Johnny Gruesome (41 page)

So beautiful,
she thought.

Then she crashed onto the roof beneath her window, her naked body splayed out in eight inches of snow, the wind knocked out of her lungs as shards of glass rained around her. Her breasts ached, and her fingers clawed at the snow, but she found it difficult to maneuver without breathing. She dug her toes into the snow but they failed to find traction. With great pain and effort, she crawled into the rectangle of golden light spilling through the broken window behind her, toward the roof’s edge. Johnny’s shadow fell over her, filling the rectangle. She crawled faster, her heart pounding.

Almost there—

Hands as greasy as leftover chicken seized her ankles and pulled her back to the window.

No!
She fought back, kicking her naked legs. Her fingernails snapped and pain ripped her fingertips. Johnny’s arms encircled her hips and he lifted her up and yanked her inside. She clawed at the window frame with her bloody fingers, but the broken glass cut her hands even worse. Johnny hurled her onto the bed. Banging her head, she fell to the floor, forcing the bed away from the wall. She gasped for breath.

“That’s my girl.” Johnny kicked the bed askew so he could get at her. “You’ve got bigger balls than Gary.”

“Fuck you!” Pressing her back against the corner, she kicked at his groin, but he deflected her foot with ease.

“I’m not into sloppy seconds, even if you are.” He raised the crowbar over his head, and she held her left arm up for protection. The crowbar whooshed down in a blur, smashing her arm away. Its curved end bit into the top of her head and a splotch of blood splattered the wall behind her. A surprised cry escaped her lips, and she wondered why she remained alive. Gritting his teeth, Johnny leaned on the crowbar, driving it deeper into her skull, then threw his weight against it. Karen’s scalp split open with a sickening rip, and her skull ruptured, blood and fluid spraying in all directions. Johnny pried the crowbar free, wet tissue dripping from its end. Karen slumped back, her brain exposed and her eyes open. Blood flowed down her face and over her breasts.

Circling the bed, Johnny dropped the crowbar beside Gary’s head and stepped over him to the bureau. He picked up a framed photo of himself with Karen and held it next to his face. Staring at his reflection, he noted the changes in his appearance. Shaking his head, he set the photo down. He saw the cocaine on the plate, splattered with blood.

What the hell, he thought. You only live once.

Picking up the straw, he hunched over and snorted two lines of the crimson-colored powder. Standing erect and sniffing the coagulated coke up his gaping nasal passages, he stared at his reflection and grinned.

T
he Carters drove home from the police station in silence. Eric sat in the backseat, gnawing on the inside of his mouth as he stared out the window at the falling snow. It had felt liberating to confess everything to Chief Crane, but now he had to deal with the consequences.

That’s okay. It was the right thing to do. I should have done it right away. Rhonda is dead because of me.

Tears formed in his eyes. Johnny had murdered Todd and left his head in Gary’s locker. Had Johnny really intended to frame Gary for the slaying, or was he just toying with him, the way a cat plays with a mouse?

I saw him. I really saw him.

Had Johnny been playing with him, as well?

Yes. He left that handprint on my window. He wanted me to see him at The Bus.

And Karen?

He made those phone calls to her. She wasn’t crazy. Neither am I.

Johnny had also done—something—to Carol Crane. He had torched the Lawson funeral parlor, with three of the Lawsons inside. And he had murdered Mr. Milton.

Rhonda.
He dug his fingernails into his palms.
Why Rhonda?

Because he wanted to send me a message, the same as he did with Gary.

Message received.

“I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” Pat said as soon as Robert closed the front door to their house. “Picking up my son from a police station! All of those reporters stationed outside. Thank God they didn’t know anything about this. I just don’t understand how this could have happened.”

“That’s because you don’t understand anything about me,” Eric said.

“I certainly had no idea I was raising a grave robber.”

“For God’s sake, I am not a grave robber!”

Robert unbuttoned his coat. “Don’t use that tone of voice with your mother, Eric.”

Eric stared at his father with a look of disbelief on his face. Before he could respond, his mother cut him off.

“What do you call it, then, if not grave robbery? You sneaked into a closed cemetery. That’s called trespassing. You dug up that grave like some kind of ghoul. I’ll see to it that Carol Crane never even works as a substitute teacher in this district again. She should be arrested—”

Eric raised his voice. “This was all my idea. I would have dug up Johnny’s coffin whether Mrs. Crane came with me or not.”

“—feeding the delusions of a troubled minor—”

“‘Troubled’? You’re damned right I’m troubled!”

Robert stepped between them. “You’re in enough trouble as it is. Do you have any idea how much we’re going to spend on legal fees because of you? Thank God Abe Kaufman came out in this weather and at this hour to handle your paperwork.”

“You’re just as bad as she is,” Eric said.

“We’re going to have to move. Do you understand that? This little village of ours is going to be in the media spotlight for years, and you’re going to be in the eye of the storm. Do you think we’ll ever be able to lead normal lives again?”

“No, I don’t. And right now, I don’t care. My classmates are being slaughtered one by one. All Mom cares about is that the neighbors will gossip about us, and all you care about is how much it’s going to cost to keep this off my precious record so I won’t embarrass you.”

“That’s enough, Eric!”

He looked from his father to his mother. “What’s the use? You don’t even communicate with each other!” He stormed upstairs and slammed his bedroom door, leaving his parents to contemplate his sanity.

Inside his bedroom, Eric locked the door. He ran to his desk and snatched a set of keys from the top drawer. Switching on the radio, he cranked the music and faced the window, which he unlocked. He pushed on the window’s frame, but it didn’t budge.

Damn it!

He pounded on the frame, then tried again. This time it ground open, and cold wind blew the curtains at him. Sticking one leg over the sill, he touched the roof with his sneaker. Ducking low, he stepped outside. The wind whipped at him, numbing his face. He closed the window, leaving it open just a crack so he’d be able to get in again, then walked to the roof’s edge and looked at the snowdrift below.

In better weather, he’d have climbed down the latticework on the side of the house, but with all of the ice, he might break a leg. Raising one foot, he stepped off the roof and plummeted through space. His stomach barely had time to lurch before he landed in the snow up to his ass.

Getting up, he brushed the snow off his clothes, then made his way to his father’s Lexus. Peering at the house’s picture window, he saw his parents’ retreating shadows behind the curtains. He used his key to unlock the Lexus, rather than the remote control, to avoid unnecessary noise. Easing the door open, he cringed as the dome light came on and the vehicle’s alert system chimed. Sliding behind the wheel, he shut the door just hard enough for the latch to catch. He started the engine, then backed out of the driveway and drove off.

The Lexus crept through the heavy snowfall. As far as Eric could tell, his parents had not noticed his escape. He switched on the headlights and windshield wipers, then opened the door and slammed it. Through deserted streets, he drove downtown. Seeing a state police car patrolling Main Street two blocks away from the town square, he pulled over to the curb before dark shopwindows and waited. The snow provided ample cover, and when the police car turned right onto Water Street, he gave the gas pedal a gentle push. Passing the park, he approached Main Street and stopped. Looking from side to side, he searched for more police activity and spotted a local squad car cruising a side street in the opposite direction.

He turned left, the Lexus’s wheels grinding compressed snow, and prowled the deserted street. Light emanated from the windows of taverns, the only businesses that remained open. A traffic light swayed in the wind. Eric wondered if the police had arrested Karen and Gary yet.

It didn’t matter. I have to do this alone.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he passed the cemetery. Deep inside the boneyard, he saw red and blue lights pulsing like beacons. Emergency personnel were still handling the situation at Johnny’s grave.

Rhonda.

His chest heaved, and tears filled his eyes. The car drifted into the wrong lane. He stepped on the brake pedal, stopping the Lexus in the middle of the street, and shifted into park. Pounding the dashboard with his right hand, he howled. He tried to rock forward, but the shoulder strap held him back. Covering his eyes with his left hand, he wiped away the tears and massaged his temples at the same time. He ran the back of the hand beneath his nose, clearing mucus. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the task that lay ahead.

A shadow fell over his window.

Eric jumped in his seat as a figure leaned close to the glass, peering in at him through the eyeholes of a black ski mask. Eric’s heart thundered in his chest, and he shifted the gear into drive. A gloved hand reached for the glass. Eric’s right foot hovered above the gas pedal. The figure rapped on the window and he relaxed. He doubted Johnny would knock before attacking him. The figure knocked again, so he lowered the window two inches.

“What are you doing out here, Eric?”

Damn it!
An adult who knew him. He was screwed. “Who wants to know?”

The figure pulled off his ski mask, and Eric sighed at the sight of Henry Norton.

“Sorry if I startled you, but when you stopped in the middle of the street like that, I thought the worst.”

Catching his breath, Eric lowered the window the rest of the way. “What are you doing out here, Henry?”

“I volunteered for citizens’ patrol. The cops need all the help they can get. What are you doing out after curfew?”

Admiring Henry’s sense of civic duty, Eric gambled that the middle-aged former wrestler didn’t know his address. “I’m going home now. I live up by the school.”

Henry glanced up the hill. “Well, hurry up, okay? I mean it. This is no time to screw around.”

“Sure thing, Henry. Thanks.” Eric raised the window and pulled away, leaving Henry to continue his unorthodox surveillance. Staring straight ahead as he passed Johnny’s house, he caught himself speeding and slowed down.

Can’t afford to get pulled over. They’ll think I’m making a run for it.

He passed the high school and made a right onto Route 20. Fewer streetlights provided illumination, and the darkness beyond the falling snow grew denser.