Fear Familiar

by Carolyn Haines

  “Why was Magdalena attacked?” Eleanor asked.

  “We haven’t been able to discover a reason. Why don’t we go talk to her?” He put his arm around her back for support and led her to the door.

  Eleanor cautiously approached the bedroom. Magdalena was sitting propped up in bed, two paramedics in attendance. Her face was wan, but she smiled warmly at Eleanor. “Entrez, my half-molded young radical. I’m slightly battered but not really harmed.”

  “What happened?” Eleanor asked as she and Peter slipped into the room.

  “I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for my furry friends, when I heard something in the living room.” She waved the paramedic away when he tried to slip a blood pressure cuff onto her arm. “I thought it was one of the cats, roaming around for his spot to sleep, but it didn’t sound like a cat. Felines are so careful. They can walk through an entire collection of glass and never budge a piece, unless they want to make a mess. I knew it wasn’t a cat, because I heard something break.”

  “Her pulse is normal, no sign of concussion,” the paramedic said into his radio. “Bruises, cuts, and a large lump on her head from the blow, but no serious injury.”

  “Ten four,” the answer crackled back. “Since she refuses transfer to a hospital, bring yourselves home.”

  “Ten four and out,” the paramedic responded.

  “Young man, I’m trying to tell these people what happened,” Magdalena said huffily.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, repacking his black case as he talked.

  “I keep several weapons in the house, and I found my little .22 pistol in the kitchen drawer. I know it isn’t the most effective weapon in the world, but it would discourage a burglar, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer.

  Eleanor took a seat on the bed. There was a goose egg-sized lump on the side of Magdalena’s forehead, but other than that, she seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.

  ‘‘I took my pistol and started into the living room. Then wham! The kitchen door flew right into me and knocked me back. Then this big man rushed through. I’d fallen to the floor, and he raised his arm. I can’t remember what he was holding, some trophy or something, and he crashed it down on my head. That was it. I didn’t have time to fire a single shot. And when I came to, I was still lying on the kitchen floor and the back door was open. All of the cats were milling around, and I knew I had to get up and close the door before they got out into the street.”

  “The cats are fine,” Eleanor reassured her. “Peter put them in the kitchen. He thinks he’s got them all, but he needs you for a head count when you feel better.”

  “I’d feel better if I could get that guy who hit me. Is anything missing?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I can’t really tell, but it looks more like vandalism than burglary. My apartment and my office have both been broken into and ransacked.”

  “My dear!” For the first time Magdalena looked as if she were taking the break-in to heart. “What’s going on?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Eleanor said. “Did you get a look at the man?”

  “The police have questioned me over and over again. He was tall, big shoulders, dark suit.”

  “That’s it?” Eleanor couldn’t hide her disappointment.

  “There was something else. He said the strangest thing to me. It doesn’t make a bit of sense, even though I remember it clearly.”

  “What?” Peter asked.

  “He said, ‘Tell my wife she’s going to die.’ I was almost unconscious, but I remember the words very clearly. It was almost as if he’d broken in here to deliver that message. But there’s not a soul I can tell that message to, since I know all of my married friends’ husbands.” She looked at Peter. “It was so strange. Just the memory makes my skin crawl. His eyes. I seem to remember the way his eyes were focused on me. ‘Tell my wife she’s going to die.’ Terrible!”

  Chapter Ten

  In the floating light of passing cars, Peter examined Eleanor’s face. She hadn’t spoken a word since they left Magdalena’s house. The strange and threatening message delivered by the older woman had had a paralyzing effect on her.

  A million questions rose in his mind, but he kept his mouth closed. What was her involvement? He was beginning to strongly doubt that she knew anything about the lab break-in, Magdalena, Evans or anything else.

  On the spur of the moment, he decided a simple test was in order.

  “How about a moonlight drive?”

  “What?” She turned to him, her ivory skin luminous in the passing headlights of the cars.

  “I said how about a drive along the river? I know a nice, quiet place where we can talk. You said you had something to tell me.”

  “A drive would be fine.” She looked away from him, lost in her own thoughts again.

  “Pier 27 has a wonderful view of the city from the river. I have a friend with a houseboat.”

  “That’s nice. I’ve never been on the river.” She spoke like an automaton.

  “Pier 27 is a great place.” He was pushing her to make the connection.

  She looked at him. “Then let’s go.”

  Her reaction was completely innocent. He turned toward the river, hoping that he wasn’t making a serious miscalculation. He wanted to check out the AFA rally. He’d wanted to find a branch of that organization for a long time. The AFA was intensely secret, and for good cause. Their activities had devastated a number of different research groups. If Eleanor was as innocent as she pretended, she was the perfect spy to send inside. The flyer was essentially an invitation. They’d be waiting, watching. Peter’s spine tingled. He couldn’t go because he might be recognized; Magdalena had almost remembered. But Eleanor was perfect.

  “Peter, if a woman started seeing her dead ex-husband behind every bush and trash can, would you say that she might be having a nervous breakdown?”

  Eleanor’s question drew him from the tangle of his own thoughts. She was troubled; he hadn’t realized the extent. “I don’t know, Eleanor.” He smiled at her, reaching over and pulling her against him. “I think you need a little species-to-species comforting.”

  In the darkness she smiled for the first time. “I think I do, too. But it isn’t going to make what’s happening around me go away. Today I called the newspaper and the police in Colorado. I had to ask them to make certain that Carter was dead.”

  Peter’s shock was evident in the way he turned to face her, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Why?”

  “They assured me he was dead. Absolutely dead.” Her voice began to tremble. “Even Carter’s best friend believes he’s dead.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I did. Until he appeared in the apartment building parking garage.”

  “What are you saying?” He swerved to miss a car that had slowed.

  “He was waiting for me. He came out of the shadows and he threatened me. He said he wasn’t dead and that I had something he wanted.”

  “So that’s why you freaked out and nearly ran over Joey.” Understanding touched his face. His arm around her tightened lightly, giving a squeeze of reassurance. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “Because it sounded so crazy. I mean, listen to the things I’ve told you. Everything I say reverts to Carter. I sound obsessed. Even to myself. And now I’m claiming to see a dead man in a parking garage. That sounds crazy, even to me.”

  Peter wasn’t certain what he thought, but he was certain how he felt. Eleanor Duncan was one of the sanest people he’d ever met.

  “I don’t think for a minute that you have a crazy bone in your body.”

  ‘‘That business with Magdalena. I think it was Carter, and I think the message was meant for me. He intends to kill me.”

  Peter pulled his car to the side of the road and cut the engine Eleanor’s fears were too big, too intense. He had to do something; to alleviate her suffering. For the moment Pier 27 was forgotten.


  “Why, Eleanor? Why would Carter want to do anything to hurt you? Why after nine years?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question a million times.”

  “And?”

  “And I get the same answer. I don’t know. In the garage he said I’d taken something and he wanted it back.”

  “A deed, something like that?”

  Eleanor shook her head. Peter’s arm was the only comfort she had. Instead of talking, she wanted to burrow against his chest and rest. “There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ve racked my brain.”

  Peter turned so that he could hold her in both arms. For a moment he cradled her against his chest. If this was the secret she’d been hiding, it certainly wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “If it isn’t Carter, can you think of anyone who might want to impersonate him?”

  “No,” Eleanor whispered. “I even called his best friend. He thinks Carter is dead. I’m the only one with visions and doubts.” She looked up at him. “I’m beginning to think I’m crazy.”

  “You’re a long way from crazy, but the things that are happening around you are enough to make you question your sanity,” he said angrily. “And I haven’t been the greatest help!”

  The night seemed to be closing in around her, and she cast a furtive glance out the window. “It isn’t my imagination. He’s real!”

  “When I was looking around your car after I found you so scared in the garage, the only thing I found was a cigarette stub,” Peter said.

  “Dunhill, right?” Eleanor asked. There was a hopeless tone in her voice.

  When Peter didn’t answer she turned to him. “It was Dunhill, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “You really aren’t part of the movement that stole those cats, are you?”

  She drew back from him. “Of course not.” Her eyes widened. “But you never really believed me, did you?”

  “I did and I didn’t. That isn’t important now. Listen, we’ll have to resolve this business about your dead husband, but first I need your help. There’s a meeting at Pier 27. I’d like you to go.” He smiled at her, bending to kiss her forehead. Maybe his scheme would help, after all. There was no telling who might show up for the get-together. Maybe even the person who was trying to drive her crazy.

  “What kind of help?”

  “We have to get to the bottom of all of this, and I have a really sneaky feeling that once we find out who broke into that lab, we’ll find out why your ‘dead’ husband is wandering around threatening people.”

  “Do you really think so?” Eleanor’s face brightened. “I’ve tied to make a connection between all of this and Familiar, but so far I haven’t been able to.”

  “It has to be related. And we have to find out how.”

  He put the car into Drive and they sped toward the river.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go to the meeting.” He filled her in on the flyer someone had planted in her office. “Act like you’re one of the people who want to blow up labs. See who’s there. Observe everything you can.”

  “Why don’t you go?”

  “Someone might recognize me.”

  “As a vet?”

  “Eleanor, my dear, you aren’t the only one with a long past.” He gave her a rakish grin. “We don’t have time for more secrets. We’re there and we’re late.”

  He pulled into a parking space by a chain link fence. Pier 27 was a series of connected walkways that made a small marina. Along the river, the lights of Washington shone like a condensed Milky Way. Reflected on the chill water, the boat lights gave the night a festive atmosphere.

  “Look—” Eleanor pointed out the window “—it’s Christmas!”

  Colored lights were strung up the mast of several sailboats, and there were Santas and wreaths and trees on many decks.

  “I’d almost forgotten about the holidays,” Peter said. “We’ve had a lot on our minds. But tomorrow, barring any unforeseen disasters, why don’t we get a tree and decorate it?”

  “A fir?” Eleanor asked, suddenly taken with the idea. The thought of hanging ornaments in the warmth and safety of her own apartment held great appeal.

  “If that makes you happy,” he said, smiling in the dark. He compressed his lips again as he studied the boats. He picked out the one listed as the scene of the meeting and pointed it out to Eleanor.

  “Just look around and listen? That’s all I do?”

  “And be careful.” He leaned across the seat and kissed her. Her lips were as soft as he’d ever imagined. “Be very careful.”

  The feel of his kiss still tingling on her lips, Eleanor hurried toward the houseboat. The boards of the pier were well lighted and she ran toward the soft sound of water lapping against the hull. What was it about Peter’s past that prevented him from attending the meeting? That was a thought to ponder. She’d been so preoccupied with her past, she’d failed to consider his.

  At the walkway to the houseboat she paused. Casting a look toward Peter, she stepped aboard. Something about the boat made her cautious. She didn’t want to walk into a room of people she didn’t know. First she’d do a little eavesdropping.

  The murmur of voices came to her from inside. Inching forward, she strained to hear. A coil of rope nearly tripped her, but she recovered and eased around the deck toward the windows. Peering through the glass, she saw a group of eight people evenly split between men and women. They didn’t appear to be desperadoes. Instead, they were earnestly listening to a tall, distinguished woman who was standing at a blackboard.

  Eleanor crept closer and pressed her fingers to the windowsill. By holding her breath she could hear.

  “Since Magdalena couldn’t be here tonight, we’ll delay the plans on deciding about the Behavioral Institute. As you know, she was strongly in favor of additional action.’’

  Eleanor slipped down the window and huddled in a small bundle against the wall. Magdalena had lied to her all along. No wonder no one believed her innocence when she proclaimed it! Magdalena, her new acquaintance, was in the thick of everything!

  The voices were an indistinguishable rumble, and she had to force herself back to the windowsill. To hear, she had to squat on her toes and cling to the wooden frame with all of her might. She pressed her body to the task, holding her breath once again.

  “She’s positively identified him,” the woman said. There was pride and concern in her voice. “After nearly fifteen years, we have a good chance of bringing him to justice.”

  “Here in Washington?” a man asked. When his question was met with an affirmative nod, he added caustically, “He has nerve.”

  “I’m not so certain we should trust this to the authorities,” another man said.

  Eleanor felt her fingertips begin to tear loose from her hands. She was in terrible pain, but couldn’t afford to stop listening.

  She sucked in a lungful of air.

  “No bombs!” the woman leading the discussion insisted. “I’m sure if Magdalena were here, she’d agree with me. No human, not even him, should be hurt.”

  “But if we don’t stop him, he’ll continue with his experiments. No one else will even try to put an end to it. He’s working for the government, after all!” There was frustration in the man’s voice.

  “I know,” the woman replied, and there were murmurs of agreement from the other people. “It would give me great satisfaction to know that Evans is permanently... incapacitated. But so much better for us is the idea of a trial and public exposure. Think of it that way. He must survive, so that we can use him to educate the public to the cruel and inhuman treatment one scientist without morality can inflict on helpless creatures.”

  In the round of applause the woman’s words gathered, Eleanor finally had to let her grasp go. She sank to the deck in a huddle, nursing her sore hands, bursting lungs and strained legs. She’d heard plenty.

  As soon as she could breathe normally, she started inching her way back to the pier. The coil of rope caught her
again, sending her flailing to the hard deck. Cursing silently to herself, she scurried back to her feet and aimed for the gangplank.

  Movement along the pier caught her eye. She ducked behind a metal cylinder, praying that it was someone late for the meeting. They’d be more interested in getting inside than snooping around the deck.

  Chancing another look, she moved so that she could see the figure on the dock. It took something from its coat, a small bundle, examined it for a moment, then leaned back and pitched it toward the houseboat.

  To Eleanor’s horror, the object landed beside her with a thud, then bounced several feet away. Some primitive instinct for survival shot through her. She knew what it was without even taking the time to look. Crawling toward where she’d heard it fall, she frantically searched the deck. Her hands banged on metal cleats and polished wood, but she felt nothing. She moved forward, fanning her hands in front of her, praying a wordless prayer for deliverance.

  Her fingers closed on the bundle. It seemed to be tape and plastic. Nothing much. Surely not a bomb. Stifling a scream that welled unexpectedly in her throat, she threw the object as far into the river as she could. With the sound of the splash, she dropped instinctively to the deck and covered her head with her hands.

  The explosion seemed to rumble from beneath the dark water, creating a wave that washed over the deck and sent the boat rocking furiously.

  Eleanor grabbed the coil of rope and clung. The deck tipped, and the force of the water tried to suck her over the side. Her hands stubbornly held to the thick rope, and she kicked her legs against the pull of the water.

  The boat rocked viciously from side to side several times, and then settled down to a mild keeling.

  There was no time to waste. Eleanor scrambled to her knees, then regained her feet. The pier was empty, the figure long gone. A sudden fury gave her legs the needed energy, and she ran across the wet and slippery deck to the pier. Almost jumping the gangplank, she raced toward Peter and the car.

  Lights were coming on as other river residents left their craft to see what had happened. Someone would call an ambulance if people were injured. Eleanor didn’t have time. She had to catch the person on the pier. He or she was the missing link that would solve the acts of violence that seemed to surround her. With Peter’s help she could catch the culprit.