Vicious (33 page)

Rosie slowly shook her head. “No, sir, she doesn’t strike me as that kind of mom at all. And you say the house is empty?”

Tom nodded.

“Well, why the heck would the deputy sell me that bill of goods?”

“I’m not sure,” Tom muttered. “I know he represents the law around here, but I’ve always had a bad feeling about Corey—ever since when he was a kid and my mother told me he killed a cat in his backyard with a lawnmower.”

“I’ve heard that story, too,” Rosie said grimly.

“I don’t trust the guy. Where’s Sheriff Fischer tonight?”

“With his Missuz on Whidbey Island,” she answered.

“Something screwy is going on here,” Tom said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe this is jumping the gun, but do you mind if I use your phone to call the county sheriff in Anacortes?”

Rosie stared at him for a moment, and then she nodded. “Honey, I’ll even dial the number for you.”

“Oh, God, no,” Susan groaned.

The headlights of her Toyota illuminated two big cement barriers at the end of the abandoned plant’s driveway. They totally blocked any motor vehicle access to the road.

For the last five minutes, Moira had been describing what had happened to her—from getting lost in the woods to falling into a pit to being locked in a janitor’s closet. She’d mentioned twice that her friends were probably worried about her. Susan didn’t have the heart to tell her that both her friends were probably dead. She didn’t need the poor girl to get hysterical on her, not now.

“What is this?” Moira said. Staring at the barricades, she clutched Susan’s sweater around her. The dashboard light exposed her panicked look. “What is this?” she repeated.

“I’m afraid this is us having to turn around,” Susan muttered.

As she pulled a U-turn, Susan dreaded the notion of heading back toward the deserted plant. They’d just narrowly escaped from there. Allen was probably sprinting up this same neglected, old driveway. Any minute now, she expected to catch him in her headlights.

“Listen, Moira, there’s a gap in the fence on your side,” she explained. The car’s rattling became louder as she picked up speed. “It’s the way we came in here. If I was smart I would have gone out that way, too. It should be coming up soon. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Moira nervously peered out her window. Meanwhile, Susan watched out for potholes, rocks, and the little shrubs that had grown through holes and cracks in the road. She kept a lookout for Allen, too.

“I see it!” Moira announced, pointing to an opening in the chain-link fence on their right.

Slowing the car down to a crawl, Susan veered off the driveway and headed toward the gap in the fence. The ride over the rugged trail jostled them. As they hit a big bump at the fence line, the car suddenly buckled and tilted to one side.

“Oh, God, no,” Susan said for the second time in five minutes. She tried to accelerate, but the Toyota didn’t move. Past the constant rattle, Susan heard one of the tires spinning.

“Christ, this is a goddamn nightmare,” Moira muttered.

“Can you work the accelerator pedal with your sore foot?” Susan asked her.

Moira nodded. “I can try.”

“I’ll get out and push.” Susan stepped out of the car. Its headlights illuminated the trail winding through the darkened forest. Staring toward the back of the car, Susan glanced at the driveway on the other side of the fence—bathed in the red glow of her taillights. There was no sign of Allen.

Biting her lip, she studied the rear tire on the driver’s side. It was stuck in a small, mud-filled crater. “Okay, give me a minute. I think we can get out of here,” she announced.

Moira was hobbling around the front of the car. She ducked behind the wheel.

Susan quickly gathered up some fallen branches and wedged them in front of the tire. As she moved to the back of the car, she noticed some blood smeared by the trunk lock. Then she could see the trunk was open—just an inch.

All at once, the lid sprung up.

Recoiling, Susan let out a shriek. Allen scrambled out of the trunk and charged toward her. The car lurched forward. He looked like a madman. The side of his face was covered with blood. It ran down his neck and stained the shoulder of his tight white T-shirt. He drew back his fist and punched her in the face.

Susan flew back and slammed into a tree. Dazed, she crumpled to the ground.

She heard Moira screaming. She blinked and helplessly watched as Allen swiveled around and dragged the girl out of the driver’s seat. The car rolled forward again. He noticed the ax in the backseat and grabbed it. Moira was crying and shrieking in pain at every step he forced her to take on her swollen ankle. With one hand, Allen grabbed her by her short, pixie-style hair. His other hand held the ax blade to Moira’s throat.

Susan managed to get to her feet, but she clung to the tree to keep from falling again. The whole side of her face was throbbing. A high-pitched ringing assaulted her left ear. She numbly gazed at Allen.

Tears were streaming down Moira’s face. “Oh, God, please,” she cried. “No, don’t….”

“Shut up!” he growled. Still holding her by the hair, he gave Moira’s head a shake.

Moira took one last gasp, then stood there, wincing and trembling.

Allen glowered at Susan. “Get in the car,” he hissed. “You’re driving us to the cabin on Cedar Crest Way. The two of us will sit in back.” He pressed the ax handle to Moira’s throat and cracked a tiny smile. “Oh, and, Susan, mind the bumps.”

As the deputy dragged him into the cabin’s front hallway, Leo noticed the stairway’s broken banister. Amid the splintered and broken pieces of wood, he saw a trail of blood on the beige carpet. The crimson path started at the bottom of the stairs and led into the kitchen.

Leo realized Jordan must have been shot on the stairs and that his body was moved into the kitchen or the basement. His heart sunk, and tears welled in his eyes. He tried to struggle as the deputy hauled him farther into the cabin, but he was still too dazed and weak.

“What the hell?” the deputy murmured. He dropped Leo in a heap on the hallway floor and then followed the blood trail toward the kitchen. “Shit, I should have put a bullet in his brain. Little bastard, where the fuck are you?”

Leo felt a surge of hope. Maybe his friend had been wounded and somehow escaped.

Pulling out his gun, Shaffer stepped into the kitchen. He called for Jordan in a soft, mocking voice. “C’mon, kid, show your face…. Give me your best shot….”

Unable to stand, Leo crawled toward the front door. His head was spinning. He kept thinking, if only he could get outside and hide someplace in the woods. Maybe that was where Jordan was now. He heard the deputy’s footsteps on the basement stairs.

The front door squeaked as Leo tugged it open. On all fours, he crept out to the front stoop. He managed to get to his feet and stagger a few steps before he fell to the ground. He didn’t have any equilibrium. He started crawling again.

“Jordan?” he called in a hushed voice. No answer. Leo blinked a few times and tried to focus on the patrol car.

A shot rang out from within the house. “Little shit!” Shaffer bellowed.

Leo wasn’t sure if the deputy had been shot—or if he’d just gunned down Jordan. Maybe he’d merely been spooked and, in a panic, fired his weapon.

Struggling to his feet again, Leo managed to lurch to the patrol car. He opened the front door and flopped across the seat. He tried to figure out how to use the radio. Fiddling with the switches and buttons, he heard a muffled voice through the static. Leo wasn’t sure if he’d reached someone, but he pressed the button on the mike and whispered into it: “Is anybody there? Can anyone hear me? I’ve been assaulted by this deputy….” Leo paused and released the button. All he heard was static. He pressed the button on the mike again. “This deputy—his name’s Shaffer. He—he’s a murderer. He’s got a gun. I think he killed my friend, Jordan Prewitt. I’m at the Prewitt cabin in…in…in Cullen. Can you hear me? Please, send help….”

He released the button on the microphone and heard someone responding through the static, but the words were indistinguishable. Leo glanced back at the cabin and saw the deputy standing in the front doorway.

Panic-stricken, Leo looked around the patrol car for something he could use to defend himself. But there was nothing. He scurried out of the vehicle and left the car door open as he made a run for the woods bordering the driveway. He only made it a short way from the car before his legs stopped working and he stumbled again. He hit the gravel hard and got the wind knocked out of him.

Leo blinked and saw the deputy stomping toward him, his gun drawn.

Leo desperately crawled toward the forest, grabbing at thin tree branches, or stones—anything he could use to throw at the cop. He hurled whatever he could find at him, but kept missing.

The deputy descended on him. His swaggering stride only seemed more determined as he got closer.

Crawling toward the edge of the woods, Leo felt something stab his hand. He glanced at his bleeding palm—and then at a strange metal contraption that looked like the head of a rake.

“Where do you think you’re going, asshole?” he heard Shaffer ask.

Leo twisted around and gazed up at the cop. He shook his head. “No, please, wait….”

The deputy aimed his gun at Leo’s face. But then something in the woods caught Shaffer’s attention, and he glanced away for a moment.

Leo quickly grabbed the pronged metal contraption, pushed himself off the ground, and swung it at the deputy’s head. He knocked off his police cap.

He heard the gun go off, a resounding
bang
. Then Leo felt a sharp, burning pain in the side of his stomach.

Stunned, Deputy Shaffer stared down at him with his mouth open. The spiked metal piece stuck to his left temple. Blood leaked from the side of his blond head and down his neck. His eyes started to roll back.

Leo watched the deputy hit the ground with a thud.

After a moment, Leo’s vision started to blur again. He felt a horrible, searing pain in his side. The rest of his body felt so cold. He turned toward the woods—where the cop must have seen something earlier. Through the trees, he thought he saw someone.

Then everything went black.

She kept glancing at them in her rearview mirror.

Crammed in the back with Mattie’s child seat, Allen practically held Moira in his lap. One arm slung around her shoulder, he pulled her in close while pressing the ax blade to her throat. Tears glistened on Moira’s face, and every few moments, she let out a terrified whimper. She was shaking uncontrollably.

At one point, Susan had heard him say under his breath to the girl. “I heard you were pretty, Moira. But I didn’t know just how pretty until now.”

Moira said nothing. She just closed her eyes and grimaced.

Navigating the dirt road ahead, Susan remained quiet, too. The Toyota’s constant rattle did nothing to alleviate the tense silence inside the car.

As she merged onto Carroll Creek Road, Susan reached for her turn indicator, but then she realized it was on the car floor some place. The thin metal rod was hardly a match for the ax Allen wielded. But at least it was something. With a tight grip on the steering wheel, Susan glanced around the car floor for it. She started to feel gravel under the tires and looked up in time to see she was veering off the road.

Allen jabbed her shoulder. “Eyes on the road, goddamn it.”

She steered back into her lane, but still felt him hovering behind her. She glanced in the rearview mirror, and their eyes met.

“I look pretty beat up, don’t I?” he asked. “Do I look like I’ve been in a boating accident?”

Susan said nothing.

“Because that’s how it’s going to look for you, too, bitch,” he whispered. “And to think, I used to like you.” Then he sat back again and pulled Moira closer to him.

As they passed Jordan’s abandoned Honda Civic on the roadside, Susan glanced in the rearview mirror to see if Moira had noticed it, too. She saw the girl’s eyes widen. “That—that was Jordan’s car,” she murmured, baffled. “What—what’s happened?” She started to squirm—until Allen grabbed her by the hair again and snapped her head back.

“You’ll see him soon enough,” he growled.

Trembling, Moira didn’t say another word for the rest of the ride—not even when he pressed the side of his face against hers. His blood smeared her cheek. She didn’t try to move away. She just winced and sat very still.

Susan turned down Cedar Crest Way. Taking a curve in the tree-lined road, she spotted the police car in the driveway ahead. The driver’s door was open, and the interior light was on.

“Stop the car,” Allen said.

Susan stepped on the brake. Glancing at the floor again, she searched for the metal rod but couldn’t see it anywhere.

“Shut off the motor, and hand me the keys,” he commanded.

Wordlessly, she obeyed him.

“You get out first,” he said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Susan took one last glance toward the front passenger side, but still didn’t spot the indicator handle. Reluctantly opening the door, she stepped outside. She couldn’t see the front of the house from where she stood. But as she took a few steps up the drive, Susan saw something else—and it made her stop dead.

Not far from the squad car’s open door, on the edge of the driveway, Deputy Shaffer was lying on his side. His police cap had been knocked off. The pronged contraption Susan had noticed earlier was now wedged between the side of Shaffer’s head and the gravel.

A hand over her heart, Susan took another step closer.

The police car’s interior light illuminated the pool of blood around Deputy Shaffer’s head—and the startled look in his open eyes. A fly landed on his cheek, grazed around for a moment, then flew away. Shaffer didn’t move.

She heard Allen and Moira behind her, climbing out of the car. Susan jumped at the sound of the car door slamming. She glanced over toward the cabin. The lights were off, but she could see the two young men on the front stoop. One of them was half sitting, slumped against the door. He had his arm around his friend’s prone body. With their faces in the shadows, Susan couldn’t tell which boy was sitting and which was lying there, but neither one of them was moving. It appeared as if the one boy had tried to pull his friend’s body into the house before he’d given up and died. Or was he breathing? Susan couldn’t tell. It looked like he had a gun in his hand. She stood there frozen.