Don

by Carlene Thompson

  "Go ahead, Jimmy," Nick said. "It was 8:25 and…"

  "And nothing happened for a few minutes. I knew it would, though. I had a hunch. So then someone started lighting candles, and then the music came on real loud. I went up to the window because Paige and me wanted a picture of the killer we saw the other night at the house." Nick frowned ferociously. Paige shrank. Jimmy hesitated, then plunged on. "Someone was wearing a long white thing and dancing. I was surprised. I thought it would be some awful-looking guy, but it was a girl with blond hair. I took the picture. She saw me. She ran out of the room, and Paige and me took off. Then Blaine and Natalie caught us, and you know the rest."

  "The girl was alone?"

  "Yeah. Dancin' like I said."

  "You didn't see anyone in the room with her?"

  Jimmy shook his head. "Just about a hundred candles."

  More like ten, Natalie thought, but Jimmy was excited. He blinked at the sheriff, clearly expecting more questions, but Nick's attention had turned back to Paige.

  "Is that what you saw?"

  "I… I didn't go up to the window. I was standing closer to the front door. And I saw something else. Somebody" came out of a room and crossed the hall to where the girl in the white robe was."

  Nick leaned forward. "What did this person look like?"

  "It was dark and I couldn't see real good. There was this thing like a…" She searched for the word. "I think they call it a poncho. With a hood. I couldn't see the face. I'm sorry," Paige ended meekly.

  Natalie knew the apology was two-pronged. Paige was sorry for not seeing who was wearing the poncho. She was also sorry for sneaking out. She sounded so pitiful Natalie didn't know how Nick could stay angry with her, but he didn't look as if he were softening.

  "So you kids have seen someone at the house before, someone burning candles and dancing to loud music, but you never said a word about it," Nick accused.

  "We didn't think you'd believe us," Jimmy explained. "It was so weird-the candles and the music and the person in a robe."

  "A girl named Alison Cosgrove is Ariel's descendant," Natalie said. "I think she's been dressing up and going to that house at night, pretending to be Ariel."

  Paige's eyes widened. "You mean that girl we saw is the killer?"

  Nick said harshly, "I don't think so. The person wearing the poncho is the killer. He cut Alison's throat."

  Jimmy's face slackened and Paige cringed. "Is she dead?" she asked timorously.

  "No, but she could have been. So could you. You have no idea of how much danger you were in." Nick's voice rose. "If you hadn't run away when you did… If Natalie hadn't come along, I don't know what might have happened!"

  Hearing the agitation in his voice, Blaine jumped up and barked. "I think everyone gets the idea, Sheriff," Natalie said calmly. "Paige needs to go home now-"

  "I'll decide what my daughter needs," Nick snapped.

  "Okay. What do you think she needs?"

  Nick hesitated. "To go home. Will you take her? I have to get back to the Saunders house."

  "I'll be glad to take her." Natalie stood and suddenly realized how weak her legs felt.

  On the ride home, Paige began to cry quietly. Blaine nudged her and she wrapped her arms around the dog's neck. "Are you all right?" Natalie asked.

  "Yeah, I guess." She sniffled. "I've never been so scared."

  "I haven't, either."

  "Really? You don't act like you're scared."

  "Sometimes it takes our bodies a while to register how scared we've been. We look all right, and then we fall apart."

  More sniffles. "Do you think my dad still loves me?"

  "Of course he does! He's angry because you sneaked out and he's frightened when he thinks about what might have happened to you, but he will always love you."

  "Maybe," Paige said doubtfully. "Do you think he hates Jimmy?"

  "No. He's mad at Jimmy for luring you out, but he doesn't hate him."

  "How do you know?"

  How did she know? Lots of parents would turn Jimmy into a villain, bad-mouth the child all over town, forbid him to come within fifty feet of his daughter again. "I haven't known your father long, but I have a feeling he's a fair person," she said carefully. "He will realize Jimmy isn't an adult. He's an impulsive kid who probably learned an important lesson tonight."

  And I hope all that's true, Natalie thought. Otherwise, Paige will be disappointed in her father. And so will I.

  "Do you know the girl that got her throat…" Paige shuddered.

  "Yes, a little."

  "You said her name is Alison. Is she the crazy girl Mrs. Collins was talking about on the phone today?"

  Mrs. Collins, who gossiped incessantly around Paige. Nick must replace that woman. "Something awful happened to Alison when she was much younger than you and she never recovered. She's what they call unstable." And you have called crazy, Natalie thought with a stab of guilt. "She's been missing since last night and everyone has been terribly worried."

  "If I'd known it was her we saw at the Saunders house, I would have told someone," Paige said earnestly.

  "I'm not absolutely sure it was her. I'm just guessing because I know she loves the story of Ariel and she loves rock music. I know you would have told someone about someone being at the house playing music, though, if you hadn't been so scared."

  Paige was silent for a few minutes. Then she said in a tiny voice, "Natalie, I didn't tell my dad the complete truth."

  Natalie felt a cold tingle in her neck. "The complete truth about what, honey?"

  "About the person in the poncho. The person that cut Alison's throat and maybe killed all those other people."

  Natalie asked urgently, "What is it that you didn't tell your father?"

  "I told Daddy I didn't get a good look at the person's face because of the hood and that was the honest truth. I didn't even tell Jimmy. But the person in the poncho looked right at me and I didn't have a hood on. He saw me, Natalie, and he prob'ly thinks I saw him!" Paige's voice rose to a wail. "Now he's gonna hunt me down and cut my throat!"

  Natalie lay staring at the ceiling. It was one a.m. and she didn't think she could sleep, but at least she could rest. She could try to slow her heartbeat. She could make herself breathe slowly and evenly. She could force the image of a slashed and burning Alison from her mind.

  When the phone beside her bed rang, she almost shrieked. Fumbling in the dark, she picked up the receiver before the second ring. "What?"

  "Nat-is that-Natalie?"

  "Yes, Viveca. How is Alison?"

  "Still in surgery. It doesn't look good. That's what the doctor told me. Can you believe that? How insensitive of him to tell me that right before she goes into surgery."

  "He's not insensitive. He's just trying to be honest with you in case she doesn't make it."

  "I don't like him. I wish Andrew were doing the surgery. I want him here."

  "He got home two hours ago, exhausted after a long surgery," Natalie said. "I didn't tell him about Alison. He needs sleep."

  "But I need him. Alison may be dying."

  "If she is, my father's presence can't change anything. Where's Oliver?"

  A moment of silence. "Home." Viveca's voice trembled. "He said he couldn't face another dead girl."

  "The cold bastard."

  "Oh!" Viveca sounded startled by Natalie's vehemence. Then she added halfheartedly, "He's been through a lot."

  "You're going through a lot, too."

  "Yes, this is very hard," Viveca said softly. "Natalie, will you talk with me for a while? I just can't sit here staring at the wall any longer or I'll start screaming."

  "Isn't anyone with you?"

  "No. I don't have anyone besides Oliver I could ask to sit up half the night with me."

  I can't believe I'm going to ask this, Natalie thought. "Do you want me to come to the hospital and be with you?"

  "That's not necessary. From what the sheriff said, you've had a pretty rough evening yourself."r />
  "It's one I won't forget."

  "He said you saved Alison's life. Thank you, Natalie. Thank you so much."

  "I'm glad I got there in time."

  "Will you tell me what happened? I got the sheriff's version, but he never explained why you were at the Saunders house."

  Natalie propped her pillows against the headboard and settled in for a long chat. After all, it wouldn't kill her to keep Viveca company, if only over the phone, while the woman waited to hear if her daughter would survive. She described finding Paige missing and ended with the E.M.S. taking away Alison.

  "I don't know if it was chance or destiny that put you there in time to save Alison," Viveca said. "My husband always said the universe was chaotic. I like to believe everything happens for a reason."

  "I'm not sure where I stand on that issue. Viveca, why do you think Alison was at the Saunders house?"

  "Alison used to fantasize that she was Ariel. I thought she'd grown out of it, but lately she's been talking about Ariel again. She has some books on reincarnation. I believe she thinks she's the reincarnation of Ariel. I've suspected she's been going out at night." This Natalie already knew. "I think she was going to the Saunders house pretending, or maybe actually believing, she's Ariel."

  "That makes sense," Natalie said slowly. "Did the sheriff tell you Paige and Jimmy saw her there a few nights ago?"

  "No, but I'm not surprised. I should have kept a closer eye on her, but she resents the amount of supervision she does have. Mrs. Krebbs during the day, me at night. But I can't stay up all night. I have a job. I should have hired a nurse. That's what your father told me to do. I was considering it when suddenly she improved during the time I was seeing Eugene."

  Natalie couldn't resist plunging on. "Viveca, why did you stop dating Eugene?"

  Natalie could feel the woman's hesitation. "Because of Alison."

  "But you said she improved during your time with him."

  "She did, but… well, there were complications. She seemed to like Eugene too much." Viveca sounded pained. Had Alison actually tried to seduce Eugene? Natalie wondered. "I think Alison has only been slipping out at night for a couple of weeks," Viveca rushed on. "She's been so much worse lately."

  "My father thinks she needed medication, but Warren couldn't prescribe. Why did you let him treat Alison?"

  "She refused to see anyone else after she met him."

  "She had,a crush on him, didn't she?"

  Viveca sighed. "I suppose so. But it was only slight, a little girl thing. Nothing serious."

  I wouldn't be too sure about that, Natalie thought. "Whether it was serious or not, you don't have to worry about it anymore. Now that Warren is gone, Alison will be seeing someone else, and I think it should be a psychiatrist this time."

  "It will be. If she makes it."

  Natalie had never been one to spout false optimism, but Viveca sounded desolate. "Alison is young and physically healthy. Those things are certainly in her favor."

  "Yes, she's in very good health," Viveca said hopefully. "Flu and a few colds. That's all she's ever had. Never even measles."

  "She must have a strong immune system." Probably be cause she never went to school like most kids, Natalie thought, she hasn't been exposed to many contagious illnesses. "Her burns are minor."

  "It's just the slashed throat that bothers me." Viveca gave a brittle laugh, then swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

  "You're entitled."

  "Natalie, you don't know who did this to Alison?"

  "If I did, I would have told the police. The attack was over when I arrived."

  "If only you'd gotten there a few minutes earlier."

  "I know. Maybe I could have stopped the whole thing, but at least the kids were there. I have a feeling the attacker was flustered, hurried, so he bungled what otherwise would have been a murder."

  "Well, thank God for that. You're sure the children didn't see this person?"

  "No, they couldn't possibly identify him," Natalie said forcefully. When she'd told Nick that the would-be killer had looked directly at Paige, he'd turned ghastly white and immediately ordered round-the-clock protection for her and for Jimmy. But he told Natalie to emphasize that the kids had seen nothing. The more people who heard this, the better. Word spread fast in Port Ariel. The killer must be made to think he was safe.

  Otherwise, Paige and Jimmy could be the next victims.

  His head pounded and he was desperately thirsty. Jeff Lindstrom was also desperately afraid.

  He had no idea how long he'd been here in the dark. Until what he guessed to be an hour ago he'd been unconscious from the last injection. Yesterday-or was it the day before?-he was standing by a window, grinning with satisfaction as he looked out to see a bright red cardinal flying past, when pain suddenly erupted in his head and blazed down his neck. It had just reached his back when his vision blurred and he crashed to his knees, then slid into oblivion. And now he was here.

  But where was here! He sat on a concrete floor. The chill of it penetrated his jeans and his hips already hurt from the long contact with the hard surface. A slightly musty, dank smell reached his nostrils. He felt chilly in his suit pants and long-sleeved cotton shirt. His jacket was gone and so was one shoe. Dried blood clung to the ragged heel of a gray sock.

  A tight blindfold covered his eyes. A strong cloth had been twisted, forced between his teeth, and tied behind his head. His mouth was abominably dry, his lips cracked. Metal handcuffs secured his hands behind a pole. He flexed his ankles against the cuffs shackling his feet. He bent his legs at the knees, planting his feet flat on the floor, and pushed himself against the pole as he rose painfully. He felt as if he'd been kicked all over. He was certain at least one rib was broken. His legs trembled.

  Panic rushed over him. He heard a long, rough sob and realized it came from him. He would have been embarrassed, but no one was around to hear. At least he didn't think anyone was near. He couldn't see. But he could hear. He went perfectly still, forcing his breath through his nose rather than his mouth. No sound.

  He squeezed his eyes behind the blindfold. Just this morning he thought he had it made. No one in the family thought much of him. Most family members wouldn't socialize with him because they thought he'd hit them up for money. And he usually did. He'd always acted like none of it mattered. After all, who cared what the family thought of him? he asked himself in the mirror each morning. Who cared what his idiot ex-wife thought of him?

  But he did care and it made him feel hopeless. Until lately. At last all the failures, the family scorn, the loss of the pretty, bubble-headed wife he'd inexplicably loved- none of it mattered because he was going to even the score. Not even the run-in with Meredith had bothered him. The big man with his righteous outrage. The sheriff didn't have a clue what was really going on. It had been funny.

  But not any more.

  Jeff couldn't believe this was happening to him. Life sure hadn't been any bowl of cherries. He'd always had lousy luck, things had always gone wrong for him, but not this wrong. Not-

  A noise. He cocked his head. A door opening and not too far away. His breath quickened, whistling around the narrow gag. Footsteps. He tried to speak, but nothing came out except unintelligible grunts.

  "Be quiet. I can't understand anything you're saying and I don't want to."

  Jeff fell silent for a moment. Then a wave of fury mixed with fear overcame him and he burst forth again with a series of staccato grunts. A hand slammed against his face. The sting brought tears to his covered eyes.

  "I told you to shut up." A sigh. "But I suppose it doesn't matter now."

  "Why doesn't it matter?" Jeff screamed inwardly. He lunged forward. The handcuffs clanged against the metal pipe and pain raged through his shoulders.

  "Now that was stupid. Useless."

  Jeff tried to kick. The shackled right foot pulled the left out from under him. He slammed to the floor so hard his teeth snapped on the gag. He sat in shock for a moment before the pa
in registered. A breathy moan escaped him.

  "Stop thrashing around. You're only hurting yourself and there's no need for pain."

  No need for pain? Jeff thought with a surge of hope. He wasn't going to be hurt. But if he wasn't to be hurt, then what?

  "You've wet your pants." A hint of amusement, a hint of disgust. He pictured the ghastly smile he'd seen for just an instant before he'd been knocked unconscious what seemed an eternity ago. "Not attractive. You wouldn't set any female hearts aflutter now. Natalie St. John wouldn't wipe her feet on you." Pause. "You do want her, don't you?"

  A needle jabbed into his arm. Something stung its way into his body, something that robbed him first of muscle control, then of consciousness.

  His eyes were closing as a soft, insidious voice said in his ear, "I guarantee, Jeff, that Natalie St. John will never forget you."

  SATURDAY MORNING

  Natalie awakened with a sense of dread. Something is wrong, her mind seemed to say before she'd fought her way completely through the last level of sleep. What was making her want to squeeze shut her eyes, hold Blaine tightly, and pull the covers over both of them for the rest of the day?

  Viveca had called back at four to say Alison had survived surgery and was now floating in and out of consciousness, mumbling "magic midnight, golden dreams."

  "Her father used to say 'magic midnight,' " Viveca explained. "And Eugene Farley once told her to have 'golden dreams.' Sad memories, but I think it's encouraging that she does remember the phrases, don't you?"

  Natalie agreed heartily that it was very encouraging. She put her father on the phone to discuss Alison's condition in more detail. This time the killer had been unsuccessful. But what about the next time? And who was next? So far Ted Hysell was right-all the victims had been children of people involved in the Eugene Farley tragedy. Tamara, Warren, Charlotte, and now Alison. That left her and Lily.

  Andrew had been outraged that Natalie hadn't told him immediately about Alison. He didn't know until Viveca called with the news that Alison would survive. He wanted to go to the hospital immediately and urged Natalie to come with him so she wouldn't be alone. "Dad, I'm too exhausted to move," she'd protested. "You go. It'll be daylight in a couple of hours and I'll be fine."