saw the leering grin on his brother-in-law’s face. It wasn’t until Alex turned slightly and fumbled briefly to slide the security chain in place that Harry noticed he was wearing rubber gloves. That didn’t look at all right. A hot, dry lump formed in the center of Harry’s chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, trying to sound like he was in control. But he barely disguised the tight quivering in his voice.

“No, no, no, Harry,” Alex said, arching his eyebrows and staring at him. “The real question is:
What
the
fuck
are
you
doing here?” Alex’s smile widened like a leering fox as he took a few steps forward. Harry backed away to keep the same distance between them when Alex made a fist with one rubber-gloved hand and smacked it into the palm of the other, making a wet, slapping sound.

“Well I—you see—I’m—it’s—”

“No… no, you can save me the fucking excuses, all right?” Alex said, lowering his voice with menace. He waved one rubber-gloved hand as though scolding a wayward child. “I know
exactly
what you’re doing here: you’re meeting up with a woman. And I know it’s
not
your wife—” In an instant, Harry’s face flushed bright red. “Not the person who stole my kids away from me.” He paused with a look of smug satisfaction on his face as he let his words sink in; then he leaned forward and added with a teasing lilt to his voice, “Isn’t that right…
honey-bear
?”

Alex laughed at that, but not even for a second did he pull his steady, unblinking gaze away from Harry as he took another step closer.

“Why you lousy mother—”