Ghost Light (35 page)

She is running again…

Although she can’t see the person she is running from, she can hear his heavy breathing, rasping like faulty bellows close to her ears. The heavy
thump-thump
of his footsteps punches the air like distant gunfire. The panic winding up inside her feels like a glowing red coil in the pit of her stomach.

He’s getting closer… closer…

She runs harder, her lungs flaming with exertion.

Like the hand-shaped waves crashing all around her, she can sense that her pursuer is reaching out for her, trying to snag her by the shoulder or foot so he can trip her up… trip her up just enough so she will fall..

And then, she will be his!

But she is running…

Now she is on a narrow, brush-lined path that winds like a tangled brown ribbon along the cliff high above the water’s edge. Cold, prickling spray shoots up all around her, washing over her face and arms like sweat. She feels an almost overpowering urge to look behind her, to see who is pursuing her, but she doesn’t dare look away from the inches-wide dirt path she is following. One false step and she will tumble into the sea that churns far below her like an angry, boiling kettle. She sees tangled seaweed and brown kelp twisting on the water like mermaid’s hair. The jagged rocks below are pointed, like rows of gigantic teeth. In spite of the dizzying vast expanse around her, a choking sensation of claustrophobia embraces her, compressing her chest and burning her lungs.

But she is running…

Running until she comes to the edge of the cliff overhanging the storm-tossed ocean, and then there is nowhere left to run. Trembling inside and feeling an overpowering urge to start screaming and keep on screaming until her throat becomes bloody and raw, she turns around in terrified slow motion to face her pursuer.

For a shimmering instant, the path before her is clear, but she can still sense him, an unseen presence that—she knows—is going to explode into view at any moment. The wind screams in her ears like a woman in pain, but then the dream world around her becomes oddly hushed, muffled with electric expectation. And then, in the flicker of an eye, the space between two throbbing pulse beats, a shape appears along the horizon—a dark, vibrant silhouette that looks like a black hole has been cut out of the sky. It ripples as it shifts swiftly forward, enlarging with frightening speed, but still it is nothing more than a perfectly black human shape with two burning red eyes glowing as they stare unblinking at her and burn into the core of her being.

As the shape moves steadily closer, the scream that is welling up inside her suddenly finds escape—

5

Awakening with a startled yelp, Cindy was surprised to find herself sitting bolt-upright on a couch in unfamiliar surroundings. Momentarily dazed, she looked around at the dingy, dust-glazed room until where she was and how she had gotten there all came rushing back to her. She and the kids had driven for more than an hour before, shortly after dawn, they found Harry’s uncle’s camp on Little Sebago Lake. She’d had a bit of trouble finding the Campbell Shore Road, but the key to the front door was hanging on a nail in the boathouse, right where Harry had told her it would be. After unloading a few necessities from the car, she had settled the kids side by side in the double bed upstairs, and then, exhausted, had collapsed onto the couch and slipped into a thin, disturbed sleep within seconds.

Yawning and stretching, she squinted at the thin haze of yellow sunlight that was shining through the rough flaps of burlap that served as window curtains. The light cast a wash of brown shadows across the bare wooden floor. In one corner of the living room, just in front of one of the windows, was a battered, round oak table, surrounded by four mismatched chairs. The old wood looked as gray as slate because of the thick coating of dust.

Jesus Christ, what have I gotten us into?
Cindy wondered as the gloomy atmosphere of the camp swept over her.

The small of her back complained as she shifted her feet to the floor and slowly stood up, stretching. That movement raised a strong musty smell from the couch that made her cough hoarsely. Rubbing her face with both hands, trying to force herself awake, she walked into the adjoining kitchen. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the grimy stove and yellowed enamel of the old-fashioned refrigerator. She walked over to the rust-stained sink and unconsciously turned the faucet.

“Of
course
not,” she whispered when no water came out. Harry had told her that the water would probably be turned off so the pipes wouldn’t freeze in the winter. No doubt the electricity had been turned off, too, she thought, so she was prepared for nothing to happen when she flipped the light switch above the sink. Harry’s uncle, Dick bland, had died the year before, leaving the camp to his only daughter, Harry’s cousin Louise, who lived out in Oregon. With no other surviving family members living nearby, the camp had been shut up until Louise decided what she was going to do with it.

Getting the power turned back on wasn’t going to be any problem, Cindy thought, all she had to do was drive into town and call Central Maine Power, but she wasn’t so sure about getting the pump running so they’d have water and could flush the toilet, if that even worked. Whether or not the stove and refrigerator were still functional was anybody’s guess.

“Shit, I’ll worry about that later,” she muttered, feeling much more awake as she walked back into the living room and took another look around.

Although Harry had told her the place had gone unused for no more than a year or two at the most, it looked like it hadn’t seen a good cleaning in years, possibly decades. She recalled hearing that Uncle Dick’s wife, Aunt Ruby, had died something like ten years before, and it was obvious this place hadn’t seen a woman’s touch in at least that long. Dirt, dust, and grime were everywhere. Even the mirror beside the stairs leading up to the two small, adjoining bedrooms was smeared so badly Cindy couldn’t see much more of her reflection than a hazy silhouette. She frowned as she wiped the mirror clean, then looked at her hand and wiped it on her pants leg.

“Damn,” she muttered, shaking her head with disgust. It was going to take some
real
work to clean up this place if they were going to stay here for any length of time. The thought gave her a cold, hollow pit in her stomach, and she wondered just how desperate, how crazy she would have to be to actually consider living here all winter as a valid option.

Sighing heavily, she went over to one of the windows and pulled aside the rough curtain. The sudden blast of sunlight stung her eyes, but she had to admit that, if nothing else, the view of the lake was beautiful. The dark water was smooth and glassy, reflecting the surrounding trees and cloudless blue sky like a polished mirror. Across the lake, the deep green of pine trees was interspersed with the flaming reds, yellows, and oranges of changing maples and oaks. It struck Cindy as strange how, even this short a distance north of Portland, autumn seemed to be so much further along.

Thinking about Portland made her sigh again. Her eyes began to burn as if she were about to cry, but she told herself it was because of the bright sunlight streaming in through the grimy window. It fell on her skin with a tight prickly heat that she should have found soothing, but she couldn’t push aside the tormenting thought that—perhaps—she had overreacted to the situation back in Portland. Even in so short a time, her fears and mounting paranoia about that white van and her worries that someone had been watching her and had broken into the apartment on Coyne Street now seemed almost foolish. She cursed herself for uprooting the kids and herself from what now looked like a fairly comfortable, almost pleasant situation, and bringing them into… into
this!

She frowned as she glanced over her shoulder at the small, dingy living room. It would take the better part of a week, if not a miracle, just to make this place habitable, and they weren’t going to get
anything
done without electricity and hot water.

“God
damn
, what have I gotten us into?…
What
have I gotten us into?” she whispered.

She shook her head sadly from side to side, bravely fighting back the tears that burned in her eyes; but then, sighing again, so loud it sounded more like a rumbling groan, she leaned her forehead against the cold, flat glass, closed her eyes, and began to cry.

Interrogations

“I
have to talk to the principal! Right
now!
” Alex shouted as he threw open the office door and strode up to the almost chest-high counter. After hiding the dead woman in her bedroom closet, he had tried to calm himself down, but he was still almost dizzy with adrenalin rushes and his outrage that Cindy had gotten away from him so easily got stronger until he finally exploded with rage and decided he
had
to visit the elementary school.

“Oh, I—I’m sorry, but Mrs. Castine is busy right now,” said the thin, blond woman who stood at the counter, sorting through a stack of yellow file cards. She blinked her eyes rapidly behind wide, round glasses that made her look owlish as she glanced first at him, then over her shoulder at the closed office door to her right. Two other women, who had been busily typing at their desks, paused and looked at Alex. He could practically feel their mounting alarm as he followed the owlish woman’s gaze and caught a glimpse of the principal inside the glass enclosure of her office. With a feeble sweep of her hand, the owlish woman indicated the row of padded chairs lined up against the wall beneath an array of children’s art.

“If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat over there, I’ll see if she can—”

“No! This can’t wait!” Alex snapped.

He leaned forward, his clenched fists on the counter, indicating that he meant business. Then, squaring his shoulders, he walked boldly around the counter, heading straight for the principal’s office. The thin woman took a few steps forward, as though she intended to intercept him, but then she apparently thought better of it and backed off, fluttering her hands helplessly in front of her.

“I—I’m sorry, but she’s on a—a
very
important telephone call right now,” the owlish woman said. “If you would please wait just a second, I can check with her to find out when she could see you.”

Alex detected the high, nervous twitter in the woman’s voice, and he found it almost laughable as he shook his head and said, “No.” The thought crossed his mind that this woman might be scared enough to call the police, but he didn’t care; he was too pissed off now to hold himself back. If he was going to make a strong impression here and get the information he needed, he couldn’t very well pussy-foot around.

“It can’t wait,” he said, pausing just outside the office door, his hand squeezing the doorknob until his knuckles went white. “It’s
extremely
urgent.”

He twisted the doorknob and, shouldering the door open, entered the small office. The glass window in the door rattled from the impact as he swung it shut behind him. The rather large, elderly-looking woman who had been talking on the telephone looked up at him in surprise as she gently replaced the phone on its cradle.

“Yes…? How may I help you?” she asked.

She was smiling at him, but there was an iciness in her tone and expression that made Alex’s anger surge all the higher. The woman’s voice betrayed none of the surprise or anger or abject fear he wanted her to experience at this moment. She only looked mildly annoyed that he had interrupted her like this. Alex wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. The thought flashed through his mind that he certainly might enjoy talking to the principal in more private surroundings… like—say, out in the back of his van, where he had a knife and a length of strong, thin rope… just in case.

All the better to strangle you, my dear
, he thought and almost laughed out loud.

“It’s my kids… they’re missing,” Alex said, trying as hard as he could to make as much of the hostility he was feeling come across as frantic parental worry.

A hint of concern crossed the woman’s face, and she shifted forward and cocked her head to one side, like a chicken, as though to hear better.

“Your children…?”she said, frowning and shaking her head. “I—I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to remember exactly who you are.”

What had that bitch out front said this woman’s name was? Mrs. Castile? Mrs. Castle?… Shit, it was something like that!

“My name’s Alex—” he said, reaching out to shake hands with her. He hesitated just a moment before saying, “Alex Porter. I believe you have my children registered in your school, and now they’re missing.”

“Sit down—sit down and relax, Mr. Porter,” the woman said, indicating the chair beside her desk. “Tell me exactly what the problem is.”

“The problem—?” Alex threw back his head and snorted with raw, twisted laughter. “The problem is my
goddamned
wife—”

He gritted his teeth and shook his clenched fists at the ceiling. Then, sighing deeply and knowing he had to be careful not to blow it here, he made an effort to calm himself down. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to swear like that. I mean my
ex-wife
.”

He considered sitting down and trying to appear entirely rational and in control to this woman, but he was still so swept up by his anger that he couldn’t stop himself from pacing back and forth in front of her desk. With every other step, he smacked his fist into the open palm of his hand. “My ex-wife is trying to take—has
stolen
my kids away from me! And… and now she—she—”

He took a shuddering breath, scrunching up his face, trying to look frightened and miserable.

“Now she’s disappeared with them. She’s
kidnapped
them!”

He took another deep breath and looked at her, trying to gauge if she was buying any of this and was feeling sympathetic toward him, or if her first reaction was one of immediate suspicion.

The principal—
Goddamnit!
Alex thought,
What the Christ is her name?
—cocked one eyebrow at him and, frowning, shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, but the only child named
Porter
registered in this school is
Ian
Porter, and I happen to know his mother and father quite well.”

Alex shrugged tightly, resisting the sudden violent urge to reach across the desk, grab this officious fucking bitch by the throat and throttle her until she told him where Cindy had taken the kids. He realized that it was a long shot, but he was trusting on Cindy’s basic naiveté to have confessed her whole situation the day she had registered the kids for school.

“Well then, she must be using a different last name,” he said, trying to sound calm and rational as he sat down beside her desk. “My kids names are Krissy and Billy Porter. You must know who they are. You certainly don’t have all that many new students every year.”

The principal was silent for a moment as she stroked her fleshy jowls and looked steadily at him; then she nodded her head slightly and said, “Yes, I know Billy and Krissy…
and
their mother.”

“She’s not their—” Alex started to say, but then he cut himself short. Hoping she wouldn’t notice how fast he was shifting gears, he leaned forward and asked her, almost pleading, “Tell me, please, are they in school today?”

The principal’s frown deepened. Covering her mouth with one hand, she glanced at the front office, where the thin, owlish woman stood watching them intently through the glass partition.

“As a matter of fact,” the principal said, “neither one of them showed up for school today. I believe Miss Hollowell has been trying to call home, but there’s been no answer at the house.”

“There,
see
?” Alex shouted, jabbing his forefinger like a gun at her.

Again, blinding anger swept through him like wildfire and he had to restrain himself from pounding his fists on the woman’s desk.

“She’s taken off with them because she doesn’t want me to see them any more. She thinks
I’m
the problem, but the sad truth is, she is!
She’s
the one with the problems!” He stared at the principal with a burning gaze. “She’s a goddamned alcoholic, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s back using coke, either. I swear to God—” He closed his eyes, trying to squeeze out a few token tears, but it didn’t work. “Those kids… those kids are in danger if they’re off somewhere with her!
Damnit!
” He bit his lower lip and shook his head as though filled with dejection. “I could kick myself in the ass for not making sure
I
got legal custody of them back when we first separated.”

“Look here, Mr—uh, Mr. Porter,” the principal said. “I think you might possibly be overreacting in this situation. I realize that in a divorce situation, tempers can fly and people can seem… well, not as stable as they might truly be. I’ve spoken to your wife, and I think she seemed like a—”

“My
ex
-wife!” Alex barked, cutting her off sharply.

Just thinking about Cindy and how she had gotten away from him made him want to rip this fucking office apart with his bare hands. His clenched fists began to hurt all the way up to his elbows as he closed his eyes for a moment and held his breath, fighting to control his surging fury.

“Yes, your ex-wife,” the principal said mildly. “But I’ve spoken with her, and she seemed like a very nice person who had nothing but the children’s well-being and best interests in mind.”

Just hearing that legal term his lawyer had tossed out—
in the best interest of the child
—made Alex cringe.

“Now, thinking back on it,” the principal continued, “I’ll have to grant you that the children—especially Billy, seemed a bit… oh, I’d say aloof—standoffish. I naturally assumed it was his nervousness at being in a new school, but who can tell. Krissy seemed quite withdrawn, but at her age that would be entirely normal. I’d like to assure you, however, that, at least in my opinion, your ex-wife seemed to be greatly concerned and caring when it came to her children.”

They’re NOT her fucking children!
Alex thought, and it was a struggle not to say it out loud. Instead, though, he smiled thinly, cleared his throat, and said, “Well—yeah, then—uh, maybe you caught her on a good day, before she’d started drinking.”

“Now Mr. Porter, I don’t think it’s any of my business to sit here and try to analyze what, if any, problems you and your ex-wife might be having.”

She regarded him with a smug expression that made him feel all the more angry, but he forced himself to remain calm. He twisted his hostility around, hoping he would appear nearly sick with worry. In a moment of calmness, a sudden chill swept through him when he realized that he might have already blown it by coming here today, but he knew now that he had started it, he would have to follow this conversation through to the end, otherwise, it would look suspicious as all hell.

“Well then,” he said, trying to make his voice tremble as though it was breaking with repressed emotion, “do you have any idea, if she did take off with my kids, where she might have taken them?”

For what seemed like several seconds, the principal simply stared back at him, making him feel like an insect, squirming beneath her steady gaze. Again, he thought just how great it would feel to choke the fucking life out of her just as he already had with one other woman who had gotten in his way this morning. With a little distance, now, the incident in the vacant apartment seemed to have invigorated him. Thinking how the dark-haired woman wearing the bathrobe had felt as she slumped unconscious into his arms, the life ebbing away from her, filled him with a dark, gushing pleasure that he hadn’t felt since… well, actually not since he had taken care of Cindy’s husband in the motel room back in Council Bluffs. He tried to calm himself by focusing his mind on how terrific he would feel once he—finally—got his hands on Cindy!

“I… I need to know,” he said, forcing himself to make a hitching, sobbing sound. “If she hurts them again… If she even
touches
them… I—I don’t know if I can stand it.” He looked at her, blinking his eyes rapidly as though fighting back the tears. “But did she… did she ever say anything about any friends she might have or… or a place where she might go. I… I
have
to find them—the kids, to… to make sure they’re all right.”

He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, trying hard to make his eyes tear up, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Look, Mr. Porter,” the principal said, raising her hands and letting them drop onto the desk as though she was entirely helpless in this situation. “Your children, when I saw them, seemed to be perfectly happy and healthy. And they didn’t
disappear
into thin air. Because they weren’t at school when this incident occurred, I can’t do anything official to help you. If you’d like, I could put you in touch with the Portland police.”

“And what good would
they
do?” Alex said, trying to make his voice break as his anger surged again. “I have no idea where they’ve gone or even if they’re all right. And the police would have to wait—how long before they’d file a missing persons report? A couple of days? No—” He shook his head vigorously. “By that time, she could have taken them
anywhere!
”

“I’m truly sorry,” the principal said softly, “but there’s nothing else I can do. If you’d like to leave your phone number, I’ll call you if they show up at school or if I hear from your wife.” She caught herself and added, “Your ex-wife, I mean.”

Alex looked at her with a steadily mounting suspicion that this woman knew
exactly
where Cindy had gone. Maybe she had spilled her guts and told her
everything
, and now she was working with Cindy and maybe even the police to find out where he was staying so she could sic the police on him for killing Debbie. He realized he had misplayed this hand, but, snorting loudly, he eased back in his chair and, pressing one hand against his forehead, said, “No… no, I—”