Endless Night (46 page)

“I think I covered everything you need to know about.”

“I wanta know
everything
he said.”

“No, you don’t. Now let’s drop it and ...”

“But he was in the
house,
Dad. He was in my bedroom. He was in my
stuff.”

“I know. And I know it must seem creepy.”

“He was a
madman.
And a
pervert.”

“I know, honey. I know. Look, if you feel nervous about sleeping in your bedroom tonight, you can sack out on the sofa.”

“The sofa’s lumpy.”

“I know, but...”

“I want to sleep in my own bed. It isn’t fair for him to take it away from me ... ruin my own bedroom for me.” Even while speaking, she’d realized that she must sound awfully selfish and petty. Whining about her bedroom. Simon and that horrible gang had slaughtered Andy’s whole family, butchered no telling how many other people ...

“It’s all right,” she’d said. “I’ve just gotta get used to the idea and ...”

“Maybe if we go into your room and give it a really good cleaning up ...”

“We cleaned it while you were over listening to the tapes,” she’d explained. “We cleaned the whole house, didn’t you notice?”

“Not really.”

For the first time in a long while, Jody had felt a smile come to her face. “Sharon’ll be real glad to hear you didn’t even notice. She worked her butt off.”

“I helped, too,” Andy had muttered.

“Those lab guys made more of a mess than ... the guy.”

“Simon.”

“Yeah. Him.” She didn’t need to be reminded of his name. She would probably never forget his name. But she didn’t want to speak it. “Anyway,” she’d continued, “they left fingerprint powder all over the place.”

Blinking like someone who’d just woken up, Andy had said, “Could you tell me something, Jack? How come they wanted to look for his fingerprints here if he’s dead?”

“It’s because there’ll be a major investigation into ... everything. Even Simon’s break-in here. Everything about him and his friends. We’ve gotta find out exactly who was involved, what everyone did and when.”

“Didn’t you say he told the names of all the other guys?” Jody had asked.

“He did, but he might’ve left people out. Or he might’ve named people who weren’t in the gang.”

“Like to get them in trouble?” Andy had asked.

“For whatever reasons. For all we really know, half of what he said on the tapes might’ve been lies.”

“Only half?” Jody had asked.

“Well, there’s no question that he told the truth about a lot of it, honey. Things he said match up with what we know about ... about what happened at Andy’s house on Friday night, for one thing. And about Hillary Weston and her husband. About the homeless person he hit with his car in the alley on Saturday night. And those two men he shot in Hollywood so he could take their dog. About his ... his visit to our house. Also about what he did to Karen’s parents.” Another shrug. “We don’t have confirmation of his story about the triple-murder in Indio, but it’s probably just a matter of time. Maybe that kid—Henry—lived alone and made up the story he told Simon about his mother being away at work. If it was something like that, it might be a while before their bodies are discovered.

“When it comes right down to it, kids, we don’t have any reason to believe he lied about anything at all. Every word on those tapes might very well be the truth. But even so, he only managed to tell a small part of the story. There are huge gaps. We need to fill in every gap and get the full picture of what these guys have done.”

Jody squirmed on her bed.

I don’t care what the rest of them did. I just need to know about that pervert who was here.

What he said and what he did. What went on that Dad knows about from the tapes.

Must be pretty bad, or he would’ve told us.

But everything’s okay now, she told herself. The guy is dead. They’re all dead. They can’t hurt me or anyone else ever again. It doesn’t even matter that Simon was right here in my room and messed with my stuff and took a nap in my bed. We cleaned up really good. I won’t wear anything he might’ve touched until it’s been through the washer. Sharon already changed the sheets ...

Remembering, Jody began to feel a little squirmy.

It had been weird about the sheets.

At the time, she’d been so upset and worried that she hadn’t noticed just
how
weird. The main thing, then, was that a stranger, a killer, might be lurking somewhere in the house.

No sooner had Dad unlocked the front door and stepped into the living room than he’d filled his hand with his Browning. “Company,” he’d whispered.

It isn’t over, Jody had thought.

She’d felt such relief earlier when she’d thought it was all over.

On the car radio on their way to breakfast, they’d heard the news report. A mysterious fire at the Hollywood Hills mansion of someone named Thomas Baxter. Six charred bodies discovered in the burned garage. The sole survivor, a nude teenage girl showing indications of a severe beating and sexual assault, found outside the garage with a bullet in her back. Suspicions that this incident might be related to the house fires and disappearances that had occurred Friday night in the Avalon Hills section of Los Angeles.

After hearing the news report, nobody in the car had cared any longer about trying to find an example of Blythe’s more colorful or picturesque restaurants. They’d stopped at a Burger King, and Dad had rushed to the pay phone.

And he’d returned to their table with a weary, satisfied look on his face. “Nick says it’s over, folks. He wouldn’t go into details, but he says it looks like the people who died in that garage ... they’re the ones who murdered your family, Andy. We can go home.”

But home had been visited.

Somebody had eaten breakfast in the living room, had left a dirty plate and cup and silverware on the coffee table.

Sharon, crouching, had inspected the breakfast remains. “I think this stuffs a day or two old,” she’d said.

But she’d spoken in a whisper.

“If anyone’s here,” Dad had whispered, “we’ll find him.”

And they’d begun to search. Guns drawn.

Sharon had been first into Jody’s bedroom. She’d gone in, pistol ready, while Dad had stayed with Jody and Andy in the hallway.

She’d come out with Jody’s bedsheets bundled in her arms. The look on her face had been grim, maybe a little disgusted. “He was in there, but he’s gone. We might as well get started on the cleanup, huh? I’ll just throw these in the washer. He got some blood on them.”

“He was in my
bed?”
Jody had blurted.

“Do you know where the washing machine is?” Dad had asked Sharon.

“In the garage, right?”

“Right.”

And he’d stood there—they’d all stood there—while Sharon carried the sheets up the hall to the garage.

After her return, they had continued and finished their search of the house.

Then Dad had made a phone call to Nick Ryan to report the break-in.

Then the investigators had arrived. After a few words with them, he’d left for the station to find out what Nick had on the killers.

Later, after all the investigators had left, Jody and Andy had helped Sharon clean up the messes. Once again, Sharon had been first into Jody’s bedroom. And her first act, there, had been to put a fresh set of sheets on the bed.

What the hell was it with my sheets?

Blood is evidence.

Why would Sharon toss sheets with evidence on them into the washing machine instead of leaving them on the bed for the lab guys?

Unless she’s some sort of cleaning fanatic.

But Dad LET her do it.

Dad knew better for sure.

He would NEVER allow evidence to be ruined like that.

Jody suddenly suspected why they’d done it. Moaning, she curled onto her side and hugged her belly.

The bastard might’ve left blood on the sheets, as Sharon had claimed. But that wasn’t all. That couldn’t be all. He must’ve left other stains, too.

She squirmed. She felt horribly hot.

Could I get pregnant from something like that?

Don’t be an idiot.

Anyway, these are clean sheets.

But Sharon didn’t change the mattress pad. What if the stuff had soaked straight through the sheet! Then it’d still be down under me on the pad.

This is stupid, she told herself. There’s a clean sheet between me and his stuff.

And then she thought, If they think I’m gonna sleep on this bed after that degenerate butcher shot his wad all over it, they’ve got another damn think coming!

She rolled over fast, swung her feet to the floor and stood up.

Chapter Forty-two

Jody plucked her top sheet off the bed, wadded it into a bundle, and clutched it against her chest. Then she picked up her pillow and crept to her door.

The hallway was dark.

She walked slowly, her bare feet silent on the carpet. After a few steps, she could see the door to her father’s bedroom. It was open. Dad had gone to bed just a little while after Jody and Andy, so he was probably asleep by now.

It doesn’t matter if he’s awake and hears me, she thought. I’ll just tell him I decided to sleep on the sofa, after all. It was his idea in the first place.

As she neared his open door, she heard the growling noises of his snores.

Good. She wouldn’t have to explain anything.

But sneaking past his door, Jody almost hoped he would wake up. Though glad to be spared a questioning, she didn’t care much for the idea that he was asleep. It was as if he had gone away, abandoned her.

She suddenly felt sure that Andy was asleep, too.

It’s like they’re not even here.

It’s like they left me by myself.

Stupid, she told herself. They’re
supposed
to be asleep. That’s what night is for. It’s no fault of theirs that I’m screwed up and wide awake.

Soon, she found her way to the living room. She stopped and studied the area ahead. The dim glow that seeped through the draperies—a faint mixture of milky gray from streetlights and moonlight—revealed shapes of chairs, lamp tables, the sofa and the coffee table in front of it.

Black shapes.

Black, or almost black.

What if I go over to the sofa and somebody’s there!

Cut it out, she told herself. Nobody’s on the sofa. Nobody’s in the whole house except me and Andy and Dad.

“And I’m not too sure about them,” she whispered.

Immediately, she wondered who might have heard her say that.

Someone stretched out on the sofa, maybe. Or someone sitting right over there in Dad’s easy chair.

This is stupid, she told herself. I’m too old to be spooking myself with this sort of nonsense. Nobody’s here.

Just to make sure, she readjusted her bundle, freeing her right arm. Then she stepped over to an end table, reached out and turned on a lamp.

The sharp light stung her eyes.

Squinting, she turned around in a complete circle. Twice.

See? Told you there was no one here.

She turned off the lamp. As she stepped between the coffee table and sofa, her bare right foot crunched something into the carpet. Something small and brittle like a crumb of toast.

This is where he ate!

And I’m gonna sleep here?

I can’t. No way.

Nose wrinkled, she stepped away from the sofa.

This is bad, she thought. What am I gonna do, avoid every place he might’ve been?

Just the places I’m sure of.

Crazy.

It’s not crazy! He was a filthy degenerate and a butcher! Not to mention
he came
on my bed. Who knows
where
else he might’ve ...

Where do you think you’re gonna sleep? she wondered.

She halted. Her heart was pounding very hard.

Just calm down, she told herself.

It isn’t fair! He wrecked everything! My own bed. The sofa. The whole damn house! It’ll never be the same. It’ll never feel clean or safe or
...

“Knock it off,” she muttered. She didn’t like hearing her voice in the silence, but decided that she would talk anyway. “Okay? Just calm down. Everything’s fine. Okay. Now, think. Where can you sleep? Where
wasn’t
he?”

In the car.

I’m not gonna sleep in the car, she thought. There has to be someplace else. Come on, where?

They’d found evidence of his presence here in the living room, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in Dad’s bedroom, in Jody’s, even in the garage.

Face it, she thought, he was probably everywhere.

He hadn’t disturbed the guest room, so far as they’d been able to tell. Of course, that proved nothing. It only meant he hadn’t rearranged or taken anything, or made a mess.

Too bad Andy’s in there.

Anyway, who’s to say the guest room’s bed is any better than mine? Who knows where the guy ... ?

The trundle bed!

Yes!

Jody headed for the guest room, delighted by her success in discovering the perfect place to sleep. On rollers underneath the main bed and hidden by a draping quilt, the trundle was completely out of sight.

Not a chance in hell the dirty bastard laid a finger on it.

Yes!

She was glad to hear her father snoring as she halted near his open door.

Might be a trifle difficult to explain why I’m sneaking to Andy’s room in the dead of night.

Turning away from his door, she looked into the bathroom and considered whether she needed to pee. Not badly.

Better take care of it, she told herself.

So she slipped inside and eased the door shut. With the Barney Rubble nightlight glowing beside the sink, she didn’t need to turn on the overhead lights. She set her sheet and pillow on the counter, raised her nightshirt, and sat down on the toilet.