“Stop it, goddammit,” he said, battering at the dog’s shoulders now. “Stop it right now, Petey.”
Wild-eyed, Doris twitched her head at him. “What did you call him?”
Chris got an arm under the dog’s jaw, seized a handful of the lab’s neck fur and reared back. The dog yelped and opened its mouth enough for the Realtor to break free and scuttle, crablike, toward the car.
Ellie was beside him now, helping with Petey. The engine revved and as the white car’s rear end backed into the yard, Petey lurched forward, dragging Chris and Ellie several feet before they corralled him and held him in place as the car fishtailed in the grass and leaped back onto the lane. Petey uttered several strident barks at the receding car and strained to break free of their grasp, but after the car disappeared he finally seemed to calm a little. Chris petted the Labrador’s smooth, black neck, whispered soothing words. He sensed Ellie watching him, knew what she was thinking.
“She’s a thief,” Chris said without looking at his wife.
Ellie didn’t answer.
He continued stroking Petey’s fur, the dog like a bulwark between Chris and his wife’s desire to be rid of this place. No, he thought. We’re going to stick this thing out. We’re not going to let some farcical tale about demons and vampires deprive us of what we might have here.
Ellie stood up and moved toward the house. Still on the ground beside Petey, Chris watched her go.
Part Two
Thirst
Chapter One
Sheriff Troy Bruder struck Chris as the type of guy who had probably been immensely popular in high school. A football player, maybe a wrestler too. Bruder had a dark complexion, thick brown hair trimmed to a nearly militaristic shortness, blue eyes and a muscular physique. A muggy cloud of Brut aftershave attended him.
After introducing himself, Bruder folded his hands respectfully and said, “I guess you know why I’m here.”
Chris said, “Doris,” and Bruder nodded.
“I don’t know what got into Petey,” Ellie said.
“That the dog’s name?” Bruder asked.
“He kind of came with the place,” Chris said and ventured a smile. Bruder didn’t return it.
“What are you going to do?” Ellie asked.
Bruder eyed her grimly. “If we go by the letter of the law, I’ll have to destroy the animal and fine you a thousand bucks.”
Chris’s heart sank. The panic on Ellie’s face made it worse.
Bruder scuffed a shoe in the gravel. “I suppose, though, that in this case we can skip the fine.”
Chris said, “What happens to Petey?”
Bruder was silent a long moment. Chris’s breathing thinned. Oh no, he thought. Not that.
But the sheriff’s eyes confirmed it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crane. You two seem like nice people, and I’m a big dog lover. Got three of ‘em myself, two collies and a black lab.”
“Petey’s a black lab,” Ellie said.
“I know, ma’am. Doris said so.”
Chris compressed his lips. Doris. The vengeful bitch. If she hadn’t stuck her greedy nose in their business, none of this—
Movement beyond the sheriff caught Chris’s eye. At the woods just beyond the police car, he spotted Petey peering at them through the weeds. Chris quickly returned his gaze to the sheriff, terrified he’d given Petey away, but Bruder apparently hadn’t noticed.
“You ready, Mr. Crane?”
“For what?”
“I’ll need you to accompany me.”
For the first time he felt a spark of anger. “I have to watch you do it?”
Bruder seemed embarrassed. “I need a witness. Either you or your wife.” He regarded Ellie. “You’re welcome to come, too, ma’am. I only thought…”
“No thanks,” Ellie said and Chris was surprised at the thickness in her voice. He took her hand.
She asked, “Isn’t there some other way? Can’t you say you got rid of Petey and let us keep him on a chain or something?”
Bruder looked doubtful.
“We could have a fence built,” Chris said, “and make sure he doesn’t get out.”
Bruder scratched the back of his neck. “I feel for you, I really do. And if I thought I could get away with what you’re suggesting, believe me—”
“No one has to know,” Ellie urged.
Bruder heaved a sigh. “Experience is a tough teacher, Mrs. Crane. I’ve learned the hard way. Believe me, someone always finds out.”
Chris’s gaze shifted to the edge of the forest, where Petey had emerged from the weeds, was sitting in plain sight. Oh man, he thought. If Bruder turns around…
“Something wrong?”
Chris swallowed and struggled to meet Bruder’s eyes. He could see, just beyond the sheriff, the dog’s friendly form watching them, oblivious to the danger he was in. Get your ass out of here, Chris wanted to shout. If only there were some way to communicate telepathically, to mentally nudge the dog back inside the enclosing safety of the forest…
Ellie’s hand squeezed his. Chris glanced down at her. She’d noticed too.
“I just remembered,” she said in a tight voice. “I left a pot of noodles boiling.”
Bruder frowned. “Oh. If you need—”
Chris put a hand on the sheriff’s arm, and though the man tensed, it took his attention further away from Petey.
Eyes on Chris’s hand, Bruder said, “Mr. Crane.”
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, pulling his hand away. “It’s just…that dog means a lot to us. Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“There isn’t,” Bruder said in a considerably frostier tone. He didn’t tell Chris not to touch him again, but the threat was plain in his eyes.
Go, Petey, Chris thought. Hide or you’re gonna get shot.
And to his amazement, Petey turned and disappeared into the forest.
Chris blew out a tremulous breath.
“If you’re ready, Mr. Crane,” Bruder said.
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just your voice,” the sheriff said. “I’ll need you to call him.”
Chris nodded and gestured behind him. “Petey usually plays in the western part of the property.”
Bruder followed Chris through the yard, and as they neared the edge of the forest, Chris looked back and saw Ellie watching him with grateful eyes.
Ellie picked up her paperback but couldn’t concentrate on it. The specter of an impending gunshot loomed over her, scattered the words she read, reduced the plot of the book to a series of desultory words and phrases. Sighing, she set the book aside and ambled through the living room searching for a job to distract her. A dozen projects presented themselves, none of them pleasant. The ratty carpet needed to be washed, or better yet, torn up and replaced. Of course, that would cost money. The cabinets needed stripped and refinished, though they too should be removed and replaced. Fat chance of that.
Think smaller, she told herself. Find something that’ll divert you for the next hour or two—surely Chris and the sheriff won’t be gone longer than that.
She caught sight of her reflection in the windowpane above the sink, studied the crease between her eyebrows. It made her look ten years older.
With an effort, she relaxed her face and the crease disappeared.
Ellie crossed to the sink, leaned forward, and peered out the window. No sign of Troy Bruder, no sign of Chris.
No sign of Petey either.
She considered heading outside and finding him on her own. She could locate the dog, take him to a safe place—the basement maybe—and make certain Bruder wouldn’t shoot him.
No, Katherine reminded her, he didn’t say shoot. He said destroy.
Ellie rushed from the kitchen and out the back door. She stood on the lawn, debating.
She had to find Petey, had to do something, goddammit, rather than quail on the sidelines. Chris was doing his part, leading the sheriff in the wrong direction. A fleeting wave of pride for her husband su
rged through her. With any luck, Chris would take the sheriff far from wherever Petey was now.
But what if the dog wanted to find its master?
Possible, she thought, but not likely. The property was over two thousand acres. The chance of Petey finding them was…
…was very good if Petey wanted to find them. He’s a dog, for Christ’s sake; that’s what dogs do, they find things. They follow their sensitive noses until they catch what they’re after.
But Petey went in the other direction, she reminded herself. He’s a smart dog.
Kat’s response, dryly pragmatic: He’s smart for a dog, yes, but his escape earlier might’ve been luck. Do you really think he’ll hide out like some fugitive until Bruder leaves?
The thought got her moving. She had no idea where Petey might be, so she headed toward the rear of the shed, the place from where she’d often seen the dog emerge. The trees here were dense, the weeds taller than she was. She cast about for a place to access the forest but couldn’t find one. Suddenly irritated with herself for not yet exploring the woods, she set her jaw, lowered her head and pushed into the wall of undergrowth.
Her clothes absorbed the moisture from the weeds, her sweatshirt and jeans immediately leaden and cold against her skin. There came a painful tug on her wrist. She stopped and saw a thorn embedded deep in her skin, right where all her veins shone blue. Baring her teeth, Ellie slowly extracted the thorn from her flesh, then rubbed her bleeding wrist with a hand that trembled.
Movement in front of her.
She stopped rubbing and bent over to peer through the thick brush. Nothing was immediately visible, but several yards away…
Yes. There was a subtle tremor there, a stirring in the snarled tangle of weeds and dead branches. Despite their desiccated brown hue, they reminded her of moldering bones.
“Petey?” she whispered.
Ellie gasped as a chipmunk darted out of the deadfall and passed within inches of her feet. Laughing softly at her skittishness, she exhaled and felt her composure return. The deadfall rustled again, whatever lay within a good deal larger than a chipmunk.
She took a cautious step forward, winced at the cracking of a brittle branch, and knelt to see if she could spot the animal.
Her eyes widened.
A faint scent tickled her nostrils, and at first she couldn’t think why it should fill her with such suffocating dread.
Comprehension dawned.
Diorissimo. Aunt Lillith’s perfume.
Kneeling there in the forest, the smell of the scariest woman she’d ever met wafted over her, cloying, chillingly sweet.
A memory of Lillith the night Chris had introduced Ellie:
Smiling with her mouth only, scrutinizing Ellie, listening politely and asking all the right questions until Chris left the room to make drinks.
Turning to Ellie with a look of unfathomable coldness.
“You’re not good enough for my Chris.”
Ellie gaping at her.
“Don’t try to hide the fact you’ve had multiple lovers, dear. I can smell it on you.”
Ellie shaking her head, unable to respond.
“Men will marry whom they want, and Chris is no different. But I’ll be watching how you treat him.”
Ellie finally saying, “Listen, I don’t know why—“
“Hush, dear.”
Lillith leaning forward, penciled eyebrows raised, speaking the words that would repeat in Ellie’s memory innumerable times in the years to follow:
“Christopher has always been my boy, and no vulgar little slut is going to wrest him from me.”
Ellie’s mouth hanging open in shock.
Lillith’s cruel mouth twisted in a wrinkled grin: “Christopher will always belong to me.”
The sound of a snapping branch jolted Ellie out of Lillith’s living room and back to the forest where, unaccountably, Diorissimo was filling her throat, gagging her.
A soft crunch in the weeds directly in front of her, very much like a footstep.
Oh Jesus, she thought. It can’t be.
Ellie pushed to her feet and bolted away. She’d gotten disoriented, confused, and that was why such a bizarre memory had been triggered.
But the perfume lingered in her nose, and she could taste it, and ahead, thank God, she saw the forest thinning, the peeling paint speckling the garage like leprous skin.
Ellie hurdled a fallen log and landed in the yard. Though it was wild and overgrown, it was safe and as she raced forward, she spotted the two men, Troy Bruder and Chris back from their search. As Ellie drew nearer, all thoughts of Lillith, of her sickly sweet perfume, evaporated and were replaced by her fear of Petey being killed, Petey whose only crime was tackling a woman who was in desperate need of it.
The men turned and watched her approach.
Chris said, “What happened to you?”
“I’m fine,” Ellie said and struggled to catch her breath. “Any sign of Petey?”
Chris averted his eyes, but Bruder watched her for a long moment.
“We didn’t find him,” Bruder said.
Ellie felt her muscles go slack but she kept a neutral expression. “So what’s next?”
Rather than answering, Bruder continued to watch her, his nice blue eyes clouded by some emotion she couldn’t immediately identify.
She looked at Chris. “What is it?”
Chris made a face. “The sheriff here thinks we’re hiding Petey inside.”
Ellie faced Bruder and folded her arms. “You want to check?”
Bruder looked abashed. “I didn’t say you were—”
“You implied it,” Chris said.
Ellie gestured toward the house. “Come on in, Sheriff.”
“Mrs. Crane,” Bruder began.
“Search your heart out,” Ellie said and began walking toward the back door.
“That won’t be necessary,” Bruder said, and when she glanced back at him, he looked as though he’d caught a whiff of something rotten. His cheeks were flushed, and he was slouching like a shy boy at the junior high dance.
Chris said, “So…what do we do now?”
Bruder heaved a weary sigh, kicked the driveway gravel. “You swear you won’t let it happen again?”
“You have my word,” Chris said. “Any time someone visits, we’ll lock him in the basement.”
She turned to the sheriff to see what he thought, but he was already nodding and regarding his shoes. “I better get going.”
“What’ll you tell Doris?” Chris asked.
Bruder shrugged, favored him with a rueful grin. “I’ll tell her we couldn’t find him. If she wants something done about the dog, she can do it herself.”
Chapter Two
Petey watched her from his spot on the kitchen floor.
“We’ve gotta hurry, boy,” she said. “Daddy will be down any minute.”
She took the simmering pan off the burner and killed the gas. Clutching the glasses in one hand and the bottle of Merlot in the other, she returned to the dining room and set everything in the middle of the table beside the vase of magnolia blossoms she’d picked off the tree outside their bedroom. She’d brought the salad in earlier, and now she filled two small bowls with it. A fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead. She rubbed it away, then stood back and examined the table.
Perfect.
The Thai meatballs were Chris’s favorite. He much preferred beer to wine, but she didn’t think he’d mind this once.
Staring at the bottle of Merlot, Ellie chewed on a thumbnail.
Though wine sounded delicious, it was just possible she was pregnant. Not likely, of course, but possible.
Better play it safe.
Creaking noises from above.
Chris.
She moved back a little. She wanted to see his face when he came in and discovered the candlelit layout.
Ellie gave a start as she remembered the apron. She hurriedly untied it and lifted it off so he could see the black sundress she’d
picked for the occasion. She liked the way its silky fabric lay on her chest, her thighs. God, it felt good to wear something other than jeans.
His footsteps descended slowly, the way he often moved after working out. She hoped he’d be wearing a short-sleeved shirt so she could see his arms. After he lifted, they always seemed so full, so chiseled.
Chris rounded the corner and gaped.
“How’s my baby?” she asked.
He gawked at the glowing candles, the wine-red tablecloth she hardly ever pulled out. A bemused smile curled the corners of his mouth.
“What’s all this for?”
“For us,” she said. “For you, mostly.”
His eyebrows arched. She resisted an urge to go to him, to kiss him lingeringly. He’d worn a T-shirt—just a plain white one—but it showed his body to perfect effect. She could make out the broad curves of his pecs, the round tautness of his shoulders. The seams of the short sleeves grabbed the skin just above his biceps, so that his brawny arms hung at his sides like some professional athlete’s, a power-hitting right fielder or a linebacker.
Easy, girl, she told herself. Don’t want to leap into the main event before you’ve even tasted supper.
Chris looked better than supper.
She reached up and laced her hands behind his neck.
“I didn’t do anything special,” he said as his arms encircled her. “Unless you consider showering an amazing feat.”
“I wish you hadn’t,” she said, standing on tiptoes to kiss the side of his neck. “I like the smell of your sweat.”
Below, she felt him hardening against her.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please do,” she said, kissing him again, just under the jaw.
His hands caressed the smooth fabric of the sundress, slid from her lower back over her rear end.
“Keep this up,” he said, “and there’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on eating.”
She reached back, grasped one of his hands, and drew it around her hip until his palm rested against her sex. She rubbed his hand against her, moaned softly into his ear. His hand moved on its own now, and Ellie spread her legs to give him room to explore. His other hand dipped to the base of her buttocks, worked its way under the sundress, rubbed against her naked rear end.
The Darkest Lullaby Page 6