Next to Die (15 page)

Maybe Penny was depressed because she’d sworn last year that
next
year she’d be handing out candy with her husband-to-be. Yet she wasn’t. She didn’t even have a boyfriend. Steven Parks hadn’t called at all lately, though he’d been as charming as ever at the hospital this week.

Shutting her pumpkin batter in the oven, Penny hurried to answer the ringing doorbell. She secured her fake nose as she went, and snatched up the candy bowl. The toddlers at the door had to be prompted by their escorts to utter the magic phrase.

“Trick or treat!”

“How about a treat, my dearies?” Penny answered in her nice-witch voice. She kneeled to be at eye level with the pink poodle and Tinkerbell and dropped candy in their plastic pumpkins.

With a smile, she straightened and eyed the fog inching toward her steps like a wicked tide. “Creepy,” she said, glancing at Joe’s leering jack-o’-lanterns. He appeared to be handing out treats himself tonight. She’d always pegged him as a sucker.

The ringing of her telephone drew her back inside.

She didn’t recognize the number on her caller ID. “Yes, hello,” she said, praying it wasn’t Eric again.

“Hey, this is Steven,” came the warm male voice, relieving her fears. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

It was only seven-thirty. “No, not at all. Where are you?” The noises in the background suggested a party.

“I’m at a bar downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me. It’s kind of a young scene, but the music’s good.”

“Oh.” She was tempted, if only to say that she’d gone on a date, but . . . “It’s Halloween,” she pointed out. “I have to hand out candy.”

“What, someone’s holding a gun to your head?” he laughed.

“No, but I get a kick out of seeing all the kids dressed up.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.”

“Would you like to come over here?” she offered.

“Uh . . .” He hesitated, and her hopes started to rise, but then he dashed them. “No, I’d have to ditch some friends,” he admitted. “They’d be mad at me.”

“I see.”

“How about later this week, though, like on Friday?”

“Friday’s perfect.” She tried not to sound too eager.

“Okay. I’ll probably see you at the hospital before then. We’ll talk some more.”

“Sure. Thanks for calling.”

For the next forty minutes, every child in the neighborhood stopped by to soak up the attention Penny lavished on them. She treated a Dracula, two Batmen, a cheerleader, twins dressed as Crayola Crayons, one Shrek, and a six-year-old firefighter.

At eight o’clock, the younger children disappeared. A definite lull followed. Penny checked on her bread and decided it needed twenty more minutes. The doorbell rang again, and she went to open the door.

Her smile froze in place. In lieu of a trick-or-treater, her stuffed scarecrow had been moved directly in front of her door. It sat there looking at her.

“Okay,” she said, putting the candy down. She stepped outside. Suspecting mischievous teenagers of pulling a prank, she scanned the bushes around the house, but the fog offered ideal concealment.

Lifting the chair, she put the scarecrow back in its original position. A movement in her peripheral vision had her whirling with a gasp. A man dressed in black and wearing a green goblin mask leaped onto the porch. Her heart jumped up her throat as he seized her arms, overpowered her, and dragged her back inside, slamming the door shut.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. One minute she was thinking she was the brunt of a joke. The next, she was grappling with a stranger whose breath rasped through the slits of his rubber mask.

Joe was hoping the endless trickle of children had subsided when his doorbell rang. With a grunt of discomfort, he went to answer it. His back was hurting him again. Tuesday’s session with Penny hadn’t been long enough.

“Oh, my God,” one preteen was saying to another. “He scared the crap out of me!”

“Do you think he’s a friend of Miss Penny’s?”

“I don’t think so. I think he wants to scare her, too.”

“Who are you talking about?” Joe demanded, with a bowl of Hershey’s chocolate under one arm.

“There’s a man dressed as a goblin hiding in the bushes,” said the boy wearing a dress. “He scared the crap out of us.”

Concern raked through Joe. “Where? Next door?”

“Yeah.” The boy pointed. “Right over there.”

“Take this.” Joe shoved the bowl of chocolate at the kids and pushed past them. He ran through knee-high fog to Penny’s. His concern was probably unwarranted—a neighbor could be playing a hoax. But with Eric on the loose, he didn’t want to take chances.

Her porch light was on. Her door was closed. Not a goblin in sight.

But as he stepped up to the door, he saw through the beveled glass that Penny had company. A tall, dark figure was shaking her.

Joe pounded on the door.

A green goblin’s face whipped in Joe’s direction. The stranger wheeled away, fleeing toward the rear of the house.

It was all the invitation Joe needed to go after him. He pushed through the unlocked door, passing a stricken Penny as he gave chase.

But the man had already gone out the back door. That same French door that Joe had examined the other night stood open. Joe shot through it, into Penny’s backyard. The sound of running feet had him chasing the goblin around the house.

The fog swirled in funnels before him, letting him know that he was close. Ignoring the twinges in his back, he sprinted toward the street and down the sidewalk, scarcely visible for the thickness of the mist.

The patter of footsteps ceased. Joe stopped and listened, stilling his breathing, but all he could hear was the chatter of children. Glow-in-the-dark night sticks bobbed here and there.

A car engine throttled suddenly, and Joe pivoted toward the sound. Brake lights flared as a car squealed away not twenty yards from him. It sped recklessly out of the neighborhood with the headlights extinguished. “Damn!” Joe swore, watching helplessly as the car disappeared.

Ignoring the spasm in his back, he returned to Penny’s and found her exactly where she was before, petrified by shock. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, not a goblin,” he teased to ease her fear. He went to close the French doors.

“You okay?” he added, coming back.

“I think so,” she whispered, removing the fake nose that had slipped to her chin.

“I take it that was Eric.”

She nodded. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

He reached for her, rubbing her arms briskly. “It’s over,” he reassured her. “I hate to admit it, but he got away from me.”

“How did you even know that he was here?” she asked.

“I heard some kids talking about a man in a mask. I thought I’d check it out.”

With a huge sigh, she fell against him. A tremor went through her, prompting him to put an arm around her and pull her closer. He was caught off guard by how soft and feminine she felt and by his impulse to rock her. She smelled of autumn spices—or maybe it was the house that smelled like that. “What did he say to you?” he asked.

She pulled back slightly, her brow puckered in thoughtful reflection. “He didn’t make a lot of sense. First he said he didn’t kill my father. He said something about his wife being sick—he needed money to pay her doctor bills. But then he got violent and he started shaking me and calling me stupid. He said we’re all going to die.” At this point, her own voice rose in panic.

A sharp-edged chill sliced through Joe. Shit, he thought. No wonder she’d been scared. “You’re not going to die,” he comforted. “But we need to call the cops right now,” he decided, pulling her toward the kitchen with him.

“I’ll call Hannah,” Penny decided, slipping from his grasp.

Wanting inexplicably to hold her some more, Joe watched her dial the agent’s number with trembling fingers.

Listening to one end of the conversation, he was relieved to hear that both the agent and the state police were on their way.

“They’ll want a statement from me, too,” Joe realized when she hung up. “What’s that smell?” he added, finding it too hard to ignore.

“My pumpkin bread!” She rushed to the stove. “Oh, I hope it’s not burned.”

It didn’t look burned. Joe’s mouth watered as she set it on the stovetop.

“Would you like a slice?” she asked.

It seemed strange to eat at a time like this, but performing a mundane task like serving bread might soothe Penny’s agitation. “Sure, why not?”

She busied herself cutting them each a slice. “Have a seat,” she offered, pouring two glasses of milk.

Joe eased down at the little dinette table, broke a corner off his bread, and popped it in his mouth. “Oh, man,” he moaned, “This is good.”

Her smile flickered briefly, but then her shoulders drooped.

“You know, my mom cooks stuff like this,” he added, determined to distract her from thinking of Eric’s threat.

“Where does she live?” she asked.

“Right now, in a Winnebego somewhere in New Mexico. My folks are enjoying their retirement.”

“That’s so nice.” She sighed with envy. “Where are they from originally?”

“From Nevada. I grew up there.”

“Are they planning to drive this far east to see you?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t exactly invited them.

She gave him a penetrating look. “Aren’t you close to them?” she asked.

“Sure. Yeah. I’m an only child, and they’re great parents, the best.” He loved the fact that they were still enamored with each other. At the same time, he was always reluctant to see them, to hear their concerns that he wasn’t married. Like he could just grab the next woman to come along and he’d have the same perfect marriage they had.

“They’re not used to seeing me all scrawny and scratched up,” he said, making excuses. “I’m hoping to put some weight on before I see them at Thanksgiving.”

“They’re coming out here?” she asked, looking pleased for him.

“No, I’m planning on going home.”

“Have another slice,” she urged, picking up his plate to fetch him one.

He had to smile as she handed it to him. “Thanks.”

“I wish I had two parents,” she tossed in unexpectedly as she sat back down.

Her father was killed. “What happened to your mother?” he wanted to know.

“Oh, she took off when I was six.” Penny shrugged. “We never saw her again.”

He hadn’t expected that. All he could do was look across the table at her and marvel that she’d turned out so squared away. From her mother’s desertion to her father’s death, she’d been dealt some tough blows, yet there she sat, composed and kind. Her spirit shone with a nurturing flame.

He realized suddenly that he’d never known a woman like her. His lovers had been, for the most part, spoiled, privileged, and unquestionably self-centered.

The doorbell rang, and Penny jumped like a squirrel on a high-voltage wire. “That must be Hannah,” she said, getting up to answer it.

Joe trailed her to the door, in time to see a striking redhead step inside. As Penny made introductions, the FBI agent assessed Joe through frank green eyes. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Same here.”

“Joe’s a Navy SEAL,” Penny explained. “He showed up in time to chase Eric out the back door and around the house.”

“Yeah, he got away from me, though,” Joe admitted with a grimace. “Drove off in his car.”

“Sergeant McCaully should be here any minute,” Hannah said, slipping out of her trench coat. Her gaze swung back at Joe as she draped it over Penny’s banister. “My husband’s a SEAL,” she said, surprising him. “Maybe you’ve heard of him—Luther Lindstrom?”

“Oh, sure, the former football player. We met a couple of years ago.”

Her considering gaze focused on his scar. “That’s quite a battle wound,” she commented.

Joe didn’t rise to the bait.

“Come on in the kitchen, Hannah,” Penny spoke up, steering her toward the back of the house. “Have some pumpkin bread while we wait for the police.”

Joe followed somewhat reluctantly. He didn’t know the extent of the rumors circulating the teams about the disaster in Afghanistan. Most likely, all the SEALs knew the survivor was a lieutenant commander. That would explain the speculative look in Hannah Lindstrom’s eyes. He didn’t want to go there with her, if she was bold enough to bring it up.

Fortunately, she fired other questions at him, as did Sergeant McCaully, who arrived in short order and requested that Joe retrace Eric’s footsteps. They strobed the lawn with their flashlights, hunting for prints in the mist. They swabbed everything Eric had touched, looking for trace samples of DNA. Joe stood in the foyer watching Sergeant McCaully scribble in his notebook. He could hear Penny and Hannah in the kitchen.

“So, do you know what happened to your neighbor’s face?” Hannah murmured, sotto voce. “I’m just curious.”

“I’m not sure,” Penny hedged.

Joe stiffened as mistrust rose up in him. Would she betray him, after all?