Текст книги "Fear the Dark"

EVEN BARELY AWAKE, Jonah Riggs groaned as the phone on his nightstand shrilled a demand. He was tangled in the covers as usual but managed to maneuver himself over far enough to grab the phone and shut it up.

Lying back with his eyes closed, he muttered, “It better be good.” He had gotten to bed somewhere near dawn after winning enormous imaginary sums at the monthly poker game the city fathers would have frowned upon—had they not been his opponents.

He didn’t know what time it was, but his aching head and scratchy eyes said it was too damned early.

“Sorry, Chief, but there’s something you need to see.” Sarah Waters didn’t sound all that sorry, but she was his lead detective, his second in command, and since she and his younger sister had played together in the sandbox, he was only mildly surprised she didn’t offer a more colorful and less apologetic awakening.

“It’s Saturday, Sarah. My day off. My first day off in three damned weeks. Can’t you handle it?”

“No,” she said simply.

That woke him up, because in her whole life, he’d never seen anything Sarah couldn’t handle.

He fought free of the covers and sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through his hair. He needed a haircut. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

She hesitated, then said, “It’ll be easier if you just come see for yourself. Honest, Jonah, I wouldn’t call you out here if I didn’t think it was important.”

He knew that. “Out where?”

“North side of town, off Main and about a hundred yards down Street.”

That was actually the name of the street. Street. Jonah had wondered more than once if they’d just run out of names, or if somebody had been having fun and it just stuck.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be there in fifteen. Oh—Sarah? Are we talking about an actual crime?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she replied.

He found that somewhat baffling but didn’t waste time with more questions. “Okay, you know the drill. Keep everybody back away from whatever it is until I get there.”

“Copy that.”

Jonah hung up the phone, frowning, and headed for the shower, hoping enough hot water would clear his head. Because so far, this was hardly a normal Saturday morning.

It got stranger.

Jonah seldom wore a uniform, virtually always in jeans, clipping his badge to his belt near the front, wearing his gun on his right hip, and depending on the weather, either a T-shirt or sweatshirt or else a light Windbreaker over a button-up shirt.

This Saturday morning in May was cool but comfortable, the middle-of-the-night rainstorm hours past. But it was also supposed to be an off day for Jonah, so he wore a sweatshirt with the faded letters of Duke University across his chest.

He had stopped at a coffee shop in town and swallowed some aspirin, but his head didn’t feel any better when he stopped his Jeep behind Sarah’s cruiser and got out to join her.

She was leaning against the front of her cruiser, frowning at another Jeep, this one pulled more or less off the road, with both front doors standing open.

Jonah didn’t see another soul about. Clearly, Sarah had decided against calling the station, for whatever reason. It wasn’t a large police station or police force, and it was rare to see more than one officer or detective out on patrol.

“Isn’t that Simon Church’s Jeep?” he asked as he reached her.

“Yeah. I checked the registration and tag to be sure.”

“So where is he?”

“The question of the day.” Sarah eyed him. “You up for this?”

He grunted. “Depends on what this is. You gonna tell me, or shall I figure it out for myself?”

Unsmiling, she said, “Take a look inside the Jeep.”

Jonah didn’t argue, just moved forward, sticking to the paved-road side of the Jeep. He had already noted that there were no skid marks, and no sign that the vehicle had been forced off the road. No body damage he could see, and all four tires seemed fine.

He looked in the front passenger door, and a nameless dread began to crawl up his spine. The vehicle was packed with stuff. Not stuff one would expect if a robbery had been committed—despite the flat-screen TV. Packed in tight in the back were clothes, shoes, luggage presumably holding more of the same and . . . things.

A stuffed bear sat atop a stack of books, squeezed in beside a golf bag. There was a basket holding an odd assortment of things that included a dog’s collar and leash, a can of WD-40, a laptop and tangle of cords and cables, a case holding CDs or DVDs, and a teapot.

Shirts and dresses and sweaters still on hangers were laid across luggage probably filled with the same sort of thing. There was what looked like a little sewing kit sitting atop a tackle box. There was a cooler of the sort most people used to transport adult beverages. There was another stuffed animal, this one a puffy cat, sitting atop a goldfish bowl where one lone fish swam rather desperately around in his shallow world.

Still bent forward and still without touching the car, Jonah turned his gaze to the front seat. Not much on the driver’s side. A little open change niche filled with coins and gum wrappers and at least two petrified French fries.

On the passenger seat, very neatly in the center, sat a purse decorated all over with beads and fake gems. It was very colorful.

Jonah straightened and looked back at Sarah. “You checked the purse?”

“Yeah. Amy Grimes. Her driver’s license is in a wallet that contains, I’m guessing, a few thousand dollars. I didn’t want to disturb anything even with gloves, until you saw it all.”

Jonah frowned at the Jeep another moment, then returned his gaze to Sarah. “All the earmarks of an elopement.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“But?”

“Well, they didn’t get very far, that’s one thing. I’m guessing Amy sneaked out of her house sometime after midnight; even at a crawl, they should have reached the highway before dawn.”

Jonah glanced back toward town and silently agreed with her. Hell, even if they’d left at dawn, they should have gotten farther.

“Gas? They broke down?”

“Key’s in the ignition, as you see. I cranked it up. Tank’s full, and the engine seemed to be running fine.”

Jonah looked over the inside once again, then walked back along the Jeep until he reached the bumper. He lifted his brows at his lead detective. “Both doors found open.” It wasn’t a question. “Pulled mostly off the road. A purse with money. Valuables in the back. And the key in the ignition, making it easy for somebody to steal the whole shebang.”

Sarah nodded. “Now we come to the very weird part.”

“Now we come to it?”

“Yeah.” She stepped over onto the grassy verge and led the way just as far as the open driver’s-side door. “Look down there.”

There was no guardrail here, and the bank on the side of the road sloped gradually down to a flat area; from that, a vague path led toward a stand of trees while another vague path led off to the left, toward a distant creek. Neither of the paths was well traveled, just handy shortcuts, mostly for kids.

But right now both the bank and the flat area were more dirt than grass. Mud, since the rainstorm hours before.

Very clearly, two sets of footprints were visible going down the bank and to the flat area. One larger set, probably boots; one much smaller set, undoubtedly a woman or girl.

The prints were absolutely perfect, showing no slipping or sliding. The bootprints and shoeprints were side by side down the bank, to the flat. Where they stopped.

Where they just . . . stopped.

That wordless dread was growing in Jonah. “You’ve been down there?”

“Yeah. I stayed away from the prints, circled. There’s nothing, Jonah. And there should be. All around the place where the prints stop, there would have been prints if they’d gone on. There’s no way they could have jumped far enough, and no sign at all they did. No sign of a vehicle, no sign of a horse. No sign of a third person. I’d dare anybody to back up that bank, putting their feet in exactly the same spots as when they went down; it’s slippery as hell and there’s nothing to hold on to.” She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “If this is a prank, it’s a damned good one. But I don’t think it’s a prank. I think those two kids walked down that bank to the flat area—and something happened.”

“Something took them,” he said slowly.

Sarah nodded. “That’s the only thing I could think of. It’s like something just swooped down and carried them away. And judging by the footprints, they had to be lifted cleanly, straight up. No sign of a struggle. No sign of a fight. There are houses close enough to hear if someone had screamed. Even in the middle of the night.” Without turning, she jerked her head back and toward the other side of the road. “Mildred Bates is watching us from her front porch now; she sleeps with her windows open and the slightest sound wakes her. Her bedroom windows face this way. Less than fifty yards from here to there. If there had been any kind of a commotion, she would have heard—and called us. She didn’t.”

“So, where are those kids?” Jonah said slowly. “And how the hell did they just . . . vanish?”

Jonah didn’t voice what he felt, that what they were looking at was not exactly an ending—but the beginning of something. The beginning of something bad. The beginning of something that was going to shake his town to its foundations.

ONE

There was no hope at all of keeping the disappearance of Amy Grimes and Simon Church quiet, Jonah knew that. In fact, he expected to find both sets of parents in his office when he returned to the station. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do whatever was possible to minimize the . . . strangeness of all this while he tried to figure it out.

“Okay,” he said, after considering the matter. “Roust Tim out of bed and get the station’s tow truck out here. I don’t much like moving the car, but I sure as hell don’t want to leave it just sitting, and we don’t have the manpower to guard it.”

“I’ll tell him to hurry,” Sarah said calmly.

Jonah eyed her. “Left him in bed sleeping, did you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business—Chief—but, yes, I did. It’s his day off too.”

Jonah didn’t forbid his people to get involved romantically; he was a realist. And he preferred openness to sneaking around. Not that Sarah or Tim, both sensible professionals, had made it obvious, but Jonah knew, and he figured if he knew then everyone else did too.

“Well, tell him I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. We need to get this car into the police garage, pronto.”

“Copy. Want to call Sully and get his dogs out here?”

“I doubt there’ll be time before we get a downpour. We’ll just have to wait and hope we get a lead. Maybe the dogs will come in useful then.”

“What’ll you tell their parents?”

“Damned if I know. Lie through my teeth, probably. Or just say what little we’re reasonably sure of. Say the kids were clearly eloping, must have had car trouble—and we’re investigating the rest.”

“And how are we investigating the rest?”

“Get the good camera out of the back of my Jeep and start taking pictures. The car, the way it was left, that bank. The footprints. You know the drill, Sarah.”

“Copy that. I take it you’d rather no one else saw the scene as we found it.”

“I’d rather, yeah. Call Tim, and wait till he gets here. He won’t have to be told, but remind him nobody but the three of us will know about how the car was left and the footprints until I say different. Once you have the pictures and he has the car, both of you get back to the station. I’d also rather nobody too nosy just wandered out here to see what was going on.”

“Mildred Bates has been watching.”

“Yeah, I can feel her eyes boring into my back. But she can’t see over the edge of the bank even with binoculars, she’s virtually immobile with that cast since she wrenched her knee, and I don’t expect even her to come out here, especially once the car is moved. With a little luck, once the car is moved she won’t wonder if there’s anything else to see out here.”

“Like the footprints?”

“Exactly.”

A rumble of thunder made them both look up at dark clouds rolling in.

“Shit,” Jonah said. “Weather’s coming in faster than the forecast. Get those pictures, Sarah. Close the car doors. And when Tim heads back to the station with the car, you follow. If there’s a little more luck for me today, the rain will wash away those footprints before anybody else sees them, and nobody will realize something very weird happened here.”

“Hope you got a lot of luck stored up,” Sarah said as she headed for the back of Jonah’s Jeep. “I’ve got an awful hunch we’re going to need every bit of it.”

Since it wasn’t raining yet, Jonah walked farther up the road a stretch, just to see if anything else looked odd, but found nothing. And no sign that a car had pulled off the road. In this area, the weeds pretty much ran right up to the road, trimmed back later in the year; in May even the hardiest of weed was hardly more than a foot tall.

Giving that up, Jonah returned to the abandoned car. Thunder rumbled again. “Hurry,” he called out to Sarah, who was near the bottom of the bank, placing a ruler beside each footprint before she photographed it.

“Yeah.” She didn’t look up. “Meet you back at the station.”

Jonah wanted more hot coffee, lots of it, and he wanted breakfast. He had a feeling he’d need to be fortified. He got in his Jeep and headed for town, pretending not to see Mildred Bates beckoning imperiously to him. Sarah must have used her cell while he’d been checking out the road to call Tim, and lit a fire under him to get here in a hurry, because Jonah passed the police tow truck, lifting a hand to Tim as they came abreast but not slowing.

The small downtown diner, simply named the Diner, hadn’t been open long this morning; Jonah was the first one to take a seat on a stool at the counter, and the booths were all empty. The coffee was just beginning to percolate.

He wished it would hurry.

He didn’t waste time calling out his usual breakfast order, hearing an acknowledgment yelled from the back. A glance at his watch told him he still had time before the usual breakfast crowd arrived. The waitresses hadn’t even arrived yet. But then he noticed something odd.

“Hey, Clyde? Is your clock right?”

The owner/operator, who usually cooked and was fixing Jonah’s eggs and bacon in the kitchen, popped his head into the opening where the waitresses picked up orders. “What? Loud back here, Jonah.”

Loud because he played country music on an old CD player. He favored Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings.

“Your clock.” Jonah raised his voice and nodded toward the clock that hung in a place of prominence on the wall behind the cash register. Clyde had gotten it on his honeymoon, apparently having stopped at some point at one of those touristy places along the side of the road that sold novelty items.

The big clock boasted an eagle, its gradually unfolding left and right wings showing the time. Most thought but never said that it was a peculiar-looking bird, especially at certain times when the wings were sort of cockeyed.

Clyde was very proud of it.

“My clock? What about it?”

“Time right?”

“Yeah, I set it when I came in this morning. Used my cell phone.” He vanished back into the kitchen before Jonah’s bacon burned and before Waylon could get to the chorus.

Jonah looked at the big watch on his wrist for a moment. It had stopped. It never stopped, warning him when new batteries were needed, and he’d just put in fresh ones barely two weeks ago. It was more of a sportsman’s watch, with more than one dial so he knew his current elevation, and the time in another country if he wished, and he could also use the device as a stopwatch.

Not digital.

Staring at the still face and keeping the time on Clyde’s clock in mind, then as far as he could remember the time it showed would have been just about when he’d reached the abandoned car and the mysteries surrounding it. It was also showing zero elevation when the town was several thousand feet above sea level.

He stared at it for a moment, then fished for his cell phone and checked the time. It appeared to be still working normally, showing the correct date. But . . .

The time on the cell was off by more than half an hour. Pretty close to the amount of time he’d spent out at Simon Church’s abandoned car.

“Well, shit,” he said under his breath.

—