Night Hunter

by Carol Davis Luce

  She lost all patience. “And then I would’ve had acid splashed in my face.”

  “Ma’am, I think--”

  “I was one of the contestants in the Classic pageant,” she said in exasperation. She watched the two policemen exchange glances. “The same pageant that Donna Lake was in. You’ve heard of Donna Lake, I assume?”

  The officers nodded.

  “Someone’s out to get all of us.”

  “All of you, ma’am?”

  “All of the finalists. Maybe all of the contestants for all I know.”

  “I see.”

  The other officer said, “The vet will autopsy your dog. Find out exactly what killed him. Could be he just had a heart attack or a stroke.”

  “He was foaming at the mouth. He ate—” The doorbell interrupted.

  Sherry slid off the couch and ran to the door, a policeman right behind her. A moment later she was back, followed by Regina and Kristy.

  Tammy jumped up, rushed to Regina, and embraced her. “Jesus, am I glad to see you. Tell these ... these policemen about your theory. Tell them how someone wants to make us hideous.”

  Regina put her arm around Tammy. “Tammy, that’s all it is, a theory. I have no proof.”

  “Christ, my dog was poisoned. That should certainly—”

  One officer cut in, “The only thing we know for sure at this point, ma’am, is that the dog is dead. We don’t know how it died.”

  “When will you know?” Regina asked.

  “Soon as the vet gets to it.”

  “Which vet?”

  “Over at the Daly City Animal Hospital.” He excused himself and went to join his partner outside.

  Tammy looked out the slider and saw the young Latin- looking cop dragging a black bag across the patio. Warrior. Such a faithful dog. She turned away and began to cry again.

  “I’ll get you a pill, Momma,” Sherry said.

  Tammy nodded, blew her nose.

  “Hi, Kristy babe,” Tammy sniffed, put an arm around her and squeezed. “It’s good to see you again. Jesus, you get prettier and prettier.”

  The police finished up and left. Kristy took charge of the twins, playing video games with them while the women talked quietly in the kitchen.

  After a second cup of coffee, running on caffeine and nervous energy, Tammy said, “You’ve been great, Regina. Not many people would rush out in the middle of the night to be with a friend. Not a friend, actually. What contact we’ve had over the years was because of Donna. She’s so good for all of us. I never felt threatened by her like I did with you and Amelia. And it’s not just because I beat her out in the contest, it’s ... well…

  “I know.”

  “I was too frigging jealous of you to give our friendship a chance.”

  Regina smiled. “That’s honest.”

  “Weren’t you jealous of Corinne?”

  “The contest wasn’t that ...” Regina paused, then went on, “Yes, yes I suppose I was.”

  Tammy realized then that Regina wasn’t being as honest.

  “You were the first runner-up,” Tammy said, “and you were supposed to take over as queen.”

  Regina nodded.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Regina stared into the coffee mug.

  “The truth,” Tammy said quietly.

  “I didn’t have a year to devote to the obligations of the winner.”

  After a moment of stunned silence, Tammy said, “God, you came so close to winning. And you didn’t even want the title. Or the crown or any of the perks that went with it. How could you do that to the rest of us?”

  Regina looked at Tammy. “Do what?”

  “Without you I’d’ve been the second runner-up,” Tammy’s voice was high and forced, “not third.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Sure enough.”

  “And what if you had been second runner-up, where do you think it would have gotten you?”

  “You’re a producer of a TV show,” Tammy said, knowing her tone was accusatory, but unable to stop,

  “Donna’s show.”

  Tammy understood her meaning; it was ridiculous to think the pecking order would have changed the outcome of their futures.

  “Maybe you’re right, Tam. Maybe you would have been second runner-up. Maybe—”

  “Oh, Regina, I’m such a bitch,” Tammy cut in, ashamed of herself. “I wake you up in the middle of the night, drag you from your bed so I can accuse you of screwing up my life. I wish to hell none of us had entered that damn contest.”

  They fell silent. Tammy picked nervously at the glittery polish on one long thumbnail, her mind wandering back to Warrior again. Gary would be heartbroken, he loved that dumb at mutt. That Lab was his, but Gary felt that the girls should have the dog for protection. “Regina, will you take us to Gary’s?”

  “Now?”

  Tammy nodded. “He has his answering machine on. I can’t get through.” She failed to mention that Gary always kept his answering machine on.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  At 5:12, Regina double parked the station wagon in front of Gary’s house in the Sunset district. Regina and Tammy sat in the front seat, the twins and Kristy in the back.

  “I’ll wait here till you’ve gone inside,” Regina said. “Just in case there’s a problem.”

  “It’s okay. We’re always welcome.”

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  Tammy, with her arms around her daughters, went up the walk to the front door. Tammy used the knocker, timidly at first, then with gusto.

  After several long minutes, the door opened. Regina caught a glimpse of a slender arm and a long royal blue robe. She could not hear what was being said on the stoop, but Tammy looked visibly shaken,

  “Oh-oh, looks like trouble,” Kristy said.

  The girls clung to their mother.

  The door opened wider. The woman disappeared only to be replaced in the doorway by a tall, thin, bare-chested man wearing rimless glasses and what looked like a pair of sweatpants. The girls vanished inside, the door closed, and Tammy, left standing on the stoop, began to beat her fists against the door. After several moments she turned and came down the steps, stumbling on the last one.

  The rear door opened and Tammy slid inside, closing the door softly. “He had company. Out of town friends, I…uh, didn’t want to impose.”

  Regina started the engine and pulled away.

  “Where are we going?” Tammy asked, looking behind her at her husband’s house.

  “To our place. We all need some sleep.”

  Twenty minutes later Regina was making up the sofa bed in the living room. Kristy had gone on to bed. Tammy, in a stupor, sat slumped on one of the club chairs, staring at the floor.

  It had all caught up with her, Regina thought. The dog’s death, the shock, the pills, the rejection. A lot for one person to take in a single night. She found a cotton nightshirt and went to stand before Tammy.

  “Here, put this on.” She held out the nightshirt. “We better try to get a few hours sleep. Tammy?”

  Tammy raised her head lethargically, her eyes seemed glazed and unfocused.

  “Tammy?”

  With a sudden physical outburst. Tammy began to pound her fists on the top of her thighs. With each blow she grunted in pain and frustration.

  “Tammy, stop. Please.” Regina grabbed her wrists and held them, dropping to her knees.

  “The bastard moved her in,” she said vehemently. “She’s living in my house. Sleeping in my bed with my husband.” Tammy strained, and the strength behind her months of aerobics became quite evident to Regina as she struggled to hold on. Tammy broke the hold and then she did something that took Regina by surprise —she suddenly went limp, fell to her knees, and began to sob, deep, racking sobs. “He loves her. What will I do? Reggie, what will I do now?”

  Regina hugged her tightly. “Tam, everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”

 
“Gary threatened to put me back in that nut-nuthouse,” she cried bitterly, hiccuping.

  “What nuthouse?”

  “They ke-kept me six weeks in a mental ward. Ga-Gary wants me to go back.”

  Regina held her and rocked. But the comforting words she longed to say wouldn’t come.

  Donna held the mirror with a tremulous hand. She sat up in the hospital bed in a room brilliant with sunlight. Nolan and the boys stood on her right. Her father and Dr. Saxton were on her left.

  The doctor leaned in and began to take off the bandage. She kept the mirror turned away, too terrified to watch. She closed her eyes.

  The last scrap of gauze came away and she heard someone draw in a sharp breath. Her pulse pounded and she felt faint. She opened her eyes and saw Nolan. The expression on his face was one of astonishment.

  She turned her head to look at her father. The old man had tears in his eyes. He reached out, putting his hand over hers, and lifted the mirror. Slowly she turned her head.

  She was perfectly normal.

  She looked to the doctor in disbelief. He smiled, nodded.

  “It’s something new we’ve been working with.” He stroked her jaw. “A drug that rapidly heals without a trace of scarring.”

  She began to cry. Nolan took her in his arms and shushed her. In her ear he said quietly, “Donna, luv, I can say this now, now that you’re okay. God forgive me, I don’t think I could have lived with a woman who was...”

  She cried from sheer relief and happiness.

  And as she felt herself awakening, she fought it, struggled to go back in, to escape for a bit longer in her miracle dream. But the bright light of day was gradually replaced by the steely dawn, more dark than light.

  Fully awake now, Donna wiped her eyes with a corner of the sheet. An overwhelming sadness closed around her. Although her loved ones rallied around her each day, and the room filled daily with flowers from her devoted fans, she’d never felt so lonely in her life. Tammy and Amelia had finally come, and though they were kind and supportive, it was apparent they both struggled to control the revulsion that roiled inside them when they looked at her.

  She hated the feelings that had gradually come to replace the apathetic, disjointed ones following on the heels of the assault. Now, along with the incredible loneliness, she battled post-attack terror. A new nurse or orderly entering her room sent her pulse racing dangerously. She had become distrusting and hyper-vigilant.

  Not only was she frightened for her life, she was terrified that she would lose her husband’s love.

  She was about to close her eyes when she sensed someone was in the room with her. Turning her head to the left, she saw a hooded figure in a long black coat standing just inside the door.

  Donna gripped the sheet tightly.

  The figure moved forward, one faltering step at a time, until it reached the foot of the bed. With what looked to Donna like a calculated move, a gloved hand reached up and pulled back the hood. Wraparound sunglasses caught the soft night light. Those came off next.

  The fact that the figure looking across the bed at her was a woman failed to alleviate Donna’s terror. Her breathing became labored.

  “Hi, Donna.”

  Donna recognized the rusty sounding voice. Although the light in the room was diffused, she could make out the dark twisted skin and the black space where an eye should have been. Corinne.

  She swallowed.

  “Yes. It’s early, I know. I don’t go out in the daylight.”

  Donna balled the sheet against her stomach.

  “You’re wondering why I’m here? I wanted to see you.” A long pause. “That’s all. I just wanted to see you.”

  Donna glanced at the call button attached to the rail of the bed.

  “Looks like you’ve still got both your eyes.” She moved around the corner of the bed and took a step closer. “Does it hurt? Can’t talk, huh? Bet you’re gonna have plastic surgery. That’s no fun either.” Another step. “Burns are such a bitch to work on.” She chuckled softly. “Course, I wouldn’t know. My old man took the money I won, the money that should’ve gone to fix me up, and paid his bookie with it. He thought his miserable hide was more important than mine. After he pissed that money away and hocked the rest of my winnings, he got deep into them again, so there was never any money for me. My mother worked herself to death to pay his gambling debts and keep him in booze and diabetic insulin. Now we make do with state aid.” She was standing alongside Donna’s head now, the stale, sour smell of alcohol clearly on her breath. “So tell me, Miss Celebrity, Miss Pollyanna of the Classic women, do you still want me on your show?”

  Donna squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to see more.

  “What, no pity for me?” Corinne asked lightly “No, I guess not. Well, save it for yourself. You’re going to need it.”

  Long after those words, though Donna was certain Corinne was no longer in the room, she kept her eyes tightly closed. But behind her lids she saw Corinne as clearly as if she still stood before her. She would end up like Corinne, no amount of surgery could fix her. Whatever the damage, it would be with her always.

  Her teeth chattered, making the wounds at her jaw and throat throb.

  CHAPTER 21

  Amelia lay on her side with her eyes closed, feigning sleep. The bed shifted slightly. She held her breath. Cool fingers probed between her legs. She jerked reflexively as a wave of repulsion washed through her.

  Oh, how she hated him. Wooing or foreplay were nonexistent. Not that she wanted Matthew to kiss or fondle her or in any way prolong the vile act that he called love, but she detested the way he came at her, fingers poking, pinching. The moment he touched her she stiffened, and no amount of self-will could induce her to mentally remove herself, or take on a fantasy lover. If he knew how sick his touch made her, the shock would render him impotent for life. Perhaps she’d tell him when the time was right.

  He fit himself to her spoon fashion, the wiry hairs on his legs pricking at her calves like cockleburs, his erection pressed at her lower back.

  “Amelia,” he said quietly.

  It was no use. He would persist until she could stand it no more, and stalling only wasted time. She turned over on her back and parted her legs. Matthew rolled over on her. In a matter of moments he was on his way.

  From years of having to endure, she knew what Matthew liked, what would hurry him along so she could get his bony body off her. She licked her lips and moaned.

  “Is it good, Amelia?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Amelia?”

  “Oh, yes, always.” She moaned again and rolled her hips just so.

  He let out a sharp cry, then collapsed on top of her.

  She wanted to push him off, rush into the bathroom and scrub herself with a stiff loofah sponge, but Matthew took his time.

  At last he rolled off her. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Amelia smiled knowingly. Now that the disgusting act was over, it really hadn’t been so bad. Especially since he had something for her. Was it the sheared beaver jacket? Or the half-carat diamond earrings she’d pointed out to him at Gump’s? She preferred the jewelry. It could always be converted into cash.

  “How sweet, darling. What is it?”

  “I know you were disappointed that you couldn’t visit your parents last weekend, so I’ve cleared my calendar for a couple days. For our anniversary we’ll drive to Napa and stay at the Meadowvale Inn. While I get in a round of golf you can take the car and drive out to see them.”

  The joy of anticipation drained out of Amelia. She felt cold and sick again. The Meadowvale was the inn where she and Fletcher were to stay. With Fletch it would have been heaven. But with Matthew it could only be hell.

  No fur jacket, no diamond earrings. Nothing. Worse than nothing. His surprise? A plush suite where he would behave like a raunchy, insatiable lover.

  The timing couldn’t have been worse. Fletcher was due back then. And there was one other bit of business.<
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  “Is there something wrong?”

  “Hmmm?” She brought her attention back to her husband.

  “You don’t look pleased with my surprise.” He frowned. “If you’d rather not.”

  “No. No, darling,” she said quickly. “Of course I’m pleased. It’s our anniversary, after all. How thoughtful.” She squeezed his hand and in a distracted voice she added quietly, “How very thoughtful.”

  Matthew rolled to the side of the bed and opened the top drawer of the nightstand. With a self-pleased grin he handed her a small velvet box.

  She took the box, looking up at him, then, tentatively, she opened it. Against the black velvet the twelve graduated diamonds set in white gold blazed like stars in a desert sky.

  “Ohhh,” she breathed. “The tennis earrings.”

  “As I was purchasing these I said to myself, ‘There is only one thing perfect enough to wear with them.’”

  The jacket? A matching necklace? Bracelet? Amelia’s head felt light. What else had he bought for her? Perhaps the ordeal could be somewhat more endurable if...

  “Bubbles,” he said with a pleased expression. “Hot tub bubbles. I reserved a suite with a Jacuzzi. You, my love, in a pool of hot, bubbly water wearing nothing but the earrings.” His hand squeezed a breast.

  Amelia smiled. Her fingers gripped the box tightly.

  Several hours later, just before noon, with their bags packed and Amelia putting the finishing touches to her face and hair, Matthew, impatient with waiting, announced he was going to the station to fill the car with gas. After he left, Amelia rushed to the phone. Her first call was to Nolan Lake at KSCO. Then she dialed the number from the card Fletcher had given her. After a half dozen rings a resonant voice said: “Good afternoon, Morse, Blake, Noble Mortuary. How may I help you?”

  “Pardon me, is this 315-555-1010?” She was assured it was. She hung up.

  Damn!

  He had inadvertently jotted down the wrong number? What was the name of the hotel where Fletcher said he would be staying? Had he even mentioned a name? She couldn’t remember.

  There was nothing to do but wait until he returned.