“She doesn’t?”
Krissy shrugged and said nothing.
“Uh-huh. I see,” Cindy said after a long, uncomfortable silence. She was trying hard to ignore the cold rushes of panic that filled her, squeezing her heart.
Finally, Krissy took a breath and said, “But she’s never spoken to me before, you know, and when I … when she called my name, and I stopped and looked at her, she… she—”
For a terrifying instant, Krissy looked up at Cindy with the most horrified expression she had ever seen on anyone’s face. Her blue eyes were wide open and staring, glistening with tears. Her forehead, her whole face was sheet white and pinched with worry and a deep, unspoken fear. Her mouth was hanging open, down-turned into a frightening rictus that made Cindy think of what a dead person’s face must look like if they have died in horrible pain. Trembling with twisted, repressed emotion, Krissy looked as though she was either going to break down in tears or else start screaming.
Cindy’s first impulse was to pull over to the side of the road and hug the frightened little girl, enfold her in her arms and hold her close until she cried out everything that was eating away inside her. And although Krissy hadn’t been able to say it in so many words, Cindy knew exactly what was hurting her—it was the overwhelming sense of loss she felt for her dead mother and the frustration of not having any of the grown-up words even to begin to express what she was going through. Cindy knew this because she felt her own grief churning deep inside herself, gnawing away at her like a malignant disease. And she knew—like Krissy—she would never get over her sister’s death, especially considering the terrible way Debbie had died. It tormented her all the more to see such a precious little kid like Krissy—someone who looked so much like she remembered Debbie looking when she was a little girl—being forced to deal with something so painful, so unfathomable.
Jesus Christ, she thought, wanting to scream out loud herself. It just isn’t fair!
Cindy was suddenly fearful that there really might have been someone outside the school, someone who had been following them… someone who wanted to take Krissy and Billy away from her. Could it have been a woman from the state police or an FBI agent who had tried to contact Krissy?
“She just—just stood there, staring at you?” Cindy said. Her voice was high and tight, and almost broke on every syllable.
“No,” Krissy said, shuddering as she shook her head. Suddenly, her eyes widened even more and, twisting in her seat, she glanced over her shoulder as though she expected to see someone, either hiding in the back seat or else following behind them.
“No, she… she waved to me.”
Her voice and expression shattered like fragile glass. “She waved to me like she… like she wanted me to come with her!”
Chapter Fifteen
“and the moon sees me”
Alex was feeling smug and self-satisfied as he sat in the front seat of the van he had rented yesterday afternoon, following the fiasco in front of the school. The van was parked alongside the curb on Prospect Street, underneath a row of maple trees a little bit past the traffic light where that idiot of a crossing guard was stationed. He was slumped behind the steering wheel and couldn’t stop glancing from his watch to his rearview mirror. It was almost a quarter past two, and he was anxious as hell to see a certain little light blue Toyota Camry drive by.
The day before, when the rental agent had asked him for some identification, he had told her that he had lost his wallet, his license and all identification during his move to Maine. Pleading desperation, he had told her that he needed the van for only a few days—no more than a week, to move his family from the apartment they had rented to the house they had just bought.
Because the house was still under construction, he told her, he didn’t want to move everything all at once, so a larger moving van wouldn’t do. He had delivered his fabricated story with such earnest intensity—smooth bastard that he was!—that she had believed his every word. With the generous application of an extra twenty dollar bill, she had handed over the keys without asking to see any of the necessary identification.
The lousy weather had cleared out overnight, and it was a beautiful September afternoon. Autumn was coming in fast. During the day, the temperature was holding in the low sixties, but the last few nights had been cool, down into the forties. A blue jay was singing its raucous song from a nearby yard and from where Alex sat, he could see a splash of bright yellow maple leaves dancing in the stiff breeze that blew in off the ocean, which was not far away. Dappled shadows danced on the street and sidewalk, making everything look alive with vibrating energy. Alex had the window on the driver’s side halfway down as he inhaled the fresh, tangy air.
Umm, yes! Autumn in Maine! What a great fucking way to spend his vacation time!
After the frustration of losing track of Cindy the day before, Alex wasn’t about to let that happen again. He was parked just before the first turn, which was a right onto Almonte Street. Yesterday afternoon, after he had lost Cindy behind a squad of school buses and before he had gone to the rental agency, he had spent an hour or two driving up and down every side street in the immediate area. He figured Cindy and the kids must be renting a house or apartment nearby—otherwise, Krissy would no doubt have taken the school bus—but he didn’t see the Toyota. He guessed she must keep it parked inside a garage or out behind a building.
Then again, he thought, he hadn’t seen Billy yet, either. If he wasn’t going to the same school Krissy was, then he must either be bussing or walking to and from school.
No problem, though. It was just a matter of time before Alex found them all. Because he’d had the night to cool out about it, he was once again more in control and determined as all hell not to do anything in a hurry.
No, if things went the way he expected they would today, then he’d find out exactly where they were staying.
And after that…?
Well, he would have to hold back for at least a little while. Maybe he’d think of a few little things to do to throw her off-balance before he contacted her directly. He had no intention of letting her know who was after her, at least not right away. That would give him plenty of time, and he found it rather amusing, knowing that she had no fucking idea how fast her own time was ticking away.
But what about the kids? he wondered. What the fuck was he going to do about them once he got them back? It wasn’t like he was hoping they could ever go back home and live their lives peacefully, like nothing had happened. In fact, in the short time he had been on his own, he had discovered just how much of a pain in the ass his kids were. Maybe he should do something about them, too.
His fists clenched tightly, and he had to refrain from slamming them against the van window.
Why the fuck not? The kids sure as shit didn’t seem to be trying very hard to get away from their fucking aunt. If the little bastards had really wanted to get away from her, they could have phoned home anytime and told him where they were. Billy, especially, sure as hell knew the number.
Ah, fuck the kids! Alex thought as anger blurred his vision and made him shudder. He punched the steering wheel, making it vibrate.
Yeah, fuck ’em both! I’ll get ’em back, and after I deal with Cindy, I’ll worry about straightening out their little asses!
For now, he had to be content to take things a step at a time. Once, he found out where they were living, he would bide his time and think about a few little tricks he could pull. Nothing serious … at least not at first; just a little something so Cindy could start worrying a little more.
Alex was so swept up in a hot rush of anger, thinking about Cindy, that he didn’t notice the light blue car coming up the street until it was almost beside the van. It moved quickly and silently, like in a dream, with sunlight glinting white fire off the windshield. He never got a good, clear look at the driver—all he saw were two silhouettes, one adult and one child—but his pulse started racing when he saw the Nebraska license plate.
His hand was shaking slightly as he started up the van and shifted into gear. There was no other oncoming traffic, so he eased out into the street without signalling, all the while keeping a steady watch on the blue Toyota. As he started off after her, he had to hold himself back from driving too fast and not keeping a safe distance between them.
“Come on, now, you little bitch. Let’s just see where you go,” he whispered, squinting as he followed her slowly down Prospect to a left turn onto Beacon Street. A hundred yards or so down Beacon, she took a right onto Coyne Street.
For a moment, Alex hesitated at the intersection, not daring to get any closer. If she was as paranoid as he thought she was, then she would no doubt notice if a van was tailing her. He waited until she was halfway down the street before making his turn, but he was immediately surprised when he saw the Camry pull into a driveway on the left side of the road, directly across from a brick-fronted church.
“Fuckin-A,” Alex whispered.
He pressed one hand hard against his mouth to contain the burst of laughter that threatened to break out of him. Holding his breath and mentally counting from one to ten so he could pace himself, he started slowly down the street. As he got closer to the large, white house, he rolled up the driver’s side window and leaned his back against his headrest, hoping to hell that Cindy wouldn’t chance to look up just as he was passing by. When he was at the foot of the driveway, he looked to the side, up into the driveway.
Jesus Christ! It IS her!
A freezing rush of elation filled him when he saw Cindy getting out of the car. Then a flash of burning white anger exploded inside his mind. His foot went automatically to the brake pedal, and it required an immense amount of willpower for him not to turn into the driveway and park right behind Cindy’s car. His vision got all blurry, and he was swept up by the murderous rage he directed straight at Cindy.
As he drove slowly past the driveway, the van started to drift toward the left side of the road as though it were caught in the grip of a huge magnet. Shaking his head and gritting his teeth, Alex jerked the steering wheel hard to the right in order to stay on his side of the road. He caught a quick glimpse of Krissy, who was already out of the car and running around toward the front of the building. The same light purple backpack she’d been wearing the day before bounced on her back with each step. For a flashing moment, Alex thought she looked like a kid who was thrilled to be out of school for the day, but then the expression on her face caught his attention. Tight anxiety pinched his daughter’s features as she stopped and directed her gaze straight at him. Their eyes seemed to connect, sending an electric spark arcing between them, but Krissy’s expression never wavered.
Alex froze.
His body went numb, and his hands clamped the steering wheel. The beat of a heavy, muffled pulse throbbed painfully in his ears. He wasn’t aware of anything except the expression of stark terror he had seen, for just a moment, on his daughter’s face. He considered it a miracle that he was able to continue driving slowly down the street to the stop light at the intersection with Forest Avenue. Unable to stop staring into the rearview mirror, he thoroughly expected to see Krissy and Cindy dart out into the road and watch as his van slowed for the right hand turn onto Forest Avenue. Had she seen him? Did she recognize him, in spite of his short hair and shaved mustache? Would she remember the type of van or the license plate number?
“I can’t fucking believe it,” he whispered as he glanced at his own reflection in the rearview and grinned crazily at himself.
As he took the turn heading toward Portland, his vacant gaze was drawn to the hazy city skyline. He realized that he hadn’t noticed what number the house was, but it didn’t matter. Its location was etched like burning lines of acid into his memory. All he wanted to do right now was find the nearest bar so he could have a beer or two to steady his nerves.
After that, he’d start thinking about what his next step would be.
2
The instant the telephone started ringing, Cindy’s eyes snapped open. Grunting softly, she reached out in the darkness and fumbled with the receiver, cutting off the phone’s bell in mind-ring. As she pressed the receiver to her ear, she glanced at her alarm clock and saw that it was almost two o’clock in the morning.
“Hello,” she said in a tremulous whisper. Her heart was punching high and fast in her chest, making her voice warble higher than normal.
“Hey, how ya doin’ there, sexy,” said a man’s voice. “Tell me, how you feelin’ tonight?”
“Who is this?” Cindy demanded, shifting to sit up in bed. The center of her stomach had gone stone cold, and a tight, choking sensation gripped her by the throat.
“Come on, you know damned right well who this is,” the man’s voice on the other end of the line said teasingly. “And d’you wanna know what?” He spoke with no pause, not allowing her to answer. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you, day after day… and night after night. Thinkin’ ’bout you a lot. Oh, yeah… I get so-o-o fucking horny just thinkin’ ’bout your cute little titties, I just might shoot my goo in my underpants right now.”
“I—I’m sorry,” Cindy stammered, fighting back an urge to slam the receiver down, “but I think you have the wrong number.” She knew she should just hang up on him, but she wanted to make it clear to whomever this was that he must have misdialed so he wouldn’t call her number again.
“Oh, shit, no! I know I’ve got the right number, all right,” the man’s voice said. He slurred his words, sounding more than a little bit drunk. “And you know, I’ve been layin’ ’round here in bed, feelin’ all hot and horny just thinkin’ ’bout what you ’n me could be doin’ together.”
“I—I’m really sorry, but you must have dialed the wrong number,” Cindy said. “What number were you trying to reach?”
She was fighting to keep her voice steady and firm so she wouldn’t give away just how afraid she was. She hoped to hell this person hadn’t dialed her number on purpose, and she mentally vowed, if he ever called a second time, to get her unlisted number changed.
“Oh, no, no, I don’t think so, ma’am,” said the man. “Why don’t you just lay back ’n play with yourself, ’n listen while I tell you what I plan to do with—”
Finally, Cindy could stand it no longer. Before she heard another word, she slammed the phone down so hard it made a loud clang. Trembling, she sat there in the dark for a long time, her face cupped in her hands.
At last she eased herself back down onto the bed and let the warm darkness enfold her, but her face was still burning with embarrassment. She wanted to erase the incident from her mind, but hearing that man talk like that, as gross as it had been, had immediately reminded her of just how long it had been since she had felt the loving touch of another human being. Thoughts of Harry and his obvious avoidance of her filled her with a cold, dull aching loneliness that was centered in her lower belly. She knew and accepted that their marriage was over. It had to be. He was just using the situation to abandon her and the kids.
Jesus Christ! Cindy thought as hot tears filled her eyes. She gripped her pillow and bit it, pressing it hard against her face. How could it have come to this? How could I have let my life turn out this way?
Breathing deeply and trying to relax, she ran her hands down the length of her body, flirting with the idea of rubbing herself to climax, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Missing Harry was one thing, but the way that man had spoken to her had disgusted her, making her think that any kind of sex right now would be dirty and degrading. But as she lay there in the dark, her vision pulsing in the hazy gloom of the room, she realized that there had also been something more… something else that didn’t seem quite right.
For the longest time she couldn’t fix on what it might be, but then, like a stinging slap across the face, it hit her.
His voice!
There had been something disturbingly familiar about that man’s voice.
Cindy whimpered softly when she thought how—as crazy as it might seem—the man’s voice on the phone had reminded her of… of someone she knew.
But who?
The closest she could come up with was that he had sounded a little bit like the encyclopedia salesman, that young man working his way through college who had called her a few weeks ago.
Could it have been him, calling this late at night to harass her because she had turned down his prize and refused to give him her address? Had he somehow fixated on her and tonight, drunk on his ass, was calling just to get back at her?
“No,” Cindy whispered. “Why, that’s… that’s ridiculous.”
Sighing heavily, she rolled over onto her stomach and snuggled her face into her pillow. She tried her best to push the incident out of her mind, but as she drifted back off to sleep, the man and his throaty, suggestive voice teased and tantalized her.
Sometime before dawn, she had a frightening dream, but when she woke up the next morning, she couldn’t quite remember what it was.
3
“I see the moon…”
The dark bedroom filled with the sound of a long, rasping exhalation.
“And the moon sees me…”
Again, the darkness seemed to sigh.
“I see its light…”
But before the next line was sung, Krissy’s eyes snapped open.
In the brief, flickering moment as her eyesight adjusted to her surroundings, she stared blankly up at the dull gray ceiling. She had the momentary sensation that she was lying at the bottom of a lake, looking up at the surface of the water. A current of panic raced through her, and her breath felt like fire in her chest.
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