“None taken. It's your party.” Scope shared a glance with Ellen. “How long do you need to set this up?”
Ellen shrugged. “A few hours should do it. There's already chaos with the breakout from Worcester County Jail.”
“What breakout?” Clare asked.
“It happened last night. Someone blew a hole in the wall and most of the inmates escaped. Staffing's always been an issue there and half the guards were out on strike. Is it a coincidence? I think not. This was intentional, and the escapees aren't too worried about resuming their unlawful activities. Worcester's become a very dangerous place.”
“It was already a very dangerous place. We'd better get started hadn't we? How long am I gonna feel this way?”
“You have maybe half a day before you start feeling ill again,” Ellen replied. “It's really just abating the symptoms. It's not a cure. If we fill you with normal insulin the creature will notice and disappear. We could give you more…”
“Forget it.” Clare tugged at the line in her hand. The pain was sharp but pain meant life. “If I run into this creature sooner than expected, I want to be a tasty meal, not an under-ripe banana.”
There was a polite knock at the door.
“They said it was okay for me to come up now,” Terrick said from the doorway. He smiled at her, an expression of delight on his face showing his relief.
Ellen stood. “Indeed it is, Sheriff. Time is, as always, of the essence. You will have to move, and move quickly once we set things in motion. Do you have somewhere you can lay low for a few hours?”
Terrick looked confused. “Why not stay here?”
“Because people will come looking once word gets out. You need to be in place and ready to act, to stay ahead of the local authorities. You see there's a problem. Your Captain Andrew Harley has raised the stakes. He's had Clare listed as missing and a fugitive by Worcester P.D., in connection with the deaths of the very children whose murders you've been trying to solve.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I'm on the F.B.I. wanted list…” Clare's heart began to thud. The sound of her blood rushing in her ears threatened to drown out the conversation. “Harley knows about Ashby.”
“That would make sense,” Terrick agreed. “The way I understand it, they're like his own brute squad. Linkin' you to the deaths of children puts you on the radar of every enforcement agency in the country.”
“Time to prove how quickly you can move,” Ellen advised. “Give us three hours to put your plan into play. How long do you need to get where you're going?”
“Two at most.”
Ellen considered this. “Fine. In an hour Scope will remove the drip, then you've got twelve hours before you start to fail. In the mean time I want you to take this.”
Ellen unzipped a small black pouch, producing a black pen and a pot of small strips. She gave them to Clare.
“What is this?” Clare asked.
“It's a blood glucose testing kit. From this point on it's the most important thing in your life.”
An hour later, with the drip removed, Clare led Terrick back out into a well-kept parking lot, the asphalt fresh, spaces painted white. Her bag seemed to weigh heavy with the new kit and supplies. She turned the new phone over in her hand. Tina's number was already on the speed dial. As they passed members of the community, nobody spoke to them. It was as if they didn't exist.
“What if somebody here is a mole?” she wondered aloud.
“Girl, that's crazy talk. Everyone here's totally preoccupied with themselves. I had to reassess my opinion of the place too,” Terrick said. “I casually mentioned the shots fired and nobody had heard 'em. They aren't just self-absorbed hippies. In fact the majority of them are artists of one form or another. This is more in the nature of a spiritual retreat, a place for them to come and find themselves. They sure don't know why you're here and I'll bet most don't care either.”
Clare opened the Chrysler's door, the metallic silver paint heavily scratched through the recent contact with the pines. The door made a creak not unlike her Impala. Suddenly Clare missed her car with its ancient leather and bony steering wheel. “Does the commune work?”
“I dunno. Saw some beautiful paintings and some stunning sculptures last night. They really do pick em.” Terrick brought the car to life and moved it out of the parking lot.
He paused for a minute as they reached the crossroads. The day before they had gone down the pine-shadowed track opposite, pursued by Ashby's finest. He looked both ways, watching for movement.
“You don't think we got them all?”
“After yesterday I'm thinkin' a little caution might be beneficial.” Terrick leaned forward over the wheel, his arms crossed.
“True, but they aren't going to show themselves, not if they have any clue what happened.”
“They'll know we're comin'. We've been to Ashby. Now we've taken care of their brute squad. It's clear where we're headed.”
“We're going to my house.”
Terrick snorted. “Don't be a fool, kid. That'll be the first place they check.”
“Then make sure you got your gun ready, Sheriff. I'm checking on Jeff and I'm checking on Steve. Once I've done that we can go wherever you like.”
The closer they got to Holden, the more nervous she became. This wasn't coming home from work. This was, metre by metre, closing in on a series of choices that could leave her a hero, in jail, or dead. As they passed up the hill to the crossroads at the centre of Princeton, Clare saw the first road sign for Holden and Paxton.
“Route thirty-one,” she breathed.
“How you holdin' up, Clare?”
“I feel like I wanna wet myself. That sign was poignant. There's no escaping your future. Just look at this place.”
The road ahead was cut with turnings, left, right, all leading to destinations unfamiliar. She didn't know this place anymore. The pale peaks of whitewashed churches jutted out of the skyline, offering salvation, but was there any deliverance here? Would any building on the road ahead truly offer her sanctuary from the threat she sought to evade? “I'm making blind choices with no idea if I'm doing the right thing. Is it all a game?”
“Maybe it is, girl. For someone it's just moves and countermoves. We were meant to be out here, bein' led around by the nose until we were attacked, saved, knocked unconscious. Choose one. Was it the good guys, testin' your mettle? Or was it those of a darker nature, seekin' to prevent you makin' contact with them. When all's said and done, you got powerful friends, and lethal enemies. Who's on what side? Damned if I know.”
They drove out of Princeton, Clare counting the churches as they passed. She spotted thirteen in all, though doubtless there were more. The streets were empty, as if everybody knew of the danger abroad and cowered at their altars. Clare didn't have that option. She switched the radio on, only to hear reports about Worcester and the growing crime spree. No wonder people hid.
Out into the forest once more and Clare was able to suspend her sense of disbelief. For moments at a time it wasn't real. Trees crawled by, choked with vines, swarmed with fern fronds and all that existed was her visual connection, to each of them, in the instant they shared. In that microsecond, she could forget.
It became harder the closer to Holden they got. Each bend in the road, each isolated house was more and more familiar, drawing Clare back to the reality of the situation. She wanted Terrick to go slower and slower. They crossed the small bridge over the River Quinapoxet and Clare sighed.
“Feelin' ill again?”
“No not yet. It just feels like I'm coming home for the last time.”
“Girl, if you think you're gonna lose, you'll probably find a way to make it happen. Your detective friend and I won't let you down.”
“But there's still so much information that's not straight. The trap might work, yet we can't guarantee the creature will show up. Harley's out there looking to put my neck on the block. This could spiral out of control quickly.”
They passed the Gale library, the modern building made in a pseudo-Gothic style with a tower and long, haunting windows. She really was home.
“Someone's gonna see me at some point,” Clare pointed out.
“If you wanna put in an appearance, leave it till the absolute last moment. The more as see you, the quicker Harley finds out.”
The library disappeared into the trees behind them. Once more they were at the crossroad on Main and Highland. The graveyard stretched out in front, Walgreens down the road to the left. “I'm home. If ARC watches over me like they promised, Harley'd be mad to come after me with witnesses.”
“It only takes one bullet, Clare,” Terrick cautioned her. “He doesn't need to even show up. You ask your new friend Scope how far away one can be to take out a mark. I've got a nice safe place for you where they won't expect you to show up.”
The blue house came into view as they drove down the hill. The entrance to Pleasant Street appeared beyond it. “Home.”
“Think rationally, girl,” Terrick urged. “This is tantamount to suicide. Don't give it all up on a whim.”
“I can't call Jeff. I need to see he's all right.”
Terrick took a deep breath, then looked forward to the road and resumed driving, instead taking a left into a spur of Reservoir Street that looped back toward the centre of town. “No. Make what threats you want. I've gotta protect you, even if it's against yourself. Argue with me on this, I'll arrest you. I still have that power, believe it or not.”
Clare was about to spit out a vile response when Terrick's cell began to ring. He glared at her to remain silent as he pressed the speaker button.
“Heckstall here.”
“Sheriff, its Deputy Marcus White. I know you're on leave right now but we got a situation. You got a moment?”
Terrick motioned Clare to keep her head down. Gone from his face was any trace of argument. Now he expected to be obeyed. “I'm on my way to the lake, Deputy White. What's goin' on that can't be handled by you guys?”
There was a pause. Terrick's question had been loaded and carried the promise of reprisals. “Well sir, we have a couple of Federal agents waiting in your office to speak with you. They are after your help concerning the whereabouts of one Clare Rosser. Sheriff isn't that…”
“…The girl from Friendlies and the One Stop. Indeed it is.”
“They want to discuss her with you.”
Terrick cut off the call. “They're trying to track me.”
“What do you mean?”
Terrick grinned. “Marcus used two key words: Moment. Concerning. Seriously, who uses language like that round these parts?” He pressed the call-back button. “Sorry Deputy, bad signal. You were saying?”
“She's a wanted fugitive.”
“And also a person of such immediate threat that these agents need to interrupt my fishin' trip right now? Convince them to come back tomorrow mornin'. I'll be back by then.”
Terrick turned his phone off. “Lucky I didn't take a squad car. They're all lowjacked. Do you see now why you can't go home? They're watchin' you.”
“Where else is there? They'd likely be watching your place as well.”
“I can think of one place. Laurelwood Road.”
Clare picked at the yellow crime scene tape. The trees were as pungent and invasive as ever, leaving not much more than breathing space. It was hard to not feel claustrophobic with the police net closing in around her. Here she was at the centre of the spider's web, the deadly Harley all fangs and poison.
“Let's get in,” encouraged Terrick, watching the road from the gap in the trees. There was nowhere to leave the Chrysler that wouldn't mark the house out as occupied, so they had parked it a hundred yards away, before the loop at the end of the road.
Clare picked at the tape one more time, freeing it from the door. The lock had been bashed through with a hammer and the door swung ajar. This time the hallway was utterly spotless. “They came back.”
Terrick pushed past her, gun drawn. “Does that surprise you?”
Clare followed him in. The house reeked of lemon-scented cleaner, as if scoured of any memory of the family who had once lived here. “What do they get from keeping the family away?”
“Nothin'. Could be they just don't wanna come back. Somethin' real grisly happened here, remember; Bad memories.”
Clare walked through to the kitchen. Even the sink had been scrubbed to a shine. There was hardly a clear view from any of the windows. Perfect as long as nobody knew she was here. “Maybe they just couldn't come back to the scene of such tragedy. I wouldn't blame them.”
“Maybe. I'd say make yourself comfortable 'cept there ain't anythin' but stairs to sit on. At least you're safe.”
Clare pulled out the phone Ellen Covlioni had given her. “I might as well make decent use of my time here.”
Terrick appeared dubious. “You think that's clean?”
“There's only one way to find out.” Clare dialed the forensics lab. After a couple of rings, the phone was picked up.
“Hello?”
“Alison?”
“Clare? Dear God, where have you gone? This place has gone nuts looking for you. Have you… did you do what they say you did?”
“What did they say I did?”
“There's an all-points out for your arrest. They say… the kids in the mortuary. They say you had a hand in that.”
“And you believe them? Have you spoken to Daniel?”
There was a short pause. “Well I… no…”
Clare snorted. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Alison's voice was stressed, weary. She began to whisper, the line crackling with interference. “You have to understand it's crazy here. It looks to me like they were lying in wait for you. The moment you didn't return the place was turned upside down. Harley marched in here with a whole squad of his men and demanded to know your whereabouts. He was furious like everything was taking too long. The prison break has everybody on edge. All vacations have been cancelled and everybody's working double shifts. The entire precinct is in chaos and Harley's taking every advantage. Protocol's been thrown right out the window. Helen was nearly dismissed on the spot when she refused Harley's goons access to your desk. They produced a warrant and just went about rifling through your stuff. Laptop, drawers, everything. You realize what sort of power they have if they're producing warrants in advance.”
“Are the bodies still in the morgue? The kids?”
“That's the funny thing. They were incinerated. Daniel never said who the order came from.”
Clare's stomach sank. That would have been primary evidence against the janitor and Harley. “Did you get any photos?”
“Yes, but it'll take me a moment to find them. Can you hang on?”
“I'll hang up. Look for large elliptical markings on the upper arms. They might look like big hickies. Call you back in a couple.” Clare switched the phone off.
“Well?” Terrick leaned against a doorframe, tapping his gun on the wall.
“They're tearing the precinct apart trying to frame me. Looks like you were right. It only stands to reason they would be staking out my house if they're going after you too.”
Terrick nodded.
Clare redialed, putting the phone on speaker.
“Got them,” Alison said. “Wide, flat hickies on both arms of each of the vics. It looks like someone had a big ol' suck on the kids. What are they?”
“Our method of death,” Clare confirmed.
“How does something kill by love bite?” Alison asked, confused.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let Tina Svinsky know.”
“What…” Alison's voice trailed off as from outsid
e the house came a woman's piercing shriek. “Help! Somebody help me!”
Before Terrick could stop her, Clare yanked the kitchen door open. The woman's frantic cries echoed through the woodland. Clare craned her neck, seeking the origin of the scream. There was a shroud of silence in the trees. Something was wrong.
The outline of a house loomed out of the gloom to their right, obscured by the crowded trees. “I'm going,” she decided.
“Clare, no!” Terrick hissed.
A shot rang out. The doorframe by her head exploded.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Time slowed. Clare felt the residual warmth of the bullet where it had passed her face. Splinters shattered outward from the door. A startled bluebird spread its wings. Clare discerned every detail of its miniscule feathers as they angled to propel it to freedom.
An impact brought her back to her senses. Terrick had dived to her aid. Clare found herself sprawled in the doorway, the sheriff on top of her.
“You all right?” He mouthed the words. There was no sound in her daze.
What just happened? Clare feared to speak aloud, taking several deep breaths.
“Clare!” Terrick shook her with one hand, his voice sounding miles away.
She focused on her saviour. “I'm fine,” she said, unaware of the volume, only registering that she was speaking at all by the vibration in her throat. “Ears ringing.”
“You some sort of lunatic? You're more important than some screams.” Terrick hauled her back into the house, pushing the door as shut as it would go on the mangled frame. They waited a few minutes for the ringing to subside to a dull ache.
Another shot rang out, the kitchen window erupting in a shower of glass. Clare screwed her eyes shut, protecting her face with her hands. Pine scent wafted in through the shattered window.
“He can't see us,” Terrick decided. “He's tryin' to pin us down. Clare, what in Hell's name did you think you were doin'?”
Another scream, followed by the sound of a struggle and one more shot rang out. Clare ducked on reflex. Footsteps scuffed on gravel. A door slammed on the house, creaking as it swung back open. A car pulled out, the tires skidding as they fought to gain purchase on the road.
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