by Lis Wiehl
“I was thinking that there are going to be children here,” he said. “I don’t suppose you keep any weapons in the house, do you? We want to make sure there isn’t anything dangerous that little kids might get their hands on.”
“What would a librarian be doing with weapons in her house?” she said, moving to her coat closet, where she reached in and grabbed a twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun. She reached into the closet a second time, grabbed a handful of shells, chambered four shells, and flicked off the safety.
“Whatever happened to that bird gun your grandfather used to hunt ducks with?” she asked as she handed him the gun.
“I don’t know,” Tommy said. He watched with surprise as his aunt reached back into the closet and pulled out a .45 caliber Colt automatic.
“You know how your grandfather loved guns. Did you know I once dated a policeman?” she said, filling her apron pockets with extra clips. “He used to take me shooting at the target range in Danbury. I quite enjoyed it.”
“Are you kidding me?” Tommy said.
“What other stereotypes about librarians would you like me to debunk?” she said, expertly cocking the pistol.
Tommy tried to think. Escape wasn’t an option, and standing to fight was not a good idea either. He said a quick prayer but readied the shotgun all the same.
Then the lights went out.
“What happened?” he said.
“Oh, the wind is always knocking the trees down around here,” she said. She reached into the closet for a flashlight, but when she turned it on, Tommy covered the beam with his hand and whispered, “No lights!” She turned it off.
Using the scanner, he saw that the thing outside the house was moving. He followed the blue image as it began to slowly circle the house. He kept the shotgun pointed where the scanner told him the demon was. His aunt stayed behind him, holding her weapon with two hands in a way that showed she knew what she was doing.
They backed into the living room and paused as the large silhouette stopped on the other side of the front door. Tommy watched the doorknob turn as it glowed on his screen, bluer and bluer. Then it stopped turning, and the shape began to move again. It was now standing outside the picture window.
Tommy opened up on the demon, firing four thundering shotgun blasts through the glass as fast as he could, shattering the window and splintering the frame. His aunt opened fire a split second after he did, flames spitting from the muzzle of her pistol to make the room flash with light a dozen times.
Tommy reloaded quickly, grabbing shells from his coat pocket, and then moved to the window to scan outside the house.
The screen read blank. The demon was gone. For now.
Aunt Ruth turned on her flashlight to survey the room.
“Maybe we should have Thanksgiving at my house this year?” Tommy said.
“Maybe we should,” his aunt said. “Do you think we hurt it?”
“I don’t know,” Tommy replied. “I think it’s more afraid of attracting attention. You’ll be safer at my house. I just hope it’s not headed that way.”
20.
Tommy’s cell phone rang on the way to his house at the wheel of his Aunt Ruth’s car. He’d retrieve his motorcycle tomorrow, when he met the glass repairman at her house.
The director of the wolf sanctuary was on the other end, asking him again for the location of the deer carcass he’d reported. When Tommy told her, the woman said they’d scoured the exact area he’d described and found nothing.
“Maybe someone from the county or the local police already picked it up,” he suggested.
“I’ve already checked with everyone I could think of. No one’s seen it.”
“Maybe some of the local wild wolves got to it first,” Tommy joked.
When the director told him that the man she’d sent had indeed seen tracks in the dirt on the shoulder of the road, but nothing he could identify, Tommy told her to make sure the gates were locked, because you never knew what might be lurking in the shadows.
She laughed. He didn’t.
Tommy carried his aunt’s bags into his kitchen, re-armed his security system, and then put her things in his father’s room.
When he returned, he watched with a mix of awe and admiration as she tended to her weapons, checked the safeties, reloaded, wiped them down thoroughly with a soft dish towel, and set them carefully on the food island. All the way to Tommy’s house, she’d listened as he told her how the investigation into Amos Kasden and the murder of Julie Leonard had led them down a path that was, to say the least, unexpected, but one that was clearer with each passing day. She asked questions when she didn’t understand something, but not for a moment did she express any doubt as to his interpretation of events. As he had parked her car in the courtyard, he asked her if she thought he was crazy to be talking about chasing demons.
“Thomas,” she said, “when I was younger, I was like most young people—I thought I knew all the answers. Then I thought I knew the questions but not the answers. I stopped going to church for a few years when I realized I didn’t even know the questions. But I came back when I realized that even if I didn’t know the questions or the answers, Jesus does, and he’d give them to me when I needed them. I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’d be foolish not to believe what you believe.”
She was puzzled, though, by one thing: why had Abbie suggested that she, Ruth, was “the boy’s best chance”?
“I can look things up in books, but anybody can do that,” she said. “Why would she single me out? Assuming Ben was right in the first place.”
“Ben knows things,” Tommy said. “I’m not sure how, but he does.”
He’d set his aunt’s key chain on the food island, next to the strawberryrhubarb pie she’d had the presence of mind to grab in case she couldn’t get back into her kitchen before Thanksgiving. She promised to make Tommy his favorite, pecan pie, and a traditional pumpkin too, if she had time tomorrow.
He held up the smallest key. “What’s this one?”
“That’s to the gun chest.”
“Gun chest?” Tommy said. “You mean there’re more?”
“The policeman was a collector,” she said. “He had no one to leave his collection to when he passed on. He thought I might appreciate them.” She raised her hand to cut off the question on Tommy’s lips. “Don’t ask. You didn’t know him. It was some time ago. I’ve moved on.”
“Okay then,” Tommy said, returning to the key chain. “How about this one? This looks a hundred years old.”
“Library attic. It’s probably older. As far as I know, it’s the same key and the same lock they put in when the library was built 183 years ago.”
“What’s in the attic?”
“A lot of dusty old books,” she said. “Town records. The figurines from the crèche we used to put out front at Christmas before the government said it wasn’t allowed. Old newspapers. Now that I think of it, Abigail used to spend quite a bit of time up there before she went to the nursing home.”
“Doing what?”
“Research. I didn’t pry. A lot of old people come to the library just because they’re lonely. Though she didn’t mind being alone. I always told her I’d be happy to fetch whatever she needed and bring it downstairs for her, but she said it would be easier if she just stayed up there and didn’t make anybody run up and down the stairs. I worried about her on those stairs, but you know how spry she was. She had her own little desk in the corner.”
“What kind of research?”
“Town historical stuff, I think. I’m not really sure.”
“Can we go have a look tomorrow?”
“We can if Leon has remembered to change the lightbulbs.”
“I’ll change the lightbulbs,” Tommy said. “I think your hunch was right. Abbie knew you were more than just someone who could look things up in books.”
His security system alerted him to a visitor at the gate. When he checked the video monitor, he saw Carl’s face.
Tommy pressed the intercom. “Come on in.”
“I can’t. The keypad isn’t working.”
Tommy remembered that he’d changed the code, just in case, and gave him the new one.
Carl’s arrival in the courtyard triggered Tommy’s motion-sensoractivated floodlights. He had a large duffel bag thrown across the back of his bike, strapped to the black touring bag he’d slipped over the sissy bar.
Tommy turned from the window to see Ruth scowling at him. “You really need to stop this matchmaking,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“More than I would have guessed,” Tommy said, eyeing the guns on the food island. “But I’m not matchmaking. I asked Carl to come over to help keep an eye on things. I don’t think it’s safe for any of us to fall asleep without someone on watch. Once I get you all settled in, I’m going to go get Dani.”
“If we’re going to the mattresses, I’m going to need supplies to make spaghetti.”
“Going to the mattresses?” Tommy said. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?”
“Isn’t that what they called it in The Godfather?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Tommy said, shaking his head.
Tommy was happy to see his friend, knowing that three heads were better than two. Once he could be sure Dani was safe in his house, it would be five heads better than three, because she was smart enough to count twice.
As Tommy opened the back door for Carl, Ruth got up, saying she needed to go to her room to freshen up, and darted out of the room.
“Glad you could make it,” Tommy told Carl. “Let me take that and throw it in the guestroom. You get a nap in?”
“I wish,” Carl said.
Tommy knew that after losing his daughter, Carl had been treated for depression, had even undergone electroshock therapy. He claimed that the only thing that really helped him was to ride his motorcycle, because he found he could pray while he rode in a way he couldn’t when he was in a quiet place alone with his thoughts. Tommy noticed a scab on the back of Carl’s right hand and redness, as if he’d been scratching himself. Where his hair was thin on top, his scalp looked flaky as well. Dani was the mental health expert. He wondered what she’d think.
Carl eyed the guns on the countertop. “What’s with the arsenal?”
“They’re my aunt’s,” Tommy said. “She’s a lot more dangerous than she looks.”
“Apparently. What’s that?”
“Strawberry-rhubarb pie.”
To Tommy’s surprise, Carl wrinkled his nose. Had he only been acting polite when he’d said he liked it?
“If the landline rings, would you pick it up? It might be Dani. If it is, please tell her to throw some clothes in a bag, because I’m on my way to get her.”
“Will do,” Carl said.
Tommy was worried. Dani hadn’t called. When he reached her house, he rapped on the back door and was greeted by the barking of a dog that, viewed through the window, appeared to be the size of a water buffalo. Dani had inherited the house after losing her parents in a plane crash, but after being attacked by Amos Kasden in her own kitchen, and watching him die there when Tommy saved her, she was leaning toward selling it. Her memories of her parents were intact, but the house no longer contained them. Tommy saw a For Sale by Owner sign on her back porch, leaning against the railing, but it was still on the porch and not in the front yard.
He turned to see Dani’s car pull into the driveway. She climbed out of her car and smiled to see him. When she reached the back steps, he took her in his arms and kissed her. She had a bag over her shoulder and shopping bags dangling from her arms, making it hard for her to reciprocate.
“Better,” he said.
“Much better. I’ve been meaning to tell you I think we need to kiss more.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was saying it by batting my eyelashes.”
“Is that what that was?” he said. “I thought you had allergies.”
“There’s a fifty-pound bag of dog food in the trunk, Romeo,” she said. “Otto’s probably hungry. Would you mind?”
“Maybe you should leave it in the car,” Tommy said. “You didn’t get my message? I think you should stay at my house for a while. Otto and Arlo too.”
He quickly told her what had happened at his aunt’s house, and when he’d finished she agreed that they needed to stay close together and be on constant alert.
“So Ruth knows?” Dani said.
“I couldn’t exactly pretend it was just my imagination after blowing a giant hole in her house. She’s on board. Not thrilled about having a demon on her trail, but she’s in.”
“Why was she attacked? Because Abbie mentioned her?”
“That’s all I can think of.”
“How do they know what Abbie said?”
“I don’t know. Where’s Quinn?”
“Good question,” Dani said. “He seems to have disappeared. Okay, ‘disappeared’ makes it sound ominous. He’s still checked in at the inn, but he asked the young woman at the front desk for a cab to the station in Katonah. I assume he’s gone back to the city.”
“Is he coming back?” Tommy said. Otto barked again.
“He’d better. I can’t afford to feed that eating machine much longer.”
“Grab everything you need,” Tommy said, taking the keys from her hand and opening the door for her, “but make it quick. I don’t like leaving Carl alone with my aunt for too long.”
“Do you think they can’t protect themselves?”
“I’m worried we’re going to catch them making out when we get back.”
“Speaking of which . . .” She grabbed him by the head and kissed him with all the passion she felt inside of her. “Who knows when we’re going to get another chance?” she said when she finally pulled her lips from his.
“Yeah, who knows?” he said, throwing his arms around her. “Oh, look— here’s another chance now.” They kissed again and he lifted her off her feet for a long minute. Then he set her down. “I’ll put the food back in the car, and then I’ll help you pack. Tell me what to get. And don’t forget your computer.”
His friends had told him when he’d closed on the mansion—with its ten bedrooms, high-tech security system, exterior walls built from stone and solid as those of a castle; the land marking the highest elevation in Westchester County, surrounded by a stone wall topped with a deer fence rising ten feet, with a hedgerow between the wall and the road that completely blocked any view of his house from the street—that he’d bought himself a fortress of solitude. He agreed with them completely.
Tommy had decorated the house according to his taste, which gave it a distinctly masculine feel, but he had a pair of guestrooms decorated with female guests in mind, with bedspreads and curtains more floral and pastel, and bathrooms stocked with shampoos and skin-care products that, he had to admit, he’d hired a female personal shopper to pick out for him. He put Dani in what he referred to as Chick Room 1.
Over a late dinner, Tommy, Dani, and Carl gave Ruth a more thorough debriefing. Dani broke down for her what Quinn had learned about the drug they’d been given at Starbucks, and his explanation for Amos Kasden’s psychotic break. When Carl referred to Quinn as Dani’s ex-fiancé, Dani awkwardly corrected him, saying he was just a friend.
“Well, either way,” Carl said, “he seems to be a genius. We’re lucky he’s working for the good guys.”
When everyone started yawning, Carl agreed to stay up for the first watch. His job was to watch the security monitors, both the night-vision cameras and the FLIR monitors, and wake everybody if he saw anything. “As I understand it,” Tommy said, “they might scare us, but they can’t physically harm us unless they take material form. And when they do that, they’re vulnerable. I don’t know if that thing we saw at Ruth’s house is still out there, but when we shot at it, it definitely didn’t like the attention. They feel pain when they’re corporeal. And I, for one, intend to cause as much
of that as I can.”
Dani got ready for bed, then went down to the kitchen in her flannel pajamas because she’d forgotten to fill Otto’s water dish. She didn’t ask Carl to do it because for some reason Otto had growled at Carl. Until then Otto seemed to like everybody he met.
They’d decided that since the property was walled in, it was safe to let the dog sleep on the back porch where he’d be sheltered from the wind and cold by an old denim duvet cover Tommy found in the garage and stuffed with straw from the chicken coop. Otto seemed content with the plan.
Dani set down his dish of water, which he’d nearly finished by the time she was done rubbing his ears and wishing him good night.
In the kitchen she told Carl she felt ever so slightly safer with the dog on the porch.
“I’m not sure it will mean much if push comes to shove,” Carl said. “Though he is a big one.”
“Carl,” Dani said, “if you don’t mind, please don’t tell Tommy I was asking about Cassandra. It’s none of my business and I know it’s over— there was really no point in my bringing it up. Just forget I said anything.”
“You have my word,” Carl said. “But it’s tough to be around someone else’s ex, knowing that somewhere in the past they loved the other person as much as they love you now. Has Tommy said anything to you about Quinn?”
“No,” Dani said. She found it hard to believe Tommy would be jealous of Quinn. “Has he said anything to you?”
“No,” Carl said. “Though I imagine he wouldn’t mind getting your friend in an arm-wrestling contest or something similarly macho.”
“Really? He said that?”
“No,” Carl said. “He didn’t say that. Actually, I think he learned his lesson on jealousy with Cassandra. I couldn’t count the number of times he got upset when she’d have her picture in one of the tabloids and the headline said she was cheating on him. I told him they were just trying to get readers, but it was hard for him not to take it seriously. He was heartbroken when she finally left him.”