Dead Voices (49 page)

“Tonight,” he repeated softly. His lips brushed against the side of her face, fanning a hot line of breath along the edge of her jaw, then lower, to her outstretched neck. A tingle of fear raced up her spine when she imagined his face shifting, transforming into the salivating jaws of a hungry wolf. She tensed, waiting to feel the swift sting of his needle-sharp teeth as they sank into the flesh of her neck. Her vision got hazy and, looking down, she expected to see him grinning up at her, his mouth streaked with her flooding lifeblood.

No! ... No, don’t do this
! a voice whispered in her mind.
This isn’t right! Don’t let him manipulate you!

She couldn’t deny the dizzying flush of emotion she felt as he held her tightly and kissed her lightly on the lips. She expected him to crush her to him, his hands rubbing violently over her as he tried to undress her. But that didn’t happen. Breaking off the kiss, Graydon pulled away from her and stared at her unblinkingly. His voice was low and commanding when he whispered, again, “
Tonight
!”

But as Elizabeth gazed back at him, unable to turn away or resist, in her fevered imagination she heard him say something else . . .

“
Button . . . First her . . . and now you!”

SEVENTEEN

Waiting for Midnight

1.

“Frank Melrose called this afternoon,” Rebecca said as Elizabeth burst into the kitchen, interrupting her mother and father at their supper. “He said it wasn’t important; but if you ask me, he sounded kinda worked up.”

Elizabeth nodded stiffly as she closed the door, but she didn’t move; she just stood there, not even able to decide whether she should sit down and have something to eat or go straight upstairs to her room. Even now, more than an hour after leaving Graydon’s office, she felt threatened ... unclean from his touch. A numbing cold swept through her body.

She felt dirty, and couldn’t stop wondering which had been smeared most by his touch — her body or her soul? All she knew right now was that she wanted — she
needed
— a long, hot shower.

As painful as it was, she knew Graydon was taking advantage of her; he was
using
her, like a toy, for his own, selfish purposes. She wanted to think that if he had tried to go any further, she would have stopped him ... at least used having her period as an excuse not to have sex with him; but she had felt so helpless, so much under his control, as if she had no will of her own.

But I do, dammit
! she thought angrily.
I’ll show him how strong I am!

That’s all he’s wanted all along, she told herself. He’s a control freak who has to be in command. He’s strongest when he’s in a setting where he holds the reins, like his office. How many other patients — clients — does he use like this?

Elizabeth was nauseated by the vivid mental image of being a puppet for Graydon. With nightmare clarity, she imagined him reaching his hand up inside her head and, like a puppet master, making her do and say what he wanted her to do and say. He was using the abilities he had to manipulate his clients into doing what he wanted — especially into screwing him. That was what he’d wanted all along. The
last
thing she should do is go through with anything else Graydon wanted — especially this insane, impossible plan he had for tonight!

“I — umm, I don’t feel like talking to Frank,” she said, not daring to look directly at her parents for fear they would see everything reflected in her face. Her voice was trembling. “I just don’t want to deal with him. If he calls again tonight, tell him I’m not home.” She felt so drained, so used up, she was surprised she hadn’t collapsed already; but she still stood there by the doorway, unable to take another step for fear of crumpling into a heap on the floor.

“Well, I suppose if it’s that all-fire important, he’ll get back to you,” her mother said, turning back to her meal. “If you didn’t eat while you were out, help yourself. Everything’s still warm.” She waved her hand at the array of food on the table. On the serving platter there was a nice chunk of broiled steak, and beside that a dish of peas, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and a bowl full of salad.

“No. I — I’m not hungry,” Elizabeth said. The sight of the cooked meat made her stomach chum. A sickening, sour taste flooded her mouth. All she could think was ...

He did it to me! Just like in my nightmare, that son of a bitch! He’s nothing more than a wolf, waiting to rip me open!

If
Graydon had tried to press on with his advances — if that’s what they were — would having her period have stopped him? ... Or would it have spurred on his passion?

And what did he mean by whispering “Tonight?” That they would do the\ necessary ceremony? Would she see and talk with Caroline tonight? ... Or, now that she was under his control, would he have his way — completely-with her ... tonight, in the cemetery?

With a massive effort of will, Elizabeth started across the kitchen to the doorway into the hall. The stairway upstairs looked like it was a hundred miles away. She was vaguely surprised that neither her mother nor her father commented on the unsteadiness of her walk. She felt as though she was lurching like a drunkard.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” she said with effort, “and then I think — I think I’ll turn in early tonight. I’m beat.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows in silent concern. All Elizabeth could think was,
Does she have any idea? All along, has she been talking to Junia, and does she know all about what I’ve been doing?

She felt a slight measure of relief when she had left her mother’s questioning gaze and her father’s taciturn silence behind in the kitchen and started up the stairs. She was so weak-kneed she had to hang onto the handrail to keep from collapsing. The lie that she was going to go to bed after her shower tasted like thick phlegm in the back of her throat. Even though she knew it was well past the boundaries of sanity, she knew what she would do later ... tonight ...

No matter if it was against her will or not, she fully intended to meet Graydon at Caroline’s grave in Oak Grove Cemetery just before midnight — just to see if he could
really
do what he said he could!

2.

The phone rang just as Elizabeth was stepping out of the shower. She quickly wrapped a towel around her head and put on her bathrobe as she dashed over to the nightstand beside her bed and picked up the phone. Covering the mouthpiece with one wet hand, she held the receiver tightly against her ear and listened.

“Hello,” she heard her mother say on the downstairs phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Payne, but I was wondering if Elizabeth’s home yet.”

Elizabeth recognized Frank’s voice and held her breath, waiting for what seemed like five minutes before her mother replied.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” she said at last. “She still hasn’t shown up.”

Frank’s exasperated sigh came over the line as clearly as though he were beside Elizabeth in her bedroom. Standing weak-kneed beside her bed, the gentle tug of blood flowing deep in her belly, Elizabeth felt vulnerable; she wondered if she was more threatened by Frank or by Graydon. A spark flickered in her mind, and thinking she might truly be able to trust him, she had a sudden urge to let Frank know she was listening on the line.

What she should do right now, she told herself, is ask her mother to hang up so she could talk to Frank — or better yet, ask Frank to come over to the house so she could talk to him face to face. Maybe that would help convince her that she wasn’t losing her mind. She should be able to trust Frank with everything she had figured out about Graydon’s involvement with what had been happening around town — the digging up of her uncle’s grave, the ceremony done over Caroline’s grave, and — possibly — the murders of Barney Fraser and Henry Bishop.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” Frank said. “I really need to talk to her.”

“Is there — do you want to leave her a message? I can tell her when she gets home,” Elizabeth heard her mother say. The halting way she spoke seemed, at least to Elizabeth, to reveal the truth in spite of her words.

“No — I just wanted to talk to her,” Frank replied.

There was most definitely an urgency in his tone of voice. After Graydon had taken advantage of her weakness this afternoon at his office, all Elizabeth could think was that it was Frank’s need for sex. He — like Graydon — was nothing more than a hungry wolf, wanting to feast on her, to suck the lifeblood from her!

“I’ll be sure to tell her you called, though,” her mother said. “I — uh, expect she’ll be home any minute now.”

“She can reach me at the station,” Frank said. “I should be here — oh, another hour, at least.”

“Fine, then,” her mother said. “Thanks for calling.”

“Thank you,” Frank said and then hung up. Elizabeth waited to hear the second click of her mother hanging up before she gently cradled the phone. Letting a deep sigh escape her, she sat down on the edge of her bed and started to towel-dry her hair. In spite of her cozy bathrobe, gooseflesh rippled over her arms and legs. She tensed, waiting, and then, as expected, heard the tread of her mother’s feet on the stairs. Then came a quick rapping on her door.

“Yeah?” she said shakily, dropping the towel into her lap. A cold band seemed to tighten over the ridge above her eyebrows, and blinding pressure built up behind her eyes. The goose bumps spread up over her shoulders, and her teeth chattered.

“That was Frank on the phone,” her mother said through the closed door.

As if you didn’t already know
, Elizabeth thought, suspecting that her mother knew she had been listening on the extension.

“Yeah ... ?” She said. The tension in her head increased along with a steady, pulsing beat in her temples.

“He sounded like he really wanted to talk to you.”

You could have told him you were there
, Elizabeth added for her.

“So?”

“So — I think it wouldn’t hurt you to give him a call.”

And you know damned well I heard him say he’s down at the police station
.

“I
really
don’t want to talk ... to him or anybody else right now,” Elizabeth said. A headache was unfolding behind her eyebrows, mushrooming like a heavy, fast-moving storm cloud. She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering as the chills racing through her body intensified.

“Suit yourself,” her mother said through the closed door. “But I’I! tel! you one thing ...”

“What’s that?” Elizabeth asked, feeling a wave of desperate exasperation. She was suddenly fearful that if she spoke or heard too many more words, her head would explode.

“I think that if the two of you are ... are seeing each other, if you know what I mean, both you and he are fools. I’m not saying I don’t like Frank, but until you straighten out a few ... other things in your life, I think you’re both jumping the gun.”

“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth snapped. “Frank Melrose and I are not seeing each other. If he ... if he —” For a moment, that was all she could say as her anger at Frank suddenly exploded like fireworks in her mind. “If he
ever
calls again, tell him to leave me alone! Do you understand?”

“If you have any message for him,” her mother replied, “then I expect you’d better deliver it yourself. I’m not about to become your messenger girl.”

There was a slight pause, and Elizabeth could imagine her mother leaning close to the closed bedroom door.

“Good night, Elizabeth.”

“G’night,” Elizabeth said, letting her body unwind as she listened to her mother’s footsteps going back downstairs. They were barely audible above the steady pounding inside her head. As wave after wave of confused, black, and tangled emotions swept through her, she collapsed back onto her bed and closed her eyes so tightly they began to hurt. When she chanced to open them, the light in her bedroom was shattered into a dazzling display of yellow spikes and swirling patterns. From the comer of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her alarm clock and just barely made out the time.

“Six-thirty ... “ she whispered, with a voice as dry as sand. Five and a half hours to wait ... five and a half hours that she knew would seem like forever!

She wished that she could slip into a nightie, climb in under her covers, fall asleep, and forget ... forget
everything
! Let Graydon go out to the cemetery and wait long enough to realize she wasn’t coming. Let him wait until dawn! Let him go straight to hell, for all she cared, and let him take his manipulative, scheming, bullshit male ego with him!

“I’m going crazy!” she rasped aloud as she thrashed about on the bed, pressing her fists against her throbbing head. ‘‘I’m going absolutely, stark raving out of my mind!”

Whimpering softly, she covered her face with her hands and, closing her eyes again, pressed as hard as she could against her forehead. That still didn’t stop the heavy fisted hammering in her skull. She hated what she knew, but just as surely as Caroline was dead, she was positive she would never get a wink of sleep ... not now — not tonight — not ever unless she went out to Caroline’s grave with Graydon.

And she knew, even if it meant her own death, she would do exactly what Graydon told her to do if only she could talk to Caroline one last time. Only then-maybe would she find some peace and calm inside herself.

3.

“You’re obsessed,” Norton said, glancing over at his partner as he took the turn onto Brook Road. Even before the wrought-iron cemetery gate came into view, Frank slowed the car to less than ten miles per hour.

Leaning over the steering wheel, Frank scanned both sides of the road. It was well past nine o’clock. The bone white full moon rode high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the woods and fields. As they approached the cemetery, its moonlit tombstones spread over the hazy gray hillside looked like a distant city. The trees behind the cemetery were hard-edged black lace against the dusty night sky.

“I’m not obsessed,” Frank said softly. ‘‘I’m just checking things out, like we’ve been told to.”

Norton snorted with suppressed laughter. “Yeah — right. As if anything else is gonna happen out here.” He, too, glanced over toward the cemetery but then looked quickly back at his partner.