Satan’s Lambs (15 page)

Caron narrowed his eyes. “That's the only reason I'm even considering helping you. That and Valerie, who twisted my arm, to tell you the truth.”

“What's the second thing?”

“There is some risk, in me putting the word out, that information will get to the wrong person. I don't want to be overly paranoid, but you never know who might be involved in these groups. Some of them could be doctors and nurses. Some of them psychiatrists. Parents involved in these cults have ties to mental health people from day one. They want their child to have a record of mental disorders, or problems, so that if they do grow up and point fingers, they're labeled as being disturbed from a young age.”

“I don't understand the
why
of all this.”

He chewed a thumbnail. “It comes down sometimes to—are there evil people, or just very sick ones.”

“You don't believe in evil, do you, Walter?”

“I didn't use to. I try not to. In my line of work, you know? But one thing I do think. These people, these hard-core ones. They're very angry folks. Doctors and nurses who see too many people die, and feel betrayed. They want to believe in something, but they've quit believing in a loving God. Some of them are ministers. Some are just people in pain who turned to traditional religions and got smacked in the head with the seven deadly sins. You find people who are trying to
control
their world. And satisfy all of the hedonistic urges. And there's plenty of the pathetic ones—ones who could never find acceptance, friendship, love, for whatever reasons. Dysfunctional people who get what they need from being one of the group. It's, forgive me, an exciting social outlet, that gives them all the no-nos their little hearts desire.”

Lena stared absently at Caron's feet. He wore scuffed Hush Puppies, the left one untied, laces wet and muddy.

“I don't know how big a risk it is, Walt,” she said finally. “But go with it and do what you can. We don't have a lot of time.”

“One more thing I need to say.”

Lena stood up. “What?”

“There's two ways to survive a childhood like that. Turn inward. Shrink. Disintegrate in alters. Or you can do what Jeff Hayes did. Go from victim to victimizer.”

“I assume you're not asking me to admire the man?”

“Of course not. But like it or not, he's just as much a victim as Melody or Charlie.”

“Jesus, you sound like a shrink.”

24

The front porch light was out when Lena got home. Had she left it on that morning? She frowned. She'd locked the sliding glass door, checked the answering machine, turned the coffee maker off in the kitchen and … yeah. Turned on the porch light.

The bulb might have burned out. Or maybe … maybe Hayes had turned the light off. Maybe he was inside, waiting.

Mendez was in Knoxville. Next door, the Wilkses' house looked dark and empty. She didn't know the people on the other side of her house.

She got back in her car and drove to a gas station with a pay phone.

Lena sat in the Cutlass with the doors locked and watched the house. No lights had gone on, no face had peered through the windows. The light had burned out on her front porch, and she was being silly. So what if Hayes was inside? She needed to talk to him anyway. If he could get her Charlie, she could get him money.

Still, she had no urge to go into the house alone.

Rick's Miata pulled up in the driveway, headlights arcing across the garage door. Rick left the engine running and ran across the lawn to the Cutlass.

“Lena? Good girl, I was afraid you'd go in.”

“Hi, honey.” Judith waved. She was tall, five nine, with a full curvy figure and short blond hair. She was a presence, in black velvet leggings and a T-shirt that glittered. “We got a surprise for you, Lena.”

“Yeah,” Rick said. “Come on.”

He took her hand and led her up the driveway. Lena heard a cat miaow.

“Maynard!”

She let go of Rick's hand and ran to the car. Maynard was in the front seat, nose pressed against the side of his kitty carrier.

“Oh, sweetie, oh, Maynard.”

“Told you,” Judith said.

Rick sniffed. “She was never that glad to see me.”

Lena opened the carrier and picked up her cat. Maynard purred loudly and butted his head under her chin.

Rick cleared his throat. “You girls stay here where it's safe. Call the cops if I don't come back in a half hour.”

Lena hugged Maynard and Judith tugged his tail. The cat miaowed. He licked Lena's thumb.

“Oh, Lena, he's giving you kisses.”

“Maybe a half hour is too long,” Rick said thoughtfully. “Probably fifteen minutes is plenty.” He patted his pockets. “Where's my key? Okay. Here it is.”

“Sorry about the bathroom rug,” Lena said to Judith.

“I never liked it. Rick just had it when we moved in together.”

“I picked it out,” Lena said. “I was in my geometric phase. Rick took it when we split.”

“Me and my mouth, sugar.”

“Girls. Could I have your attention, here? I'm going on up now.”

“Not by yourself,” Lena said. “Let me go with you.”

“No, it's too dangerous. Give me ten minutes. If I'm not back, you call somebody. Somebody big. Call Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

“Be still my heart,” Judith said.

“Rick, who are you doing? It's not Mel Gibson, is it?” Lena scratched Maynard behind the ears.

“It's not Mel Gibson,” Judith said. “When he does Mel Gibson, he winks a lot. Is it Michael Douglas?”

“No,” said Lena. “When he does Michael Douglas he sticks his chin out.”

Rick, two steps away on the driveway, turned and glared at them. “Thank you very much. It's not enough for the two of you that I might get killed by this psychopath—”

Judith leaned close to Lena. “Sugar, is he serious or is he doing righteous indignation?”

“Did he change clothes before he left?”

“No.”

“Serious.” Lena put Maynard back in the carrier. “Rick, I think we should all go together.”

“Not a chance.”

“Rick, if there are three of us Jeff will just run off, he won't hang around. And the phone's inside. We could call for help, unless he cut the line.”

“He didn't,” Judith said. “Rick thought of that. He called to see if your phone was working. The answering machine was full, but your line was okay.”

“Rick,” Lena said. “You thought of that?”

“Yes, I did. I've done Agatha Christie, you know, on the dinner theater circuit.”

“I know. Look, Rick, let's just go in together, okay?”

He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “If you really think it's for the best.”

“I do.”

“Avoid that phrase, Lena. It's gotten us in trouble once already.”

Maynard miaowed. Lena picked up the carrier. They went together in a knot to the dark front porch. Rick looked at the scattered leaves and the corner full of dirt clods and spider webs.

“Fire your gardener, sweetheart.”

Lena turned her key in the lock and pushed the front door open. Rick and Judith walked in a step behind her. The hallway and living room were dark. The light over the sink in the kitchen was on, just as Lena had left it.

Lena left the cat in the foyer and turned on the living room lamp.

“Anybody home?” Rick breezed past her and ran up the stairs, turning on lights as he went. “Hayes? You here, you bastard? Come out, come out, wherever you are! On Dasher, on Dahmer, on Hayes and Bundy. Manson and Gacy and …”

His voice trailed off. Lena opened the carrier and let Maynard out.

“Lena!”

Lena and Judith looked at each other.

“Lena, come quick!”

“The bedroom,” Lena said. She ran up the stairs and skidded to a stop at the doorway. “Rick? What's the—”

“That bastard ransacked your bedroom!” Rick circled the room, shaking his head. “Don't come in here, honey, it's awful.”

Lena took two steps into the room, “Rick, cut it out. Nobody's been in here.”

“You mean you left it like this?”

“Shut up, Rick.”

He picked up a pair of red silk panties. “I don't remember these.”

Lena snatched the panties out of his hands. “Get out of here.”

“Maybe he's under the bed.” Rick got down on his hands and knees.

“He's not under there. What are you doing?”

“Looking for used condoms.”

Judith grabbed his arm. “Come on, sugar, let's go find something to eat.”

“Not here. Lena doesn't shop. Anything in her refrigerator will be a hundred years old. Around here it's safer to order out.”

Lena tossed the panties on the bed and followed them down the stairs.

“Either of you girls got any money?” Rick said. “Let's order a pizza. Lena, you
do
have beer?”

“Yeah, I think. Only Beth and Mendez know for sure.” She headed for the telephone in the living room. The answering machine was blinking. Twenty messages.

Rick paused in the doorway. “Sweetheart?”

Lena quit chewing her lip and looked at him over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“What?” Judith said.

Rick grinned. “Lena, where are your spare light bulbs?”

“Under the sink in the kitchen.”

“Jude, hon, make sure and get extra cheese on the pizza.” He turned away. “I'm getting both of you a beer, so holler if you
don't
want one.”

“Rick, the beer's in the door of the refrigerator, so be sure and open it slow.”

There was a crash in the kitchen. “Booby traps!” Rick shouted.

“I said
slowly!
”

Lena pushed the Play button on the answering machine. The strains of piano music sounded tinny.

“Who cleaned out your pantry, Lena?” Rick cruised through the room, handing Lena and Judith each a bottle of Corona. A light bulb was tucked under his arm. “This is expensive beer. How do you afford it?” He cocked his head to one side, listening to Jeff's voice coming from the machine. “This is criminal, Lena! That man can't sing.” He headed toward the hallway, muttering something about amateurs. The front door opened and his voice faded.

The music stopped and the machine signaled the onset of another message. The piano started up again.

“God, that's creepy.” Judith took off her boots and curled up on the side of the couch. “Why don't you turn it off?”

Lena took a sip of beer. “May be something else in there. From somebody else. Or he may say something about Charlie.”

“He—”

The doorbell rang three times. Lena jerked.

“Just Rick,” Judith said.

Lena took another swallow of beer. The front door slammed.

“Lena.” Rick stood in the doorway. “You say you just changed that light bulb?”

She nodded.

“There's no bulb there.”

Lena frowned. “None at all?”

“Nope. I unscrewed the fixture to change the bulb, and there wasn't one in there at all. You think you just forgot to put the new one in?”

“That's a two-pack you're holding. Is there one missing?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I didn't forget.”

“You know what I think, babe? I think Jeff came and took it. That's what I think.”

“That's bizarre,” Judith said.

Rick sat beside her on the couch. “That's what
I
think.” He put an arm around Judith. “Either of you order pizza yet?”

25

“Rick,” Lena said. “Don't let Maynard eat off the plate. You're getting him in bad habits.”

“Lena, girl, you need another beer.”

Judith gouged soft white bread balls from the belly of her pizza crust. “I can't get the little boy out of my head. Rick, let's go to Knoxville and look for him.”

“Look for him where, Jude? Lena's right, Mendez has to handle that end.”

Maynard stepped delicately from Rick's lap onto the kitchen table. Lena scooped him up. The cat purred and wrapped his paws around her neck.

“Hugs
her
when I give him pizza.” Rick shook his head. “Lena, did you listen to all those messages on the machine?”

“All of them.”

“You said you tried to set up a trade. Insurance money for the kid. Hayes say anything about it?”

“Nope. I'm kind of surprised. I figured he'd of set something up by now. I don't like waiting around for him.”

Rick scratched his head. “Why don't you leave him a message?”

“With who? Satanists-R-Us?”

“On the computer, sweet bee. Electronic bulletin board. Something Uncle Rick can help you with. The kiddie diddlers have them. The satanists will, too.”

Lena looked thoughtful. “Can you do that, and them not know where to find you? Otherwise you could attract all kinds of nut cases.”

He shrugged. “Shouldn't be a problem. If it's a dial-in link nobody will know where I'm calling from. I can set up a shadow for information dumps. There may be passwords.” He shrugged. “There could be complications getting things, but should be no sweat leaving a message.”

“He may not be tied into that computer stuff,” Judith said.

“You can bet he knows somebody who is,” Rick said. “Be blunt, use his name, he ought to
love
that. Somebody will get it to him.”

Lena leaned back in her chair. “How about this. ‘Jeff Hayes. I have what you want. You have what I want. I can give you ninety thousand reasons to take care of the merchandise and make me a trade.'”

“I s'pose it gets the job done. You could use a writer, hon.”

The doorbell rang.

“I'll get that, Lena,” Rick said. “Write that message down, so I won't forget.”

Lena scrounged a pen from her purse and scratched the message out on a napkin. The front door opened and male voices sounded from the hallway. Lena frowned and looked up.