Текст книги "Thr3e"

Автор книги: Тед Деккер

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“Of course not. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

They walked for a few minutes, hand in hand.

“Do you like Tommy?” Kevin asked.

“Tommy? Sure.”

“I mean, is he your . . . you know . . .”

“Boyfriend? Don’t gross me out!”

Kevin flushed and giggled. They came to a large tree behind her house and Sam stopped. She faced him and took both of his hands in hers. “I don’t have any boyfriends except you, Kevin. I like you.”

He looked into her bright blue eyes. A gentle breeze lifted her blonde hair so that it swam around her, highlighted by the moon. She was the most beautiful thing Kevin had ever seen. He was so taken with her that he had trouble even speaking.

“I . . . I like you too, Sam.”

“We’re like secret lovers,” she said softly, and suddenly her face softened. “I’ve never kissed a boy before. Could I kiss you?”

“Kiss me?” He swallowed.

“Yes.”

Kevin’s throat was suddenly dryer than baking powder. “Yes.”

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his for a moment.

She pulled back and they stared at each other, wide-eyed. Kevin’s heart throbbed in his ears. He should do something! Before he lost his nerve, he bent and returned the kiss.

The night seemed to disappear around him. He floated on a cloud. They looked at each other, suddenly awkward.

“I should go now,” she said.

“Okay.”

She turned and ran toward her house. Kevin spun around and tore home, and honestly he wasn’t sure if his feet really were on the ground. He did like Samantha. He liked her very, very much. Maybe even more than his mother, which was pretty impossible.

The next few days floated by like a dream. He met Sam two nights later and they made no mention of the kiss. They didn’t need to. They resumed their playing as if nothing at all had changed between them. They didn’t kiss again, and Kevin wasn’t sure he wanted to. It might somehow spoil the magic of that first kiss.

Sam didn’t come to his window for three straight nights, and Kevin decided to sneak out and go to her house. He took the greenway past the two houses between his and Sam’s on light feet, careful not to make the slightest sound. You could never know who might be out at night. They had hidden from the sound of coming voices and approaching footsteps a hundred times before.

A half-moon sat in the black sky, peeking around slowly drifting clouds. Crickets chirped. Sam’s house came into view and his heart thumped a little louder. He eased up to the picket fence and peered over it. Her room was on the bottom floor; he could see the faint glow of light past the tree in front of the window. Please be there, Sam. Please.

Kevin glanced around, saw no one, and pushed aside the board Sam had loosened long ago. Her dad might be a cop, but he’d never found this, had he? That’s because Sam was smart too. He climbed through and brushed his hands. Please be there, Sam.

Kevin took a step. The tree in front of Sam’s window moved. He froze. Sam? Slowly a dark head and then shoulders came into view. Someone was peeking into Sam’s room!

Kevin jerked back, panicked. The form stood taller, angling for a better view. It was a boy! A tall boy with a sharp nose. Staring in on Sam!

A dozen thoughts screamed through Kevin’s head. Who? What was the boy doing? He should run! No, he should yell. Was that Tommy? No, Tommy had longer hair.

The boy spun around, stared directly at Kevin, and then pushed his way past the tree. He stood tall in the moonlight, and a terrible smile twisted his face. He took a step toward Kevin.

Kevin didn’t bother with the loose plank—he went over the fence faster than he could have ever imagined possible and ran for a large tree on the edge of the greenway. He pulled up behind it, panting.

Nothing happened. There was no sound of running or of heavy breathing other than his own. He would have run for home but was afraid the boy was waiting by the fence for the first sign of movement. It took him a full five minutes to work up the courage to peek ever so slowly around the tree.

Nothing.

Another five minutes and he was peering over the fence again. Nothing. Whoever the boy was, he’d gone.

Kevin finally worked up the courage to tap on Sam’s window. She climbed out, all smiles. She was waiting for him, she said. Waiting for the dashing young man to come to the window of the maiden. That’s how it was done in the movies.

He told her about the boy, but she found it funny. One of the neighborhood guys had a crush on her, and her prince charming had sent him packing! Hearing himself tell it, the story did sound funny. They had a good hoot that night. But Kevin had a hard time shaking the image of the boy’s horrible smile.

Three nights went by before Kevin saw the boy again—this time in the greenway on his way home. At first he thought it was a dog or some animal running behind the trees, but after he’d climbed into bed, he began to wonder if it was the boy. What if he was going to spy on Sam again? He tossed and turned for half an hour before working up the resolve to go back and check on Sam. He would never go to sleep until he had.

For the first time in a year, he went out for a second time in the same night—prince charming to check on his damsel in distress. He didn’t really expect to see anything.

Kevin poked his head over the fence in Sam’s backyard and went rigid. The boy! He was there, peering into Sam’s window again! He’d waited until Kevin went home and then snuck up to her window to spy on her!

Kevin ducked and tried to calm his breathing. He had to do something! But what? If he yelled and then took off running, the boy wouldn’t catch him. At least then he might scare off the boy. He could throw a rock. No. What if he broke Sam’s window?

He went up slowly for another peek. The boy was doing something. He had his face planted against the window and was . . . he was moving his face around in circles. What was he doing? Kevin blinked. Was he . . . ? A chill snaked down Kevin’s spine. The boy was licking Sam’s window in slow circles.

Something ballooned in Kevin’s head. Whether it was rage or just plain terror, he couldn’t be sure, but he spoke while courage strengthened him.

“Hey!”

The boy spun around. For one long, still moment, they stared at each other. The boy stepped forward and Kevin fled. He bolted through the greenway, pumping his skinny arms and legs as fast as they would go without tearing loose. He dove through his fence, flew into his bedroom, and shut the window, surely making enough racket to wake the house.

Ten minutes later the night slept in silence. But Kevin couldn’t. He felt trapped in the small room. What was the boy doing? Had he been stalking Sam every night? He had, hadn’t he? Kevin had only stumbled on him twice, but there was no telling how long the boy had been stalking Sam.

An hour passed, and Kevin could hardly shut his eyes, much less sleep. That’s when he heard the tap on his window. He bolted up in bed. Sam! He scrambled to his knees and lifted the shade.

The boy stood at the back fence, head and shoulders in plain view. He stared directly at Kevin, twirling something in his hand. It was a knife.

Kevin dropped the shade and flung the covers over his head. He lay trembling for two hours before peeking again, ever so carefully, just barely lifting the shade. The boy was gone.

The next three days dragged by like a slow nightmare. Each night he peeked out his window a hundred times. Each night the backyard remained vacant except for the doghouse and the toolshed. Each night he prayed desperately for Sam to come for a visit. She’d talked about going to a camp, but he couldn’t remember exactly when she was supposed to go. Was it this week?

On the fourth night, Kevin couldn’t wait any longer. He paced in his room for an hour, peering out of his window every few minutes, before deciding that he had to check on Sam before the anxiety killed him.

It took him half an hour to work his way up to her house, using the trees in the greenway as cover. The night was quiet. When he finally inched his head over Sam’s fence, her light was out. He scanned the yard. No boy. Sam was gone and so was the boy.

He collapsed at the base of the fence with relief. She must be at that camp. Maybe the boy had followed her there. No. That was stupid. How could a boy follow a girl all the way to camp?

Kevin eased his way back to the cover of the greenway and headed home, feeling at ease for the first time in nearly a week. Maybe the boy had moved. Maybe he had found something else to occupy his sick little mind.

Maybe he had snuck into Sam’s room and killed her.

He pulled up. No. Kevin would have heard about that. Her father was a cop and—

A blunt object slammed into the side of Kevin’s head and he staggered. A groan broke from his throat. Something wrapped around his neck and jerked him upright.

“Listen, you little punk, I know who you are and I don’t like you!” a voice snarled in his ear. The arm jerked him around and shoved him against a tree. Kevin wobbled at arm’s length from his attacker. The boy.

If his head wasn’t throbbing so badly, he might have panicked. Instead he just stared and tried to keep his legs from collapsing.

The boy sneered. Close up, his face reminded Kevin of a boar. He was older than Kevin and a foot taller, but still young, with pimples all over his nose and chin and a tattoo of a knife high on his forehead. He smelled like dirty socks.

The boy brought his face within a few inches of Kevin’s. “I’m going to give you one warning and one warning only, squat. That girl is mine, not yours. If I ever see you so much as looking at her again, I’ll kill her. If I catch you sneaking out to see her again, I may just kill the both of you. You hear me?”

Kevin just stood dumb.

The boy slapped him across the cheek. “You hear me?”

Kevin nodded.

The boy stepped back and glared at him. A slow lopsided grin split his face at a cruel angle. “You think you’re in love with this little tramp? Huh? You’re too stupid and too young to know what love is. And so is she. I’m going to teach her love, baby, and I don’t need a squat like you messing with our little romance.” He stepped back.

Kevin saw the knife in the boy’s hand for the first time. His mind cleared. The boy saw his eyes on the knife and he lifted it slowly.

“You have any idea what a nine-inch bowie can do to a squat like you?” The boy twirled the blade in his hand. “Do you know how persuasive a bright shiny blade can be to a young girl?”

Kevin suddenly felt like he was going to vomit.

“Get back to your little room, squat, before I decide to cut you just for looking so stupid.”

Kevin fled.

7

Friday

Night

KEVIN SAT IN HIS RECLINER, waiting impatiently for Samantha, flipping through the channels to hear the various versions of the “car bomb,” as they were calling it. He nursed a warm 7UP in his left hand and glanced up at the wall clock. Nine o’clock– nearly five hours had passed since she’d left Sacramento.

“Come on, Samantha,” he muttered softly. “Where are you?” She’d called him halfway down. He told her about the dog and begged her to hurry. She was already doing eighty, she said.

Back to the television. They knew Kevin’s identity, and a dozen reporters had tracked down his number. He’d ignored the calls per Milton’s suggestion. Not that he had anything to add anyway—their theories were as good as his. Channel nine’s suggestion that the bombing might be the work of a well-known fugitive dubbed the Riddle Killer interested him most. The killer had taken the lives of five people up in Sacramento and had vanished three months ago. No more details, but the speculation was enough to plant a knot in Kevin’s throat. The pictures of the charred wreckage, taken from the sky, were stunning. Or terrifying, depending on how he thought of them. If he’d been anywhere near the thing when it blew, he’d be dead. Like the dog.

After Slater’s call, he’d forced himself to return to the backyard and explain the situation to Balinda, but she wouldn’t even acknowledge him. She’d already put the matter behind them by executive order. Poor Bob would somehow be convinced that Damon was alive and well, just gone. Balinda would have to explain her initial screaming flight across the ash after the explosion, of course, but she was an expert at explaining the unexplainable. The only time she even responded to Kevin was when he suggested they not call the police.

“Of course not. We’ve got nothing to report. The dog’s fine. Do you see a dead dog?”

No, he didn’t. Eugene had already dumped it in the burn barrel and set it on fire. Gone. What were a few more ashes?

His mind drifted to the call with Slater. What boy?Slater didn’t seem to know of any boy. What boy?The key to his sin was found in the riddles. As far as he could see, the riddles had nothing to do with the boy. So then Slater couldn’tbe the boy. Thank God, thank God, thank God. Some secrets were best left buried forever.

The doorbell chimed. Kevin set down his 7UP and clambered out of his chair. He stopped at the hall mirror for a quick look. Haggard face. Smudged T-shirt. He scratched the top of his head. The bell chimed again.

“Coming.”

He hurried to the peephole, peered out, saw that it was Samantha, and unlocked the door. It had been ten years since he’d kissed her on the cheek and wished her well in conquering the big bad world. Her hair had been blonde and long; her blue eyes sparkling like stars. She’d had one of those faces that looked airbrushed all the time, even without a speck of makeup. Smooth rounded cheeks and soft upturned lips, high arching eyebrows and a soft pointed nose. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Of course, he wasn’t seeing a lot of girls in those days.

Kevin fumbled with the knob and opened the door. Samantha stood under the porch light, dressed in jeans and smiling warmly. He’d thought of her a thousand times since she’d left, but his mind’s eye could never have prepared him for seeing her now, in the flesh. He hadseen a lot of girls in the last five years, and Sam was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. Bar none.

“Are you going to invite me in, stranger?”

“Yes. Sorry, of course! Come in, come in.”

She walked past him, set down her bag, and faced him. He shut the door.

“My, you’ve grown up,” she said. “Put on a bit of muscle.”

He grinned and ran his hand over his head. “I guess.”

He was having difficulty not staring at her eyes. They were the kind of blue that seemed to swallow whatever they gazed upon—brilliant and deep and haunting. They didn’t reflect the light so much as shine, as if illuminated by their own source. No man nor woman could look into Samantha’s eyes and not think that there was indeed a God in heaven. She stood just up to his chin, slender and graceful. This was Samantha, his best friend. His only real friend. Looking at her now, he wondered how he’d survived the last ten years.

She stepped forward. “Give me a hug, my knight.”

He chuckled at her childhood reference and hugged her tight. “It’s so good to see you, Samantha.”

She stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Beyond that one blissful kiss when they were eleven, their relationship had remained platonic. Neither of them wanted romance from the other. They were bosom buddies, best friends, almost brother and sister. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed Kevin’s mind; a friendship had just always been more appealing. She had always been the damsel in distress, and he the knight in shining armor, even though they both knew she had rescued him in the first place. Now, despite the fact that it was she who’d again come to his rescue, their childhood personas came naturally.

Sam turned to the living room, hands on her hips. “I see you like travel posters.”

He walked with her and grinned self-consciously. Quit rubbing your head; she’ll think you’re a dog. He lowered his hands and tapped his right foot.

“I’d like to go to all those places someday. It’s kinda like looking at the world. Reminds me there’s more. Never did like being shut in.”

“I like it! Well, you’ve come far. And I knew you would, didn’t I? You just had to get away from that mother of yours.”

“Aunt,” he corrected. “She never was my mother.”

“Aunt. Let’s face it, dear Aunt Balinda did you more harm than good. When did you finally leave?”

He walked past her to the kitchen. “Twenty-three. Drink?”

She followed him. “Thanks. You stayed in that house five years after I left?”

“Afraid so. You should’ve taken me with you.”

“You did it on your own—that’s better. Now look at you, you have a college degree and you’re in seminary. Impressive.”

“And you graduated valedictorian. Very impressive.” He pulled a soda from the fridge, popped the tab, and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the compliment.” She winked at him and took a sip. “The drink’s nice too. How often do you go back?”

“Where? To the house? As little as possible. I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I think that thatmight be tied to this, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Samantha set the can down on the counter and looked at him, suddenly dead serious. “Someone’s stalking you. And by the sound of it, me. A killer who uses riddles who’s selected us for his own reasons. Revenge. Hate. The baser motivations. We can’t shut out the past.”

“Right to the point.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Starting—”

“Starting with the phone call in your car.” She walked to the front door.

Kevin followed. “Where are you going?”

“We. Come on, let’s take a drive. He’s obviously listening to everything we say in here—let’s make his life a little more interesting. We’ll take my car. Hopefully he hasn’t gotten to it yet.”

They climbed into a beige sedan and Samantha drove into the night. “That’s better. He’s probably using lasers.”

“Actually, I think you’re right,” Kevin said.

“He told you that?”

“Something like that.”

“Every detail, Kevin. I don’t care how insignificant, I don’t care what you told the cops, I don’t care how embarrassing or stupid or crazy it sounds, I want everything.”

Kevin did as she requested, eagerly, with passion, as if it were his first real confession. Sam drove haphazardly and stopped him frequently to ask questions.

When was the last time you left your car unlocked?

Never that I can remember.

Do you lock your car when it’s in the garage?

No.

A nod. Did the police find a timing device?

Not that he knew about.

You found the ribbon behind the lamp?

Yes.

Did Slater call me Sam or Samantha?

Samantha.

An hour passed and they covered every conceivable detail of the day’s events, including the information he’d hidden from Milton. Everything except his speculation that Slater could be the boy. He’d never told Sam the whole truth about the boy, and he wasn’t eager to do so now. If Slater wasn’t the boy, which he claimed not to be, there was no need to dig up that matter. He’d never told Sam the whole truth and he wasn’t eager to do so now.

“How long can you stay?” Kevin asked after a lull.

Sam glanced at him with a coy smile. “The big boy needs a girl in his court?”

Kevin grinned sheepishly. She hadn’t changed a bit. “Turns out girls make or break me.”

She arched her brow. “I technically have a week off to finish my move. I have boxes overflowing in my kitchen still. The case I was assigned to when I first arrived a couple months ago has been pretty quiet, but it just heated up. I wouldn’t be surprised if they called me in.”

“California Bureau of Investigation, huh? Big change from New York.”

“Not really, other than being new. I’ve managed to do a couple things right and have my department head appropriately impressed at the moment, but I still have to earn my stripes with them, if you understand how law enforcement works. Same thing with the CIA before I switched to this job.”

“CBI, CIA—gets a bit confusing,” Kevin said. “You glad you made the move?”

She looked at him and grinned. “I’m closer to you, aren’t I?”

He nodded and turned sheepishly. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Really.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Can’t you pull some strings?” He faced her. “Convince them to let you stay down here?”

“Because I know you?”

“Because you’re involved now. He knowsyou, for heaven’s sake!”

“It doesn’t work that way. If anything, that’s reason for them to remove me from the case.” She stared ahead, lost in thought. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. The CBI is made of a dozen units, roughly a hundred agents in all. My unit is unique—hardly known to most agents. We work outside the system, technically part of the Bureau, but it’s directed as much by the attorney general. Troubleshooting the harder cases. We have some latitude and discretion.” She looked at him. “You, my dear, are definitely within the scope of the discretion. More than you know.”

Kevin stared out his window. Black. Slater was out there somewhere. Maybe watching them now. A shiver ran down his spine.

“So. What do you think?”

Sam pulled the car to the curb a block from Kevin’s house and shoved the stick into park. “I think that we have no choice but to follow Slater’s demands. So far the demands involve no one but you. This isn’t like a threat of terror, where either we release a hostage or they blow a building. This is either you confess or he blows up your car. Confession doesn’t exactly pose a threat to society.” She nodded to herself. “For now we don’t involve the police like he wants. But we also take him at his word. He said cops—we avoid the cops. That excludes the FBI. We tell the FBI everything.”

She cracked her window and stared at the sky. “I also think that Richard Slater is someone one or both of us knew or know. I think his motivation is revenge and I think he means to extract it in a way that will never be forgotten.” She looked at him. “There has to be someone, Kevin.”

He hesitated and then fed her part of the truth. “No one. The only enemy I can even remember having is that boy.”

“What boy?”

“You know. Remember that boy who was spying on you when we were kids? The one who beat me up?”

She grinned. “The one you saved me from?”

“I asked Slater if he was the boy,” Kevin said.

“Did you, now? You omitted that little detail.”

“It was nothing.”

“I said everydetail, Kevin. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing or not. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘What boy?’ It’s not him.”

She didn’t respond.

A car drove by. SUV with bright taillights.

“Ever hear of the Riddle Killer?” Sam asked.

Kevin sat up. “On the news tonight.”

“The Riddle Killer was given that name for a series of murders up in Sacramento over the last twelve months. It’s been three months since his last victim—the brother of an FBI agent who was on his tail. I can guarantee that the FBI will be all over this. Same MO. Guy calls on the phone with a riddle and then executes his punishment if the riddle goes unsolved. Low, gravelly voice. Sophisticated surveillance. Sounds like the same guy.”

“Except . . .”

“Except why would he choose you? And why me?” Sam asked. “Could be a copy cat.”

“Maybe he’s trying to confuse us. Guy like that’s obviously into games, right? So maybe this just ups the thrill for him.” Kevin lowered his head into his hands and massaged his temples. “Just this morning I had a discussion with Dr. Francis about mankind’s capacity for evil. What’s the average person capable of? Makes me wonder what I’d do if I met up with this guy.” He took a deep breath. “It’s hard to believe that people like this actually exist.”

“He’ll get his due. They always do.” She reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my dear knight. There’s a reason I advanced as quickly as I did in the company. I haven’t been handed a case so far I couldn’t crack.” She smirked playfully. “I told you I was gonna be a cop. And I didn’t mean street beat either.”

Kevin sighed and smiled. “Well, you have no idea how glad I am that it’s you.” He caught himself. “Not that I’m glad he’s after—”

“I understand.” She fired the car. “We’ll beat this, Kevin. I’m not about to let some ghost from the past or some serial killer push either one of us around. We’re smarter than this psycho. You’ll see.”

“What now?”

“Now we go find some bugs.”

Twenty minutes later Sam held six eavesdropping devices in a gloved hand. One from the living room, one from each bathroom, one from each bedroom, and the infinity transmitter from the phone.

Her eyes twinkled like a competitive athlete who’d just scored a goal. Sam had always seemed beyond any kind of discouragement; her optimism was one of her most admirable traits. She carried it around her like a fragrance. As far as Kevin was concerned, Sam had what it took to one day run the CBI or CIA or whatever she so desired.

“Won’t slow him down much, but at least it’ll let him know that we’re engaged. These types tend to get trigger-happy if they think the other side is slacking off.”

She filled up the sink, dropped the devices into the water, and peeled off the surgical gloves. “Under normal circumstances I’d take these in, but if I’m right, the FBI has jurisdiction. They would scream bloody murder. First thing in the morning, I’ll call my office, explain the situation, and then let Milton’s office know of my involvement. Not that they will care—I guarantee that the town will be crawling with agencies by morning. I’d have a better shot working on my own than through them anyway.” She was talking to herself as much as to him. “You said they’d be out first thing to sweep for bugs?”

“Yes.”

“Tell them you found these lying around. I’ll make sure they dust for prints. At this point you have nothing else to tell Milton, so let him do his job, and try to stay out of his way. When the FBI makes contact, cooperate. I’ve got a few other things I want to run down first thing. We tracking?”

“And if he calls?”

“If I’m not here, you call my cell immediately. We’ll go from there.” She started for the door and then turned back. “Slater will call. You do know that, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly.

“Get some sleep. We’ll get him. He’s already made his first mistake.”

“He has?”

“He pulled meinto the game.” She grinned. “I was born for cases like this.”

Kevin walked over, took her hand, and kissed it. “Thank you.”

“I think it would be better if I crashed down at the Howard Johnson. No offense, but you don’t have a second bed and leather couches remind me of eels. I don’t sleep with eels.”

“Sure.” He was disappointed only because he felt so alive around her. Secure. In his mind, she was absolutely perfect in every way. Of course, he wasn’t exactly a Casanova, groomed to judge these things.

“I’ll call you.”

Then she was gone.

Slater sits in a red pickup one block from Kevin’s house and watches Sam back out of the driveway then drive south. “There you go; there you go.” He clucks his tongue three times slowly, so that he can hear the full range of its sound. There are two sounds, actually—a deep popping as the tongue pulls free from the roof of the mouth, and a click as it strikes the gathered spittle in the base of the mouth. Details. The kind of details most people die without considering because most people are slobs who have no clue what living is really all about.

Living is about clucking your tongue and enjoying the sound.

They had found the bugs. Slater smiles. She has come and he is so very glad she has come quickly, flaunting her skinny little body all through the man’s house, seducing him with her wicked tongue.

“Samantha,” he whispers. “It is so good to see you again. Give me a kiss, baby.”

The interior of the old Chevy is immaculate. He’d replaced the black plastic instrument panel with custom-fitted mahogany that shines now in the moonlight. A black case beside him carries the electronics he requires for his surveillance—mostly extras. Samantha found the six bugs he’d expected the cops to find, but there are still three, and not even the FBI will detect those.

“It’s dark down here, Kevin. So very dark.”

Slater waits an hour. Two. Three. The night is dead when he eases himself out of the cab and heads for Kevin’s house.