The Devil's Demeanor (18 page)

The other words
had been significant—though harmless—to Don, but this one could only mean one
thing: Something bad was coming.

*
 
*
 
*

The Scott
family had gone out to eat that night and were just arriving home at nine when
Yvonne shouted from the living room, “Don, make sure you take off those shoes
before stepping on
my
carpet!”

Don, who’d
already been in the process of removing them, froze and stared at her over the
banister in the foyer. “I was already doing that!” he shouted back in a tone
equal to hers.

“Yvonne,” said
Dad, “don’t talk to him like that.”

She stared at
him with wide eyes. “He’s been getting my carpets dirty!”

“He was already
taking his shoes off before you said anything. You would have known that if
you’d looked before you spoke.”

Yvonne threw up
her hands in exasperation and went into her room.

“Thanks for
standing up for me,” Don murmured.

“I wasn’t
standing up for you,” Dad said as he took Liz with him into the living room.

Don sighed,
removed his shoes, and trudged upstairs to his room. Once there, he pulled out
his cell phone and texted Craig.
How are your roommates doing?

A minute later,
he got a reply:
Volatile. Her dad showed up and cussed Corey out this
morning because of something. It was scary as hell.

Don read it,
and then rested the phone on his chest as he started to doze. He was dreading
working tonight, especially after the murder. Perhaps he should take his
supplements later in his shift, that way he wouldn’t crash so soon.

His cell lit
up, indicating another text:
Did you hear about the murder near your job?

Yeah. Scary. Supposedly there are homeless people in the
mall but I’ve never seen any.

It would be trippy if the victim was killed in the mall.

Don stared at
that message for a long time before replying,
That would be terrifying. I
doubt that happened, though. I’ve never seen anyone.

Just because
Don had never found anyone during his rounds didn’t mean they weren’t there. He
decided he would check more thoroughly tonight. If he did find people there, he
would ask them questions.

*
 
*
 
*

When he rolled
into work a few hours later, he immediately checked the door by the office. It
was closed, as it should be. Rosie didn’t report any strange occurrences during
her shift but did go on for half an hour about the body found in the lake.

The mall was
just off the freeway, surrounded by fast-food restaurants. There was a wooded
area just past the parking lot, with a winding road he also checked when he did
outside rounds in the security truck. Barely half a mile past the woods was the
lake where the body was found. That was too close for Don’s comfort.

After Rosie
finally left, he did inside rounds. He hadn’t taken the supplements yet and
planned to forgo his usual workout regime in exchange for the search for any
homeless inside the mall. He had brought some CDs he usually listened to either
in the office or during his workouts, but he couldn’t imagine listening to them
now; he didn’t want to be distracted.

He shined the
flashlight’s beam into every single store, but could see nothing except shelves
and mannequins. The gates were permanently closed on some of them and he
couldn’t imagine how anyone could get in or out of them. If there were homeless
about, they were in the easily accessible lots.

As he made his
way past a large collection of junk that was to be collected the next day, he
came upon the movie theater around the corner. There were two grille gates,
separated by a box office. One of the gates was partially open. Don didn’t
panic; that gate had been open since he’d started working there, and the
theater had been closed for at least a year. It was one of the largest lots in
the mall.

If Don were a
betting man, he’d say someone would want to get cozy in there. He had never
stepped foot inside the theater, though he’d always wanted to. The thought of
doing it now wasn’t pleasant. If there were people inside, he hoped they were
friendly.

He had to crawl
in order to get through the gap between the floor and gate. Once he was inside,
he quickly got to his feet. The lobby was pitch black and he could only see
what was caught in the path of his flashlight. Directly in front of him was a
large, round concession stand with pictures of refreshments with arms, legs and
eyeballs. The menu selections were still in place on the wall within the stand,
and Don scoffed at the outrageous prices.

This theater
had belonged to the same chain as the one he’d always gone to as a kid. The
structural layout was even the same, though on a slightly smaller scale. Don
felt as if he were in Augusta once more. He loved and hated when nostalgia
struck unexpectedly.

He cleared his
throat and made his way to a hallway on his right. The hall ran behind
concession where three auditoriums were set side by side. He went into the
nearest one and was startled by its size. It wasn’t stadium seating like he was
accustomed to, but with all the seats taken out, it looked bigger than he was
expecting. The “silver” screen loomed far ahead. Don went to it and lifted up
the skirt underneath, where the subwoofers used to be, and found nothing there
now. It looked like a fairly cozy hiding place and he made a mental note to
check the other two auditoriums.

After he
finished that, he checked the bathrooms. All of the sinks’ drains were taped
over, but one sink’s faucet hadn’t been turned off all the way. Water had
dripped into that sink for no one knows how long and was close to overflowing.
Don stood there, staring at the faucet for longer than he should have before
finally turning the knob and stopping the flow.

Last was the
projection booth upstairs. He found a stairway directly behind concession that
led up there. Unfortunately, all the projectors had been removed so there was
nothing but a lot of empty space. The main office was up there as well, and he
glanced, seeing a lot of folding chairs and a desk. He also noticed a putrid
smell that nearly made him vomit.

It was not
death he smelled but unwashed bodies. It was fresh, not something that just
lingered. Someone was in this office.

“Hello?” he
called gently. He got no response, but he thought he heard something. Like the
ruffling of fabric. The desk was directly by the entrance and to his right. The
edge wasn’t pressed up against the far wall, so someone could have been hiding
in the gap between.

Don’s heart
pounded as he stepped into the office and made his way to the front of the
desk. He put in as much distance as he could in case someone tried to attack
him.

Something
lunged at him before he could see what it was.

He fell
backward, smacking his head against a wall. The flashlight fell out of his hand
and rolled away. The figure leaped out of the office. Don quickly got to his
feet and followed. Luckily, he had retrieved the flashlight or he would’ve had
to stumble around in the dark. Whoever he was chasing appeared perfectly able
to make his or her way through without light; they were already headed
downstairs.

Don ran down
the stairs and rounded the corner into the lobby, where more light filtered in
from the rest of the mall. He saw someone trying to crawl under the grille. It
was a woman on the heavy side, which explained why she was still trying to get
out—she was stuck. Don walked up to her.

“Ma’am?” he
called, his heart still racing from the fright. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t
kill
me!” she screamed, still struggling.

“I’m not going
to kill you. Just calm down.” He wondered how she had ever gotten in if she
couldn’t get out now. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She stopped
struggling suddenly and turned to look at him through the grille. “Do you
promise not to kill me?”

Don was struck
by how much the middle-aged woman resembled his mother. She had long brown hair
with a few streaks of white. “Yes, I promise. What makes you think I would hurt
you?”

She crawled
back in and stood before him. “Because
somebody
killed my husband!”

*
 
*
 
*

Minutes later,
the woman was eating the sandwich Don had made for himself. He had offered it
to her instead, his appetite completely gone. They sat in the food court just
outside the security office.

“I’m Don,” he
said to her. “What’s your name?”

“Amelia,” she
said with her mouth full.

“Nice to meet
you,” he said. Their voices echoed in the large, empty court. The mall seemed
even lonelier now that he actually had someone to talk to, though he couldn’t
explain why. “I’m sorry about what happened to your husband.”

Amelia was
constantly looking about herself as she ate, as if she were afraid of being
attacked. “Thank you,” she said distractedly.

“How long have
you been living in this mall?”

“A few months.”
She looked at him now. “You gonna kick me out?”

He grinned. “No
one is supposed to be in here, but I won’t tell.”

“Thank you.”

“Are there
others in here?”

“Yes, but I’m
not telling you where they are.”

Don laughed.
“Fair enough.” So there were homeless inside the mall, after all. He shuddered
at the thought of being watched every time he did his rounds and exercise
routines. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did your husband die?”

Amelia stopped
eating and simply stared. “He was murdered.”

He thought of
the story in the paper. “You mean the man found in the lake near here?”

She nodded, her
eyes brimming with tears. “Somebody dragged him out of here while I was asleep.
The last time I saw him, he was lying next to me in that office, in the
theater.”

“And you
thought it was me?” Don asked.

“Either you or
the other guy,” she replied.

Don’s attention
was snagged. “Another security guy?” he asked.

Amelia shook
her head. “This guy was no security officer. If I hadn’t seen his face, I
would’ve thought he was normal. But....”

Don’s heart
pounded in his chest. “What does he look like?”

“Like you,” she
said. “Only a little younger.”

Don swallowed
bile and prepared for his next question. “What was wrong with his face?”

“Nothing when
he’s not doing anything with it,” she said quietly. “One day, we all saw him
walk past us—we were hiding in one of the stores—and he just stopped dead in
front of us. And then he looked into the dark store and
smiled
. But that
wasn’t a regular smile. He looked like the devil, or a...” She seemed at a loss
for words.

“A jackal?” Don
offered.

Her eyes lit
up. “Exactly.”

“Oh, god,” Don
murmured as he placed his face in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”
She took a sip of soda.

“I think I know
who you’re talking about,” said Don. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night. He
was following you while you walked around the mall.”

He looked
directly at her. “What do you mean?”

“I
mean
he was right behind you when you walked past the theater. I was in the lobby,
looking out. I thought you two were together.”

Don shivered
violently at the thought of Ethan walking right behind him. Don had had no
idea. “He wasn’t with me. I didn’t even know he was there.”

“Never would
have guessed, considering how close he was. He follows you often.”

“Last night
wasn’t the first time you saw him follow me?”

“Nope. He does
it almost every night.”

Don wanted to
vomit right there on the table. He too started looking about himself, the way
Amelia had been earlier. For now, they were alone.

“Who is the
other boy?” she asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“My brother.”

“Did he kill my
John?”

“I think so.
He’s probably watching us right now.”

“Why would your
brother do this?”

Don sighed.
“Because something’s wrong with him. Something’s always been wrong with him,
ever since birth.” He felt weird talking about Ethan with a complete stranger.
Don hadn’t talked about his brother with anyone in nearly a decade.

“He’s killed
before?” Amelia asked.

“Yes. At least,
I think he has. I’m still not sure if he killed your husband, but there are too
many coincidences.”

“Are you going
to call the police?”

Don wanted to
say no. Telling the police about Ethan just seemed wrong. “I want to handle my
brother myself.”

“Do you think
you can?”

Don looked up
at the slanted skylines in the ceiling and saw the sky lightening. He looked at
his cell phone and saw it was seven a.m. “I hope I can,” he finally said to
her.

Amelia finished
the soda and stood. “I should get back.”

Don jumped to
his feet. “It’s not safe for you out there.” He gestured to the rest of the
mall.

“Unless you
plan on taking me home with you, I don’t have much choice.” She smiled warmly.
“I’ll be fine; I’ll just join the others scattered throughout. We’re all like
neighbors.”

Don watched her
walk away, back toward the movie theater. Wherever she was going, he prayed she
got there safely.

Don didn’t take
his energy supplements the night before because he didn’t need them; he was
still wide awake as he drove home that morning. He was also angry and scared.
Though he still hadn’t seen Ethan with his own eyes, someone had.

Amelia had
described Ethan fairly well, and the “jackal’s grin” was the nail in the
coffin. And Ethan had managed to get close enough to Don to touch him. Don
shivered so badly he nearly drove off the freeway.

His exit
approached but he didn’t take it. Instead, he took the next one—a service road
that looped around to a donut shop he liked. He often went there when he was
stressed. He hoped Yvonne was still asleep; he wanted to eat in his room, not
at the dining table.

After buying a
few sausage rolls and donut holes, he headed home. Unfortunately, Yvonne was up
and watching TV in the living room. Don hid his food as best as he could and
headed up the stairs to his room.

He sat on his
bed, turned on his TV and ate. He barely paid attention to the cartoon,
however, as he tried to figure out what to do about Ethan. Should he call the
police? Should he tell Dad? The latter option seemed the best.
 

But what if
Ethan hadn’t killed all of those people? What if the dog-creature had? Dragging
the police into this could ruin Ethan’s life if he was indeed innocent.

“Donovan!” the
familiar, horrible voice of his stepmom called from outside his room, startling
him. “You better not be eating in there!”

Don was too
distracted to hide the fact he was eating, so he stood up, opened the door, and
showed Yvonne the half-eaten sausage rolls in his mouth.

Her eyes bugged
out. “You know you’re not supposed to be eating in your room, boy!”

“I know,” he
replied simply. His heart was racing with anger, and he wanted to keep his
responses short.

Yvonne
continued her tirade in front of him, but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead,
he imagined going downstairs, grabbing two knives from the kitchen, and—

Whoa! Where did
that
come from? Don had never really liked Yvonne, but he also never
thought of killing her before, either. And she was still yelling at him. He
could tell by her bug eyes and bold gestures. His heart was beating in his ears
and he couldn’t hear her anymore.

He wanted her
to stop, though.

“Shut up!”

Yvonne stopped
mid-sentence, shocked by his words. “What did you say to me?”

“I told you to
shut the fuck up! You’ve talked enough!”

“Who the fuck
are you telling to shut up? This is my house!”

“This is my
dad’s house, you lazy bitch!”

If Yvonne was
surprised before, that was nothing compared to how she took that last
statement. “Motherfucker, get your fat ass out of this house!”

That struck a
chord with Don. “I’m fat? I’m fat? You’re the fat
bitch
!” That last word
came out as a shriek, and Yvonne jumped backward. She looked ridiculous with
her white nightgown and red lipstick. “Anyone ever tell you look like a fat,
ugly whore?”

Yvonne looked
as if she’d been struck. Suddenly, she reached forward, grabbed Don’s arm and
pulled him out of his room. “Get out of my house,” she said with surprising
calm as she started pushing him toward the stairs.

Don struggled
to keep from tumbling as he yelled, “Bitch, if I fall, your ass is going to
jail!” In truth, he knew if he fell down the stairs, he wouldn’t call the
police; he’d grab those knives.

“If you don’t
get out,” she said less calmly, “
I’m
going to call the cops.”

Don had never
been threatened with arrest before and didn’t know what to say. The thought of
going to jail scared him. Suddenly, he leaped to the landing even though Yvonne
was still pushing. She then lost her footing and fell down the last few steps
and onto the landing as well.

“I told you to
quit pushing,” he said, looking down at her. And then he looked down to the
foyer and saw his eleven-year-old sister Liz. He had forgotten all about her.
She just stood there, looking scared and confused.

Yvonne got to
her feet as Don raced out the front door.

*
 
*
 
*

He drove
aimlessly for half an hour, still fuming from the argument. He and Yvonne had
never had it out that badly before. Chances were good she was on the phone with
Dad, telling him all sorts of horrible things about Don’s behavior.

It was still
early in the morning, and Don had nowhere to go. He was just driving past a
movie theater when he decided to pull into its parking lot. It was completely
empty, and he had his choice of any spot he wanted. He chose one of the
closest, turned off his truck, and cried. This was the second time he’d cried
in a week, and he didn’t like it.

He felt
completely miserable and alone. He wanted to go home and sleep, but he couldn’t
go home. He was tired and ashamed of the way he’d acted with Yvonne. He had
been completely to blame in that situation, but it wasn’t like there hadn’t
been other arguments. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another with that woman.
He had to get out of that house.

Pulling out his
cell phone, he texted Craig. Minutes later, he got the reply he was hoping for.

Shortly after,
he sucked up his pride and drove home. Not surprisingly, the front screen door
was locked. He had no way of opening it to get to the actual front door. Yvonne
was smarter than he thought. He went around to the back porch and found that
screen door locked as well. Damn.

“Yvonne,” he
called through the closed living-room window. He couldn’t see inside, but he
figured she was sitting on the couch. “I came back to apologize.”

Half a minute
went by before he heard the back-porch door opening. Yvonne stood there,
staring at him. She didn’t look mad, though. She unlocked the screen door and
opened it for him.

Don took a deep
breath, let it out, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,
too.”

Don was taken
aback by that. What was she apologizing for? He stepped into the kitchen, and
she closed the door behind him. The next few minutes consisted of more apologies
and crying from both of them. Don couldn’t even remember a time when he’d ever
hated her, and only thought of the good times: watching the Olympics with her
at the beach house; going shopping the day after Hurricane Erin; playing old
Nintendo games with her and Ethan up in Connecticut.

Yvonne was
human, just like everyone else. Don couldn’t see it until just then. The
thought of stabbing her to death with the knives nauseated him now.

“Things will be
different,” she finally said as she wiped her eyes. “No more fighting. Okay?”

She smiled, and
she looked quite lovely to Don.

“No more
fighting,” he agreed.

When Dad got
home later that day, the three of them discussed Don’s moving out. Dad and
Yvonne wanted him to stay, but Don insisted it was time for him to go. He was
nearly thirty years old, after all.

Craig and his
roommate, Corey, helped Don move his belongings to their townhouse in downtown
Fort Worth. The place was two stories, with Corey’s master bedroom on the
ground level and Craig’s and Don’s on the top.

The place
seemed pretty cozy, though not clean. Dishes were piled up in the tiny kitchen
and dirty clothes littered on the floor in the living room. At least there was
furniture: a futon, recliner and coffee table. There was also a big-screen TV with
horrible picture quality. Don was gracious enough to set up his own TV in the
living room...on top of the big screen.

Don’s very
first roommates were pretty cool. Corey was tall and lanky, with dark hair and
dark-rimmed glasses. He was the youngest of the three by two years, and was
also a heavy smoker. He and Craig often smoked on the back porch, which was
just below Don’s room, and could only be reached by going through Corey’s room.
Don often listened to the boys’ pointlessly amusing conversations but could
never bring himself to join them while they smoked.

Over the course
of the summer, life seemed to improve somewhat for Don. His roommates never got
onto his case about anything, and work went without incident for a whole month.
Whenever Don saw Amelia, she reported seeing no sign of Ethan anywhere on the
premises. Had Ethan moved on? Don doubted it, but he was grateful for the
respite.

And then July
came.

*
 
*
 
*

Don got up to
use the bathroom one night when he thought he heard a noise. Since a small room
with a bathtub separated his bathroom from Craig’s, he didn’t have to worry
about sharing.

Someone was in
his bedroom, though.

Don could hear
ragged breathing. He never bothered closing the bathroom door whenever he
pissed, but he wished he had now. He looked over his shoulder, into the dark
bedroom, and could see nothing but his bed.

And then he
heard heavy footfalls running toward him.

Instinctively,
he closed the door just as something slammed into it from the other side. He
held the doorknob firm as it started turning; something was trying to get to
him.

“Leave me
alone!” he screamed at the intruder.

The pounding
stopped. Footfalls carried the assailant away. Don locked the door as well as
the one to the joining room with the tub. Then he sat on the floor and waited.

There was a
gentle knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. “Don? Are you okay?”

It was Craig.
Don stood up and opened the door to see his roommate standing there in his
room. The bedroom door was open.

“Did you open
that?” Don asked, nodding to it.

“No. It was
wide open when I came out of my room. Are you okay? I heard you screaming.”

Don looked out
into the hall. “Someone was just in here.”

Craig’s eyes
went wide. “What, like a burglar?”

No, like
Ethan,
Don wanted to say. Instead, he nodded. “I think so.”

The two headed
down the stairs to find the front door closed but unlocked. They often left the
door that way, but Don was certain he’d locked it before going to bed. There
was a thin mail slot on the lower part of the door, but there was no way anyone
could fit an arm through it.

Craig opened
the door and looked out into the night. Nothing but bugs and the occasional car
driving by. Don could see a large office building across the street. It looked
so out of place to him, though they did live just off a main road.

“What’s going
on?” a voice asked behind them, scaring the hell out of Don. Corey stood just
outside his room in nothing but his underwear. His brown hair was completely
ruffled.

“We think
someone broke in,” Craig said uneasily, and Don wondered if his roommate
believed him. Don wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Nothing more
happened for the rest of the night, thankfully, but Don was groggy the next
day. Corey had to work, but Craig was off and he asked Don to go walking with
through the city. They found themselves in an industrial area that was
depressingly empty of life.

“Do you like
living with us?” Craig suddenly asked.

Don looked at
him. “Yeah. Why?”

“It’s just....
I know you saw the eviction notices.”

Don had indeed seen
them: past notices from before he had even moved in. Unfortunately, he hadn’t
seen them until
after
he’d moved in. He hadn’t signed a lease form yet;
Craig said he’d get the form for him, but he hadn’t yet. “Yeah, I saw them. Are
we going to get evicted?”

“Nah. We get
those all the time. Corey’s job is on and off, so he can’t always afford rent.
And I only work part-time at the video store. I’m looking for another job.”

Don nodded
absently. He didn’t really care about the notices. The only thing on his mind
was Ethan. He was positive his little brother had been in his room last night.

Craig and Don
circled back and out of the empty industrial portion of downtown Fort Worth.
Even though Don wasn’t alone, he felt lonely as he saw all the empty alleys and
parking garages. He even noticed an old security guard sitting in a tiny lobby
lit by unflattering fluorescents.

Don felt like
he was looking at himself just then, ten years in the future.

*
 
*
 
*

The walk had
taken over an hour, and Don had actually enjoyed it. He’d gone through a whole
range of emotions and seen quite a few interesting things, including cops on
horses. He liked living downtown even more than before, and would miss it if he
had to leave.

When they got
back to the townhouse, Don said to Craig, “I think I know who was in here last
night.”

Craig had just
sat down on the futon. He cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Though I
didn’t actually see him, I think it was my brother Ethan. I heard he was in
town.”

“The one you
haven’t seen in nine years?”

Don nodded. “I
don’t know how he found me, but he’s not really...right in the head. You know
what I mean?”

Craig nodded
uncertainly.

“He’s not
really a good guy, and he shouldn’t be here,” Don added. He felt embarrassed
telling his roommate all this. It felt like a secret shame. Basically, it was.

“What should I
do if I ever see him?” Craig asked.

“Tell me, if
you can. Don’t go near him. I’m going to tell my dad he’s here.” Don wasn’t
sure if what he’d just said was true. There was no real reason
not
to
tell Dad, though.

“Don, are you
okay?”

He looked at
Craig, who was now standing. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been
standing there for ten minutes.”

Don’s heart
sped up. He’d only been there for a few seconds. “Are you serious?”