by Gregory Kay
“Yeah; I guess she’d had that old cat pretty much forever; it was at least as old as Allie, I think, and maybe older. And to have that happen to it...shit.”
“Yeah,” she affirmed, taking another pull off the bottle, “shit.”
“I’m not really a cat person myself, but I know how much Linda loved Rosemary, and she’d only had her for a few months before...well...you know.”
His voice trailed off, and Fiona took his hand. She didn’t want to, and knew she probably shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking in a very small voice, “How did it happen?”
Luke was silent for so long that, by the time he finally spoke again, she didn’t think he was going to answer.
“Cancer.”
“I am so sorry...” she began, but he cut her off as if he hadn’t heard. Fiona belatedly realized she had just unwittingly pulled the cork out of the bottle, and now nothing was going to stop this dark genie from coming out, dragging a smoke trail of pain behind it.
“Linda was a big girl – not fat, although she was always convinced she was, but just big. A farm girl, you know. She was always worried about her weight, tried every diet that came along in those women’s magazines, and then she thought she’d finally found one that worked, because she really started to drop the pounds. Everybody talked about how good she was looking, and then she got pregnant with our first child. So she went to the doctor, and that’s when they found the real reason she'd lost all that weight.”
He took a breath that had a faint but audible catch in it. Fiona responded by squeezing his hand, and he squeezed hers in return.
“The cancer had metastasized throughout her entire body; breasts, lungs, liver – everything. She lasted three months, and I sat there by her bedside and watched her die day by day. Like I said, she was a big girl, about one-sixty, I think, although she’d never tell me; she weighed fifty-eight pounds when she died, and took our baby with her.”
Fiona was crying openly by then – she couldn’t help it – but Luke’s voice was a deadpan monotone, which was the only way he could manage to talk about it without completely losing control. His only reaction was to put his arm around her and pull her closer while he kept talking, both for her comfort and for his own.
“Folks came from all over the area for the funeral; they brought so much food, I was still eating it out of the freezer six months later. They also took up a collection to pay for her funeral expenses three times over, and insisted I take it all.
“The people here have always been there when I needed them, and I’ve always tried to return the favor. In fact, I haven’t thought about much of anything else but my work, or hunting and fishing; I didn’t want to think about anything else because it just hurt too damned bad. I didn’t really have a life anymore. I died back then, with her, and they put my heart in that box and buried it in the ground with my wife and baby. I was like a ghost, just going through the motions, marking time...until the past few days. You brought me to life again, and I’d forgotten how good it feels to be alive.”
He paused, and swallowed hard.
“Linda told me, in one of her last really lucid moments before she died, to go on with my life and find someone to share it with. I never thought that would be possible until now, but...I know I haven’t known you long, but I’m asking you to stay here, with me.”
Fiona raised her tear-stained eyes to his.
Oh God, he’s making this so hard!
“Luke, you know, when this is over, I have to...”
“Then at least give me today!” he hissed, the desperation so plain in his voice it startled her with its depth, “Please, just give me today! That’s how I’ve made it through so far, and that’s how I’ll keep going as long as I can. Just give me today, Fiona, for every today you can, and whatever comes after, it’ll have been worth it!”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What's that?”
“Promise me you won’t ask me to stay again when I have to go back.”
He put his other arm around her too and pulled her close, and she felt him shaking his head, and felt as much as heard his voice through his mouth pressed into her dark hair.
“I told you you could trust me, and I’m not going to lie to you, Fiona; I won’t make a promise we both know I won’t keep.”
She wept until the combined fatigue and stress finally caught up with her, and she went to sleep in his arms.
The tall man’s ebony trench coat, black stocking cap, and shoes blended into the shadows of the twisting, turning alley between Main Street and the flood wall, just has he intended. His feet whispered over the worn bricks as he timed his movements to the comings and goings of the intermittent breeze, and flitted from shadow to shadow. He moved as silently as if his life depended on it, because it did; his, and others whom he cared about, even if he hadn’t known most of them long.
He was also frightened, both at what he was about to do, or at least attempt, and at what his father’s reaction would be when he found out. Regardless, his father was busy elsewhere, gathering information, and this needed to be taken care of now, while he had the chance.
I cannot wait any longer; I do not dare! They have begun making their moves, and now I must make mine!
He could sense the meat puppet ahead of him just as surely as he could hear the two noisy drinkers who had just walked past it coming his way, laughing and joking as they walked by death, seeing it but not recognizing it, because it wasn’t intended for them.
The stalker slipped back into the shadow of a back stairway and blanked his mind, psychically becoming part of the scenery allowing them to pass him by unnoticed, no more aware of him than they were of the ubiquitous dark doorways and garbage cans. Once they were gone, he resumed his movement until, behind the post office across from the hotel, he made out a shadow within shadow, blacker on black in clothes that were identical to his own, except the meat puppet wore a fedora instead of a knit cap, and he could make out the distinctive silhouette of its headwear.
There it is.
His father had always referred to the meat puppets as ‘it,’ not only because it described them as well as anything else, but because it made killing them easier, since it reinforced the knowledge that they weren’t like him...regardless of what they looked like.
It is watching the hotel, waiting to see...
His thoughts remained carefully his own, sealed to the outside where nothing could pick them up...especially his target. With that in mind, he shut those down as well, just to be sure, making himself a psychic blank, a blind spot. Now there was no thought, only movement and deadly purpose.
As close as he dared, breathing through a wide-open mouth to silence his breath he waited for his opportunity.
It came in the form of a Harley Davidson motorcycle cruising slowly down the one-way Main Street at just over an idle, with the deep-throated bom-bom-bom-bom of the machine’s exhaust pipes echoing off the surrounding buildings and sending conflicting bass sound waves that would be felt as well as heard as they went bouncing down the alley.
The meat puppet turned his head to look at the passing bike with curiosity, and the stalker, taking a deep breath into his lungs and his own life in his hands, made his move.
CHAPTER 23
“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.”
Fiona blinked her eyes in the darkness, and realized she was still cuddled with Luke on the hood of his Jeep.
It’s a nice way to wake up, was her first thought, but she quickly pushed it aside out of a sense of self-preservation, just as she reluctantly began straightening out of his embrace.
“Mm...Sorry. What time is it?”
“It’s almost one. And there’s nothing to be sorry about; I completely enjoyed holding you and looking at the stars for a few hours. I could have done it all night, but I was afraid you’d get stiff and sore.”
She started to move, then groaned, “Ooooh! Too late!”
“What’s wrong?”
&nb
sp; “My butt went to sleep!”
She saw the white flash of his grin.
“Would you like me to massage it for you to get the feeling back?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, thank you,” Fiona replied primly.
“Hey, you can’t fault a man for trying. Here, let me help you down.”
He slid forward, his feet landing on the front bumper before stepping down and moving to her side of the car. Slipping one hand around the small of her back and the other behind her knees, he effortlessly scooped her up, then paused, standing there and simply looking at her.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” he told her, “Nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing.”
He kissed her while he held her, and she responded; then he lowered her into the Jeep’s passenger seat and reached across her body to buckle her in. Pausing, he brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes, then ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek, looking at her with utter amazement, as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Of course, her bottom was still asleep, but, as she watched him go around and climb in beside her, she decided it wasn’t worth mentioning.
The dark eyes looking down from one of the hotel’s upper windows were focused, like those of a hawk looking for its prey. They were also bloodshot, both from anger and from the line of coke their owner had put up his nose a few minutes before to keep alert, although, in his current state of agitation, the drug had probably been redundant. The view was to the east, facing Main Street, and the eyes flicked back and forth, looking and watching even as the rage smoldered behind them like a banked fire, just waiting for the fuel that would ignite it into a conflagration of rage.
“Come on, bitch! Where are you?”
As if in answer to his snarl, a yellow Jeep pulled up in front, and a man exited the driver's side. Walking around the car, he opened the passenger door, and there was no mistaking the small figure he helped out, just as there was no question as to the meaning of the arms that went around his waist, or the long, deep kiss they exchanged.
The watcher clenched his fists so tightly he could hear his own knuckles popping.
You. Damned. Little. Whore!
They walked into the hotel lobby to find Harry already there. He and Luke regarded one another uneasily; their initial anger had had time to burn off, but the mutual irritation over things said in raised voices still coated their tempers.
Luke kept his voice carefully neutral when he asked, “What’s up?”
In answer, the trooper lifted his campaign hat and scratched his burr haircut with an audible skritch-skritch-skritch.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure. I have a question for Fiona here.”
Luke frowned ever-so-slightly, but she simply said, “Shoot.”
“Have you noticed any strangers hanging around the hotel?”
“How in the world would I know who’s a stranger here and who’s not? Unless you mean the man in black?” That sounds so cliché, but I don’t know what else to call him.
Harry shook his head.
“Yes and no. This one looks a lot like him, dresses just like him, but is a couple of inches shorter and has slightly different appearance, although they could be brothers. Not the same guy, but he’s just as weird as the other one; they stand out even in Point Pleasant,” he said, looking pointedly at Luke. Harry was from the town of Mason, and never missed an opportunity to rag his buddy, and this gentle poke was an attempt to return their friendship to a more normal level. “This new subject is male, and on the short side, probably no more than five-six; like the first one, he’s described as dark-complected with slightly Asiatic features, possibly Oriental, Middle Eastern, something like that. Wears a black suit, a little out of style.”
“I haven’t seen him, I don’t think; I’d like to think I would have noticed. Why are you asking me this? Has something happened?”
“I don’t think I can say at this point.”
Luke broke in, “If it’s happening around the hotel where she’s staying, I think both of us should know. We’ve had some strange goings-on of our own today that might be related; in fact, my neighbor described someone that sounds a whole lot like either one of these subjects lurking around the in the alley behind my house.”
Harry instantly produced his notebook and a pen.
“You tell me, and I’ll tell you.”
They told, giving him a breakdown of the note left on his Jeep, as well as the neighbor’s and Whitey’s report. Then Luke said, “Alright, give.”
The trooper didn’t beat around the bush.
“We think somebody either kidnapped or killed one of them this evening, behind the post office.”
“What?” Luke was genuinely shocked; that sort of thing just didn’t happen in Point Pleasant. He quickly sobered, thinking of all the other things that didn’t happen here either, but had anyway.
Gesturing with a twitch of his head at the desk, Harry told them, “The employees have noticed him hanging around outside, but since he wasn’t our stalking suspect, they didn’t call anyone. He’s come in and asked for you personally at the desk twice, and tried to get your room number the second time, which they refused to give, of course. He’s also been asking for information about Luke, but he acts so strange and his speech is so disjointed and wandering, he gives people the creeps every bit as bad as his buddy does. Everybody who’s seen him says there something bad wrong with him, and they wondered if he was high on something or just nuts; I guess several people have remarked on it.
“We’re still trying to piece together what happened, but from the security cameras behind the post office, it appears he was standing at the corner of the building, just staring at the hotel; hadn’t moved for over an hour. Then a third subject came out of the shadows behind him and attacked him. There was a bright flash, and the first subject dropped.”
“Gunshot?” Luke asked him, but Harry shook his head.
“We’re not sure, but it doesn’t look like it. For one thing, nobody reported it, and for another, it looked more like an electrical arc; we think maybe it was a Taser or something like it. Then the attacker went over to him, picked him up and slung him over his shoulder, and went back down the alley with him on the run. We don’t know what happened after that.”
“What did the suspect look like?”
“He was wearing a black trench coat and a toboggan, unusually tall, dark hair, in good shape; he looked a hell of a lot like you, Luke.” There was no mistaking his meaning. Harry took a deep breath, hating to ask what he had to. “I’m sorry, buddy, but someone’s going to ask, and it’ll be better coming from me. You fit the description and you definitely have a motive; I need to know where you’ve been this evening.”
“Damn it, Harry!” Luke exclaimed with a voice full of betrayal and a face darkening with anger, and Fiona stepped between them.
“He was with me.”
“Where?”
“We were parked in a field out in the country, looking at the stars.”
Harry cocked an eyebrow.
“All evening? You dropped Alison off hours ago.” It was obvious to Luke that his friend had already checked.
The deputy told him, “And we changed cars, grabbed a six pack at Speedway – I’ve got the receipt still in the bag in the Jeep, and I’m sure we were on camera – and went back out. We stayed until maybe half-an-hour ago, when we left to come straight back here.”
“That’s still hours. What were you doing during all that time?”
“We were cuddling and talking in between Luke making love to me,” Fiona declared.
That frank, unabashed statement silenced Harry, and it was hard to tell who was redder, him or Luke. After he managed to recover his voice, the trooper asked, “And you’ll swear to that in court if it comes up too, right?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled up at Luke and caressed his chest. “No man has ever made love to me the way he has.”
H
arry blushed deeply, whistled and scribbled a brief line.
“And Luke, uh, do you, um, concur with that statement?”
“Yes.” What the hell else can I say?
“Alright then,” he made another note before winking at Luke and telling Fiona, “I’m glad; not just that he has an alibi, but that he’s met you. You’ve been good for him already.”
“Thank you,” she said with a blush, and a sinking feeling of dread that, when she left for home on Sunday, it would not be nearly so good for him. Or for her, for that matter.
“Pick me up tomorrow morning at eight, Luke?” was all that she could think of to say.
“You know it. Would you like me to walk you up to your room?”
She forced a grin and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“I think we’ve done enough this evening. See you in the morning.”
She headed toward the elevator, glancing in the mirror to see Luke and Harry deep in conversation already. Part of her wondered why she had been so quick to lie for him, even though it was true, in a way; after all, there was no question that he had been making love to her, and she didn’t actually say they were having sex. Neither of them had said the ‘L-word’ yet, maybe, but both of them clearly felt it.
Nothing like this should ever happen this fast, or at such a damned inconvenient time! I’ve got to go back and he’s got to stay here and we’re both head over heels and I know a long distance thing won’t work out and this is so going to hurt and life just freaking sucks!
Absorbed in those thoughts and feeling totally confused, frustrated and miserable all at the same time, she got off the elevator, walked down the hall, and opened the door to her room. It wasn’t until she closed the door behind her, dropped her jacket on the chair, and was on her way to the bathroom that she noticed the man sitting on the edge of the bed. She instantly recognized him, of course; in fact, she was intimately familiar with him.