Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (144 page)

Roberta had no concept of time. It seemed an eternity since she’d lowered herself over the side of the boulder into the pond. The water there was chest-deep. She’d cracked the shotgun, removed the shell, and hidden it in a crevice between two rocks. Then she’d fitted her mouth over the chamber and bent her knees until she was submerged entirely, tightly wedging her body beneath the jutting rock with the end of the barrel just above the surface. She was soaked already from the chilling rain; the pond’s water felt no colder.

Her long hair floated on the surface, but there was nothing she could do about it. In the darkness she prayed it would blend with the water weeds that grew along the bank.

There was no way to tell how far the end of the barrel poked above the surface. She kept the gun at a slight angle to the rock. Several times, from sheer weariness, she lowered her arm, but miraculously no water rushed down the barrel.

Her arms and shoulders screamed in agony. Tiny fish nibbled at her clothes. She shivered, more from fear and exhaustion than from the cold. The shiver became a fierce spasm, convulsing her entire body. She felt the water rush into her mouth, its oily taste acrid on her tongue, yet she was unable to stop its course down her throat. She gagged, choked, and with painful racking coughs she shot out of the water, her arms thrashing the surface.

A steely hand wound around her upper arm and yanked upward, pulling her from the pond. Still holding the shotgun, she flailed out with it wildly.

“Robbi!” Jake’s voice, hushed yet urgent, whispered against her ear as he tried to hold on to her and keep the gun’s barrel from splitting his head open.

She cried out in relief, then clung to him, coughing, sobbing, trying to talk.

He pushed her hair back from her eyes, held her face tenderly, kissed her.

“You’re alive. Thank God,” she cried. “Bodies, there … under a pine tree … oh, Jake, Jake…” She coughed, clung to him tighter.

“Shhh, don’t think about that now.”

She tried to sit up. “We have to hurry.”

“Robbi… hon, rest a minute.” He held her securely, tried to calm her. “Rest a minute.”

When the coughing was under control, Jake took off his shirt and made Robbi put it on. Although it was damp, it covered her exposed skin, the layers somewhat cutting the wind and cool air.

“Before we go on,” Jake said, “we have to figure out how to do this.”

“I want you to take the gun,” Robbi said. “Divert him in some way. Get him away from the church. Then I’ll go in and find Tobie.”

“I think we should stick together.”

“Believe me, I’d like nothing more, but I have a better chance to home in on her if she’s alone. Do you understand?”

“No, not really.”

“Trust me.”

“Then take the gun. I’m not leaving you totally defenseless.”

“No. He’ll come after you and you’ll need it.”

“What if he goes after you?”

“Then I’ll scream, and you can come and save me,” she said, touching his face tenderly, “… again.”

They found the lone shotgun shell, loaded it, and moved on.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Eckker filled the footlocker with food rations, clothing, blankets, the first aid kit, flashlight, and anything else he thought he might need. The white dress went in last. If there was time, he would come back for the phonograph and records and maybe the generator.

He carried the footlocker up the stairs and out the trapdoor into a light drizzle. Hoisting the locker onto his back, he started down the path to his pickup.

________

Jake and Roberta followed the fence up the mountain, then, to be certain they wouldn’t bypass the ruins, they traveled perpendicular to the fence for several hundred yards and crossed diagonally back to it, employing a serrated pattern.

Jake carried the shotgun. As they climbed he wondered where one aimed a gun to kill a giant. If he hit him at close range with a shotgun blast and the guy kept coming, his life, as well as the lives of Robbi and Tobie, wouldn’t be worth the powder it took to fire the ineffectual shell.

They were midway to the fence when Robbi put out an arm to stop Jake.

“I think she’s close,” she said quietly. “I can sense her.” She started off again. “Hurry.”

________

In the dark Tobie had paced off the small room. Five by six, cell size. She’d found the suspended bulb in the middle of the room, but when she pulled the chain, no light came on.

Where was she? Who was this creepy guy who’d snuck up on her at the pond and tried to choke her? What did he want with her? He knew her name. He’d called her Tobie. She shivered.

Blanketed by the blackness and the confined quarters, Tobie felt panic rising. She’d heard of claustrophobia, but until now she had no idea how debilitating it could be.

A scream was forming in her throat when the door suddenly swung open. Wan light from an indirect source glowed faintly, illuminating the big man as he entered, shoulders hunched to clear the top of the doorway.

Tobie’s heart thumped insanely.

He tossed her her shoes. “Put em on.”

Tobie tried not to stare at the commanding giant, yet she found it impossible to look away. He terrified her. A filthy dark stubble made his craggy features even more menacing. His hair, dirty, greasy, burrs locked in, was tangled like a mangy dog. The bandage on his hand was gray with grime, the dried blood black and stiff. The foul smell of him overpowered her.

They stared at each other as she quickly pulled on her shoes.

“You and me, we like the same things,” he said in his deep voice.

“I want to go home.”

“We’re going home. A new home.”

He grabbed her arm and took her out of the room, out from under the stairwell into the main room. He looked around as though double-checking for something. Then he led her up the stairs.

Above their heads on the ground floor she heard something thump against the structure.

The man paused, looked upward, listened. More thuds, sounding heavier, coming more frequently now.

Tobie’s eyes darted upward. “Robbi?” she whispered.

He started back down, pulling her behind him. “I gotta do something first.”

“No!” Tobie screamed. “Robbi, I’m here!” She twisted free, caught him off guard. He stumbled down several steps as Tobie scrambled upward. She reached the trapdoor just as his massive hand curled around her ankle. She kicked out at him. He fell on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. Beneath his oppressive weight, she struggled for air. Frantic now, she bit, clawed, and kicked. He began to shake her. Her head whipped on her neck, cracking against the wooden steps. Tobie cried out, fought harder.

“Tobie. Tobie, please.” His repulsive face pressed close to hers, his hot breath enveloping her with a nauseating stench. “I don’t want to hurt you.” But his expression belied the soft words. His eyes were maniacal, his face contorted with rage. “Tobie, don’t fight me.” He continued to bang her head on the steps until light exploded in her head, then nothing.

________

The rumbling grew louder. Behind the church, up the tree-studded slope, rocks and debris tumbled down.

Eckker burst through the trapdoor. He looked around, listened. More rocks descended, thudding against the back of the ruined church, causing what was left of the decrepit structure to groan and tremble.

He cursed. Nothing would stop him. He’d waited too long. He’d had to kill his own grandfather to keep her. He would annihilate everyone on the mountain to keep her. The meddling sister would be the first to go. He would not leave this mountain until she was dead.

He started up the slope in the direction of the rock slide. At the deer trail he knelt, took in the single tracks of a shoe within the thin beam of his penlight. Not the same tracks he’d followed across the meadow. The man was above him. The woman was somewhere else. He turned and started down.

________

Roberta crouched in a thicket of manzanita, staring at the church. She clutched her stomach, sick with anxiety. In her mind she had seen the killer shaking her sister, had felt the hard wooden riser beneath her head.

Several moments later she saw Eckker appear out of the ground from a trapdoor. He hesitated, then moved out of sight behind one of the building’s remaining walls. He reappeared on the slope, heading up toward Jake. She lost track of him a dozen yards farther up.

She watched. Waited. If she was going in there, she’d have to do it now. She hurried out of the thicket and ran the fifty feet to the ruins. She was well inside the shell when she stopped to listen.

Silence.

The silence was broken by a voice from above. The words carried downhill with crystal-clear clarity. “Hey, you big, stupid sonofabitch! You! Eckker! You’re not king of the mountain anymore!”

Jake!

Robbi’s heart leapt into her throat. He was trying to warn her. She saw Eckker then, about two hundred yards away, coming back down the slope.

She could hide. The three of them could play this game all night. But still her sister was his prisoner somewhere in those ruins. It would all be for nothing if he managed to escape and take Tobie with him.

Something below caught her eye. Lights, down the mountain. Streamers of headlights, turning off the highway, moved up the road toward her parents’ house. Police?

She hesitated. If she went down and the killer followed her, she’d lead him away from Jake and Tobie … and into the hands of the law.

Without trying to be quiet, she ran through the shell of the church. From the corner of her eye she saw him moving in her direction.

Turning, she started to run downhill.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Jake cautiously worked his way down the steep incline. When he reached the ruins of the church, he skirted the building, staying in the cover of the trees and boulders. Gripping the shotgun, he moved in slowly.

A basement. Roberta had mentioned a basement. Jake advanced, entered the shell of the church, and began to look for some type of cellar entrance.

The rain began in earnest again. Jake swiped at the dripping hair on his forehead as he stepped behind the pulpit. With the barrel of the gun he tapped at the debris on the ground. A hollow sound. Jake dropped to his knees, used his knuckles to rap on the plank. He dug his fingers around the floor until he located the seam, then pulled up the trapdoor.

He cautiously stepped down into the dark basement. He wished he had a flashlight, a lighter, or even a match. But he soon realized he wouldn’t need a light; less than three risers down, he heard a moan. When he touched her she made a noise deep in her throat and flailed out, fighting.

“Tobie, it’s me, Jake,” he said, trying to catch her hands.

She became perfectly still.

“Tobie, it’s okay.”

He heard her suck in her breath. Then she sobbed once.

Jake lifted her and carried her out into the pouring rain. “Are you all right. Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

“We’ve got to go after Robbi.”

“There’s a logging road.” She held the back of her head with one hand and pointed southeast with the other.

“Can you walk?”