by Ken Douglas
Jim grabbed her arm and hand in a Viking grip and jerked her up and out of the ditch. They ran toward the pens, visible now in the full moonlight. He felt the weight of the cast on one arm and the drag of Roma on the other. He was afraid he wasn’t going to make it. Then he heard the thing scrambling out of the ditch behind them. He forced heart and muscle to give a little more, got his second wind and pulled her with him toward the wooden fence as the clouds again blacked out the moon. The gunshots had slowed, but not stopped the beast.
The cattle, agitated now and afraid, began milling and bleating as Jim and Roma reached the fence. In tandem they hit the ground, rolled under and they were instantly covered in manure and in danger of being trampled by the nervous cattle.
They got up and started to make their way through the fenced in herd, each step burying their feet in manure as they climbed a mountain of the muck. They instinctively headed toward the center of the pen, dodging between the animals like they were winding through a maze. Then the animals began to settle down and Jim felt a tug as Roma stumbled and fell.
He helped her up and for what seemed like the thousandth time that night, they tried to hug their fright away. Then, with the cattle quiet, they moved through them toward the other side of the pen. He wanted out of the enclosure before the animals panicked.
When they slid under the fence the danger outside far outweighed the danger inside, but now Jim was acutely aware of what could happen inside and had no desire to be crushed. He was glad when again the clouds allowed a hint of light through the dark and he saw the other side of the pen only feet away.
He made for the fence, confident that the animal with the yellow eyes had gone. The cattle were quiet, sensing no danger and that was a good sign. He allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as he reached his hand out to the fence.
Another roar ripped the night apart. It must have circled around, upwind. Now it was among the herd. The cattle started to panic, bleating, wailing, pushing against each other and them. Roma’s hand was ripped out of his as she was trampled. She screamed and he turned to help, when another roar hurled forth and he saw the beast, a giant lizard-like animal, leap onto the back of a frightened cow, then dive on Roma, mouth wide, showing razor teeth in the moonlight. He watched in horror as it dragged her among the swirling cattle. Then he lost sight of her, as clouds again covered the moon, plunging the cattle pen into blackness and dark night.
He started toward where he’d seen her last, screaming, but in the dark he ran into one of the frightened animals and was knocked down. Something banged him in the head and his world went black.
Chapter Nine
Hugh Washington and his daughter rode in silence on their way to the freeway and the beginning of their four hour drive to Collinga. He broke the quiet as they entered the on ramp.
“ I lied when I said it wouldn’t be dangerous. It could be.”
“ I know.”
“ So I want you to stay well out of the way until I see how it’s going to go.”
“ Dad!”
“ Promise me or I’ll turn the car around and take you home right now.”
“ Okay.”
“ Okay, what?”
“ Okay, I promise I’ll stay out of the way until you make sure it’s safe.”
“ That’s better,” he said. “When we get there you wait in the car till I question them. Once I make sure everything’s all right, I’ll come and get you.”
“ I’ll feel like a kid.” She pouted. He always bent when she pouted. She could get anything she wanted out of him. But this time he remained firm.
“ My way or no way,” he said in his policeman’s iron voice.
“ Your way,” she said and the subject was closed. For the rest of the trip they talked about her school, her friends, her job and police work in general. It was almost like they were on a holiday drive. She liked being with him. She liked how he was intensely interested in anything she did. He was her dad and she loved him.
Because of the rush hour traffic leaving Los Angeles, the normal four hour trip took six. Six hours that went by like twenty minutes, with Power Glide delivering a smooth, air conditioned ride. Father and daughter had a way of talking, laughing and kidding each other that moved time aside and the forty-five-year-old Chevrolet helped to keep it away.
It was 9:30 and the night was cloud covered and dark, when he took the Collinga off ramp and steered the car toward the Harris Ranch Inn. He turned into the parking lot, picked a spot opposite the driveway and backed in.
“ You still position yourself for the quick getaway,” Glenna said.
“ I’m not the only one,” he said, indicating a white Ford Explorer with a nod of the head.
“ Think he’s a macho man, too?” Glenna teased.
“ I don’t think I’m macho, just prepared.”
“ Okay, Dad, I’m sorry.” She was trying to keep a straight face, but her stomach muscles were shaking involuntarily. She was silently laughing at him. He smiled, then jammed his finger into her stomach and tickled her like he did when she’d been a little girl. She burst into laughter and he laughed with her. It felt good.
“ We’ll check into the hotel,” he said. “I’d feel better if you were tucked into a warm room, behind a locked door, than sitting out in the car.”
She didn’t argue.
They approached the front desk, tired, but full of energy. They seemed to be charging each other. He was close to his quarry, she was with her father, her hero, and they felt the electrons in the night air.
“ We’d like two rooms,” he told the young man behind the desk. Then he screwed up his nose. “Jeez, what’s that?”
“ Wind shifted. Usually it goes the other direction, but when it blows south, we get the smell of thousands of beef cattle. You get used to it,” he said.
“ I don’t know if I ever could,” he said.
“ You have the greenest eyes,” Glenna told the man. She was direct and disarming.
“ Yeah,” he said, “if my hair would have been any other color, maybe they wouldn’t stand out so much, but it’s red and they do.”
“ My father and I are supposed to meet some friends of ours here,” she said, laughing. “Could you tell us if they’ve checked in?”
“ I just got on, but I’ll be glad to check. What’s the name?”
“ Barnes,” she said, “Jim and Roma Barnes.” She wanted to show her father that she had a flair for detective work and she figured there was a pretty good chance that Monday and his sister-in-law might be using her name, because no way could they use his. She knew she’d done good and she felt an inner glow when she saw her father’s smile of approval.
The desk clerk punched his keyboard, stared at the screen for a bit, then said, “Nope. I got a Lambert, two doubles. A Holiday, a double. And a Ross, two doubles. No others, it’s a slow night. Looks like you beat them in. Want me to tell them you’re here when they arrive?”
“ That would be nice.” She was upset that her gambit hadn’t succeeded in finding Monday, but it had, she just didn’t know it.
Five minutes later she was sitting on her father’s bed, the door to their connecting rooms open. He sat down next to her.
“ Why don’t you pick up the phone and see if you can charm that clerk into telling you which room Edna Lambert is in,” he said.
She wondered who Edna Lambert was, but she called the clerk as he’d asked and though that red-headed kid probably wasn’t supposed to give her the information, he was more than happy to. Sometimes being young and pretty paid off.
“ She’s in Room 221,” Glenna said.
“ And that’s where we’ll find our man.”
“ How did you know about this Edna Lambert person?” she asked.
“ Walker told me. It was on the news. I’ll go right over and talk to Monday. Tell him that I’m on his side. Then we’ll see where we go from there.”
“ I’m going with you.”
“ No, I let you com
e this far, but first I want to talk to him alone. I’d never forgive myself if he did something stupid and you got hurt.”
“ Dad, I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m going.”
“ No, that’s final. Please don’t make me regret bringing you.”
“ Okay, I’ll wait here till you call, like a good girl.” Usually she had him wrapped around her little finger, but there was that occasional time when he drew the line and she knew better than to try and cross it.
She watched him cross the manicured courtyard to the building opposite. Since the back of the main building faced the courtyard, he would have to walk through the lobby to get to Edna Lambert’s room. She watched his back till he disappeared into the lobby, then she reached into her purse for a cigarette. Three left, she would have to go easy. She lit up and inhaled the blue smoke and tried not to worry.
When Hugh Washington went through the lobby, he felt that old chill run through him-the goosebumps on his arms, the tingling skin-these were the caution signs. He slipped his hand under his sweatshirt and withdrew the thirty-eight from the shoulder holster. He held it easily in his right hand as he slid both hand and pistol behind his back. Better safe than sorry.
He took the stairs to the second floor, silent as a cat burglar. He stepped on the walkway, looked out across the flatland, inhaled the cattle smell and thought about becoming a vegetarian. Then he snapped back to the task at hand and started toward Room 221. His stomach tightened as he approached the room and he tightened his hold on the gun. The door was ajar, sending a sliver of light into the dark night. He listened for a few seconds. Not a sound. He eased it open and was assaulted by the coppery smell and the attacking sight of blood.
He jumped back and grabbed the railing to keep from falling over the side. He caught his breath, groped for command of his senses. His heart was racing, sweat ran down the back of his neck. He was going to have to go in there.
He steeled his mind, flexed the muscles along the curve of his back and rocked his head around in two quick circles, hearing the creak at the base of his skull. Calm down, he told himself, you’ve done this before and you can do it now. Damn good thing you made Glenna stay back. He entered the room, fighting to keep his Italian lunch in his stomach.
Never in all his years on the force had he seen anything like this. The walls, carpet and ceiling were covered in splashes of blood, like a child had slopped red paint throughout the room and his reflection through the red tinged mirror looked like a photo from hell. There were no bodies, just blood-buckets of blood.
He had to check the bathroom for bodies. He picked his way across the room, doing his best to avoid the wet blood on the carpet. He looked down at his new, now red tinged, running shoes and wished that he had worn the old pair. He eased a shaking hand toward the bathroom doorknob, opening it with two fingers. The sound of the door creaking was like a knife to his heart, but the sight inside the bathroom mitigated some of the blade’s pressure. No bodies, no blood, just a normal bathroom, clean and white, a stark contrast to the room he had just crossed through.
Quick thought, call Glenna. Second thought, call the police. The first thought was the most paramount. He went to the phone, called his daughter and told her what he found.
“ I’ll be right over,” she said.
“ No!” he said. “Stay where you are and lock the door. Under no circumstances are you to open that door for anyone but me. Do you understand?”
“ Yes, Dad,” she said.
“ I’ll be here a while, so don’t worry. I’m gonna call the cops and I’m sure they’re not gonna pat me on the back and say, ‘Good job, you can go now.’ No ma’am, they’re gonna nail my black ass to the wall once they find out I was chasing a suspected murderer into their ballpark without informing them.”
“ So don’t call them.”
“ I have to. I want to know who or what did this and the quickest way is for me to be on the inside. Don’t worry, I can handle it. I’ve been there before. Now I gotta go. Lock the door, okay?”
“ I’m locking it now,” she said. Then she added, “I’ll see you when you get here.”
“ Love you,” he said.
“ Love you too, Dad.”
On the one hand she understood why he wanted her out of the way. He was her father. Protecting her was natural, but dammit, she didn’t want to be left out. She wasn’t a little girl. She was living on her own, earning her own income. She lit a cigarette. Life is so unfair, she thought.
Maybe she should just go on over there. What could he say? He’d have to let her stay, to let her see the murder scene and the investigation first hand. But she knew if she disobeyed him, he would pack her back to Long Beach on the first bus out of town. No, she would have to do as she was told and earn his respect.
She decided to take a bath. She took the last drag off the cigarette, then stubbed it out in a crystal ashtray. She went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, checking it with her hand under the flow. When it was hot, she added the cold. She let the water run while she undressed. Then she padded into the bedroom and picked up her pack of cigarettes off the nightstand.
Only one left. Damn. She loved to sit in the tub and smoke and think and this was definitely a three or four cigarette bath coming up. She went back to the bathroom, checked the water. Too cold. She turned off the cold and turned the hot down to a slow trickle.
Then she remembered her father always had a spare pack in the glove compartment. She smiled as she jumped into her Levi’s, ignoring her panties. She pulled on her tee shirt, leaving the bra where it had fallen on the bathroom floor. She thought about the shoes, but it was a warm night and she liked going barefoot. She went through the connecting doors, picked up her father’s keys from the nightstand. Then she started for the door. She would have her four cigarette bath after all.
She left the room, smiling as she felt the cool tile of the walkway on her bare feet. The rock tile stairs sent little shivers of feeling from her feet to her shins. It felt good. At the bottom of the stairs she started for the car, then thought, one peek, from a distance, what could it hurt. Her father need never know.
She went through the parking lot, glanced at Power Glide and kept walking. She didn’t want to go through the lobby, so she went around the main building, trying to see which room her father was in. The sound of a distant siren pierced the night, getting closer. She ran from the inn part of the complex to the restaurant, where she hid by the side of the building. She didn’t have to wait long.
Two black and white cruisers pulled into the parking lot, sirens blazing, lights flashing. She watched as two officers emerged from each car. They talked for a few seconds, then all four went up the steps. Two held back at the top of the stairs, just in case, she thought. Just in case her father came out shooting. But before the other two reached the room, the door opened and her father came out, hands well away from his body.
“ I’m a police officer.” He said, showing his shield in his right hand.
“ Then you’ll understand when we tell you to step away from the door, turn and face the wall, put your hands on the wall and spread ’em.” Her dad tossed the uniformed officer his shield then did as he was told.
“ I have a thirty-eight, in a right shoulder holster,” he said to the officer frisking him. The policeman removed it and stepped back.
“ Give him back his piece. This is the guy that called it in,” the other officer said.
Glenna stood silent and still, seeing and hearing everything, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, until her father and the other officers entered the room. They didn’t close the door, but she was confident they couldn’t see her through the cloud covered night. She was about to make her way back to the parking lot, when she felt something on her foot. She looked down and stifled a scream as she jerked her foot up, shaking the gecko off, sending it flying into the night.
Shaken, she shivered. She needed a cigarette. She walked across the cool grass next to the brick wal
kway, preferring the feel of the grass on her feet. She covered the distance from the restaurant to the parking lot in quick strides. She wanted the cigarettes and she wanted to be back up in her room in a peaceful bath, soaking in hot-as-could-be water. She wished she had some bubble bath.
She slowed her pace when she reached the parking lot, taking short, shallow steps toward the car. She’d skinned her feet when she was a little girl, pushing a new bicycle down their asphalt driveway on a cold Christmas morning. Ever since, whenever she walked barefoot on asphalt, chills ran from the balls of her feet to the back of her neck.
She was fifteen strides into the parking lot and halfway to the car, when the winds aloft opened a patch of sky, showing the full moon and removing the veil of darkness that covered the ground. Her spirits lightened and she anticipated the taste of one of her father’s stale Marlboros. She picked up her pace and stubbed her toe. Damn. She stopped. It hurt. There was blood. She started limping toward the car. She heard something. She stopped, cautious, like a deer that had just heard a twig snap.
She heard it again. A scraping sound. Still she didn’t move. The sound stopped and for a full fifteen seconds she stood stock still. She heard it again. Something scraping along the asphalt, for only an instant, then it stopped.
“ Is somebody there?” she said in a small, soft voice.
A low animal sound answered. A rumbling sound, a bass sound-halfway between a giant cat-purr and a rough, dog-like growl. She reached into her pocket, took out her father’s keys. The animal sound was moving behind the parking lot, to her right. If she could get in the car and lock it, she would be safe. Oblivious to the pain in her foot she started slowly, carefully toward the car. The sound got louder and she picked up her pace. All of a sudden it was in front of her, coming from somewhere close to the Chevy. Her safe haven was cut off.
She stopped, backed up two paces, then stopped again. The moving clouds partly covered the moon, cutting off most of the light, but not all of it. She strained her eyes, willing them to see through the night. The animal growled again. She wanted to run, but didn’t. It’s a dog, she told herself. A dog, nothing else. Probably a watch dog. She wasn’t afraid of dogs. She had a way with them. Even when she was a little girl, she had been able to tame the meanest, mangiest dog in the neighbor hood, Mr. Howard’s German Shepherd, with her soothing voice and her lack of fear. Dogs sensed fear and she was never afraid. Not of dogs. Her father said that she must have been a golden collie in another life and, when she was a child, she believed him, because dogs, all dogs, seemed to love her.