Monster (3 page)

Angela opened her eyes. Mary was still in the same spot, her head motionless, but her eyes were darting left and right. Angela recognised the voice as belonging to the plain-clothes cop she had spoken to a
t
Jim
's house. But the woods could have been enchanted, because once more she couldn't tell which direction the voice was coming from. The man appeared to understand that and made no effort to come into view.

“
Set the shotgun down on the ground,
”
he ordered.
“Slowly.”

Mary continue
d to scan the area, not moving.

“Do it,”
the officer said firmly.

Mary took a deep breath. She had guts, even
if she did have a screw loose. “I
can't see you
,” she said. “I don't know if you can see me.”

“
I can see you very well
,”
the officer said matter-of-
factly.

Man's head tilted slightly to the right.
Angela had finally located wher
e
he must be standing
– behind a cl
ump of bushes near the edge of the meadow.

“
There is a reason I must kill this guy
,”
Mary said.

“F
ine
,” the officer said patiently. “
You can tell me about
it on
ce you've put down the shotgun.
”

“An
d if I don't?
”
Mary asked. She was definitely honing
in on the bushes.
Angela was wo
rri
ed she'd try to get a
shot off into them
.
She was tempted to speak, to warn
the
cop, but surely he had to be aware of the danger.

“
I'll shoot you in the head
,”
the cop
replied. “
I'm an
ex
cellent shot and won't miss. Put the shotgun down now.
”

“I
don't believe you
,”
Mary said.

“I
will give you five seconds,
”
the man said calmly.
“
O
ne. Two. Three. Four.”

“Wait,”
Mary said.
“I’ll put it down.”

“
Good,
” he said. “
No sudden movements.
”

Mary slowl
y crouched down, extending the shotgun
out
from her body. Angela w
as a mass of nerves. She just kept
waiting for Mary to try to shoot the cop. But then all
at
once Mary let go of the shotgun, and it landed on the
soft
leaves.

“
Now stand up
,”
the officer said.
“
Put your hands on
top
of
your head and keep them there.”

Mary did as she was told.

The cop stepped into view, revolver in his right
hand.
He had been behind the bushes.

“
Thank God,
”
Jim
whispered. He moved up
beside
Angela.

“No one move!” the cop shouted.

He was too late. Mary had dived behind a tree. Yet
she
hadn't gone for the shotgun. She didn't need it, beca
use
she had come to the party well equipped. Her right h
and
whipped behind her, and in the blink of an eye she
was
holding a pistol. Angela hadn't seen the second gun at
the
party. Mary must have had it
t
ucked in her belt under
her
shirt
.

The cop immediately hit the ground even though
Mary didn't turn in h
is direction. She wanted
Jim
dead
–
o
nly
Jim
.
She wanted it eve
n though it might cost her a bullet
in the brain. A spark of orange
fi
re spat in
Jim
's direction.
Every muscle in Angela's body spasmed as
Jim
cried
and
fell to the ground.

Then there came a second shot
–
a second cry. M
ary’s
right hand whipped halfway around her body
.
Incredib
ly,
the cop had shot the pistol out of Mary's hand. He had
hit
her in the hand, from the sound of it. Mary was in pain. And she wasn't alone.
Jim
was howling on the ground at Angela'
s
feet, clutchin
g his left leg near the knee. At
least he was still alive. Out the comer of her eye Angela saw the cop climb slow
l
y to his feet.

Mary still refused to give up. Regaining her balance, she dived for her fallen pistol. She squirmed through the leaves like a rabid animal. Her determination was almost supernatural. The cop rushed to her instead of shooting again, which no court of law would have blamed h
im for doing.

“I have to,”
Mary cried, and she found the gun in the dark. She picked it up with her right hand, which was definitely not working properly, and then transferred it into her left hand. Even though the cop was closer and an easier target, she climbed to her knees and pointed the gun at
Jim
.

But that was as far as she got.
The officer moved like a cat. He belted Mary on the top of the head with his revolver
–
hard. Angela heard a cracking sound. Mary dropped her gun and stared up at the officer for a moment, puzzled. But she was probably already out because a moment later she toppled to the ground. The cop looked over at Angela and
Jim
.

“
Are you all right?
”
he asked
Jim
.

“
My leg isn't,
”
Jim
complained.

The man tucked his pistol in a holster inside his coat and knelt by Mary's side, checking her head.
“
You'll recover,
” he said – perhaps to all of them. “It's over.”

Yet the words didn't
ring true to Angela. Deep down, s
he had a feeling of dread. It seemed to speak aloud inside her mind with a cruel voice:

“
My dear, it's only just begun.”

TWO

Angela arrived at the police station the
next day close to ten. Lieutenant
Nguyen
– the plain-clothes cop who had
saved her life
the
previous night
–
had called her an h
our
earlier and asked her to come in. The station was in
the
neighbouring town of Bal
t
on, a city five times larger
than
Point and one tenth as b
eautiful. As Angela drove into town
she noted a cluster of reporters gathered on the front s
teps
of the station. Two teenagers butchered at a high sc
hool
party
–
it was getting national play. Nguyen had warned
her
to drive round and come in the back way. He had told
her
that under no circumstances was she to talk to the m
edia
until
she
had spoken to him. That suited her fine. She
had
no desire to think about what had happened, never m
ind
sell her story to
P
e
op
le
magazine.

A uniformed officer let her in the back door, and
a
minute later she was sitting in Nguyen's office. She had
to
wait a minute and took that time to study the pictures
on his wall. It didn't take her l
ong to reali
z
e Nguyen
had been
a captain in the South Vietnamese Army. From the pho
tos
it looked as if he had been decorated a number of ti
mes. That
made sense. Her contact with him had been brief,
but
he had struck her as brave. She was standing, studying
the
pictures more closely, when he came in behind her.

“My wife made me hang them up,”
he said.

Angela turned. Nguyen was a short, wiry man wi
th a
head of thick black hair, large, soft brown eyes, an
d a
distinctive rig
ht
list to his body. He had dashed into
the
field the previous night with good speed, but she c
ould
see now that his right leg had been injured at some
time in
the past. The leg might even have been shorter than his left. He
noted her attention but didn't s
ay anything. A
ngela blushed and spoke quickly.

“She must be very proud of you,”
she said.

“
She is a proud lady,
”
Nguyen agreed. He stepped further into his office and offered his hand.
“I'm happy that you were able to come down, Angela.” The
y shook briefly; he ha
d warm hands. “Please have a seat.”

“I’
m happy still to be alive
,”
she remarked, settling herself in a chair at the front of his desk. He sat across from her. He appeared relaxed but very much in control. She remembered again how he had shot the pistol out of Mary's hand. He was no lig
htweight, this guy. She added, “I have you to thank for it.”

“
Why did you go afte
r them when I told you to wait?”
he asked, his question not demanding, just curious.

“
Mary's my friend.
”
She shrugged.
“
I didn't know what was goi
ng to happen.”

“
Y
ou were afraid she'd be killed?”

“Yes.”

Nguyen nodded. “
She almost was
.”
He thought for a mo
ment. “
What
y
ou did wa
s brave. How close are you two?”

“I
only met her in June, when I moved here. But I've seen her several times a week since then
.
I'd say we're pretty close. How is she? I
mean, how's her head and hand?”

“
She spent the night in the hospital, but she's here now in a cell. The doctors say she has a mild concussion, and they bandaged her hand
.”
Nguyen paused again and sighed.
“
But I know there's something wrong with her. Can you shed any light on why she did this?
”

“No.”

“Nothing?”

Angela gestured helplessly. She had a lump in her throat
the
size of an orange that wouldn't go away when she swallowed. She hadn't slept well the night before
– actually s
he doubted she had slept at all. Guns and
bl
ood and
guts –
the memories were etched in her soul. She'd be
eigh
ty years old and still remember them.

“I don't know what to say,”
Angela replied.
“
Mary
has
been quiet the last few days, but she didn't confide
in
me tha
t anything was wrong.”

“
The boy she was chasing
–
Jim
Kline. He's her boyfrie
nd, isn't he?”

“
Yes
.
Have
you talked to him this morning?”

“Yes,”
Nguyen did not elaborate. Perhaps he wanted
to
compare their stories
– see if they matched.

“
How's his
l
eg?
”
she asked.

“He's u
p and around. He'll be all right. How were Ji
m
and Mary g
etting along before last night?”

“
OK,
I
thought
.
I mean,
I had noticed that
Mary ha
d
begun to separate herself somewhat from him. But sh
e
never came right out and said she was upset
with him.”

“
What was her relationship to the two she killed: Ka
thy
Baker and Todd Green?
”
Nguyen asked.

“
As far as
I
know, she hardly knew either of them.”

“
But she went
for those two. Is that correct?”

“
Yes. Definitely. Then she went after
Jim
.”

“
Did you get the impression there was anybody else sh
e was going to kill?”
Nguyen asked.