“Then stick out your tongue!”
“Why?”
Dakota reached out and grabbed the front of his T-shirt, twisted it in his fingers, drawing Rick closer, pulling him up onto his toes until they were nose to nose. Dakota’s words were precise and clipped. “I’ll tell you after. Do it.”
Rick glanced at Carmen for help, but she was watching him almost as closely as Dakota. He moved his gaze back to Dakota and, unable to read the expression in his friend’s eyes, slowly stuck his tongue out. Dakota studied it carefully. After a long moment, his fingers slowly let go of Rick’s T-shirt. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Rick almost bit it as Dakota grabbed him in a fierce bear hug, pulling him off the ground again in his enthusiasm. Rick flailed, his breath cut off by O’Keefe’s huge breasts.
Dakota let go. “Sorry. Oh, shit, Piper, when I saw that dead dog in your room and that knife and all those loose nails, I started to think—”
“You thought I was crazy,” Rick said softly.
“Forgive me?”
“Why did my tongue change your mind?”
“Shelly. She remembered something. She bit the attacker’s tongue.” He grimaced. “She said she spit out a piece of it. It’s probably on the bed somewhere.” So saying, he crossed to the bed and pulled the sheet straight, examined it, then did the same to the yellow blanket. “Aha,” he said, pointing at something. “Look at that!”
Rick approached, Carmen following. He leaned over and saw a tiny red lump, no thicker than a dime.
“That’s supposed to be a tongue?” Carmen asked doubtfully.
“The tip,” Dakota said impatiently. “The tip.”
Rick gingerly poked it with his finger. He couldn’t tell what the hell it was, but in spite of that, he felt a smile creep across his lips. They knew he wasn’t crazy. You were wrong, Robin, you bastard, you were wrong.
“It’s all dried up,” Dakota was saying. “She took a nice healthy hunk off the guy.” He looked at Rick. “I’ll bet we’re dealing with some sort of psycho high school kid with a crush on Shelly.”
If you tell, they’ll think you’re crazy.
No they won’t, he told his brother’s voice, you lied.
“Piper?”
Blinking, he looked at Dakota. “What?”
“I asked you a question.”
“Ask me again.”
“Has Shelly been getting any weird phone calls?”
“She has her own line.” Rick tilted his head toward the phone on her dresser. “I don’t know.”
Dakota crossed to the phone and picked up the receiver. He turned his other hand, revealing a phone-number on his palm written in blue ink. He punched it in.
“Shelly?” he said a moment later. “It’s okay.” He paused, listening. “Yes, he’s fine. Listen, do you have any weird guys asking you for dates or anything?” He listened again. “Any obscene phone calls?” He listened, then nodded.
“Okay. Hang on.” He extended the phone to Rick. “Your daughter wants to talk to you.”
Rick’s hand trembled as he took the phone. “Shelly.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” she cried.
“It’s okay,” he said, feeling strength flow back into him. “It’s okay, honey.”
“I didn’t mean to, I mean I didn’t really think you’d . . . That man just looked like you, he really did. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“You did the right thing by going to Dakota. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Sudden fear rushed back into him at those words. “Shel, what do you know about Bob?”
“Cody’s pretend friend?” She was silent a moment. “Nothing, really,” she said finally. “Why?”
“He’s real. He’s probably your attacker.” Quickly he told her the details.
“Daddy, he looked just like you!”
It can’t be—”Shel, are you at Leanne’s?”
“Yes. Do you want me to come home?”
“No, kiddo, I want you to stay right where you are. In the morning you can come and get your costume for the party.”
“Well, okay,” she said doubtfully.
“Thanks, Shel.”
“Dad, have you called the police?”
“Not yet, but if we don’t find him soon, we will. I’ll call you as soon as he turns up.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too. Good night.”
He hung up, surreptitiously wiping his eyes before turning to Carmen and Dakota. “Maybe we should call the police.”
“Daddy!” Cody’s voice carried up the stairwell. Then Hector called out, “I found him!” Rick looked at Dakota, then at Carmen, who was busy shoving a chair under the closed closet doorknob. Without a word, he raced downstairs. Hector and Cody stood in the living room.
“Hector, where was he?” he asked, scooping the smiling child into his arms.
“In the workshop.” Hector shook his head. “I went out there to get some wood screws. You didn’t need to nail those panels; the levers lock from the outside. Nobody can break through except with a drill if you do that.”
Now he tells me. “Cody, what were you doing in the workshop?”
“Bob took me there.”
He glanced back as Dakota and Carmen joined them. “How? Did you go outside?”
The little boy shook his head. “Uh-uh. We went in a tunnel.”
God, Rick thought, we’re living in an ant farm. He hadn’t even known there was a tunnel to the workshop. It must go underground, he thought. “You know the rats in the icky car in the workshop, Daddy?”
“Yes?”
Cody giggled. “It wasn’t rats. It was Bob. He was watchin’ you.”
Rick’s stomach knotted itself up, and he took the boy to the couch, set him on it, and knelt in front of him. “Cody? I have to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer the best you can, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“What do you and Bob do at night?”
Cody hesitated, looking at his feet.
“You can tell me, Cody. I won’t get mad, I promise.”
“He just shows me all the secret places in the house.”
“Is that all? Really?”
“Sometimes we sneak food and stuff.” Cody finally met Rick’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, son. What else do you do?”
“We go outside and play. Daddy?”
“What?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I promise.”
“Sometimes Bob likes to spy on people.”
“On who?”
“Well, he said he watched Shelly get undressed. He wanted me to watch, too, but I wouldn’t.”
His stomach filled with lead. “I’m glad you wouldn’t look.” He glanced at Dakota, saw the loathing on his face. “Cody, is that all?”
“No.” The child looked away again.
“What else?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did he spy on me, too?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, not looking up.
“It’s all right. Just say it.”
“He likes to watch when you and Audrey have sleepovers.”
Rick was careful not to look at Dakota. “Do you know Bob’s whole name, Cody?”
“Uh-huh. But he told me I couldn’t tell or he’d hurt you.” He met Rick’s eyes. “I don’t want him to hurt you, Daddy.”
“Are you afraid of him?” It can’t be, he thought. It’s impossible.
“I wasn’t at first. But sometimes now. I don’t think he likes you, Daddy.”
A pervert was living in his house, corrupting his son, attacking his daughter. Watching everything they did, hearing everything they said. Anger gave Rick strength. He’d kill the son of a bitch, whoever he was. Whatever he was.
“He wanted me to tell you something, Daddy.”
“What?” Rick could barely keep from shaking the boy to get his words out faster. “What does he want you to tell me?”
“Well, it’s not nice. He called you a name.”
“It’s okay to tell me, Cody.”
“You won’t be mad?”
“No. I promise.”
“Okay. He said, ‘Happy Halloween, icky Ricky.’ ”
“Holy shit,” he heard Dakota say somewhere behind him. Carmen crossed herself.
He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t. It’s some kind of trick. Outside of the Zapatas and Jade, no one but the O’Keefes knew about that name. He swallowed. “Cody,” he said in a strangled voice. “Does Bob have legs?”
“How’d you know? Do you know Bob?”
“Maybe.”
“He walks on his hands, Daddy. He does neat tricks and he looks like you, except he’s little.”
Stunned, Rick stared at his son.
“Madre de Dios,” Carmen whispered. “It’s his ghost. I knew it.”
“Tell me Bob’s real name, Cody,” Rick said numbly.
Cody shook his head. “He’ll hurt you if I do.”
“He won’t know.”
“Yes he will!” Cody spat the words, his fear obvious. “He’s listening right now. He always listens. He knows everything you say, Daddy. He says you’re crazy, Daddy!”
“Your father’s not crazy,” Carmen said firmly. She sat next to the child. “But Bob is.”
Dakota squatted next to Rick. “Bob’s a turkey, Cody,” he said, the strain in his voice belying the lightness of his tone. “Gobble, gobble, gobble.”
Cody almost laughed, then caught himself. “You shouldn’t make fun of Bob. He gets mad.”
“Well, where is he right now?” Dakota asked.
Cody shrugged. “I dunno. In the bookcase, probably. That’s where he likes to listen from.”
Rick glanced back, saw Hector doing something to the lever. “Well, if he’s in there, he can’t get out anymore.”
“Yeah,” Dakota added, then raised his voice “Hey, Bob, you’re a turkey! Gobble, gobble!”
“Shhh!” Cody was scared now, really scared. “Don’t make him mad! He’ll hurt you.”
“Like he hurt Jade’s dog?” Rick asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Cody,” Rick said. “Tell me his name, son.
Cody shook his head.
“Then I’m going to guess his name. You tell me when I’m right. Okay?”
Cody thought it over, then nodded once.
“Is his name Robin?”
Cody nodded and began to cry.
Carmen scooped him into her arms. “I’m taking him back to our house and putting him to bed. Dakota, did you lock the door after you used the phone?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
She nodded brusquely. “Hector, come on. We’ve gotta make sure nobody’s in our house.” She looked at Rick and Dakota. “You two better come along. It’s not safe here, not with the espíritu loose in the walls.”
“It’s not a ghost, Carmen. It tried to rape my daughter. It gave her a black eye.”
“Ghosts can do that, Ricky.” She stared hard at him. “Your brother’s dead. He’s buried up there in the cemetery. It’s his ghost.”
“It must be someone who looks like Robin,” Dakota said, looking at Rick.
“Who has no legs?” Rick asked grimly. “Who walks on his hands and calls himself Robin, and me icky Ricky? That’s too much coincidence for me.”
“Robin’s dead,” Carmen insisted.
“Maybe my brother is,” Rick said slowly. “But his body isn’t. Take Cody, Carmen. We’ll be along soon.”
He waited until he heard the back door close, then turned to Dakota. “Are you up for a little visit to Santo Verde Cemetery?”
Dakota regarded him doubtfully. “What for?”
“To see what’s in my brother’s grave.”
“Grave robbing?”
“No. Just looking.”
“Jesus X. Christ, Piper. That’s crazy.”
He flinched at the dreaded word, then composed himself. “No, it’s not. I have to know if he’s really dead.”
“You didn’t see him at the funeral?”
“O’Keefe, I told you, he burned in a fire. It was closed casket.”
“If he burned, how can you tell if it’s him?”
“The bones,” he said impatiently.
“I was afraid you’d say that. Look, Piper, can’t this wait until morning? We could inquire at the office and—”
“And what? See if we can get a court order to check the grave?” Rick shook his head. “No way. His message was ‘Happy Halloween.’ Something’s going to happen tomorrow. He has plans, and I have to make sure I know what I’m dealing with. We’re going to the cemetery. Now.”
“Look, Piper. There’s an intruder in this house. No matter who he is, he’s breaking the law. Let’s call the cops.”
“What are they going to do? Check every passage in the house? They’d be no match for someone who knows their way around there. They can’t do squat.”
“Well, we could go sleep at Carmen’s, then, first thing in the morning, call the exterminator and have your house tented.”
Rick smiled, momentarily tickled by the notion. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Good, then it’s settled.”
“No, Dakota, it’s not settled. Just think how bad that body would smell once it started rotting.”
Dakota made a face. “You could move back to Vegas.”
Rick studied his friend. Even an hour ago, he might have agreed to it, might have jumped at the thought, but there was something so foul and intrusive in the things Cody had told him, combined with the sudden knowledge that he had told and been judged sane, that he couldn’t entertain the idea.
“I’m going out to the toolshed for a shovel. I’m going to the cemetery and I’m going to see what’s buried in Robin’s grave. You can come with me or not. Either way, I’m going.”
Dakota gave him a sick grin. “You were easier to get along with when you weren’t so macho, Piper.”
“Are you coming or not?”
“What are friends for?” he said, and followed Rick to the shed.
Five minutes later, they walked from the house to Rick’s car. The greenjacks were going wild, but Rick ignored them.
Five minutes of driving through swirling fog brought them to the cemetery. They’d parked on the lightless street behind it, then hoisted themselves over the wall. It proved easier than expected, especially since the moon had gone down now, and at two in the morning, no one was around to catch them.
Rick had never been here at night. Whereas he found the place soothing and serene in the daytime, the presence of the jacks—not nearly as many as at home, but enough to make him anxious—and the shadowy angles and orbs and crosses poking through the mist made him nervous. He had a second thought, and refused it: He’d finally found some courage, and he was damned if he was going to let go of it now.
They soon found the Piper plots. Rick glanced up at the statue of the piper. “How they hanging, Thomas?” he whispered, then, without allowing himself to think, he began to dig. Soon Dakota fell in alongside. The soil was surprisingly soft, blessedly soft, and before three-thirty, Rick’s shovel thunked against wood.
At quarter to four, he sat in the grave on top of the bottom half of the coffin and brushed the dirt off the upper portion. Dakota peered down at him from above, his face a pale moon against the darkness. Rick felt for latches, found one, and worked it until it came undone in his hand. Still the casket wouldn’t open. “Hand me the crowbar.”
Silently Dakota passed it down.
He worked it along the edge. Suddenly it gave, letting stale air, smelling faintly of charcoal and nothing else, drift into his nostrils. “Turn on the flashlight,” he told Dakota. A moment later, a shaky beam of light illuminated the coffin from above.
“Here goes.” He pulled the lid up.
At first, the blackened bones contained within told him little. The explosion that had caused the carnival fire had
been of tremendous force, and it was obvious that these bones had been close to the center of it. They were unidentifiable: part of a skull, a couple longer bones that might have been arms, and most of a rib cage and the spinal column, whose end he couldn’t see. “Give me the light.”
Dakota handed it down. Rick held his breath and bent over, shining the light under the lower half of the coffin. He peered below, his face uncomfortably close to the charred skeleton.
He saw an intact pelvis. One hip cavity was empty, but the other contained a ball joint. Following it down, he saw that the leg bone itself extended into the darkness of the casket, out of sight.
“Well?” Dakota hissed.
“Hip bone’s connected to the thigh bone,” Rick said. “This isn’t Robin. They probably just put bones into caskets at random.”
“So he’s alive?”
“Probably. At least we have no proof that he’s dead.”
“It’s no ghost, Carmen,” Rick said an hour later. “He’s almost certainly alive.”
It was five-thirty in the morning, and he sat at Carmen’s kitchen table, dressed in Hector’s robe. He’d already showered the graveyard dirt from his body, and now Dakota was in the bathroom doing the same.
“Madre Dios,” she said. “He’s in the house, and Jade, she knows, doesn’t she? All these years, she’s known.” She glared. “Puta.”
“We don’t know he’s been here the whole time. Chances are he hasn’t been.”
“Oh, I think he has. I always thought the ghost was there. How could I be so stupid?”
“We went to the funeral, Carmen, we thought he was dead. A ghost makes more sense.” It felt good to do the comforting for a change.
She shook her head. “I was stupid. I saw things. I always thought Jade ate like a horse. Food disappeared in the night, but I thought it was her.”
Dakota came out of the bathroom dressed in one of Carmen’s flannel nightgowns. It ended just above his knees.
“So what are you two talking about?”
“We’re wondering if Robin’s been living in the house ever since his alleged death,” Rick said sourly. A little voice in the back of his mind congratulated him on continuing to keep his door locked after his brother’s “death.”
Dakota leaned forward. “So do you think that every time old Jade moans and groans, it’s because your brother’s sticking it to her?”
Bad Things Page 36