Night Hunter

by Carol Davis Luce

  “Michigan. It’s a private matter.”

  “Oh? We’re starting to have secrets, are we?”

  “It’s my ex-wife. She’s trying to get the courts to allow her husband to adopt my kid.”

  “What do you care? You never visit him and you certainly don’t want him living with you.”

  “It’s the principle of the thing. Billy’s an only child, a Kincade. He’s the last to carry on the family name.”

  Amelia was silent. So Fletch was an only child. She also was an only child. A change-of-life baby. A beautiful baby. From the day she was born her parents delighted in entering her in one beauty contest after another. The blue ribbons, trophies, and photographs had filled her room. Black hair, almond-shaped eyes the color of deep sapphires, fair skin that never freckled, were Amelia Travis’s claim to fame. And her parents doted on her. Her father, a custodian on the ferry to Oakland, brought home something for his daughter nearly every day. A trinket, a toy, a picture book—these gifts she accepted with glee, until, at the age of seven, she discovered that the items were not new, but things left by other children on the ferry. Without a word, she went through her room, carefully gathering all the used gifts that he’d given her over the years and, with obvious contempt, dumped them in the outdoor incinerator. In a quiet voice she had said to her mortified parents, “I want new things. Only new things. Never again give me dirty, filthy hand-me-downs.”

  Both parents worked to supply her ever-demanding needs. In school she had always been the most envied girl, though not the most liked. She lacked the ability to make friends. All her life she’d been too competitive, pitted against other girls and taught that they were nothing more than rivals. Spoiled, conceited, and oftentimes mean and spiteful, she got what she wanted through intimidation and, of course, her looks. The loneliness was overcome by material things.

  Later, there was never a shortage of lovers.

  Despite the discouraging news that KSCO had a temporary replacement for Donna Lake, Amelia, confident as usual, knew that “show business” was a fickle business. Over the years she had noticed Nolan Lake’s gaze sweep over her appreciatively and his fingers linger on hers in greeting. She only had to encourage him a bit. She had, after all, made a screen test that had showed great promise. If the studio hadn’t gone under she’d be a star today. If she’d looked good to a major movie studio, she could certainly hold her own on a half hour local talk show.

  “Leave a number where I can reach you,” Amelia said to Fletcher. She sat up and began to dress.

  Fletcher left the bed, took a business card from his wallet, and jotted down a number. “This is a hotel in Deerfield.”

  She tucked the card in her new eyeglass case with the two twenties she’d taken from Matthew’s wallet that morning—old habits die hard. God, but she’d be glad when she would have complete control over her life. And the sooner the better.

  “I’ll go down with you to your car,” Fletcher said.

  “It’s all right. I parked on the street.” She refused to use the parking garage. The experience with the mugger was not to be repeated. Thinking about it now, Amelia felt a stab of fear.

  Donna opened her eyes to see her father, a grim expression on his face, hovering over her. Under the dressing on her face, she smiled, hoping that he could detect, by the brightness in her eyes, how pleased she was to see him there.

  “I can’t believe something like this could happen to one of my own children,” he said gruffly. “A travesty like this could ruin your career. How bad is it?”

  Donna rolled her head on the pillow, shrugging her shoulder.

  “Well, let’s have a look.” He reached for the gauze and began to pull it back.

  “What are you doing? Stop that!” A nurse rushed in, pushing Stanley Cragg aside. “You could do irreparable damage.”

  “Then I better get some straight answers,” he bellowed. “Is my daughter going to be deformed? I have a right to know.”

  “Please, sir,” the nurse said, her eyes darting from Donna to her father. “If you want answers, ask Dr. Saxton.”

  “Is he in the hospital now?”

  “Yes. Someone at the nurse’s station will page him for you.”

  Cragg leaned over his daughter. “You’ll be normal again if it takes every cent I have to make it so. I’ll get the best plastic surgeon in the states. We’ll have you moved to the finest burn clinic. You hear, Donna? By God, you’ll not be malformed.” He squeezed her hand. Then he was gone.

  The nurse smoothed back her hair. “Miss Lake, please don’t let what he said disturb you. Some people get so carried away with pain and anger they don’t realize what they’re saying. I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  A tear slipped out of Donna’s eye and rolled across her temple.

  CHAPTER 20

  With a strangled cry Tammy awoke. Her hand came up to touch her face. It was somewhat rough from peeling, but no bumps, nothing crawling.

  She shuddered with relief. It had been so real. In the nightmare she was looking in a mirror at a blemish on her face. She leaned in closer and was horrified to see it moving, wriggling, squirming to work its way out of her skin. The thing from her face dropped into her hand, rolled and twisted on her palm. A maggot. Tammy looked into the mirror again. Her entire face was alive with slimy maggots breaking out through her pores. She wanted to scream, but she could only make a gagging, choking sound.

  Through a foggy stillness. Tammy heard the telephone ringing. It stopped before she was really sure she heard it.

  She was lying on her stomach at the foot of the bed, fully clothed except for shoes, a pillow balled under her face, the remote control in her hand. She looked around her bedroom, confused, feeling as if she were in a foreign place. Since Gary had left her, she had trouble sleeping.

  The only source of light came from the snowy screen of the TV. She rolled over on her side and looked at the digital clock. 2:22. Two was her lucky number. She glanced away quickly and made a wish. She wished for Gary. If she looked back at the clock while it was changing, the wish wouldn’t come true.

  The phone rang. Who would call this late? Gary?

  She rolled over and fumbled the receiver off the hook. The clock was changing. Damnit. “Hello?”

  “Tamara Blanco?” a raspy voice asked.

  Her maiden name. “It’s Kowalski now—hey, pal, do you know what time it—?”

  “You’re next.” The line went dead.

  A shiver rippled through her entire body. She remembered why she had fallen asleep fully clothed with the TV on. She’d been paralyzed with fear. Regina had implied they were in danger. All the finalists. She had gone to visit Donna after leaving Perry’s, and although Tammy couldn’t see the wounds under the dressing, God help her, she imagined what was there.

  She went into the bathroom, swallowed two Valium, then hurried into the girl’s room and switched on the light. Kerry moaned. Sherry rolled over, pulling the spread over her head.

  Warrior barked. The dog barked again, the sounds becoming more excited. She hesitantly she made her way through the house, her heart pumping a little faster with each step. Probably a cat teasing the dog.

  As she moved toward the family room she switched on lights. On the counter that divided the kitchen and the dining room, Tammy snatched up the phone. She held her thumb on the button, prepared to punch 911 if necessary.

  The barking had stopped.

  The silence clung to her like a web. She shivered. With a shaky finger she drew back the drapes at the sliding glass door. Her own reflection in the glass startled her.

  She flipped on the porch light.

  Warrior was on the concrete patio. He had his backside to her, and from where she stood she could see his head was down and his shoulders were lowered. There was something between his paws and he was sniffing and licking it.

  Tammy tapped on the glass door. Warrior turned his head to look at her. “Warrior, what’ve you got there?”


  At his feet Tammy saw what looked like a ball of ground beef. Now where would he get a chunk of ground beef at this time of night? Unless ...

  “Oh, shit ...” she hissed, sliding the door open. “Warrior, no!”

  He jumped, his eyes widening. Then he quickly went back to the thing at his feet. In two gulps it was gone.

  Warrior guiltily moved off several feet, head down, tail between his legs.

  “C’mere, boy.” She halted in the doorway, patted her thigh. “C’mere, baby.”

  The dog whined. Then he suddenly retched, tenuously at first, then violently. Within moments his body heaved in convulsive spasms. The panic in his eyes threw terror into Tammy. She stopped cold in her tracks, frozen, unable to move.

  The dog whined, ran in frantic circles. And she knew then that that was no ordinary hunk of meat. It was deadly.

  Tammy quickly looked right and left. Dark shadows were everywhere. What lurked in those shadows? What was waiting for her to come out in the open to help the dog?

  Instinctively her hands moved upward to protect her face. She backed up.

  “Warrior.” Her voice a hoarse whisper. “Come, Warrior.”

  The dog continued to run in a circle, moving further away from her and closer to those horrible shadows. It pawed frantically at its foaming mouth and throat.

  With a sob. Tammy slammed shut the slider, locking it. She dialed 911. As she talked to the police dispatcher, she crouched down under the breakfast bar and cried hysterically, hiccuping. Outside, through the loose weave of the drapes, Tammy watched in agony as Warrior, on his side now, thrashing, chest heaving, no longer able to make a sound, fought against the impossible. Then, with a final paroxysmal shudder, he lay still.

  A flood of inconsolable pain, grief, and guilt erupted within her. She buried her face in her hands and wailed.

  There was nothing she could have done. Nothing except to try to comfort the sweet baby in his dying moments— but at the cost of what? God Almighty, at the cost of what?

  Bells were ringing somewhere and she wished they’d stop. Moaning softly, Regina rolled over and realized the ringing was coming from the bedside telephone. The luminous hands on the clock read 2:44.

  Without turning on the light, she lifted the receiver. Before she could speak, a high-pitched voice screeched out, “He was here! God, Regina, that crazy madman was at my house!”

  “Tammy?” Regina pulled herself up to lean against the headboard.

  “He warned me. Then he killed Warrior. He poisoned my dog and ... and he was waiting for me to go out there!”

  “Tammy, what are you talking about?”

  “You were right, Regina. He is after us.”

  “My God, Tammy ...”

  “You’ve got to come over, I can’t get through to Gary, his machine is on.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “They’re on their way.”

  Regina raked her hand through her hair, holding it off her forehead. “All right, I’ll be there soon.”

  Tammy’s hysteria had unnerved her. Her fingers trembled as she dressed in jeans, a bulky sweater, and jogging shoes.

  In the bathroom she splashed cold water on her face and pulled her hair into a pony tail, then she went into Kristy’s room and shook her awake.

  “What’s going on?” Kristy leaned up on one elbow, her eyes still closed.

  “We have to go to Tammy’s.”

  “Another time.” Kristy rolled over.

  “Up. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

  Kristy sat up, pulled on the sweatpants and shirt that Regina handed her, slipped her feet into her hi-top Reeboks.

  They left the apartment and were halfway down the stairs when Regina heard the distant sound of the telephone ringing in their apartment. She paused, putting a hand out to stop Kristy.

  “I’ll get it.” Kristy turned and hurried back up.

  Regina waited on the stairs for several moments listening to the tinny meows of the kittens in the storage room. Then she slowly continued down toward the dimly lit stairs to the first floor. Tammy’s raving conversation raced through her head: “He poisoned my dog ... waiting for me.” She shivered.

  From the bottom of the stairs she heard a scuffing sound. It came from the rear of the apartment house. At the back door.

  She looked up to the second floor where the kittens’ cries were becoming more agitated. The cat? Had the mother cat been locked outside and unable to get back to her hungry brood?

  Cautiously, rubber soles silent on the hardwood floor, she crossed to the closed door of the laundry room and stopped. She put her ear to it.

  There was a metallic scraping on the other side. The knob turned. Suddenly the door was swinging inward. Regina managed to step back before it could hit her, but not quickly enough to get out of the way of whoever was charging through. He was on her in an instant, his body bearing her backward with such force that her feet went out from under her. Then she was going down and the man, clutching at her now, was falling with her. They fell to the floor. An arm, tight around her waist, squeezed the air from her.

  The man whose weight bore down on her was breathing deeply, his shirt was wet, and she could feel his heart pounding at his breastbone. Her arms and legs were pinned.

  “Wha--?” he began.

  She braced her body, then drove her head forward. His words were cut off as the top of her head soundly met the side of his face. He grunted. But instead of letting go, he held on tighter, bringing his head in close so it was impossible for her to butt him again. They struggled silently. She tried to reach for her purse and her canister of mace.

  A hand found her breast, then jerked away quickly. A moan escaped from his throat. He released her and rolled to one side.

  Regina quickly scrambled to her feet. The man lying on his back on the floor, wearing a dark leather jacket, was John Davie. She watched him warily.

  “Mrs. Van Raven, what the hell? —Look, I’m sorry. I thought you were a prowler.” He came to his feet, somewhat slower than she. He reached out to her.

  She backed up. “Don’t touch me, all right?”

  He shook his head. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you to meet this way. What are you doing at the back door in the middle of the night?”

  “I could ask the same question.”

  “I tend bar nights. I was coming home. I jog from work, that’s why I’m drenched and out of breath. If I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

  She licked her dry lips, but said nothing.

  He reached for her again, but when she glared at him, he dropped his hand, saying, “You have blood on your face. I think it’s mine.” He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. It came away bloody. “Yeah, it’s mine. Damn, that hurt.”

  She could believe it. The top of her head, where it had connected with his mouth, throbbed. She swiped at the side of her face. She heard an upstairs door close. Kristy. She backed up several steps.

  “Wait. I’ve got to talk to you. You have nothing to fear from me. If I wanted to hurt you, I had the perfect opportunity a moment ago.”

  Regina heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “Mother?” A whisper.

  “Here, Kristy,” Regina responded quietly.

  Her daughter rounded the banister and walked toward them. “Who’s with you?”

  “It’s me. John Davie.”

  “Mr. Davie was just coming in,” Regina said.

  Kristy looked from Regina to John, her expression puzzled. She reached out and straightened her mother’s twisted sweater. To John she said, “You’re bleeding, John.”

  “I did that,” Regina said.

  “But she promised me two out of three,” John said with a straight face.

  “Excuse us, Mr. Davie, we have to go.” Regina grabbed Kristy’s hand and pulled.

  He placed a hand over her arm and held on firmly. She looked up at him. His face was set, at the corner of his mouth, which was already swelling, a bead of bloo
d glistened. “All kidding aside, we have to talk. Are you coming or going?”

  “Going.”

  “It’s kinda late.”

  “A friend is in trouble.”

  “Does it have anything to do with what happened to Lake and Odett?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me go with you.”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “You still don’t trust me.” It was not a question.

  “I don’t know you, Mr. Davie.”

  “But do you believe that you may be in danger?”

  Regina and Kristy exchanged glances. Regina felt a tingling at the base of her skull. At this moment she was running on nervous energy, compounded by extreme trepidation. But didn’t everything seem menacing in the middle of the night after being knocked to the floor in the dark by a hard-breathing, sweaty, well-built man in a leather jacket?

  She nodded.

  He released her arm. “We’ll talk later. Be careful, okay?”

  She nodded again. She took out her mace key ring and they hurried out the door to the station wagon.

  On the deserted freeway, after Regina had told Kristy about Tammy’s call and her bizarre meeting with John Davie, they fell silent for several miles.

  “I forgot to ask,” Regina said. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Wrong number. He wanted a Miss Houston. Hey, that was your name before you married Daddy, huh?”

  “What did the voice sound like?” Regina asked with disquiet.

  “Deep, sorta sandpapery—oh, there it is. Mom, Daly City turnoff up ahead.”

  Regina had to grip the wheel to keep it from slipping from her wet palms. Her throat suddenly felt dry.

  “Yes, Mrs. Kowalski, dog poisoning is a criminal offense,” the uniformed officer said. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t entitle you to police protection.”

  “Warrior was killed because he was a guard dog.” Tammy hiccuped. Sherry and Kerry sat on each side of her on the couch. She pulled them closer. “Don’t you understand? Whoever did that to him, wanted me to go outside.”

  “And then what?”