by John Saul
And he was laughing.
Even over the awful cacophony of the racing engine and blasting horn, she’d heard an unearthly laughter pour from his throat.
“He’s trying to push us back in the water,” Eric gasped. “Come on!”
Half dragging Lisa now, he lurched to his feet and started once more toward the marsh. The truck was only a few yards away, floundering in the sand as Ed struggled to turn it toward them once again. Then the lights swept around, blinding Eric for a moment, and he tightened his grip on Lisa’s hand.
“Run!” he yelled, but over the mass of sound that seemed to roll over the beach, he could barely hear his own voice.
Then he was over the dunes, and one of the paths into the marsh opened before him. Hauling Lisa behind him, he lurched into the reeds and stopped, gasping for breath.
Behind him Lisa collapsed to the ground, panting. Sobs of fear wracked her body, and when she looked up at Eric, her face was streaked with tears and sand.
“What’s he doing?” she wailed. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s gone nuts,” Eric replied, kneeling beside her and straining to see out onto the dunes and the beach. The headlights had destroyed his night vision, and though he couldn’t see the truck itself now, he could see its twin beams of light and hear its engine roaring like an infuriated animal that had momentarily lost its prey. “We’ve got to get out of here. If he finds us—”
“How?” Lisa demanded. “We should have stayed on the beach! We can’t get through here—we’re trapped!” She stared fearfully into the depths of the marsh, remembering the maze of nearly invisible paths, some of which led somewhere, some of which simply disappeared into the reeds and the quicksand. Why had she ever come out here in the first place? Why had she ever thought she could get all the way out to Miranda’s house all by herself? “I didn’t mean it,” she suddenly sobbed. “I shouldn’t have come out here at all! I didn’t mean it! I swear I didn’t mean it!”
Eric turned to face her, his eyes suddenly blazing. “Didn’t mean what?” he demanded. “You tell me what you were doing, damn it!”
“The cabin,” Lisa wailed. “I was going to burn it down! I was going to get even with Cassie by burning the cabin!”
The anger inside of Eric suddenly boiled to the surface. “You’re just like him, aren’t you?” he grated through clenched teeth. “You think you can do anything, and everybody’s always going to let you get away with it!”
“Stop it,” Lisa whimpered. “I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean what? You didn’t mean to do what you just said you were going to do? You didn’t mean to slap me? What didn’t you mean, Lisa? What!”
But Lisa didn’t hear him, for the truck was moving again, its headlights slowly sweeping the marsh, twin eyes searching for them.
“Maybe—maybe he won’t be able to see us,” Lisa gasped. “Maybe if we just stay still—”
And then the lights were on her, and without thinking Lisa stood up. She stood perfectly still, frozen in the blinding glare.
Like a bug on a fucking pin, Ed Cavanaugh crowed to himself. There she stood, a scarf wrapped around her head, her black sweater almost invisible against the background of the night. But it was her, all right. He could almost see those eyes of hers, those accusing eyes—and he could almost taste the fear in her. But where was Eric? But it no longer mattered, not really. He could take care of Eric anytime.
But he might never get another shot at Cassie as good as this one. He gunned the engine and popped the clutch. The rear end of the truck dropped lower and the wheels once more dug into the sand.
The sudden movement of the truck seemed to free Lisa, and she screamed.
“Run! He’s coming again. Run!” Without thinking, she spun around and lurched off the path, into the reeds and grasses that choked the marsh.
Water flooded into her shoes and she stumbled, then caught herself and plunged on, no longer caring whether she was on a path, caring only about hiding herself from Eric’s father and the truck. But the lights seemed to stay on her no matter how she twisted and dodged. It was almost as if they were playing with her.
Eric moved quickly down the path, his fury still growing. Suddenly he hoped his father would find her. Let her find out what could really happen to her! He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about any of them! And then, a few steps ahead of him, he saw a shape on the path—no more than a small dark mass, crouching low to the ground.
And two yellow eyes, glowing brightly in the darkness.
Sumi.
Eric paused, staring at the cat.
Cassie’s cat. Or so they all thought.
There was a reason why he was here, why he had stumbled across him—he was sure of it.
As he looked into Sumi’s glowing eyes, he knew what the reason was.
He thought quickly, then knew what he had to do. He crouched down and whispered soothingly to the cat. Sumi’s tail twitched, then he crept slowly forward, into Eric’s waiting hands.
Slowly, concentrating on the fury pent up inside him—and on the sting of Lisa’s slap—he began stroking Sumi’s soft fur.
Beneath his fingers he could feel the cat’s body tense up. It was working. It was all working.
The gray shape rose in front of Lisa like a shadow out of the night, and her hands instinctively came up to shield her face.
Too late.
With the speed of lightning Sumi’s claws sank into the flesh of Lisa’s cheeks, and she screamed in sudden pain. Stumbling, she lurched sideways, and suddenly the grasses seemed to wrap themselves around her.
But far worse than the slime and reeds of the marsh was the creature tearing at her now.
Where had it come from?
Why was it attacking her?
She thrashed against it, trying to tear it away, but it only clung closer, its claws sinking deeper and deeper. A searing pain slashed through her as its jaws closed on her cheek and ripped a piece of flesh away.
She rolled violently, trying to escape the animal’s fury, and then the ground suddenly gave way beneath her and she felt herself begin to sink through the brackish water, into the sucking mixture of mud and sand below.
She screamed again, flailing at the muck that held her in its grasp, managing to knock the cat aside. Sobbing, she struggled to her hands and knees, but then the cat was on her again. She felt her right leg plunge knee deep in the quicksand as the animal’s claws stripped the skin away from her forehead. As she clawed at the cat with her hands, she tried to jerk her leg free, but only felt her left leg begin to sink too.
“No!” she screamed. Then: “Eric! Eric—help me!” For a second nothing happened, but then she heard the roar of the truck’s engine once more. Suddenly the lights were on her again, slicing through the tangle of reeds which now seemed to threaten her.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please, help me … please.…” But the marsh held her firmly in its grip, and the cat’s attack went relentlessly on.
The harder she struggled, the deeper into the quicksand she sank. Then, as the shallow layer of water above the quicksand closed over her, the cat suddenly abandoned her.
Swim.
The thought rose out of the depths of her subconscious, and she began trying to fight the panic that had already overwhelmed her. But it was too late, and as she flailed her arms, the reeds and grasses only wrapped themselves more tightly around her … until she felt she could struggle no more. All she could do was wait, whimpering and bleeding, to die.
Eric burst out of the marsh and paused to catch his breath. His heart was pounding and he could feel the blood throbbing through his veins with so much pressure it made his head ache and his vision blur. But when he looked back toward the beach, he could still see the lights of the truck.
Only they were still now, reaching out into the marsh.
Had his father found Lisa yet? And if he had, what had he found …?
He turned away and forced himself to ru
n once more. Then he found the house he was looking for, and pounded up onto its front porch to pummel at the door with his fists. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door finally opened and Charlotte Ambler, clutching at the bodice of her robe, stared out at him.
“It—it’s Lisa,” Eric gasped. “In the marsh. He—he’s trying to kill her, Mrs. Ambler.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Kill her?” she repeated. “Who, Eric? Who’s trying to kill Lisa?”
“My father,” Eric rasped. “My father!”
Charlotte Ambler stared at Eric. What on earth could he be talking about? After what had happened at the dance—
Her mind reeling, she pulled Eric into her house.
A moment later she was calling the False Harbor police department. It seemed as though it took forever before a bored voice finally answered the phone.
Ed Cavanaugh sat in his truck, watching the girl die. It seemed to take a long time, but it didn’t matter. It was good to see it happen, good to enjoy every moment of it.
As she struggled, he began to feel the same strange pleasure he always felt after he’d put Laura in her place, or given Eric a whipping.
He left the truck and picked his way slowly into the marsh, until at last he was standing in the muck only a few feet from her. Now, out of her torn and bleeding face, he could see her eyes watching him in the glow of the headlights. There was terror in them, the kind of terror he had never seen in Laura’s eyes, or in Eric’s, and he smiled as he watched her writhing in the tangle of reeds and ooze. But even through his drunkenness, he could sense that something wasn’t quite right.
It was her eyes. There was something about them that was wrong.
Maybe, he decided, it was just because she was dying.
* * *
Lisa looked up into the twisted face above her.
He wasn’t going to help her, wasn’t going to release her from the grip of death.
He was smiling at her, smiling at her with an expression she had never seen before.
He was going to watch her, and he was going to enjoy every moment of her agony.
No, she told herself. No. I won’t let him do that. I won’t.
Making up her mind, she tensed her body for the final effort, then lunged—
—downward.
She twisted deeper into the muck, and felt it close over her head and begin to ooze up into her nostrils.
She opened her mouth, but no scream emerged as the thick sludge filled her mouth, then her throat.
Even as her body revolted, retching against the vile invasion, she forced herself yet deeper, until she felt the mud and sand close over her.
It wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to die tonight. If anyone was supposed to die, it should have been Cassie. But she hadn’t even come out here to kill Cassie. Not really.
She was only going to burn the cabin.
That was all. Just bum the cabin down.
Then, as the oxygen slowly leeched out of her bloodstream, a strange euphoria began to overtake her.
In the final moments of her life, the fear and terror drained out of Lisa Chambers, and she felt a great calmness seize her spirit. Then the blackness overcame her, and the last thing she saw, its tail twitching as its eyes glowed a bright gold in the yellow beam of a headlight, was the cat—Cassie’s cat—watching. Watching, and remembering everything that happened.
It knew, Lisa thought. It knew what I was going to do.
Then it was over.
Chapter 22
Gene Templeton stifled a yawn and tried to ignore the weariness that was slowly infusing his body. Twenty years ago he’d just be getting his second wind along about now. But not anymore. He was just too old. Still, a long night stretched ahead of him. He glanced at the notes he’d taken while Eric Cavanaugh repeated his story of what had happened on the beach an hour before, then shifted his attention to the boy himself. Eric’s eyes betrayed his nervousness, but he was much calmer than he’d been when Templeton arrived. He sat stiffly on the edge of the Victorian sofa in Charlotte Ambler’s living room, his mother beside him.
The bruises on Laura’s face were still clearly visible.
“Ed did that to you, didn’t he,” he stated, his voice flat.
Laura stiffened, then shook her head. “I—I fell,” she murmured.
Fell. Did she really expect him to believe her? She knew he’d just come from talking to Rosemary Winslow. She’d seen him there before he’d picked her up and brought her here. Well, he wasn’t going to argue with her right now. Sighing heavily, he turned back to Eric, whose expression clearly indicated that he wasn’t sure the police chief believed his story any more than he believed Laura’s. “You’re sure it was your dad?” Templeton asked once more.
Eric nodded his head obstinately. “I already told you. I saw him, and so did Lisa. It was Dad, all right.”
Templeton flipped his notebook closed and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Okay, I’ll go out to the beach and have a look around.” He turned to Charlotte Ambler, who had been sitting in silence, carefully listening to every word Eric had spoken. But so far she’d said nothing. “Can I use your phone? Before I start combing the beach I’d like to call Fred Chambers. Maybe Lisa’s already home.”
Charlotte rose to her feet. “In the kitchen,” she said, though there was a telephone sitting on the table at Templeton’s elbow. “It’s more private,” she added. She led the police chief into the kitchen and nodded to the wall phone next to the sink. But instead of leaving him alone to make his call, she stayed where she was, obviously thinking about something. But only after Templeton finished talking to Fred Chambers did she speak.
“She’s not home, is she?” she asked softly.
He turned to the high school principal and shook his head. “Something’s on your mind, Charlotte. If it has anything to do with this, you might as well tell me now.”
Charlotte Ambler took a deep breath. “I keep wondering what Cassie was doing all that time. I mean, I could hear Ed’s horn blaring. I didn’t think much about it—it happens all the time when the kids are out there. But if Cassie was in Miranda’s cabin, she must have heard it too. Wouldn’t she have come out to find out what was going on?”
“Same thing I’ve been thinking,” Templeton agreed. “And you can bet that that’s where I’m going first. If Lisa did go into the marsh, she’d probably have tried to get to the cabin. With any luck at all, that’s where she is right now.” He shook his head. “I wish to Christ Laura had filed charges against that son of a bitch years ago. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Laura should have left him,” Charlotte agreed. “She should have thrown him out.”
“Well, the fact is she didn’t, and it sure looks like he’s gone around the bend this time. I’ll let you know what I find out at the beach. If I find anything,” he added darkly.
A moment later he was gone, and a few minutes after that Laura and Eric left too.
“Are you sure you want to go home?” Charlotte asked them. “If Ed’s there—”
“I can take care of him,” Eric replied quietly. “I told him this morning I was through with him pushing me around. That’s why he came after me with the truck. But he can’t bring the truck in the house. We’ll be all right.”
After they were gone, Charlotte Ambler sat silently in her living room, waiting.
While they’d been talking, a spring squall had gathered, and now she heard the patter of rain begin on the roof.
It struck her as an omen.
They’re coming for me, Cassie thought. They’re going to think I’m crazy, and take me away.…
She knew Lisa was dead, had known it as soon as Sumi came back and leaped into her arms.
She’d felt the familiar tingling sensation, and then the images had begun to form.
And she’d watched Lisa die.
She’d stayed in the cabin for a while, but then, when she saw the flashing light of the
police car and watched it speed down Oak Street and pull up in front of one of the houses across from the park, she’d known what was going to happen.
What if they found her here, sitting all by herself in Miranda’s house, with Miranda’s cat curled up on her lap? What if they made her tell them what Sumi had shown her? They’d think she was crazy. They’d think she’d killed Lisa herself, and then they’d lock her up.
Panic began to build up in her, and she quickly closed the damper on the old cast-iron stove then put out the lamp. At last she left the cabin, pushing her way through the marsh as fast as she could.
If she got home soon enough—if they didn’t find her—she could say she’d left the cabin right after Eric did. She wouldn’t have to tell them what had happened, or what she’d seen through Sumi’s eyes.
It seemed to take forever, but finally she came to the edge of the marsh and slipped into the thicket of bushes on the fringe of the park. Unaware that she was retracing the route Lisa Chambers had used earlier, she forced herself through the lilacs, working her way toward Oak Street. When she got there, she paused for a moment, searching the street for cars. There were none. Taking a deep breath, she bolted out of the bushes, dashed across the street, and ran up Cambridge to Alder. Only when she was within sight of the house did she pause to catch her breath. Then, as the rain started to fall, she dashed across the street and down the driveway to the back door.
Rosemary was sitting at the kitchen table, her face pale, a cup of tea clutched between her hands. When Cassie came into the kitchen, she gasped slightly, and rose to her feet. She took a step toward the girl, but Cassie shrank back.
In Cassie’s arms Sumi hissed softly.
Rosemary hesitated, but then everything that had happened that evening suddenly jelled into anger. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “You walked out of here wearing those—those rags—looking like you’d lost your mind or something, and then you’re gone most of the night! Do you really think you can just walk in and out of here like it’s some kind of hotel?”