Eye of the Beholder

by Shari Shattuck

  It was with satisfaction that Sheridan watched fear enter the other man. He supposed that up until now he’d been in so much pain that he hadn’t really stopped to consider the fact that life as he knew it was over. He was going to jail. Real jail.

  “A nice-looking guy like you oughta do all right for a while, if you find the right boyfriend.” Sheridan tilted his chair back and smiled. He had very little time. He wanted to know where that girl was and whether this bastard had her.

  “All right, what if I tell you where I get the drugs from?” Vince suggested hesitantly.

  Sheridan shrugged his solid shoulders. “Could help, but I’m more interested in the girl.”

  “I don’t know anything about the girl!” Sheridan watched as Vince cringed; his voice had the cowardly ring of a man who would spill anything to save his own skin. Desperation crept into his pleading. “I’ll tell you where I get the drugs from. It’s a big operation. That’s gotta be worth something. And this guy I get the stuff from, he’s a real sick fucker. You know what I mean?”

  “No.” Sheridan studied the man on the bed. “Illuminate me.”

  “He sells the stuff to kids, you know, like at the high school. I was just the middle guy, a little bit for myself and a few other people I know. . . .”

  Sheridan had straightened up. “He sells to the kids at the high school?” The methamphetamine that was allegedly Joy Whitehorse’s that he had found in Joshua Sands’s room. The high school from which two girls had disappeared. It clicked.

  “Yeah, and he’s twisted, I’m telling you. You don’t want me. He’s the sick fuck.”

  Sheridan looked down at this piece of shit who had beaten two women and sexually assaulted one of them earlier tonight. He thought, You should know a sick fuck, you sick fuck. But what he said was, “You got a name you can give me?”

  Vince looked up at the hulking mass of detective. “I’ll get a deal? You have the power to make a deal?” he asked with a whimpering, sycophantic neediness.

  Sheridan hesitated and then nodded. It wasn’t a lie if he didn’t speak it.

  “I’ll do better than a name,” Vince spilled. “I’ll give you his address.”

  Chapter 70

  Joshua hadn’t gone too far when the image of Sarah appeared with her hand stretched out in front of her. He swerved and pulled over to the side, swearing and sweating. “Okay,” he muttered, “the other way. I get it.”

  The image of the oak tree flashed again, and Joshua wondered how many other fire-damaged oak trees there might be in this gigantic forest. He’d already seen one, and it had revealed nothing. He turned the bike and headed the other way.

  He was lost in thought about what he might find when the image of Sarah, hand raised, flashed again. This time he pulled over and turned off the bike.

  “Okay,” he said out loud, realizing that he was talking to himself as though that were completely normal. “It’s official. I’m nuts. So. You don’t want me to go left and you don’t want me to go right. Should I just go home?” He looked around. With the headlamp from his bike extinguished and the closest home or streetlight half a mile away, the darkness of the cloudy night was almost total.

  But Sarah, it seemed, would have none of that. Off to his right, near the trees, the image of the girl flickered, this time with her hand moving in a beckoning motion.

  “Into the forest?” Joshua moaned. “Are you joking?”

  He climbed off the bike and took the flashlight firmly in his right hand. Switching it on, he let the dim circle of light roam over the edge of the trees. He could make out nothing at first, and then he saw a path.

  “Oh, God, help me,” Joshua muttered.

  But he went. He walked into the complete shadowed darkness of the trees. His cheap flashlight’s batteries quickly lost power, and soon he had to shake it to get even a feeble glow to help him. Finally he turned it off and hoped that his eyes would somehow adjust to any phantom light that the sky might allow.

  There was Sarah, though. She kept on appearing just up ahead and beckoning, so he followed, though it cost him to do it. His hands shook from cold, and from fear—both of the vast darkness around him and of the multitude of horrors that he might find in it. He went on in spite of those fears, motivated by the more terrible option: the unfathomable possibility that he would not find anything. That he would fail Joy, Luke, Whitney, his mother, and himself.

  He had to try. What else was there? As he stumbled on, sensing rather than seeing the path, his mind filled with images of what might be happening to Joy, revolting, terrifying images of pain and abuse, of suffering, of metal burning flesh. He increased his pace and shook himself to try to empty his brain of the disturbing and distracting thoughts. He tried to force himself to keep his mind clear, to think logically. If Joy were here somewhere, the most likely explanation was that whoever had taken her had dumped her here. And that would mean that she was . . . He shivered and fought down a wave of nausea.

  He realized that his eyes had somehow adjusted to the almost negligible level of light so much that he could make out the shapes of trees and the rise of the road—and it was a fire road he was on—ahead of him. Small shrubs looked deceptively like coyotes or—he pushed the thought from his mind—mountain lions, but none of them moved or turned out to be the creatures he nervously imagined them to be.

  He hadn’t gone far when he stopped suddenly as Sarah appeared once more, just off the road. She stood, motionless now, just below the shadow of a tree. Except for the absence of the futuristic city in the background, it was eerily like his dream.

  He moved forward cautiously, pulling the flashlight from his pocket and praying that it might have recovered just enough to give him a feeble beam that would precede him under that shadowy oak.

  He waited until he was just at the edge of the darkest shadow, listening intently and watching with rounded eyes for the slightest of movements.

  Then he heard it: a rustle so soft that it might have been the wind moving a dry leaf. His hands trembled as he pushed the switch up on the flashlight, and a thin, weak stream of light fell on the ground.

  Boots, a leg, torn and bloody, and then, just before the flashlight died again, Joshua saw Joy’s face.

  Throwing the flashlight aside, he rushed forward. “Oh, please, God, don’t be dead,” he repeated again and again as he pulled her body up against his chest. The thickness of his coat prevented him from feeling any life in her body. He braced her back with one arm and pressed his other hand to her face. It was hot, sweaty hot. Fever.

  “Oh, Jesus, okay, what now?” Joshua looked around in the darkness as though he might find help there, but not even Sarah revealed herself.

  “Coat, okay, coat.” Joshua laid Joy gently back down and took off his coat. With some difficulty he managed to get it on her. As he struggled with the zipper by feel he heard her moan.

  “Joy? Can you hear me? It’s me, Joshua.”

  He heard her smack her lips and try to speak. He leaned near her mouth and heard the air forced through her lips to make two barely audible words. “Fucking neighbor.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, that’s me. And right now I’ve got to get you back to the road. I’m going to carry you.”

  It was a struggle to get her up, and he had no choice but to put her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She wasn’t that heavy, but lifting a limp hundred and ten pounds from the ground to a standing position was no easy task without help.

  She moaned with pain, and her breath came faster as he started to walk. He knew where he was now. It was the oak tree he had seen before, the one that Sarah had shown him in his dream. That meant he wasn’t far from home, but home wasn’t where he wanted to go. He needed to get Joy to a hospital, and fast.

  With her slipping in and out of consciousness, that wasn’t going to happen on the back of his little dirt bike. He would need to flag someone down on the road.

  Joy grew heavier with every step, and Joshua struggled to keep his movements a
s steady as possible, but he winced every time his weight shifted too quickly and Joy cried out in pain.

  “Hang in there. Hang in there,” he whispered, once for her, and once for himself.

  Chapter 71

  Dario was waiting for them all with a strong pot of coffee brewed when they came through the door to Greer’s kitchen. Jenny was staying overnight at the hospital, but Leah was allowed to go with them as long as she promised the doctor to stay with a friend who could keep an eye on her.

  Jenny and Leah had seen each other for a brief moment as Jenny was being taken in a wheelchair to be admitted to a room. Lewis had been holding her hand as though if he let it go, it might fly away and never come back.

  Leah had gone to her and knelt down. Jenny’s eyes filled with tears, and then she said simply, “I knew you could do it. Good for you.” The two women had embraced as firmly as their many bumps and bruises allowed, and then gone to recuperate with their separate angels watching over them.

  Greer put Leah to bed in the guest room, gave her one of the pain pills the hospital had sent her home with, and told her to call if she needed anything.

  Leah responded with a request that she be woken if there was any news about Joy, and then watched the light coming from under the door for a few minutes, until a deep sense of safety and completeness washed over her, bringing a sweet and dreamless sleep.

  Greer returned to the kitchen and asked, “Where’s Joshua?”

  Dario’s eyes were stern. “He’s gone out. He left you a note.”

  Greer’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. She crossed to the bulletin board and read Joshua’s short note, pinned up between a pizza delivery flyer and some local business cards.

  “Well,” she breathed when she read it. “I suppose all we can do is wait.” She felt as if her torso were being ripped in half. One part was filled with hope for Joy and pride in Joshua’s acceptance of his gift; the other was steeped in horror that Joshua was out alone in the dark night.

  “Doesn’t he have a cell phone?” Sterling asked, as though this were so obvious. “Why don’t we call him?”

  Greer turned her glowing eyes toward him. “Cell phones don’t work until you get a couple of miles down.” She walked haltingly to the window, where, closing her eyes, she placed her palm on the cold glass.

  “He’s all right,” she said, as though willing herself to believe it. “I would feel it if he weren’t.”

  Softly, Sterling interjected, “I thought you couldn’t see the present.”

  “It’s different. I can sense people I’m close to. I know when Joshua is in pain or in trouble,” Greer told him.

  She turned and he saw the fearful tears. The green of her eyes shone like jade under sunlight on water. “He’s part of me.”

  Without another word, Sterling moved to her and wrapped her in his arms.

  Chapter 72

  Pistol cursed the shocks on his truck as he rode up the small pitted street toward his house. He was eager to get back there. He had a big night planned, and now that his business was concluded, he was ready for the fun to begin.

  He climbed out and opened the gate.

  “Damian?” Pistol called out. “Here, boy.” In response he heard muted barking from the garage. “Shit, how did you get yourself locked in the garage?” Pistol muttered, but a chilly finger ran up his spine. Hadn’t he closed the garage door before he left?

  Something was wrong. Pistol went back and cut the engine of the truck, then stood listening for a minute. There was nothing but the wind in the trees. He told himself he was acting paranoid. Nobody knew anything. He was fine.

  He walked up the few steps onto his porch and stopped again. Someone had tampered with the slats in the window of his kitchen door. One was slightly askew. He stepped forward, squinting inside.

  There was a movement, and he spun around, but dark bodies moved in from every side and he found himself pinned against the wooden deck with his hands tightly bound by a plastic ratchet behind his back.

  “Stay down!” someone yelled as he struggled against the knee pressing into his spine.

  There was a confused noise and then he was yanked up onto his feet and marched into his own house.

  A meaty hand on his shoulder forced him into a kitchen chair, and he was read his rights.

  “Good evening,” said a man with a badge on his breast pocket. “I’m Detective Sheridan.”

  Through the open door, Pistol could see a K-9 officer with a German shepherd on a short leash being led to the back of the mail truck. Fuck.

  “What do you want?” Pistol asked him.

  “I want to know where Joy Whitehorse is.”

  “How would I know?”

  “Because you sold her drugs at the school. We have verbal statements from two witnesses, including one other minor who also purchased from you,” Sheridan said calmly. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t fucking know!” Pistol insisted. He tried not to look at the truck outside.

  “Got it!” called out one of the officers wearing a dark blue cap as he held up a manila envelope that had been ripped open by the dog.

  Pistol dropped his bearded chin onto his chest. “Shit.”

  Sheridan stood over Pistol and nodded sagely. “Deep shit, and you’re right in the middle of it.” It was all he could do to keep from striking the bastard, from shaking him until his eyes bled and everything he knew spilled out of him. “Where’s the girl?”

  Pistol’s eyes glared back at the detective. “Where’s my dog?”

  “Animal control took him away.”

  “I heard him in the garage.” But even as he said it, Pistol realized that it had been the police dog he had heard.

  “He had a little accident.” Sheridan looked unconcerned about it.

  Pistol tried to stand up. “Sit down,” Sheridan ordered, straight-arming his suspect’s chest so that he was forced back down and had the breath knocked out of him by his own thrust. “He’ll be fine. The officer had to tranquilize him.”

  Pistol stared at him.

  “All right, let’s try something else. Where did the meth come from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where did you get the meth?”

  “I’m not telling you shit.”

  “Where’s the girl?”

  “I don’t know. She probably ran off with a boyfriend. She was a slut.”

  Sheridan breathed in sharply and then said to the two officers standing behind Pistol, “Could you please go look around in the living room?”

  “We checked everything: drawers, cushions, closets. They were clean.”

  “Why don’t you check again?” They both nodded and left without a word. Sheridan waited until they were out of sight, and then he drew back a rocklike fist and hit Pistol as hard as he could right in the face.

  Chapter 73

  Joshua had managed to carry Joy down to the shoulder of the road. He looked both up and down but saw and heard nothing. No oncoming lights, no distant engines. He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on.

  “C’mon, work!” he told it, but it disregarded his order and obstinately read, NO SIGNAL. “Damn.” Joshua turned it off to save the battery in case he needed it later and put it back in his pocket. He sat down cross-legged and cradled Joy in his lap. The clouds above him were thinning, and through a break, when the moon shone through, he could see that her eyes were open.

  He stroked her hair. “Hey, neighbor.”

  She tried to focus, but he could see the pain on her face and the wildness of fever in her eyes.

  “Just rest. Help is coming,” he told her, and even as he said it, he heard the hum of an engine round the far curve of the highway. Resting Joy’s head gently on the rocky ground, he stood up and moved into the middle of the road. They would stop; they would have to stop, or hit him.

  The headlights rounded the far corner and slowed. Joshua waved his arms and shouted, “Hey! Help! Please, I need help!” The car braked until it was a
lmost idling toward him, and Joshua moved from in front of the bright lights to the passenger window. The pickup truck was high, and as the window was lowered Joshua recognized it and the driver.

  “Mike! Thank God. It’s Joy. I found her; she’s hurt bad; we’ve got to get her to a hospital.”

  Mike was out of the car and at Joy’s side in a few seconds. He lifted the unconscious Joy gently and far more easily than Joshua had and laid her across the wide front seat. “Here, get in and hold her head. Don’t worry, son; we’ll take care of her.” He climbed in and knocked the car into gear, making a wide U-turn to backtrack up the road.

  “Isn’t Verdugo the closest hospital?” Joshua asked.

  “It’s almost half an hour from here,” Mike told him, looking with concern at Joy’s pale face. “There’s a fire station just up the road; they’ll have an ambulance and EMTs. We’ll go there.”

  “Oh, right, thanks.” Joshua was infinitely relieved. Only a few more minutes and then Joy would be in the right hands.

  Mike focused on his driving, but he glanced curiously at Joshua. “Where and how did you find her?” he asked.

  Joshua didn’t know any other answer than the truth, so he tried it. “Up the trail. I know it sounds freaky, but I get these visions, and they showed me this oak tree in the woods. I knew where it was, so I went there.” Joshua deliberately left out seeing dead people and the other complications. It was close enough.

  “Did you see anything else?” Mike asked, looking at him with the dubious suspicion that Joshua had expected. Right now he didn’t care, or want to talk about it. He just wanted to focus on getting Joy medical attention.

  “No, to tell you the truth, it just started happening. I don’t really understand it myself.”

  “Did you tell anyone else? Call for help?” Mike asked.