Creature (27 page)

But as the week had gone by, and it became increasingly clear that Mark’s interest in the creatures was waning, she’d wondered what to do with the small colony that still survived. Blake had suggested eating them, and though Sharon could still remember eating rabbit when she was a little girl, the thought of devouring what had been family pets turned her stomach. Now, as Blake sat in his chair in the family room going over a stack of files, and Kelly sprawled on the floor staring at a cartoon on television, she gazed out the window at the furry creatures—all too unaware that their future had suddenly become uncertain—who were peacefully munching on their food. Perhaps they could simply release them and let them join the large colonies of jackrabbits that proliferated all over the valley. Her reverie was suddenly interrupted by a pounding at the front door. Before she had risen to her feet, Kelly was dashing out of the room. A minute later the little girl was back, her eyes wide and her voice trembling.

“There’s a lady here,” she said. “And she looks like she’s crazy or something.” She hesitated a second, then went on proudly, “I didn’t let her in.”

Frowning, Sharon went to the front door, Kelly trailing after her, and opened it a couple of inches. For a moment she didn’t recognize Charlotte LaConner standing on the front porch, her face ashen, her dark-circled eyes reddened with tears. But at last Charlotte spoke. Gasping, Sharon pulled the door wide.

“Please,” Charlotte rasped, her voice strained and her eyes darting back over her shoulder, as if she thought she were being followed. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. You’ve got to let me in … please?”

As Kelly pressed close to her, Sharon held the door with one hand and drew Charlotte in with the other. “Charlotte! What is it? What’s wrong?”

“They’re making me go away,” Charlotte sobbed. “They want me to just go away and forget about Jeff. But he’s my son, Sharon!” she wailed. “I can’t just forget him. I can’t!”

Sharon stared at Charlotte LaConner, her mind whirling. What was the woman talking about? Jeff was in a hospital somewhere, wasn’t he? She began guiding Charlotte gently toward the kitchen and the family room beyond, then realized that Kelly was still beside her, gazing curiously at the distraught woman. “Go up to your room, sweetheart,” she said. “Just for a little while. All right?”

For a second she thought Kelly was going to protest, but then, as if she knew that something was happening that she didn’t need to know about, she trotted up the stairs. When she got to the top, she turned and looked back. “Is she Jeff LaConner’s mother?” she asked.

Sharon hesitated, then nodded. Kelly seemed on the verge of saying something else, but abruptly changed her mind and disappeared down the hall toward her room.

Blake was on his feet when Sharon and Charlotte came into the family room. When he saw the state Charlotte was in, he quickly began stuffing files back into the briefcase. “I’ll be out of here in a second,” he mumbled. He fell silent as Charlotte LaConner’s bleary eyes fixed on him.

“Are you in on it, too?” she demanded, her voice reduced now to a hoarse rattle. Gasping for air, nearly spent from her wild run through the streets, she allowed herself to collapse onto the sofa. But her eyes never left Blake.

“I … in on it?” Blake asked. What was the woman talking about? Of course, he knew about Jeff LaConner’s breakdown. He’d even helped set up the boy’s admission to a private mental institution near Denver.

Charlotte LaConner’s eyes were wild now. “They’re all part of it, you know,” she rasped, her eyes flicking toward Sharon. “They did something to Jeff, and they don’t want me to find out what it is. They won’t let me see him. They even say it’s my fault!” She buried her head in her hands and began sobbing. Sharon reached out, wanting to comfort her, but Charlotte shrank away from her touch.

The door bell rang, and Charlotte flinched visibly at the sound. Wordlessly, Blake hurried out of the room, and a moment later Sharon heard the faint sounds of whispered conversation. Then Blake was back.

Behind him, his eyes veiled with worry, was Chuck LaConner. As soon as he saw Charlotte, his sigh of relief filled the room.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Sharon, going to sit next to his wife. But as he tried to slip his arm protectively around Charlotte, she shrank from him as a moment ago she had from Sharon. “I wasn’t sure where she went. I’ve been driving around, looking for her.” He paused, then reached out to Charlotte once again. “Honey, it’s going to be all right. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you.”

“No!” Charlotte lurched to her feet and scuttled away until she had backed herself into a corner of the room and could go no farther. She froze there for a moment. Dimly, as if from a great distance away, she could hear her husband’s voice.

“You have to understand,” he was saying. “Ever since the trouble with Jeff started she’s been getting worse and worse.”

She had to get hold of herself—she had to! He was going to convince them that she was crazy, and if that happened …

She drew a deep breath, then another. She stood quite still for a moment more, then slowly, her hands held carefully at her sides, turned to face the three people who were watching her. Though every one of her frayed nerves demanded she turn away once again, cried out for her to give in to the panic that was building inside her, she knew she couldn’t. She
swallowed, trying to clear her throat of the lump that threatened to cut off her breathing, then took another breath.

“I’m all right,” she said, praying that her voice didn’t betray her now. “I just … well, it’s been a terrible week for me, and I guess I just came apart for a minute.”

Her eyes held Chuck’s as she silently pleaded with him to say no more. If he understood the look, he chose to ignore it.

“It’s the strain of the last week,” he said, his eyes meeting Blake’s. “You know the situation—Jeff’s in isolation and—” He stopped, his gaze shifting away from the Tanners. “Well,” he finally went on, “I’m afraid Charlotte’s begun imagining things.” He moved across the room and took his wife’s hand. “Come on, darling,” he said quietly. “Let’s go home and let you get some rest.”

When they were gone, the house seemed oddly silent. It was Blake who finally spoke, after shaking his head sadly. “I’ve been working on it all week,” he said. “Something just snapped in Jeff’s head.” He ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lower lip. “And I guess it’s pretty obvious where the instability came from, isn’t it?”

Sharon said nothing, for while Chuck LaConner had tried to explain what was happening to his wife, her eyes had remained on Charlotte.

And in Charlotte’s eyes, she had read a clear message.

Don’t believe him. Please … don’t believe him
.

   Mark Tanner and Linda Harris were coming down out of the hills above Silverdale. They’d been hiking for an hour, and though Mark had taken his camera with him, so far he hadn’t taken a single picture. Even when a large buck with antlers spread proudly above his head had emerged from a grove of aspens and instantly frozen in place, staring at them, Mark had made no move to capture the image.

“What’s wrong with you?” Linda finally demanded, her voice sharp with exasperation. The buck, after nearly two
minutes, had bounded away and disappeared, Chivas halfheartedly chasing it for a few yards before giving up and rejoining them as they started back toward town. “I thought you liked to take pictures of everything.”

Mark shrugged laconically. “I did,” he agreed. “But I don’t know—lately it seems like taking pictures is just like everything else I used to do.” He fell silent, trying to find the words to explain to Linda what was happening to him. “Taking pictures is sort of like standing on the outside, looking in,” he went on. “And I’m just tired of feeling like I’m left out of everything.”

Linda glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Ever since the night he’d gotten beaten up, he seemed different, but so far he hadn’t been willing to talk about it. In fact, she’d hardly seen him all week; three times she’d had to go to cheerleading practice after school, and the other two days Mark had gone out to the sports center to keep his appointments with Dr. Ames. “You mean like sports?” she asked now, keeping her voice as casual as possible. To her surprise, Mark only nodded.

“I guess so,” he admitted. “I mean, always before, I didn’t really care about being so small, ’cause I didn’t want to go out for anything anyway.” He grinned at her then, and exaggeratedly flexed one of his arms. “But all of a sudden I’m starting to work out, and I’m putting on some weight. Watch!” He dropped to the ground and did fifty push-ups while Linda watched, astonished. He was barely even breathing hard when he was done. “What do you think of that?” he asked. “Three weeks ago I couldn’t even have done ten.”

“Big deal,” Linda commented sourly. “So you can do push-ups. Who cares? Jeff LaConner used to be able to do a hundred. And look what happened to him!”

“Aw, come on,” Mark replied, suddenly deflated. He’d been so sure she’d be at least a little bit impressed. “Just because I’m trying to get in shape doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into an asshole like Jeff!”

Linda glared at him. “He wasn’t always an asshole, you
know. When I first started going out with him, he was really nice. In fact,” she added pointedly, “he was real nice till he turned into a sports nut!”

Mark felt his cheeks burn. “Well, I’m not going to do that,” he protested. They were walking along the river now, the Harrises’ house only a block away. “And what’s wrong with trying to be like everyone else?” he demanded. “Maybe I’m sick of not fitting in!”

Linda said nothing until they were a few yards from her house, then she turned to face him. “Look,” she said. “I’m not mad at you or anything like that. I’m just worried about you, okay? And if you want to ‘fit in’—whatever that means—I’m sure it’s all right with me. But if you’re going to turn into another Jeff LaConner, you might as well tell me right now.”

Mark stared at her, baffled. Turn into Jeff LaConner? He wasn’t anything like Jeff, and never would be. “But I’m not,” he protested. “I’m still me, and I always will be.”

They turned up the driveway of the Harrises’ house. From the apron in front of the garage, Robb waved to them. “Hey, Mark!” he called out. “Want to shoot some baskets?” He took aim and tossed the basketball in his hands expertly through the hoop. When his eyes met Mark’s, Mark was certain he saw a challenge in Robb’s look. For a split-second he hesitated. Then a grin spread across his face. “Sure,” he called back. “Why not?” He sprinted down the driveway, Chivas trotting after him, and didn’t notice the look of disappointment that came into Linda’s eyes before she turned away and hurried into the house.

Ten minutes later Mark was beginning to breathe hard, but he was pleased that despite Robb’s size and ability, he’d still managed to score three baskets. Now, dribbling the ball carefully and edging toward the basket, he searched for an opportunity to duck around Robb. He made his move, feinting left, then dodging around to the right, but just as he leaped toward the basket, he felt Robb’s elbow dig sharply into his ribs. He grunted as a stab of pain shot through him and the
ball went wild, bouncing off the backboard and dropping into Robb’s hands. Robb immediately rose into a smooth lay-up, and the ball sailed through the hoop.

“Doesn’t count,” Mark yelled. “You fouled me!”

“Tough shit,” Robb grinned. “You see a referee anywhere around?”

A flash of anger swept over Mark. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “A foul’s a foul.”

Robb shrugged. “I play to win,” he said, idly flipping the ball through the hoop once more.

Mark stared at him. “There are rules to this game, you know.”

The grin faded from Robb’s lips, and his eyes hardened. “The only rule I know is the one about winning,” he said. He dropped the ball and gave Mark a shove. Surprised by the sudden move, Mark staggered backward.

Robb shoved him again, and now Mark’s back hit the garage door. “Come on,” he said, “what’s going on?”

“Chicken?” Robb asked. “Is the little boy mad ’cause he lost a point?”

Mark’s jaw tightened, and before he truly realized what he was doing, his fist flashed out, catching Robb on the jaw. Robb’s eyes widened slightly, then his lips twisted into a malicious smile.

“So you want to fight, huh?” he mocked. “Is the little boy finally growing up?”

He began throwing punches then, his jabs barely touching Mark as he taunted the smaller boy. Finally he moved in close, and Mark seized his opportunity. Clenching his right fist tight, he threw himself toward Robb, plunging his fist into the other boy’s stomach. A burst of air erupted from Robb’s lungs and he lurched back, clutching his stomach and struggling to recapture his breath. Just as he was about to strike out at Mark once more, the back door of the house opened and Elaine Harris rushed out.

“Stop it!” she demanded. “Stop it this instant!” Both boys, startled by the sharpness of her words, turned to face
her. She glared angrily at Robb. “I don’t want to hear any excuses at all,” she declared. “You’re nearly a foot taller than Mark and you outweigh him by fifty pounds. Now you get into the house, and when your father gets home, you can explain this to him!” She waited, her hands planted on her hips, and finally Robb, his head ducked low, hurried past her and disappeared inside. When Elaine spoke again, her voice was gentle and apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Whatever happened, he shouldn’t have taken a punch at you.”

Mark felt his face burning with shame. What did she think he was, some kind of little kid who couldn’t even defend himself? As he wordlessly turned away and hurried down the driveway, he remembered what had happened on the night when he
hadn’t
been able to defend himself.

But today had been different. Today, even after Robb had taken a swing at him, he hadn’t tried to run away.

This time he’d stood his ground and fought back.

And for a moment, after he’d landed the blow to Robb’s belly, it looked like he might have won the fight. Of course, Robb had already been recovering from the blow when Mrs. Harris had come out, and he might yet have taken a pounding.