Authors: Anthony Izzo
Evil Harvest (8 page)
“Rafferty won’t find out.”
“The hell he won’t. That man’s a fly on the wall in every building in this town. He doesn’t miss a trick.” Jimbo hawked and spat.
“I think you’re afraid of him.”
“If you were smart, you’d be afraid of him too.”
“What’s the worst he’d do to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just kill me and eat my guts out, I suppose.”
Carl spoke in a soft tone, as if explaining something simple to a child. “But you’re older. You’ve got experience on your side, Jimbo. You told me just the other day that you made your first kill before Rafferty was even thought of.”
That
was
true, Jimbo thought. He did have experience versus Rafferty’s toughness and youth. Then he mentally shook himself. “This is horsecrap. Get Tubby here into the dungeon before Rafferty shows up.”
was
true, Jimbo thought. He did have experience versus Rafferty’s toughness and youth. Then he mentally shook himself. “This is horsecrap. Get Tubby here into the dungeon before Rafferty shows up.”
“I think you could take care of him, Jimbo. Honest. You could run this town if Rafferty was gone,” Carl persisted.
“You’re just kissin’ ass because I’m mad at you.”
“No, I ain’t. I think you could give old numb-nuts police chief a run for his money.”
The wheels began to turn in Jimbo’s head. He
was
older and more experienced in hunting and killing than Rafferty. He had killed hundreds of humans and nine or ten of his own kind in one dispute or another. Maybe he
could
take Rafferty, if it came down to it. Besides, he was getting sick of taking Rafferty’s crap year after year, watching him strut around town like a peacock. “Maybe you’re right, Carl. Set him down and then go put the Closed sign on the door. Make sure the door’s locked.”
was
older and more experienced in hunting and killing than Rafferty. He had killed hundreds of humans and nine or ten of his own kind in one dispute or another. Maybe he
could
take Rafferty, if it came down to it. Besides, he was getting sick of taking Rafferty’s crap year after year, watching him strut around town like a peacock. “Maybe you’re right, Carl. Set him down and then go put the Closed sign on the door. Make sure the door’s locked.”
“Right.” Carl dropped the salesman’s legs and hurried into the office area.
Jimbo set the rest of Fatty’s bulk on the floor, feeling brave right now. Why not indulge a little? Rafferty would never know. And if he did find out, he would be in for a nasty surprise because Old Jimbo was done taking his crap.
Carl came back into the garage area, his eyes wide like a child discovering presents under the Christmas tree.
“I’m gonna feed,” Jimbo said.
He closed his eyes and focused in his mind on his jaw and mouth.
Grow
. The muscles in the jaw began to pulse, first slowly and then popping like pistons in an engine. Bones ground and shifted. His jaw expanded sideways, the skin stretching like a grotesque balloon. The flesh around his mouth and on his cheeks darkened to a blackish green tint, grew leathery and tough. The teeth thickened and became elongated, tearing through gum tissue that would later heal. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
Grow
. The muscles in the jaw began to pulse, first slowly and then popping like pistons in an engine. Bones ground and shifted. His jaw expanded sideways, the skin stretching like a grotesque balloon. The flesh around his mouth and on his cheeks darkened to a blackish green tint, grew leathery and tough. The teeth thickened and became elongated, tearing through gum tissue that would later heal. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
“A partial change,” Carl said. “That takes control!”
Squatting over the body, Jimbo pressed his mouth against the side of Fatty’s neck. With a wet tearing sound, he bit the dead man’s throat, spilling blood onto the white dress shirt. With his fangs, he tore away a chunk of flesh. The feast had begun.
Jill and Cora sat in the cafeteria at Lincoln Memorial. The clink of dishes and the occasional hiss from the deep fryer echoed in the background. A few surgeons dressed in gray scrubs picked at club sandwiches, their gazes blank and bleary.
“I’m positive I locked that door before I left,” Jill said, and put a forkful of salad in her mouth. She was surprised that the food was actually pretty good. The salad had a mess of shredded cheese over the top and the cook hadn’t skimped on grilled chicken pieces either. Cora’s lunch looked good too. She had a Mount McKinley–sized mound of french fries on her plate and the remains of strawberry milk shake in a tall glass.
“You don’t think he picked it, do you?” Cora said.
A page for a Dr. Salam crackled over the intercom.
“Why would he want to?”
“Maybe he’s got a thing for you.”
Jill sorted through her salad with the fork. “Please.”
“Just watch yourself. Cops can do wrong just like anyone else. Maybe you should get some pepper spray.”
“It hasn’t come to that,” Jill said, crunching another bite of salad. “And I hope it won’t.”
“After what happened to you the other night, you can’t be too careful,” Cora pointed out.
When they first sat down, Jill had recounted the story of her assault at the warehouse, not mentioning the strange animal.
Cora took a swig of her milk shake. “So, you heard from the Good Samaritan?”
“Not yet.”
“You should call him.”
“I want to, but I think it would be kind of weird. We don’t even know each other.”
“Most men would’ve kept right on driving, don’t you think? Maybe there’s a little something special about him.”
“Well—”
“Well, nothing. Besides, you said he seemed okay. And he was good-looking too.”
Jill smiled. “That he was.”
“I’ve got a good feeling about him, Jill. The way you said he was polite and sort of sweet.” Cora plucked a fry from the plate. “You should make some friends, anyway.”
“You really think he sounds all right?”
“Him, yes. That cop, no. Stay away from him.”
Jill shuddered at the thought of Rafferty being in her home, his eyes probing her body.
“What’s the matter?”
“Just thinking about that creep of a police officer. He looked at me like he wanted ... you know.”
“To do the wild thing?”
Jill burst out laughing at Cora’s description. “Yeah, only without my full cooperation.”
Cora pointed at her with her french fry. “You keep me posted on that cop. I gotta go to the little girl’s room.”
Cora hefted herself up from the chair. Jill picked up her tray and took it to the trash receptacle. She felt the gazes of the two surgeons on her and fought the impulse to look back over her shoulder. She found it strange how people always knew when someone was watching them, almost like a sixth sense. Maybe it came from caveman days, when you had to be aware of being watched if you didn’t want to end up as dinner for a saber-toothed tiger.
She didn’t mind the occasional look from men. She supposed it meant she was still marketable. It had been a constant problem when she was dating Jerry, though. The two of them would go out to a bar or restaurant, Jerry would go to use the john and a guy would offer to buy her a drink. Jerry would come back and threaten to kick the guy’s ass across the parking lot and make a huge scene.
But he was history and she really shouldn’t dwell on him, she supposed. He was immature and hot-tempered, playing drinking games at parties and picking fights with anyone he thought had looked at him funny. Part of her was relieved when he broke it off, because she didn’t want to spend her life with someone who was terminally thirteen years old, she realized now.
So maybe she
would
give Matt Crowe a call and feel him out for a friendly dinner. He seemed all right and she really didn’t know too many people in town. It would be a friendly date, nothing more—but if it became more, she wouldn’t mind.
would
give Matt Crowe a call and feel him out for a friendly dinner. He seemed all right and she really didn’t know too many people in town. It would be a friendly date, nothing more—but if it became more, she wouldn’t mind.
Cora came back to the table, sat down and dug into her fries.
“I’m going to call him,” Jill told her.
“Amen to that.”
Jill punched the time clock, wished Cora good night and strolled out the ER entrance. The heat baked her skin, and she squinted against the sunlight. She unfastened the top two buttons on her blouse and fanned the material. It had to be ninety out here.
She reached the parking ramp, nodded to the attendant in the booth (she thought his name was Al, but she could never remember) and walked through the entrance to the first level. To her right was the door to the stairs and the second level where her car was parked.
She reached her car and had just inserted the key in the lock when she heard someone whistling behind her.
She jerked the key from the lock, inserted it between her index and middle fingers and made a fist so it could be used to strike an attacker. Then she whirled around, half expecting to see a hulking fiend reaching out to grab her and drag her to the shadows. Instead she saw Chief Ed Rafferty standing with his hands up as if to say, “Whoa, easy now.”
He snapped his fingers. “Wow, you’re quick. That’s good, though, using the key like you have it. That’s a sure way to disable an attacker. Go for the eyes, the throat or the crotch.”
She clamped down tighter on the key. “Chief, no disrespect, but why are you here?”
“Just looking out for you, Jill. A pretty girl walking by herself to a parking ramp could be inviting trouble.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” she pointed out.
“You can’t be too careful.”
She looked around the ramp, hoping for someone else to walk past. “This town seems pretty quiet to me. I think I’ll be okay.”
The chief wrinkled his mouth to one side and said, “Hmm. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it might help you be more safe. Keep in mind I’m not trying to scare you. A while back a nurse named Helen Devereaux was walking to the garage after her shift—she finished at three-thirty. Well, Helen strolled up to the third level of the ramp with no trouble. It was daylight, just like now, and she felt safe and secure, I’m positive. Well, when she reached the third flight of stairs there was someone waiting for her. We found her purse and a broken nail on the concrete. It was painted pink, if I remember right. That was the end of her.”
Is he trying to convince me I need protection?
Half of her was rattled by Rafferty following her and the other half wanted to kick him square in the family jewels and then speed away in her car. “Thank you for the warning, Chief, but I really have to get home.”
Half of her was rattled by Rafferty following her and the other half wanted to kick him square in the family jewels and then speed away in her car. “Thank you for the warning, Chief, but I really have to get home.”
“Why’s that? No man to get home to, and I didn’t notice any pets to feed or take care of.”
“I’m tired and I want to get a shower and some rest.”
“Hmmm. A shower. Good idea.”
She immediately wished she hadn’t mentioned it because she was sure Rafferty was visualizing her naked, soapy body in his head. The thought made her queasy.
“Pretty hot, huh, Jill?”
“Yes, it is. Now I really have to go.”
Rafferty took a step toward her and leaned on the car, effectively preventing her from opening the door.
“Noticed you have a few buttons undone. Can’t say I blame you.”
Jill pulled the cotton material closed and held it to her chest.
“No need to be embarrassed. You’re a beautiful woman. Gotta show off what you have. Am I right?”
Jill turned and slid the key into the lock. “I have to go,” she repeated firmly.
Rafferty grabbed her wrist and pulled it away; the key remained in the lock.
He probably expected her to cower before him, but instead she looked him right in the face (the whole time wanting to work up a gob of spit and let it fly in his kisser) and asked him, “How did you know what time I got off, Chief? And why are you harassing me?”
He narrowed his eyes, bent down within kissing distance. “I know a lot of things in this town, Jill. I know where everybody lives and where they work. I know what time they go to bed and what time they get up. I know when they fuck their wives and even when some of them take a shit. This is my town, and I don’t miss a goddamn trick. You remember that.”
His placid gaze had become a look of fury; the grip on her wrist tightened and her hand turned china-white from the pressure exerted on it. He whispered, “You just remember: I see everything. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll see that body of yours naked through your window some night. You won’t even know I’m there.”
She pulled away from him. He stank. Like the guy in the warehouse.
Oh, Lord
.
Oh, Lord
.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, he reached over with his free hand, seized her hair and pulled her face close to his. Twisting the hair, he turned her head to the side and slid his warm tongue into her ear.
She felt hot and dizzy, her head swollen. Tears of rage pooled in her eyes and her face felt like it was on fire. The last thing she wanted was for Rafferty to see her cry.
He let her go and backed away, grinning. “I’ll be seeing you, Jill.”
She immediately unlocked the car door and climbed inside, clicking the lock shut. Then she dug in her purse for a tissue. Rafferty’s disgusting act had left her ear wet and slimy.
She tossed the used tissue on the passenger seat, started the car, slammed it into reverse, then screeched out of the parking ramp, half afraid that if she saw Rafferty walking she would splatter him all over the concrete with her Toyota.
But Rafferty was gone as fast as he came. After driving three blocks she settled down a little bit and eased off the gas. The first thing she would do upon arriving home was take a hot shower. The second would be to call Matt Crowe and tell him what happened. She remembered the comment he made about police corruption in Lincoln, and it turned out he was correct. But what troubled her even more was the smell that came off of Ed Rafferty’s hide.
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