Phillip met her in the hallway.
“You ready to go?” he asked. “I called a locksmith, and he’ll be here soon. The team promised to make sure the locks get changed, and they’ll drop the new keys by my house later. I’ll get them to you as soon as possible.”
She nodded.
“I’ve given the memory card from the camera to the crime scene team. They’ll give it back when they’ve had a chance to process the pictures.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “No hurry.”
“Did you say you had some other photos to show me?”
“Oh, yeah…” She stepped into the kitchen and retrieved the envelope of photos from the drawer beside the refrigerator.
“Here.” She handed him the envelope.
“I’ll take you to a hotel if it’s what you really want,” he said softly, tucking the envelope inside his jacket, “but you’re welcome at the house anytime.”
“I need my purse from there, but then I really would rather go to a hotel for a few days…I need to get my head together.”
He was silent on the way back to his house. She could feel the hurt radiating from him, but she didn’t care.
She’d gotten far too dependent on Phillip far too fast in this relationship. It was better to just let it end now.
After she got her purse, they would go back to a purely professional relationship. That was for the best.
At least she would know where to find a cop if she needed one…
…in a purely professional capacity.
They pulled up outside the darkened bungalow, and Phillip stopped the car. He turned to her. “Sure you won’t come in for a few minutes? Just for coffee or something?”
“Just get my purse, please.”
He sighed.
“Okay.”
He opened his door and started for the house. Brenda sat twisting the strap of the gym bag in her hand as she waited for him to get back. Life is getting so damn complicated.
She let her head drop back against the headrest. Her eyes drifted closed.
Suddenly there was a loud bang on the roof of the car, and she started awake. She glanced around her wildly. Standing outside the car was the skeletal man who had been dogging her steps lately. He grinned at her maniacally and started to reach for the door handle.
She slammed the lock down, heart pounding in her chest then scrabbled to hit the locks on the other doors. Eyes wide with terror, she panted, trying to catch her breath as he leaned toward the window.
“Gonna get you!”
He grinned, showing a mouthful of discolored teeth—and then his head went up like a dog catching a scent. He looked toward the house, and she could see Phillip fiddling with the door.
“Count on it.”
The gaunt figure took off down the street at a gallop, halfway down the block before Phillip got to the car.
He reached to open the door. A frown creased his brow when he found it locked.
“Brenda…why’s the door locked?”
“He was here!” she cried, leaning across the driver’s seat to open the door.
“What? Who was here?”
“The skellyman—he was right here!”
Phillip looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight.
Chapter 30
He bounded off down the street, laughing maniacally. That was fun! Oh, lord—the look on her face. Sheer terror. Beautiful!
He still couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him yet. Shaving his head had been a stroke of genius. It just reinforced her stupidity—dumb cunt to be fooled by such a simple disguise.
Though the image in the mirror wasn’t as handsome as it used to be, was it? Meth would do that do you…but it felt so good.
Once he decided he’d run far enough away from the car, he slowed to a casual stroll. After all, it wasn’t as if he had anywhere special to go.
That’s why he really enjoyed this new line of work. His time was his own. He could take the day off if he wanted, or he could burn the midnight oil at a job he really loved. He’d found his true calling at last.
But he’d been hunting too often lately. He had to be careful, or even the homeless would eventually begin to be missed. It’s so much fun, though…I’ve found my bliss, as they say.
The skellyman tugged on his lip as he contemplated his options. He really wanted to play today. Maybe the answer was to spread his wings a bit. If I take my show on the road, there’ll be less chance of detection than here on my home turf.
He searched through his pockets, checking the bits and scraps of paper accumulated there. Yes! Here was his bus pass—Tom Brown’s bus pass, that was.
He had many items of identity with good ol’ Tom’s name on it. Of course, he’d checked the name in the phone book before he’d decided on it as a personal in-joke. There’d been sixteen Tom Browns in the general vicinity, if you counted the various small towns in the area.
Tom Brown would use his pass to get to the city limits, and then he’d take a little stroll in the country…find him someone to play with. And the skellyman would play all night.
He’d heard the Bitch tell the Spic that was what Daisy was calling him. He liked it. It had a nice ring to it…
Chapter 31
“Are you sure you didn’t fall asleep again, Brenda? With all the stress you’ve been under it would be natural to dream of this man. There’s no one in sight on the street.” Phillip handed her purse to her.
She took it from him, opening her mouth to protest, then subsiding with a sigh. There was no point in arguing. Phillip didn’t believe her, and there was no way to convince him. Why waste energy trying?
“I’m really worried about you, Brenda. These incidents seem to be escalating.”
“What incidents? You mean my crazy hallucinations? That’s what you think is happening, isn’t it? That I’m imagining all this? Seeing things that aren’t there?
“Well, you’re wrong. This man’s stalking me and my child. He’s threatened me; he knows where I live; and, somehow, he seems to know where I’m going to be at any given time. I don’t know how he does it, but he is real, and he’s trying to destroy me and mine for some unknown reason.”
“Let’s say you’re right, sweetheart…do you think you could describe this man to a sketch artist? If we had a picture, it might make it easier to find him.”
“I’ll never forget his face. I can tell you exactly what he looks like.”
“Alright, then. Let’s drop by the station and see if we can’t get that sketch made.”
He drove to the police station in silence.
Brenda steeled herself for what was to come. She’d never even had so much as a parking ticket before Ethan died. She’d never dealt with the police in any capacity at all until the accident, but it seemed like they were becoming more and more a part of her life every time she turned around.
When they reached the station, Phillip pulled into a numbered slot then turned to her, taking her hand. “I know this is all very difficult for you, but we need to figure out what’s going on here. If there really is a guy—”
She started to interrupt, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“—we need to pin an identity on him as soon as possible. The incidents are escalating, and we can’t afford to have that happen.”
“You’re damn right we can’t!”
“There’s Daisy to think of. You need to get this straightened out for her sake.”
“Because she’s better off without a crazy mother, you mean?” she snapped, jerking her hand free.
She knew it wasn’t his fault—he was doing the best he could to be supportive and helpful, and she kept blowing up at him—but she couldn’t help her reactions. For a man who purported to be interested in a relationship with her, he wasn’t working very hard to make her feel safe and sane.
“That’s not what I mean at all. I just think you’ll be better able to deal with her if you aren’t distracted by this—”
“—o
bsession?” she finished bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. And maybe if you see his face, you’ll believe me.”
She took a deep breath and came to a decision. He deserved better treatment than she’d been giving him. She would have to meet him somewhere halfway. And she did want him to know she wasn’t indifferent to his concern.
“Listen,” she began, putting her hand on his arm. “I know I’ve been all over the map emotionally. I know I sound like a lunatic—and I know I’ve been snapping at you every time you turn around—much more than you should have to put up with. It’s just…these things I’ve been seeing and hearing…they’re either real—or so convincing they’ve made me believe they’re real. And I’m terrified. If I had a history of mental illness, maybe there’d be some sort of explanation, but I don’t.
“It makes no sense. If they’re something supernatural, why now? Why wait a year?” She shook her head dismissively. “I don’t believe in ghosts. That can’t be it.
“I’m sorry I keep lashing out at you—I know you’re really trying to help me—but I don’t think I have enough control of myself at the moment to stop the anger. I—I just want you to know it’s not you. I’m not reacting to you…just all the rest of this craziness.”
He squeezed her hand.
“I understand, Brenda. And I’m willing to wait until you’re ready. As long as you need.
“Now, let’s go inside. There should be someone to do a sketch for us, even on a Sunday morning.”
Brenda fumbled with the door, hampered by her bags. She pushed the gym bag to the floor, and slipped her purse strap up over her cast to her shoulder. “I just want to get this over with.”
Stepping out of the car into the cool morning air, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Fall was definitely in the air. It was normally her favorite time of year, but she doubted if she would ever look at October the same way again.
Great. Christmas has been ruined, and now Halloween too.
Inside the station house, Phillip introduced her to a petite young woman with stylish wire-rim glasses and blue-tipped hair. “This is Christa. She volunteers around here doing clerical work and such. She’s a crackerjack artist though—going to school for a graphics art degree.”
He leaned down to whisper loudly, “I think she’s better than the official sketch artist, if you want to know the truth.”
As Christa’s face took on a rosy flush, he guided both women to a desk out of the main traffic pattern of the room. “Why don’t you two sit down over there out of the way and see if you can get your skellyman down on paper?”
Christa grinned at Brenda. “This sounds like a challenge. Way cool. I get bored around here. Most of the time I’m just filing reports. Now, who’s been bothering you?”
She pulled a sketch pad and pencil out of a messenger bag slung across her chest and sat down on one side of the desk, gesturing for Brenda to have a seat on the other side. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses.
Brenda found herself stifling a smile. There was something infectious about the girl’s enthusiasm. Maybe this really is a good idea.
Sitting down at the desk, Brenda took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to go about this,” she admitted.
“Well, we start with a basic facial structure. Was the man fat, thin, average—is his face squat, long, heart-shaped?”
“He’s very gaunt, almost skeletal. Skin drawn tight over his skull.”
Christa drew a few brisk lines on the page, and the result sent a chill through Brenda. Even without any distinguishing features, the girl had managed to capture the essence of the stranger.
Christa asked questions, and Brenda numbly supplied the answers, watching in horrified fascination as the face of the skellyman began to take shape on the page. Hollowed eyes burned in the sketch, a wide mouth with a glimpse of damaged teeth, a scythe-blade of a nose. There were several scars marring the surface of the skin, but she wasn’t quite sure if the placement was perfect. Still, it was a fairly accurate likeness.
As she studied the sketch, Brenda felt a teasing familiarity about it. It felt like she should recognize the man…but she didn’t. Except for the last few days, she’d never seen him in her life. She would have sworn to it in court. And yet…
“Anything else you can think of?” Christa asked at last, smudging in a bit of shadow.
“No. That’s the man who’s been stalking me. You’re amazing.”
Christa ducked her head. “Thanks. Maybe someday everybody will think so.”
She grinned at Brenda. “Well, if that’s it, we’ll make copies of this and get it to the boys to keep an eye out.”
The girl studied the sketch. “He’s really creepy-looking. I can see why he’s scared you.”
“What worries me the most is he seems to be stalking my child as well. She’s only four.”
“Ick! That’s nasty. I hope they catch him soon.”
“So do I.”
Phillip looked up from his conversation across the room as Brenda rose to her feet. He said something to the policeman he was speaking to, and then came to meet them. “All done?”
Christa held out the sketchpad. “Here you go, Philster.”
He winced at the diminutive.
“Awesome as always,” he replied, studying the drawing. “So, this is the guy?”
“That’s him,” Brenda answered with a shiver.
“Someone this ugly, he’s bound to attract attention sooner or later. Now that we have a picture, I’ll have the sergeant ask if anyone has run across him. Maybe somebody’s seen him on their beat. Cops’re trained to notice a face like this. The sketch’ll help a lot. Thanks, Christa.”
“No prob.” She turned to Brenda. “It was nice meeting you. I hope they catch him soon.” With a little wave, she returned to the stack of files she’d been sorting when they arrived.
“We’ll get it out on the street,” Phillip promised. “You need a copy?”
“Whatever for?”
“Some people ask for one.”
“I’d rather never see that face again.” She shuddered.
Phillip handed the sketch to one of his fellow officers, “Get this circulating, will you, Jim? And make sure anyone who might’ve seen this guy lets me know ASAP.”
“Sure thing, Phil,” replied the officer. He whistled at the sketch in his hand. “That sure is one ugly mother.”
Phillip turned to Brenda. “You ready to go check on Daisy?”
She glanced at her watch. “I suppose they may be back from church by now,” she said, amazed by the length of time that had passed as she worked on the sketch with Christa. “Mother likes to go to the early service.”
“Let’s go around and check, then.”
She was certainly spending a lot of time in Phillip’s car, she thought, as she guided him to the Fullertons’ home. Both the truck and her mother’s compact were parked in the driveway when they pulled up to the curb behind her station wagon.
One of the tires of her car rested on the lawn. She had been in a panic the other night…
Brenda ran her good hand through her hair. “Here we are.”
“I’m sure Daisy’ll be thrilled to see you,” he said softly. “You want me to come in with you?”
“Might as well. You…you’re still driving me to the hotel, aren’t you?” she asked in a voice she hardly recognized as her own.
She hated being reliant on him, but there was no way she would feel comfortable driving herself with her broken arm. Something would have to be arranged long term, but for today, she just wanted to see Daisy and then get someplace private where she could take that long, hot bath.
“Are you going to take her to the hotel with you?”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea. Papa’ll see she gets to school for the next few days.”
Phillip glanced toward the house. He chuckled. “It looks like we’re drawing attention. We’d better go and say hello.”
Brenda looked over at the house. Her
mother stood on the porch, a frown on her face as she hid behind her crossed arms—always closed off…never welcoming.
Sighing, Brenda opened the car door. “Might as well get it over with.”
They got out of the car and walked toward Mary. Before they got halfway up the walk, Daisy burst out of the house, squealing at the top of her lungs, “Mama! Mama! You’s home! You’s home!”
“Yes, little bird, I’m here.” She laughed down at the little girl, fondly. “Have you been a good girl?”
“Ever so good, Mama. Ever so good. And Bones too.”
Brenda bent down and kissed the top of Daisy’s golden head.
“That’s good to hear, darlin’. I’m so proud of you.”
Mary called from her position on the porch.
“It’s about time you checked in with us, Brenda Elaine. I tried to call you several times last night…”
Brenda bit back a groan. She should have guessed something like that would happen.
“I’m sorry, Mother. Something unexpected came up last night.”
“Well, you could’ve had the decency to call. Your father was worried sick.” Mary sniffed. “Are you going to introduce me to your…friend?”
“It’s the police-man,” Daisy warbled. “Teacher’s brother police-man.”
Phillip stuck out his hand.
“Phillip Sanchez, Mrs. Fullerton. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Mary looked down her nose at the extended hand, and then deigned to offer her fingertips for a limp shake.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” she said flatly, taking all believability from the response.
Phillip took the slight in stride, bending down to talk to Daisy.
“And how’ve you been, Miss Daisy?”
“Everything’s copspecectic, Mr. Police-man,” she said solemnly—her version of one of Ethan’s favorite expressions.
Brenda’s heart lurched. When will it stop hurting?
“That’s good to hear,” Phillip told the little girl. “No more skellymen?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Daisy answered, grinning from ear-to-ear. “He was sitting in the back of the church this morning.”
Skellyman Page 13