“Oh, great. Is that everything?”
His reply this time was a soft snore. His head leaned to the side, mouth partly open. He must have been exhausted. Just looking at him made Bonnie feel tired. She closed the door gently and went back to the kitchen.
She took the gun down from the top of the refrigerator. It was much heavier than it looked. Solid and cold. She wondered if he had used it much, and decided that was a stupid thing to wonder. Of course he had used it. Just look at him.
She pushed the gun away from her, and offered a silent prayer that she would never have to use it, or even see it used.
Shep twisted and spun in the darkness. Lights blinked around him, like flashbulbs at a great distance, twinkling like stars. He spun, but he was not dizzy. He felt only warmth and comfort. He could move neither his arms nor his legs, and neither could he close his eyes.
If this was a dream, it felt very real.
The spinning slowed, and the darkness filled gradually with light. Above him, a ceiling turned. Or so it seemed. As the light spread, he could see the walls, moving by like clouds. Cracked plaster. Partly painted. A picture on one wall, hanging slightly askew. A door in the center of another wall, closed. The sight of it sent a pang of fear through him, and he looked away.
“Hello, Shep.”
The voice came from a shadowy corner, and though he was spinning he tried to keep it in view. She came out of the darkness, into the light. Her red hair was beautiful, cascading down across her shoulders.
“Who are you?” Shep asked.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Then you will.”
She spun out of view, then back in, then out again, each time closer, until she was standing over him, circling with the ceiling. Now, he began to feel dizzy.
From the other dark corners, Shep heard movement, and shapes stepped into the light. The boy/man. Smiling. He came up beside the redhead, and she put an arm across his huge shoulders.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he,” she said.
Shep didn’t know if she was talking to him, or the other.
Another woman came closer, short and fat and naked. She stood close to Shep, arms wrapped around herself, shivering. She would not look at his face.
And there was another shape, this one staying always just out of his sight. He craned his neck, but could not see.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
He was spinning faster again. Above, the ceiling had turned into a circle, and the faces were pressing closer to him, smiling, bending down.
The walls were a blur now, moving past so quickly he watched a flickering succession of door, painting, cracked plaster, shadow, door, painting.
And then the other shape flashed momentarily into view, and he saw with a shock that it was the boy, Evan. Naked. Or partly naked. Something was hanging off of him in strips, something wet.
The boy moved to the doorway, his hand reaching out to open it. From beyond the sloppily painted wood Shep heard movement. Heavy, ponderous, movement. A groan.
“No!”
The boy turned the handle. The door opened. Beyond the door lay darkness, spinning by, there and gone, there and gone, and in that darkness something moved. The boy stepped aside to let it past and into the room.
Everything was a blur now, faces, wall, painting, shadow, door. And something else. Something pale and bulging, sliding through the darkness toward him, reaching for him.
Shep woke with a mouthful of blanket between his teeth. His cry of panic and horror was muffled by the fabric. He sat up in bed, soaked with sweat.
“Son of a bitch.”
For a few moments he did not know where he was. The place smelled strange, unfamiliar. The room was not his.
Bonnie’s house.
Yes.
Outside the window, it was dark. He could see a distant lamp. Shadows of branches reached across the ceiling.
He swung his legs out of bed. Through the door he could hear the sound of a television. And something else.
It sounded like a child crying.
Shep got up and went to the door. He opened it slowly. The hallway was full of shadows, and slabs of light cast from the living room to the right. The sound of the television was louder. He could see Bonnie’s feet, resting on a chair.
The crying came from the room across the hall. He stepped nimbly across the carpet and pressed his ear to the door. It was the boy. His sobs sounded panicky.
Shep felt a chill, but reached out and opened the door. He looked into darkness. Stray living-room light leaked into the room and he could make out Evan, face down on bed. The room smelled funny.
Like paint thinner.
“Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?”
The boy rolled onto his back. His face was red and puffy from crying.
“You okay?” Shep said again.
“Uh huh.”
“You have a nightmare?”
The boy hesitated, then nodded.
“Same as usual?”
Evan nodded.
Shep didn’t want to say what he said next, but the words seemed to come by themselves.
“Was I in it?”
“Uh huh.”
“What was I doing?”
Evan rubbed his eyes. “You opened a door and let something get me,” he said softly.
Shep swallowed hard.
“It was only a dream. Go back to sleep.”
The boy lay back on the bed. Shep started to close the door.
“Did you have it, too?”
Shep opened the door a crack. He stared at the boy. “Of course not,” he lied.
“Oh.”
He closed the door, then leaned against it with his eyes closed.
“What’s wrong?”
At the sound of the voice he opened his eyes with a start. Bonnie was standing beside him.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’m sorry. I heard somebody talking.”
Shep shook his head, pressing a hand to his chest. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“I’m sorry. What’s wrong with Evan?”
“He had a bad dream. He’s okay now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?”
“It’s after ten,” Bonnie said.
“You should have wakened me.”
“How was I supposed to know? What’s the big deal?”
He followed her back to the living room.
“The big deal, is we have work to do,” he said. “And I’m starving.”
Bonnie sipped from a glass of water and watched Shep eat. She had heated up some frozen french fries in the oven, had fried up three eggs and five slices of Canadian bacon, and now Shep was mopping up the last of the yolk with a few stray fries. He had polished off two cups of black coffee and was working on his third.
“That’s good,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Never thought a breakfast would taste so good this late at night.”
“It’s not really a breakfast. I have it a lot for dinner. It’s quick and easy.”
“Mmmm mmm.”
She felt pleased that he had enjoyed the meal. It was nice to watch somebody eat so heartily. She and Evan were both pickers and peckers.
Shep leaned back in his seat and picked up his coffee cup.
“So, tell me, why doesn’t Evan live with you all the time?”
“His father had custody. When Harris went missing, after the accident, I took Evan.”
“But I mean, why don’t you have custody?”
He seemed innocently curious, and yet she could not help feeling defensive and guilty.
“I don’t know. I gave up Evan years ago. I couldn’t handle being a mother, I guess. I don’t know. I suppose it was silly. I should have had him from the start.”
“I don’t think it’s silly. It’s hard to make a decision like that. You do what you think i
s best at the time. Maybe it was more courageous to give him up than to keep him. Only you can know that.”
He was looking at her very seriously, and there was no mockery in his voice. Bonnie was touched.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Evan ever mention anything about what was happening with his dad?”
“If you mean with these strange people, no. The first time I heard of it was when I picked him up at the hospital.”
“You notice anything weird in his dad last time you saw him?”
“Nothing. It’s all very recent.”
“Hmmm.”
He rubbed his chin and looked very serious.
“Why do you think they want Evan?” Bonnie asked.
“Could be any number of reasons. Could be because he knows too much about them. Could be because they need him for some ritual or other. You never know. They might just hate kids. I don’t know. Could be he’s one of them.”
“One of them? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. I’m just guessing off the top of my head. I don’t know. Forget it.”
He sipped his coffee and rubbed his neck. He still looked exhausted. His hair needed combing, and he looked like he could use a long soak in a bath.
“What happened to your neck?”
He had been absently rubbing the bandage on his neck for some time now. He stopped when she mentioned it.
“Just a scratch.”
“Skin looks red around the bandage.”
“It’s nothing.”
Bonnie went to the cupboard above the sink and got out the hydrogen peroxide, some cotton swabs, and a new bandage. She put them on the table in front of Shep.
“Let me take a look at it.”
He held up a hand to ward her off.
“It won’t hurt. I promise. You should have it cleaned. I know what I’m talking about.”
He lowered his hand. Bonnie carefully peeled away the bandage from his skin. The cut was less than half an inch long, but it was moist and deep. She pressed a dry cotton swab to the area, and a clear fluid wept out of the cut. Shep didn’t flinch.
She soaked another swab in hydrogen peroxide and dabbed the cut. It foamed.
“So, why did you decide to come looking for these people. I mean, six years is a long time.”
Shep chewed his lower lip. For a few seconds she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I couldn’t do that to my mom,” he said softly. “She never really knew what happened to Jeff. I never showed her his letters. She wouldn’t have understood. He was scared, you know. She bought the story about the animal attack.”
“Animal attack?”
“That’s how they said he died. Said he was out hunting, or something, and got killed by a dog, or a big cat, or something.”
“But you said he was murdered.”
“He was. He told me what he was doing in his last letter. He was going to the creche. They took something from him, and then they killed him. Just to keep him quiet. He was just a kid.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But I had to stay with Mom. She wouldn’t have understood. But I always wanted to go looking. I just had to wait. Until she was gone.”
Bonnie applied another bandage.
“It must have been difficult to pick up the trail after six years.”
He patted the bandage and nodded, satisfied.
“Not so hard. I had good motivation. I loved my kid brother.”
“I guess I should just consider myself lucky,” Bonnie said. “It’s nice to have somebody believe me.”
“Maybe you should. And let’s leave it at that.”
He gulped down the last of his coffee and stood up. He was done talking, Bonnie thought.
“For now,” Shep said, “why don’t you give me a hand in making your house safe.”
It took nearly an hour to set up the things that Shep had brought with him. On both the front and back door he hung small boxes that looked like walkie-talkies.
“Motion sensors,” he said, “of a crude sort. If the door handles are turned, they’ll go off like sirens.”
On both sides of every window he set up what looked like small prisms. Evan groaned, turned over, but did not wake up, when Shep entered his bedroom. A fiber optic cable snaked from room to room, from window to window, finally ending at a box in the kitchen, plugged into the stove. Turned on, a beam of blue light shot around the inside perimeter of the house, across every window.
“I guess you never had trouble with burglars,” Bonnie said.
“Never.”
The box was also hooked up to two standing lights in the living room.
“Anybody comes through the window, breaks the beam, and sets these babies off.”
“What are they?”
“Pulse flashbulbs with a two second recharge period. Very bright, very blinding, very confusing. Give you a chance to get the hell out while whoever trips them rubs their eyes.”
“I’m not sure I like this.”
“Got a better idea?”
“No.”
“Well, then.”
When they had finished, Shep sat down on the sofa. He looked more tired than ever. He rubbed his neck.
“Leave that!” Bonnie said.
Shep lifted his hands in surrender.
Bonnie blushed.
“So, where were you planning on staying the night?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Hadn’t thought about it. I can head back to my motel. This stuff should keep you safe. Give you warning, anyway.”
“You’re lying. You were going to wait in your car, weren’t you? Otherwise, what would be the point of helping us?”
He shrugged. “Caught me.”
“That’s stupid. Why not just stay here? You could have the sofa.”
“I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About not trusting you. About you being dangerous.”
“I didn’t deny it, did I?”
“I’d feel better if you’d stay. And besides, if something does happen, you’ll be right here. It will be better for you, too, won’t it?”
“It might.”
“Well then.”
Shep lifted up his legs and spread himself across the sofa.
“I’ll get the blankets,” Bonnie said.
When she returned, Shep was snoring. She spread the blankets across him, then turned off the living room light.
In the darkness, he said, “Where’s the gun?”
Bonnie gasped. “I thought you were sleeping!”
“I was. Where’s the gun?”
“On top of the fridge.”
“Can you bring it to me?”
Bonnie went and got it. He took it from her, and pushed it under the cushion he was using as a pillow. He started snoring again immediately.
Bonnie retired to her bedroom. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Shep’s presence calmed her, and yet she did not know how to feel.
Harris was out there somewhere. A Harris she did not know, and did not understand. And now her son was in jeopardy.
Shep had admitted to being dangerous. She wondered what kind of things he had done in the course of bringing his brother’s killers to justice. Some bad things, she thought. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered what she would be capable of when it came to protecting herself, and Evan.
More than she wanted to admit, she decided.
Chapter Fifteen
Shep woke without warning. It took him a few seconds to recall where he was, and what he was doing here. He stared at the ceiling. Tree shadows crawled across the plaster. Outside, a breeze rustled the leaves.
Something had woken him. He kept his grip on the Beretta light and easy.
He lay absolutely still, breathing slowly through his nose, and listened intently. He stared at a point on the ceiling and concentrated. The house was quiet but for the hum of the refrigerator compressor, the faint sound of stray branc
hes brushing on the outer wood siding. A very faint humming noise came from the kitchen. The control box for the alarm system. In the distance, he could hear occasional traffic sounds. The roar of a truck. The scream of a motorcycle.
But something had disturbed him, had cut into his sleep and roused him. He knew his own senses, and knew he would not have awakened otherwise. He glanced at his watch. Five after three.
From the dark hallway a new sound began. A door opened. A light turned on. Shep sat up and kept the gun between his legs.
Bonnie, wrapped in a nightgown, rubbing her eyes, came into the living room. She looked at him and yawned.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“I thought I heard something.”
Shep was still listening. He held a finger to his lips. Bonnie hunched her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. She cocked her head.
“What is it? I don’t hear anything.”
“Check Evan.”
That got to her. She straightened up and moved to the boy’s door. She opened it, looked inside, then closed it again and came back into the living room.
She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.
“Sleeping.”
“Good. Don’t disturb him.”
“You heard something, too, didn’t you?”
“I thought so.”
“Maybe we should call the police.”
“I doubt they’d be impressed by a noise in the night.”
“Well, aren’t you going to check, or something?”
Shep tossed off the blanket and stood up. “I guess I’m not getting back to sleep.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be pushy. If you’re sure it’s nothing, then fine.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll check.”
He held out the gun to her. She looked at it, then took it reluctantly.
“Point and squeeze the trigger,” he said
She nodded and held the gun tightly in both hands. Shep moved to the living room and looked outside. Too many shadows to see clearly, too many cars to hide behind.
“Anything?”
“Turn out the lights.”
He heard her shuffling, and then the darkness came. Still, he could see nothing. He moved carefully to the front door and deactivated the motion sensor.
“Where are you going?”
“To look around. When I go out, lock the door and reactivate this alarm. Press the red button once. When I come back I’ll knock at the window twice. Turn off the alarm before you open the door, or you’ll waken the whole neighborhood. The same red button.”
Nightscape Page 14