Night Hunter

by Carol Davis Luce

  “Then why are you crying? What are doing in here, on your knees?” Regina said in exasperation. “God, will somebody talk to me?”

  “Aunt Donna. I heard on the news what happened to Aunt Donna.”

  “Oh god,” the breath rushed out of Regina. “I thought something happened to you, too. I called and there was no answer. I came home and there were no lights on, no message or note, nothing. I had this awful feeling ...”

  “You and your feelings, Mom. I just came to see the kittens,” Kristy said. And for the first time Regina saw the reason Kristy had been on her knees. In a cardboard box were six black-and-white balls of fur. “I was going nuts alone in the apartment waiting for you to get home to tell me how Aunt Donna is.”

  Regina turned back to John Davie. She stared at him. What was he doing with her keys? And what was in the coffee can that smelled like a strong chemical?

  As if he could read her mind, he said, “I was stripping off the old varnish on the railing ...” He lifted the can. “I noticed your keys hanging from the lock on your door and I took them out ...”

  Relief, exhaustion, frustration, and confusion, swirled inside her. Regina nodded —a gesture of understanding, apology—then took the key ring from his hand and steered Kristy out of the room and back to their apartment.

  After closing and locking the door, Regina turned, leaned against it, and asked in a hushed tone, “That man—”

  “The landlady’s nephew?”

  “He was at the station today when Donna was attacked. I’d never seen him there before today.”

  “He’s okay, Mom.”

  “You don’t know that,” Regina said fiercely. “You don’t know anything about him.”

  “But, Mom--”

  “Stay away from him.”

  Alone now in his apartment, the odor of paint remover still reeking on his hands, John could clearly see the face of Regina Van Raven. Although he was staring at it on the TV screen — the action paused at the frame in the restroom when she had glanced at the camera—he was seeing another image. Frozen in his mind’s eye was a woman whose soft hazel eyes burned with fear, distrust, and a powerful sense of determination. He was seeing her as she had been less than an hour ago in the storage room, her arms around her daughter, prepared to fight, perhaps even kill, to protect her own.

  He admired that.

  The compulsion to protect oneself and one’s own — at any cost.

  It may come to that, he told himself. God help her, it may come to that.

  Fear and self-preservation were not strangers to him. He had served his twelve-month stint at the tail end of the Vietnam war and both senses had ridden his back like leeches. Yet he often wondered if the reason he had enlisted instead of waiting to be drafted had been because he had failed to protect his own.

  “We’ve been over this a million times,” he said aloud to the badgering part of his subconscious that forever seemed reluctant to let it go, “and we decided there was nothing I could do. Nothing. Right? So fuck off.”

  John focused his eyes on the TV. It was clear now why both brunettes, the one in the hall at the station talking with the man in the gray suit, and the one clutching a pair of shoes, had looked familiar. They were faces from the past. Although they had never met, and he had seen her only the one time during the contest, and that from a distance, he remembered Regina in particular. She’d been different from the others, showing little interest in her surroundings. It was as if her participation in the pageant had been a job and nothing more. Yet, John had felt she had the best shot to win the title if Corinne didn’t.

  He pressed the play button on the VCR remote. The two women on the screen became animated again. “Get help,” Regina Van Raven said into the camera.

  Get help ...

  CHAPTER 18

  The following morning Regina sat on the edge of the hospital bed opposite the intravenous pouches and the oxygen apparatus. The room was filled with flowers. She held Donna’s hand in both of hers.

  Donna’s eyes, above the nasal cannula and the saturated gauze dressing, were bright with pain, yet glassy from painkillers. She was staring across the room at her husband, who stood at the window, his back to them.

  Dr. Hemmer entered the room and went directly to the bed. Regina was about to rise from the bed when the doctor waved her back down. “Nurse Diehl will give you holy hell if she sees you there. But I won’t tell her.”

  With efficiency and brevity, the doctor checked his patient. “How are you doing with the pain?” he asked. “Is the medication strong enough?”

  Donna tried to nod, but instead she stiffened, her eyes squeezing shut tightly.

  “Don’t move your head. No talking either. Remember the code. One tap for yes, two taps for no.”

  Donna tapped lightly in Regina’s palm.

  “Yes, it’s strong enough,” Regina said.

  “You’re a very lucky lady, Donna,” Hemmer said. “I know that sounds like a damn fool thing to say, but it could have been worse —much worse. Quick thinking and immediate action to dilute the acid spared you the full ravaging effects. Most of the burning, first and second degree, involves the epidermis and part of the dermis. There was some third degree trauma on the right ear and neck that will require skin grafting. I foresee no permanent damage to the mucous membranes.”

  Without turning around, Nolan asked, “Will she need reconstructive surgery?”

  Regina felt Donna’s fingers tighten around her hand.

  “There are more important things to concern us at the moment. When the risk of infection, dehydration, and hypovolemic shock have been alleviated, we’ll discuss reconstruction.”

  The doctor checked the equipment. “Do you feel up to a visit from the police?”

  Donna tapped once.

  “I’ll send him in.”

  “I’ll do it,” Nolan said quickly

  “Don’t overdo,” Hemmer said to Donna. “I’ll look in on you later.” He walked out with Nolan.

  A few moments later Nolan returned with a man in a gray suit. The man moved boldly to the bed, stopping within a foot of Regina. Nolan stayed at the door.

  “Ladies, I’m Detective Lillard from the San Francisco PD, I appreciate your cooperation so soon after the incident.”

  Donna stared at him under heavy-lidded eyes.

  “She can only communicate by tapping her finger yes or no,” Regina said.

  The detective nodded acknowledgment. He opened a notebook and slipped out the pen from the binding. “Mrs. Lake, do you have any idea who did this?”

  Two taps. No.

  “Any idea why this was done? A motive?”

  Donna looked to Regina.

  “Other than the fact that it happened to another Miss Classic contestant twenty years ago,” Regina answered for Donna, “we don’t have a clue ... except for the phone calls.”

  “Threatening calls?”

  “I thought so.” Regina glanced at Nolan. He dropped his gaze.

  “Tell me about the calls,” Detective Lillard said.

  She pulled a piece of paper from her purse and read the words of the caller. Then she added, “The voice was deep, gravelly, yet it could have been either a man or woman.”

  “Who’d know about that particular show?”

  “The employees of ‘City Gallery,’ and the guests.”

  “What about the viewing public?”

  Regina shook her head. “On the last program Donna announced another guest for the coming show. When that guest canceled, we moved this one up three weeks.”

  “That should narrow the field somewhat. Mrs. Lake, do you have any known enemies?”

  “Of course she doesn’t,” Nolan said indignantly. “My wife was a victim of some crazed motherfu —fanatic. It wasn’t Donna that guy was after. It could’ve been any of those women on the show yesterday. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Lillard turned back to Donna. “What about hate mail--”

/>   “That’s ridiculous,” Nolan cut in sharply.

  “You were in the studio at the time of the blackout?” Lillard asked Nolan.

  “No, I was in the production room going over the budget,” Nolan said.

  “Mrs. Lake, from the time the lights went out until you felt the acid splash your face, would you say it was less than a minute?”

  Donna’s eyes were closed. When she failed to open them after several moments, Regina said, “She’s more exhausted than we thought. I think I can answer that. From the time the lights went out until I heard her scream, it was within seconds.”

  “Within ten seconds?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Where is the breaker panel for the lights on that set?”

  “On the wall just inside the door,” Nolan said evenly.

  “Then it’s possible the assailant could see everyone in the room before he or she tripped the switch?”

  Nolan shrugged.

  “Yes,” Regina said.

  “I’d like a list of everyone who was on the set yesterday, and if possible, in the entire building.”

  “That could be difficult,” Regina said. “We have an audience of about twenty-five to thirty people. We don’t ask them to sign in.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Mostly friends and relatives of the guests and crew. Some regulars ... some not.”

  “Give me what you can.”

  Regina nodded.

  “Did either of you see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary? Someone acting nervous or strange? Someone that didn’t look like they belonged?” Detective Lillard looked to Nolan first and then Regina.

  Nolan shook his head.

  Regina remained silent. John Davie instantly came to mind, but she decided to keep his presence at the station to herself until she had a chance to do some checking on her own.

  Lillard thanked them and left.

  Nolan crossed the room gingerly, as if at any moment he expected to step on a land mine, until he reached the end of the bed. “The boys are anxious to see —to see how their mother is,” he said to Regina. “They’re with her father today. I’ll bring them down tonight. Her father, I’m sure, will want to join us.”

  Regina rose from the bed and moved back, thinking that Nolan would kiss his wife or take her hand.

  He turned and walked out,

  Regina stood by silently, wondering what to do. She was about to leave when she saw Donna’s eyes open and look over at her. Regina stepped to the bed and took her hand again.

  “Nolan will be back later with the boys.” One tap from Donna. So she had heard. “We’ve decided to air reruns until you’re well enough to do the show again. Max agrees.”

  Donna raised her hand and made writing motions.

  Regina dug a pen and paper out of her purse. She put the pen in Donna’s hand and held the paper in her palm for Donna to write on.

  Donna wrote four words. Go on for me.

  “Nooo.”

  Donna nodded vigorously. A look of pain sprang into her eyes.

  “I can’t, Donna.”

  In her five years at KSCO, Regina had never worked in front of the camera, nor had any desire to. And taking over for Donna, even temporarily, seemed sacrilegious.

  Donna tapped the paper.

  “Donna, you’ll be back on the show in no time.”

  Donna held the pen up. Regina slipped the paper under it. She wrote, For me. Please.

  “We’ll discuss it when you’re able to talk,” Regina said, leaning in quickly and kissing Donna’s temple. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And she too made a speedy retreat.

  Tammy’s husband, getting out of bed that Saturday morning, had awakened her. She rolled over and looked at the clock. 8:50 a.m. Rolling back, she watched him silently. Gary kept his back to her as he slowly buttoned his shirt.

  Having him so near gave her a rush of joy. God, how she adored him. He was hers and she couldn’t let him go. It had taken her too damn long to find a normal man. She had been thirty when she met Gary, and behind her there had been a long succession of geeks and freaks, losers and boozers, cheaters and beaters. As far back as she could remember, the oddities were drawn to her. There were so many Brads out there and so few Garys, at least for her. The Garys went for the Amandas. The Brads sponged off the Tammys of the world.

  But Gary had married her, therefore he loved her. She had driven him away with her insecurities.

  He had slept with her for the first time in four months. There was no question in her mind that they would now reconcile.

  She came out of bed and touched his shoulder. He moved away quickly, not looking at her.

  “I’ll make breakfast. I know exactly what you want.”

  “I can’t stay,” he said.

  “Of course you can,” she said, hurrying out the door to the kitchen. She heard him call her name, but she ignored it.

  The twins were sitting at the kitchen table eating Cracker Jacks and sharing a bottle of Pepsi. They looked up, expectant expressions on their faces.

  “How’d you girls get home?”

  “Patty’s mom brought us,” Kerry said.

  Tammy took pancake mix down and poured it in a bowl. “Daddy’s home ... for good. Why don’t you let him know how happy you are that he’s back with us. And put that junk away, you’ll spoil your appetite.”

  Kerry and Sherry squeezed and clasped each others hands.

  Gary appeared at the kitchen doorway, his suit jacket over his arm, the look on his face both sheepish and miserable.

  “Daddy. Daddy,” the girls cried out in unison, rushing him, their arms flying about his waist as they hugged him.

  “We’re so glad you’re back,” Kerry said.

  “We missed you so much,” Sherry said.

  Tammy smiled, her eyes misty as she looked on this happy family scene. She took milk, eggs, and bacon from the refrigerator.

  “Are we going back to the old house?” Kerry asked. “I hope so. We have lots more friends over there.”

  “You girls go on out and play, okay? I want to talk to your mother.”

  Tammy paused in adding milk to the batter. Her stomach tightened. She recognized his tone of voice. There was no way she was going to let him back out now.

  “I want them here. We’re a family, we should be able to communicate as a family.” Tammy needed the girls for leverage. Everything was fair in love and war.

  “Sherry, Kerry, please go outside.”

  Tammy put down the bowl, grabbed their hands, and pulled them to her. “You girls stay.”

  “I’ll walk out ... right now.” Gary slung his jacket over his shoulder. “You want to play dirty, then I’m getting the hell out.”

  Both girls looked up at their mother, confused, uneasy.

  Gary spun around.

  “Okay. Okay,” Tammy said, conceding. “Go next door and play with Jimmy. Don’t eat anything there. We’re having Daddy’s favorite pancakes with crumbled bacon.”

  The moment the door closed behind them. Tammy turned to Gary. “I need you, Gary.”

  “I’m sorry, Tam, last night was a mistake.”

  “But you stayed.”

  “You called me. You made the first move. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You said I was beautiful ...”

  “Yes, you are. That’s true, but--”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Gary, you have to stay to protect me and the girls.”

  In a quiet voice he said, “That’s despicable. You never give up. You never give the fuck up.”

  “Why should I? You’re my husband.”

  “I don’t want to be your husband. I curse the day I ever became your husband. I curse the day I ever laid eyes on you. You suffocate me.”

  She felt the strength drain from her legs. “You loved me once, Gary, you can love me again.”

  “I don’t think I ever loved you. You caught me on the rebound. You did all the right things. You pampered m
e, boosted my ego, made me feel like a man again after my divorce. And then, before I could come to my senses, before I could find out what you were really like, you got pregnant.”

  “You married me. That, in my book, tells me that you loved me, Gary.” She reached for him. If she could just touch him.

  He jerked back as if burned. “It says I was a stupid jerk for believing your lies. ‘Marry me or I’ll kill myself,’” he whined in a falsetto. “And for ten years, ten dull, suffocating years, I’ve been trying to be free of you.”

  “If you leave now, I will kill myself.”

  “Do it,” he said calmly. A chill ran through her. “Do it for me ... and the girls. You’ll be doing us all a favor. They can come live with me. Me and Amanda. What do you think about that?”

  “I’ll kill them too. Amanda and the girls. First I’ll kill them and then myself. And you won’t have anybod—”

  Tammy heard the slap before she felt it. She had failed to see his hand coming, but the force behind it spun her around, nearly knocking her off her feet. She bit her tongue. Her ear began to ring. The next moment his hand was at her throat.

  “What are you going to do now?” His eyes were bright, fierce, maniacal. “Threaten me? Touch me and make me want you? Try it. Go on, try it.”

  He held her by the throat, constricting her air passage. Pain brought tears to her eyes.

  “I pity you. Look at you with your big fake breasts, wearing clothes years too young for you. When will you understand that there’s more to a person than looks? Amanda has brains, common sense, and ... something that you’ll never have—class.”

  He abruptly released his hold on her. While Tammy struggled for a breath, coughing and wheezing, Gary retrieved his jacket from the floor and stormed out of the house, the door slamming with finality behind him.

  She sank to the floor, sobbing.

  He loved her. He was just confused. Torn.

  Despite the pain and the panic she felt at the moment, Tammy knew Gary was right about one thing, she’d never have Amanda’s brains or social position. She had only one thing that she could count on in life. Her looks. And the attention it brought her.

  As she wept, she thought back to a time when attention wasn’t as hard to get. Her father, a deep-sea fisherman, had been lost at sea when Tammy was five. Friends of her father came to her mother’s house in San Pedro to help out. On those occasions Tammy would put on her red dress and black tap shoes. To records she danced, her pale hair flying across her face, the full skirt of her taffeta dress twirling straight out, showing off her ruffled panties. The men would clap and press coins into her hand. She catered to them, brought them food, drinks. She rubbed their backs and feet and they said she had magic fingers. All this she did happily, not for the money, but for the attention.