In Shadows (16 page)

AKE SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE
, sipping coffee, listening to the rain and watching Pam pretend to do dishes. But she kept looking toward the window that viewed the driveway. It wasn’t yet six-thirty, and yet the last of the feeble daylight was already gone. And Ernie was still out in the woods somewhere.

The rain was a pounding gray wall that reminded him uncomfortably of the scene at Galveston Bay, and he had a queasy sensation and nasty tickling between his shoulder blades. But he shook it off, smiling reassuringly at Pam.

“I tell him not to go out in weather like this,” she said. “But will he listen?”

“Ernie’s fine,” said Jake, wondering how much he believed that. “He’s probably just stuck in the mud.”

“I swear sometimes I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

She hugged her elbows, and he could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“There’s nothing out there to be afraid of,” insisted Jake.

But he knew that
she
knew he was lying.

“I’ve never forgotten what you told me about the night your mother died,” she said. “The Lord knows I’ve tried. And I’ve never told anyone. Not even Ernie.”

“I imagined it,” he insisted.

“That’s what I always thought. But Cramer saw something in the woods. Barbara heard something. Why did you leave? If you really don’t believe any of it’s real, then why did you run away?”

“Sit down. If Ernie doesn’t show up in the next few minutes we’ll call Virgil and organize a search. What are you cooking?”

She glanced at the pots on the stove and leaped to her feet. “I forgot! There’s bread and a pot pie in the oven.” She jerked the oven door open, but the pie was fine. So she turned the burners under the pots and pans to low and returned to the table.

“I know he’s okay,” she said, speaking more to herself than to Jake. But she didn’t sound that sure.

“No Ernie?” asked Cramer, sticking his head in the door.

Jake shook his head and Cramer frowned.

Pam stared at the darkness through the window as though some answer were about to spring out at her. Cramer eyed her with a helpless expression on his face.

“All right, then,” said Jake, rising. “Cramer, why don’t you fix plates for us while I make the call.”

He could tell Cramer was grateful to have something to do. Jake dialed 911, identified himself, and asked to be put through to Sheriff Milche. Luckily Virgil was in the office.

“What’s up?” asked Virgil. “Don’t tell me you two renegades solved the case.”

“Afraid not,” said Jake. “Ernie still hasn’t come home from traipsing through the woods.”

“I swear sometimes that boy makes me wonder if preachers have a lick of sense. Pam pretty worried?”

“She thinks he should have been home a long time ago.”

“Okay. I’m on my way, but all my men are out patrolling the roads. They’re washing out all over.”

“Thanks, Virg. Cramer and I will be ready when you get here.”

“No sweat. Hope you got raincoats and high-water boots.”

Jake hung up the phone. Pam stared at him expectantly. Cramer already had three plates full of food waiting on the table, and Jake dug in, knowing he might be starving before he had a chance to eat again. But Pam wasn’t going to be put off.

“Is he on his way?” she said, ignoring her dinner.

“Be here in a few minutes,” said Jake between bites. He noticed that Cramer was wolfing down his meal, too. But Jake figured that was more to keep himself out of the conversation than from hunger.

“Has Ernie got any rain gear Cramer and I can use?” asked Jake.

“What?”

“Rain gear. Cramer and I didn’t bring any.”

“I’ll see. He should have at least a couple of old sets. But I don’t know how good they’ll be.”

“This is too much of a coincidence,” muttered Cramer as Pam disappeared.

“Don’t add up two and two and get seven,” said Jake, thinking exactly the same thing. If anything had happened to Ernie . . . He didn’t want to think about what that would do to Pam. What it would do to his own sense of guilt.

Cramer nodded toward the window. “Ain’t looking forward to traipsing through those trees again. Especially in this storm.”

“You don’t have to go. Maybe it would be better if you stayed with Pam.”

“Like she isn’t going.”

“That would be stupid. What if Ernie shows up? We wouldn’t even know it.”

“I realize that. Do you think she’s going to listen?”

“I’ll make her listen.”

When Pam returned with two very worn raincoats and a couple of pairs of rubber boots she was wearing a coat of her own. Cramer just stared at Jake.

“What?” said Pam, handing Cramer one of the yellow slickers.

“You need to wait here,” said Jake, pulling on a raincoat.

“Not on your life.”

“You can call the station if Ernie shows up.
When
Ernie shows up,” said Jake quickly. “And they’ll let us know.”

She shook her head. “You know as well as I do that most of the time radios don’t even work in this valley. And I’m not going to just sit here any longer while Ernie’s out there in the woods somewhere.”

“Pam, you need to stay with Barbara. Anyway, you won’t be any help out there, and you can be here. We don’t need you getting lost so we have one more person to worry about. Besides, what happens if Ernie gets home and you aren’t here? Then he’ll start worrying about
you.
Listen to me.”

They locked eyes, and for just a moment Jake was convinced there was no way he was going to win the argument. But finally her face softened, and the strength drained from her. She walked into the living room and stood in front of the window, staring out into the downpour as Jake and Cramer struggled into Ernie’s old rain gear. Cramer looked like a gorilla in a child’s outfit. Black forearms stuck out of the yellow jacket, and his rain pants barely covered his shins.

Jake slipped behind Pam and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“We’ll find him,” he said.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She placed a hand over his without turning and squeezed.

“You all right?” Jake asked, as Cramer stomped around still trying to get the boots on his feet.

“Damned things are biting like crabs.”

“Better than going without.”

“Maybe.”

Virgil’s cruiser pulled up, and Jake hugged Pam before he and Cramer ran out to meet the sheriff. In spite of the situation, Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at Cramer as he tried to weasel his way into the car in the tight-fitting suit.

“Can you send anyone to stay with Pam?” asked Jake, climbing into the front seat.

“I got no one to send. Everyone’s on road duty with the storm.”

“Where we going first?” asked Cramer.

Virgil glanced in the rearview mirror. “You guys don’t have any idea where Ernie went today?”

Jake shook his head. “Pam said he was going to try up the old Burnout trail behind Rich Morin’s place. But if he didn’t find anything there he was liable to go wherever the urge struck him.”

“He ought to know better,” said Virgil.

“Why don’t you have a four-wheel drive?” asked Cramer, as the car wormed its way up the slimy road.

Virgil eyed him in the rearview again. “I put them all out on patrol today. With this rain half the highways are washing out, and it’s all the road crews and my boys can do to find the flooded spots and barricade ’em. Besides, I didn’t expect I was going to be doing any back-country driving until you fellows called. We’ll be all right. Betsy here has had her share of off-road excitement. If Ernie’s on the old Burnout trail we ought to come up on his truck pretty quick. That’s a start. If his truck isn’t there then we have problems, and we probably won’t find him until morning.”

“If then,” muttered Cramer.

Both Jake and Virgil gave him a dirty look.

“Here’s Rich’s drive,” said Virgil, turning in. “Past his house it turns into the trail.”

“How long has Rich been living here?” asked Jake.

Virgil shrugged. “Since he and Mandi were separated. Around the time Pierce . . . You know.”

“Yeah,” said Jake, staring at the trailer as they drove past. “What’s your opinion on that?”

Virgil sighed loud enough to be heard over the
slishing
of the tires and the rain pounding on the roof. “I try not to have an opinion. Rich is innocent until proven guilty, and his cousin swears he was with Rich at the time. Pierce couldn’t give us much to go on. So what could I do?”

“Pierce is blind and deaf,” said Jake.

“That’s right,” said Virgil, frowning. “And now he limps, too.”

“Yeah . . .”

“I thought you and Mandi were a real item all those years,” mused Virgil. “King and queen of the prom. And all through your days at the academy everyone was just figuring you were going to pop the question any time.”

“It was better for everybody this way.”

“She cried her eyes out after you left.”

“How come you know so much about Jake’s love life?” asked Cramer.

“Mandi’s my niece,” said Virgil, frowning into the rearview. He glanced at Jake again, and it was Jake who turned away first. “I didn’t care for the way you ran out or what you did to Mandi, Jake. But I always figured you had your reasons. She and Rich married right off, it’s true, and that was a big mistake. But I know it took her a long time to get over you, and I’m not sure she has yet.”

The car was silent until Cramer spoke again. “So what’s the origin of this Crowley curse?”

Jake snorted and turned to face his window.

“According to legend the original Jacob Crowley stirred up something in this valley,” said Virgil, smirking. “Some say it was an Indian spirit. I’ve heard some nuts claiming it was aliens. But the gist of the story is that it’s supposed to be the same thing that’s caused Crowley men to go off their rockers ever since. But some say there is no Crowley curse, just a monster in the valley, and some say the opposite.”

Cramer shook his head. “Is it or ain’t it?”

“You’ll have to ask Jake,” said Virgil, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“According to the story only the direct descendants, the male line, go crazy. That’s the myth,” muttered Jake.

“You,” said Cramer.

“Yeah.”

“So what’s that got to do with whispers and shadows?”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t know.”

But there was a time when he had
thought
he’d known, had thought he really did understand the curse. The answer seemed simple enough. Crowley men really did go crazy. And everything he remembered was all in his fevered imagination, or worse . . . things he himself had done.

Only then Albert had been murdered. And eight men ended up dead on a beach. Four of whom he couldn’t possibly have killed.

“Shit!” said Virgil, spinning the wheel and slamming the brakes just in time to stop the cruiser from hitting a deadfall pine. The tree blocked the road like a two-ton gate.

“What the hell caused that?” said Cramer.

“Gust of wind,” said Virgil. “Or more likely the rain washed away some of its support.”

“Guess we have to hike,” said Jake.

Virgil peered through the gloom. “I don’t want to park like this. If we’re a while in the woods, it may mud up enough so’s I can’t get turned around again.”

He spun the wheel and backed the car into a small grassy space between two tall birch trees. Then they all climbed out into the rain. Virgil handed Jake and Cramer flashlights from the trunk, and they trudged up to the fallen tree. Deep into the woods they could see the torn and twisted roots grasping skyward. Virgil shone his light across the trunk and up the trail, then turned back to Jake and Cramer.

“I was hoping maybe Ernie’s truck was stuck on the far side of the tree,” said Virgil.

“You are an optimist,” said Jake, scrabbling his way through the branches and sliding over to the uphill side. He reached back and took Virgil’s flashlight before helping him across.

“Come on, Cramer!” he shouted.

Cramer had trouble negotiating the twisted limbs because of his skintight rain gear, but he finally skittered across. Virgil was already disappearing into the night ahead, and Cramer and Jake slogged through the mud to catch up.

“How far does this road go?” asked Cramer, huffing alongside Jake.

“Miles,” said Jake. “It’s an old logging trail. The area up ahead burned out when I was a kid. Big forest fire. You won’t see trees as big as the one back there up in the burn, but I’m sure it’s all grown back now.”

“Miles,” muttered Cramer.

“Yeah,” said Jake. “But the good news is, because it hasn’t been logged in years there are no branch trails off this one. If Ernie’s truck’s on it we’re going to run into it.”

“It’s not Ernie’s truck I’m worried about running into,” muttered Cramer.

RE YOU SURE A CAR WENT PAST?”
said Rich. He stared out the window, clutching the shotgun in a death grip across his chest.

Carly watched him the way a rabbit watches a fox. “I saw the lights.”

“Who the hell would be driving up that old road in this?”

“How would I know? If you weren’t roaming the back of the house like an itchy hound dog maybe you’d have seen ’em, too.”

“You shut up. You don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.”

“Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“You don’t believe me, that’s fine, woman. But there’s something out there. The same thing I ran into up at the old Crowley place.”

“You never told me you ran into anything up there.”

He glared at her. “You remember when I come back though, right?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, cowering. “I remember. And you saw the same thing outside the trailer here?”

“I saw it and I heard it.”

“Whispering to you.”

“Yeah. Something like that. And it’s bigger than a fucking bear.”

“Well, if there’s something all that bad out there, maybe you ought to call the cops.”

“Fuck the cops,” said Rich. He stumbled to the fridge and snagged another beer, snapping the top with one hand, leaving the other hand glued to the gun. He took care of the brew in one long guzzle, tossing the can into the sink.

“Bet there’s a reward out for that thing,” mused Carly.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Bet there is.”

“Why would there be a fucking reward?”

“It sounds dangerous.”

“It by God is dangerous.”

“Then I’ll bet there’s a bounty on it.”

“Somebody else can claim it. You didn’t see that goddamned thing.”

“Just saying.”

“Shut up.”

He grabbed another beer from the fridge and plopped down into his recliner, resting the cold can on the pistol grip of the shotgun and staring at the blank TV screen. He’d made Carly turn it off so he could hear better. The only sound in the trailer now was the hammering of rain on the sheet-metal roof.

Maybe there was a bounty on the damned thing. But then, even if there wasn’t a bounty, there might be some kind of money in killing the thing. He’d seen the stories of those guys out west who’d shot the Sasquatch. The
Enquirer
would pay big bucks for a dead monster.

He swigged the beer slower this time, savoring it, taking it in three gulps instead of one. Then he tossed the can back over his shoulder without looking, satisfied by the metallic clink as it bounced around in the sink. He ignored Carly’s frown.

Might just get my ass killed going after that thing.

But the more he thought about it, the more his fear seemed groundless. The thing hadn’t attacked him when it had the chance. Was it going to come after him when he had a shotgun full of buckshot? He tried to picture the thing again. It was big. Damn big. Bigger than any bear. But hell, buckshot at close range would drop an elephant.

He staggered into the kitchen for another beer and stood sipping it, staring out the window into the darkness.

“Get me my rain gear and my flashlight,” he shouted without turning.

“Get ’em yourself.”

“Get ’em!” he screamed, kicking over a chair.

Behind him he heard the patter of feet.