Bad Things (36 page)

“Piper! Open up!”

Dakota's voice cut through Rick's nightmare, and the pounding on his bedroom door brought him bolt upright. “Hang on,” he grunted, extracting Quint's claws from his forearm.

“Piper!”

“Shut up, you're scaring the cat!” The feline suddenly raced painfully across his bare chest and thumped to the floor, heading for the safety of the headboard.

“Hurry up!” Dakota's voice was lower, but he rattled the hell out of the doorknob.

Rick's feet hit the floor, and a moment later, he unlocked the door. Dakota pushed his way inside,

“Christ, O'Keefe,” Rick said, shutting the door.

“What is it with you and locks?” Dakota said. “Listen. You know how you can see those greenjacks?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I just heard Bob the Invisible Friend.”

“What?”

“You heard me. He called Cody's name, Cody answered him, then walked into the closet.”

“What?” Rick listened to Dakota's words, hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. “Cody!” He started for the door, but Dakota grabbed his arm.

“Rick, wait. Cody's not there.”

“The passages are blocked; he
has
to be there!”

“Calm down and listen to me. The nails have been driven out from the inside.”

“That's impossible!” He tried vainly to pull free of Dakota.

“It must be Jade, Rick,” Dakota said. He was breathing fast now, catching Rick's fear. “It has to be Jade. You're here and . . .”

“And what?” Rick asked, his head beginning to throb.

Dakota stared hard at him. “And you're here.”

“You mean you thought that
I
might be Bob? That I tried to assault my own daughter?” Furious, he yanked free of O'Keefe and glared at him. “I thought you were supposed to be my friend! You son of a bitch!”

“Rick, you're my best friend and I believe you, but you've been under a lot of stress and, shit, if you were in my place, you'd have to make sure, too.”

Stonily Rick nodded. “Well, then, is there anything else I can do to prove to you that I'm not skulking around scaring my children at night? Do you want me to write it in blood?”

“Don't be sarcastic, Piper. You'll just have to apologize to me later, after you've had time to think.”

Rick didn't know whether he wanted to cry or commit murder. “You won't tell me where Shelly is because you're not sure I'm not guilty. That's it, isn't it?”

Dakota drew himself to his full towering height and crossed his arms. “We don't have time for bullshit. Yes, Rick, that's right. I don't think you're guilty, but I can't take a chance on Shelly's safety. You'd do the same.”

“You fucking bastard.” Rick felt his body tense, imagined his hands around O'Keefe's throat. “You fucking—”

“Piper, listen. What if somebody assaulted Cody while I was watching him for you? Wouldn't you be worried about leaving him with me even though you didn't really think I did it? My sexuality is a little strange. Wouldn't you think that maybe, just maybe, I'd branched out into pederasty? You'd worry, wouldn't you? Even though I'm your closest friend, you'd worry.”

Fury gave way to grudging understanding, and Rick nodded. ‘You've made your point. I have no right to be angry with you for looking out for my kids. I'm sorry.” He felt beaten. “God knows, with the stories I've told you about my childhood, you must think I'm completely nuts.”

“No. To be blunt, it's a possibility—as you yourself say—but I don't think so. Frankly, I happen to believe you, Piper.”

“Thanks. But what do we do now?” Rick asked dully.

“Check passages?”

“This place is a honeycomb. We'd never find him from the inside. Also, you'd never fit, and I'd be a tight squeeze in most of them.”

“So let's see if any other ones are missing nails. Where's the one in this room?”

He picked up his flashlight and handed it to Dakota. “In here.” He led O'Keefe into the dressing room and pointed. “Look in that cabinet.”

Dakota opened the doors, then got down on his hands and knees, shining the light inside. He gasped, pulling back so quickly that he hit the back of his head. He stood up, his eyes boring into Rick's with an intensity he'd never seen before. “We have problems, my friend,” he said, his voice shaking.

“The nails are gone?” he asked, thinking,
and proof of my innocence.

“For a start. Take a look.”

Dumbly Rick took the light and squatted. “Dear God,” he heard himself say. “Oh, dear God.”

Within the cabinet, among the nails, was the filleting knife and Jade's poodle, which lay in a pool of its own blood. Its mouth was taped shut and the hind legs were dismembered and lying several inches from the rest of its body.

“Dear God.” Blindly Rick stood and rushed into the bathroom, where he hugged the toilet bowl, violently ill.

Dakota said nothing until Rick had brushed his teeth and splashed his face with water. Then, firmly, he placed his hand on Rick's shoulder. “The dog's body is still warm,” he said, his voice cool and businesslike. “We'd better find Cody.”

“Yes.” Rick walked past Dakota and picked up the phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Carmen. She'll help.”

Dakota nodded. “I'm going to get my shoes. Back in a flash.”

Carmen stood with Dakota, Hector, and Ricky in Cody's room and stared into the passage within the closet. They'd called his name for fifteen minutes, but there was no reply, and now there was talk of going inside the walls to look for him. Only Rick and Hector were small enough to fit into the passage, and Carmen did not want either of them to go in, though Hector appeared more than willing.

“No,” she told him. “It's not good to go in there. Something bad will happen.”

“All the more reason to go after him,” Hector insisted.

“Cody could be anywhere,” she said. “Those passages run all over the house. If we found him, it would be by sheer luck.”

Ricky, who looked pale and ill, nodded. “I should go. I've been in them before.” Nervously he ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “God, who else is in there?”

“It's a spirit,” Carmen said.

“I'll bet it's a kid,” Dakota cut in quickly. “Maybe a friend from school? An older kid. You know, people, he knew exactly what he was doing—he's obviously been in there before—and whoever it was didn't know I heard him, so there's no reason to think that he won't come back out sooner or later.”

“Dakota has a point,” Hector said.

“Yes,” Rick agreed. “Except tomorrow's Halloween.”

“Here's what we're going to do,” Carmen said abruptly. “Hector, you go clean up the mess in Ricky's room—”

“Should we leave it for the police?” Dakota asked.

“We don't need police,” she said with finality. “After that, Hector, please take the cat and put him back at our house. Make sure you cover his eyes outside so he doesn't see those jacks. Then come back here.”

Hector nodded silently, leaving her to eye Ricky and Dakota. “Did either of you check on Jade?” she asked.

They shook their heads.

She pulled a key from her pocket. “Let's go.” She bustled toward the stairs, Dakota and Ricky following. “If he's not with her, we'll keep looking until we find him.”

Instead of knocking on Jade's door, she inserted the key in the lock and turned it silently. The door opened on the shadowed room. Putting her finger to her lips to signal silence, she led them into Jade's living room, crossing herself as she always did when she saw the murky forms of the stuffed dogs. They seemed to watch her as she moved through the room. She paused to whisper to Ricky. “You know where the openings are?”

He nodded.

“Check them. Check for dust.” Without being told, Dakota remained with his friend. That pleased Carmen, because Ricky looked too close to panic to be left alone, and she feared he might fall apart completely. She watched him tiptoe toward a coat closet that contained an opening, then let herself into Jade's bedroom. The old woman snored in her bed, blissfully unaware that her poodle had been killed. The one that died a couple months ago was perched on the night table, fresh from the taxidermist, eternally licking its privates. Carmen crossed herself again, then checked Jade's closet.

Nothing blocked the opening. Jade continued to snore as Carmen pushed the latch. The panel slid open silently, letting cool, stale air waft over her face and making the hairs on her arms and neck stand on end. Involuntarily she shivered, then put one hand inside the opening and wiped it across the floor before letting it shut.

Quietly she left the bedroom, then waited for Ricky to finish up. Afterward, she led them out of Jade's quarters, locking the door behind them.

In the living room light, she examined her fingers. No dust. “Ricky? Was there dust?”

“In the one in the closet,” he said, wiping his fingers on his sweatpants. “But not in the one by the back stairs.”

They heard the back door open, and a moment later, Hector came in. “Everything's taken care of.”

“Quint's at your place?” Rick asked.

“Yes. Boy, that cat didn't like it outside.” He held up his arm, displaying scratch marks. “He's okay now.” He looked at Dakota. “Shelly wants to talk to you,” he said.

“Shelly's here?” Ricky interrupted hopefully.

“No. She's on the phone.” He turned back to Dakota. “She only wants to talk to you. I told her to call over here, but she wouldn't do it. The front door's not locked; you can go on over.”

Dakota touched Ricky on the shoulder. “I'll be right back. Don't worry.”

Carmen watched Ricky as Dakota left, and her heart ached for him, he looked so stricken. “Hector,” she ordered. “You check the rest of the passage openings down here. If they're open, call Cody.” She turned to Ricky. “You and I will check the upstairs. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and began to lead him toward the staircase. “We'll find him right away.

She hoped she spoke the truth.

Numbly following Carmen into Shelly's room, Rick felt as if he were drowning. He couldn't seem to think anymore, couldn't comprehend what was going on around him. Vaguely humiliated, knowing that she was treating him like a child, coddling him, leading him, he didn't have the strength to take over the search for his son, let alone protest, though he knew he should.

At least he hadn't told Carmen the reason Shelly had run away. Then he'd get the same pitying and nervous questioning glances from her that Dakota had given him since he'd arrived. Rick didn't think he could stand that.

“Shut up,” he whispered.

“What?” Carmen looked at him.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“I remember the day I nailed this one shut,” she said, her hand on the closet doorknob. “I heard noises in here one night. It scared me so much, I stuck a chair under the knob. The next morning, I looked inside and found one of my dresses was on the floor. It was damp.” She shook her head. “I didn't know what was on it, I just threw it away. Then I got a hammer and drove twenty-four nails into the panel. I counted every one.”

She glanced at him as she opened the closet door. “Ricky?”

He froze. “Yes?”

“Why did Shelly run away?”

He didn't want to answer, but her expression demanded it. “She says someone attacked her.” That was enough truth for now.

“Do you believe her, Ricky?”

“Yes.”
I didn't, I couldn't have.

“So do I. Look.” She stepped aside so that he could see inside the closet. Even without a flashlight, he could tell that the panel below Shelly's dresses and shirts had been tampered with. One corner was splintered, the nail next to it bent and only halfway removed. More nails littered the floor. A spray of dark spots that might be blood stained the floor. “I cleaned this room a week ago,” she told him. “This wasn't like this then.” She bent down and called, “Cody? You in there? Cody?”

“Piper!” Dakota's voice, not Cody's, jolted Rick. He spun toward the door.

“Up here!” Rick yelled.

Immediately he heard O'Keefe's heavy footfalls come up the stairs two at a time.
Seconds are passing,
he thought as he heard him running up the hall,
and they feel like hours.

Dakota finally appeared in Shelly's doorway, windblown and breathless. He rested against the doorframe, leaning his head back, and took a deep breath. He exhaled noisily.

“What is it?” Rick demanded, impatient with O'Keefe's dramatics. “What did Shelly say?”

“Piper,” he said, coming into the room. “Stick your tongue out.”

“What?”

“Stick it out. Now.”

“No.”

In two broad steps Dakota reached him. “Why not? What are you hiding?” He glared down at him.

“I'm not hiding anything,” Rick avowed angrily.

“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.”

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?”