Paradise County (51 page)

Picking up the phone, fingers shaking, she punched the first two digits… .

And heard someone rushing at her from behind. She screamed, whirling, but it was too late. A hand twisted in her hair, nearly yanking it from her head as she was jerked backward. A heavy, muffling hand clamped across her face, locking her into a suffocating embrace, cutting off her scream.

She dropped the sock.

“Shut up! Stand still!” Her hair was released. A heavy metal object, round and cold, was shoved hard against her left temple. A gun barrel! Having never felt such a thing before, Alex nevertheless recognized it instinctively. Eyes widening, Alex stopped struggling and stood still. Her heart pounded; her blood ran cold.

“That’s better.” His grip didn’t ease by so much as a millimeter. He was talking in her ear. The voice was vaguely familiar. She could not see him, but from the feel of him against her he was stocky and not as tall as Joe. “If you scream, I’ll kill you right here and now. Understand?”

Alex shuddered in horror. Her stomach knotted with fear. She broke into a cold sweat. He was going to kill her, no matter what she did. She knew it as well as she knew her own name.

But she didn’t want it to happen any sooner than it had to.

“Understand?” His voice was fierce. His fingers dug into the soft flesh around her mouth. The gun barrel ground against her temple, hurting her. Alex felt her knees weaken from sheer terror.

She nodded.

He bent and scooped up the sock, stuffing it into his pants pocket. He was wearing black pants, with a well-pressed crease. His shoes were black loafers with a slight coating of dust. His shirt was white and long-sleeved. He smelled of something she couldn’t quite place.

She couldn’t see his face.

Of course. She realized it then. This man must have Neely and Eli, too.

“Good girl. Now walk.”

Alex was forced, stumbling, toward the closet.

“Open it,” said the voice in her ear.

Alex obediently fumbled for the knob. Opening the door, she was pushed inside with such ferocity that she almost fell to her knees. The suffocating hand kept her upright. The gun barrel dug punishingly into her flesh.

The closet was big for the era in which it was built, long and narrow with the clothes all hung on one side, an old-time version of a walk-in. He swung her sideways, commanding her to close the door. Alex complied. In the dark now, with her clothes brushing against her on the left and his arm wrapped around her on the right, she was shoved to the
back of the closet. All around her the familiar soft scent of the sachet she used hung in the air, adding to her sense of unreality.

This could not be happening. It was a nightmare.

“Remember, if you scream I’ll kill you,” the voice in her ear promised. Then he released her mouth, his hand reaching out toward the closet wall. Alex took a great gulping gasp of air, but did not scream. She had no doubt that he meant what he said. And anyway, unless Joe had returned to the house—and she didn’t think there had been time—no one was around to hear.

To her amazement, as he pushed against it the back of the closet opened like a door. Alex was shoved into a passage so narrow that her shoulders brushed the walls on both sides. They were made of brick, rough and cold. Her captor released her mouth only to twine his hand in her hair, jerking her head back. The gun barrel moved to press against the nape of her neck. Her skin crawled with horror; she was so frightened she could barely breathe. He shoved her a foot or so farther along. Behind her, the door to the passage closed with a soft click. A flashlight was switched on. Its beam illuminated a long, narrow alley like the inside of a chimney that apparently ran the length of the upstairs.

“Walk,” he hissed in her ear. Alex realized that he was having to turn sideways to fit. He was a big man, heavy. The gun barrel jabbed hard against the base of her skull.

Alex walked. Her knees were trembling with fright.

At the end of the alley was a narrow set of stairs, no wider than the passage itself, heading down. Forced to descend, Alex realized that it was located in the wall behind the kitchen staircase. She realized, too, that the whole time they had been living in this house, her captor had had access to her bedroom, and probably the other bedrooms too.

As Alex remembered the breathing that had terrorized her on her first night in the house, her eyes widened.

She had her explanation now.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and turned on a tiny landing, then continued down. Heart sinking, Alex realized that they were descending into the basement.

It was hardly more than a coal cellar, and it reflected the age of the house. The air was chilly and smelled of damp. The floor was uneven, and she stumbled more than once. Except for the path illuminated by the flashlight, it was dark as a grave.

He seemed to relax a little now that they were in the basement.

“Ah, Alexandra! What fun we’re going to have!” he said almost genially in her ear. His voice was familiar, but she could not place it. In the dark, even when she tried to glance around, she could not quite see… .

“Where is my sister?” To her dismay, her voice, which she had meant to be firm, shook.

They were almost across the basement now. It looked to Alex like she was being pushed straight toward the furnace. It was an old coal-burning furnace, black and ancient, no longer in use. Modern heating and air conditioning units had been installed upstairs.

“Cornelia? Oh, she’s a bad girl. I was very angry with her just a few minutes ago, but now I’m not. What she did is destiny, I’ve decided. I’ve been wanting you. Now you’re mine.”

His obvious meaning made Alex’s skin crawl. “You have her, don’t you? And Eli, too? Where are they? Have you hurt them?”

“You’ll see them very soon.”

At his calm statement, Alex felt something tight relax inside her heart. For a moment she felt almost overwhelming relief—until she realized that her finding Eli and Neely was not going to do anyone any good; she was just going to disappear, too.

Alex’s stomach churned with terror at the thought.

Joe would miss her any minute. He would be coming in from the barn… .

“You know, you sleep very soundly. I’ve been in your room almost every night since you came, and you never knew I was there.” He sounded almost cheerful. “Or maybe you did. Did you see me in your dreams, Alexandra?”

The thought of Joe gave her courage. He would search for her—he knew she had been in the house. If he had to, to find her, he would take
Whistledown apart brick by brick. “I saw you on the upstairs porch. Twice.”

“On the porch?” He sounded as if he were frowning. “Oh, no, you’re mistaken. I’m a careful man. I wouldn’t go out on the porch. Too dangerous. Someone might see me. You know, you and your sister have caused me a lot of problems. Your father, too. Very troublesome bunch, you Haywoods.”

“My father… .” Of course. Here was the answer she’d been searching for. Her father hadn’t killed himself; she had known it all along.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

He laughed, and pushed her around the furnace without replying. A small iron door was set into the stone wall. He reached around her, opening it, and it creaked loudly.

The moving flashlight beam showed her dirt floors, dirt walls, a pile of long-forgotten coal at the far end as she was shoved inside. Alex realized that they were in the old coal bin. He pushed her across it to the other side, through another small, creaky door, and once again they entered a chamber with stone walls and a stone ceiling and stone floors.

A hideous fetid smell hit Alex in the face. The room was illuminated by a faint bluish glow which emanated from a small TV. Alex saw that the room was outfitted almost like a den, with a big armchair and a table and a wall devoted almost entirely to photographs.

He let go of her then, shoving her violently forward, and Alex fell to her knees. She was wearing jeans and sneakers tonight—Joe had come home with the sneakers several days previously—but the impact with the floor still bruised her knees. However, it was nothing to the terror that raced like an icy finger down her spine. They had reached their destination. What would he do to her now?

“Cornelia!” he said, looking past her. “Here’s your sister!”

Fifty-four

F
rom some distant place in the house, the damned cat was caterwauling like somebody was boiling it in oil. He’d heard it as soon as he walked in the back door. What was up with it?

The tinny wail of the security system reminded him to stop. He punched in the numbers of the code, and walked into the kitchen. God, he felt old. Older than his own father. And he was tired. Bone tired.

Eli.
The thought of his son was a constant ache.
God, Eli, where are you?

“Alex?” he called, walking into the hall and glancing around. No answer. She must be upstairs.

The cat was up there too, squalling like it was being barbecued.

He frowned as he climbed the steps.

“Alex?”

If it hadn’t been for Alex, he didn’t think he could have made it through this past week. For the first time in his life, he had needed someone to lean on. And she’d been there.

“Alex!” He was walking along the upstairs hall now, his voice a little louder. Her bedroom door was closed. From the sound of it, the cat was in there.

“Alex?” He opened the door, glanced around. The cat surged around his feet, rubbing against him, meowing its lungs out.

Except for the cat, the room was empty. Joe stepped inside, looked around, checked the bathroom. Alex was not there.

The cat continued to cry.

Calling for Alex, he turned and walked back down the stairs.

Fifty-five

A
lex had landed in a corner, a dark, shadowy corner, bounded by the damp chill of the stone on one side and a wall of iron bars on the other. Instinctively she got her feet beneath her and turned so that she faced her captor, backing up as far into the corner as she could get.

Her head came up, and she got her first look at him. He was moving toward the table, and as she watched he turned on the lantern in the center. His bald head glistened in the sudden bright light. His face was round and florid, with an almost pleasant expression. Her mouth opened and her eyes widened in shock. She knew she had recognized the voice: Homer Gibson, proprietor of the Dixie Inn.

A hand reached through the bars to touch her back.

“Alex?” The voice was a hoarse rasp.

“Neely?” Alex’s head whipped around. There, crouched on the other side of the bars, was her sister. She was dirty and disheveled, clad only in a pale blue bra and jeans. Alex shuddered to think of what she had suffered, but at least she was alive. “Thank God! Neely, are you all right? Where’s Eli?”

“He’s here. He’s hurt. Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry for getting you into this. I didn’t …”

Looking beyond Neely, Alex saw the huddled shape of Eli curled in a fetal position on the mattress that seemed to take up most of the floor.

“Well, ladies, I’m glad I was able to provide you with this touching family reunion. Cornelia, dear, you now have a problem. You see, if you don’t open that door and let me in, I’m going to chain your sister to the wall and make a bonfire out of her.”

Alex’s head snapped back to the front. She regarded him warily. Her heart started to pound. What did he mean? A bonfire… . Suddenly she saw the black scorch marks on the wall to her right. They rose to the ceiling… .

Homer crossed to the door of what she now saw was her sister’s cell and put his hand through the bars, fumbling with the chain that secured it. With a loud rattle, he pulled the chain free.

Behind her, Neely sounded as if she were hyperventilating.

“Oh, God, oh, God… .”

“Neely, what …”

“Alex, oh, no, Alex… .”

“It’s your choice, Cornelia. You can open the door, or …”

His voice trailed off. He was staring fixedly at the TV. Alex followed his gaze. Her lips parted in shock.

The figure on the small screen was unmistakably Joe. He was in her bedroom, walking around.