Listen to the Shadows (25 page)

And waited.

Chapter 26

Down below, the outside cellar door creaked open slowly on rusted hinges, letting in light that cut a pale blue swath across the cement floor, swallowing it up again at the door closed.

And suddenly he was standing on the bottom step smiling up at her. Katie’s breath seemed to clot in her throat. She couldn’t move or scream, only stand in numb disbelief, taking in the baggy overalls, the faded army jacket, the mudcaked boots with their top laces undone.

“You,” she said at last.

“Surprise.”

There was amusement in his voice, and a terrible coldness. She’d heard hints of the coldness before. She remembered now—now that it was too late.

“What have you done with Jonathan?”

“All in due time. Surely you’ve heard that patience is a virtue. I’m an expert on patience. Oh, yes. You’re a long way from Lennoxville,

Katie. I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”

“Why?” she asked, and it was as if her voice belonged to someone else.

“Revenge.” His smile widened, a death-smile, lifting the hairs on the nape of her neck.

He watched her fear, enjoyed it. Too bad about her falling for the shrink. It would have been far more interesting to have her rely on him for awhile, trust him. He’d meant to terrorize her to point where she would be driven to reach out, to cling—well, the plan had worked well enough, he had to admit that. Except that she’d found another hero.

Well, no matter…

The flame in Katie’s lamp flickered precariously as her hand shook.

But her voice was even as she asked again, “Where’s Jonathan, Drake? What have you done with him?”

“Back to that, are we? Well, Jonathan’s waiting for you too, Katie. We’re going to have a little party. A sort of farewell party—just the three of us.”

“Jason,” she whispered, as it came to her. “You killed Jason.”

“I didn’t need a boyfriend on the scene. And then I heard about the letter they found on him when they pulled him out of the lake. A queer, for Christ’s sake.” He laughed, an ugly sound. “It didn’t matter.

He could have identified me.”

“He saw you leaving this house.” How could she ever have thought Drake Devlin even remotely attractive? And yet, nothing about him had altered. He had that same clean-cut, masculine face, the same smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, the faintly clefted chin.

Only the eyes are different, she thought. Or was it simply that she had not looked closely enough before? She again recalled Sergeant

Miller’s remarking how easy his job would be if killers always looked like killers.

“He might have gotten away if he’d stayed in his car,” Drake was saying matter-of-factly. “But he wanted to be a hero—everybody wants to be a hero. I chased him down in the truck. There was no place left for him to go but the lake—or under my wheels.”

“He couldn’t swim,” she muttered foolishly.

“Just wasn’t his day, was it?”

He laughed, that same insane, chilling laugh she’d heard on the telephone. He was crazy—crazy. The laughter cut off as quickly as it began. His eyes slithered over her. “I have to admit Raynes had great taste in women. Raynes…” He cocked his head like a dog listening for some alien sound, a sound only it could hear. “He wanted to be a hero, too.”

This last sentence came out thin and hollow, and it took a moment for it to register in Katie’s mind. Then, “You knew—Todd?”

“I was a little worried you might recognize me from the picture.”

“Picture? What picture?” What was he talking about? Jonathan, please, please be all right. Dear God, let him be all right.

“There were four or five of us in one of the snapshots Raynes sent you. I was the one leaning on the rifle.”

Drake was in a picture Todd had sent her? She remembered then

Drake telling her he’d been in Vietnam.

“You were in Todd’s regiment,” she said, a statement, not a question. No. I don’t remember you from any picture Todd sent me.” Drake wanted her to remember, she could tell. His vanity wanted her to remember. It was almost funny, except that she didn’t feel like laughing.

“I would only have been looking at Todd,” she said deliberately.

“Not very flattering.”

Something about Jason came to her then—something Drake told her that didn’t add up. “You said the only time you saw Jason was the night you were leaving this house—I mean, the clothes on that—

Jason’s clothes…”

He smiled easily, smoothed his hair in that way he had, with his left hand, the one not clutching the knife. “I’d already broken into his apartment days before and taken the clothes.”

Drake started up the stairs toward her.

Katie backed up until she was standing with her back pressed against the locked door. There was nowhere to go.

Drake knew it, too. He stopped, in no particular hurry. But she felt the crawling, restless evil in him.

“Katie, don’t you see? I’ve known all about you for some time now—where you worked, what you did, who your friends were. I made it my business.” He put out a hand to her.

Fingers reaching out for her—fingers of a man without heart or soul. She remembered her dream, and the hand of the strawman touching her face.

“Come, Katie. It’s time.”

She cringed at his touch.

“By the way, I don’t really care for the suit. Much too conservative. I have something far more interesting for you to wear. I bought it especially for you. You’ll remember when you see it.”

Suddenly aware of the heft of the lamp in her hand, her grip on it tightened. But her intention to bring it down on Drake’s head must have registered in her face, in the tensing of her muscles, for Drake’s hand clamped down hard on her wrist, nearly knocking the lamp from her grasp, making her cry out with pain.

“Not smart,” he said quietly, and took the lamp from her.

Close to him now, Katie could smell the damp sour earth blending with the musky odor of stale sweat coming off him. “Come,” he said, smiling his death-smile.

The instant Katie stepped off the bottom step into the cellar, she saw Jonathan. He was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. She tried to wrench herself free, to go to him, but Drake’s powerful grip tightened on her wrist like a steel clamp. Then she felt a sharp sting of the knife-point breaking her skin, felt the warm trickle of blood down her side, erasing any further thought of escape.

“You want to be with your boyfriend, don’t you?” Drake crooned in feigned sympathy. “Well, don’t worry. You will be. Soon. Very soon.”

He was eyeing Jonathan curiously, with something like begrudged respect. “Funny, it never occurred to me this guy was anything other than your doctor. Always room for human error, isn’t there?”

You’re not human, she thought. You’re not…He was taking something from beneath his jacket. He tossed it to her. “Put it on,” he said softly.

She made no move to obey.

She felt the sharp nudge of the knife. Hesitantly, she bent and picked up the filmy negligee. She recognized it as one of those he’d given her in the hospital, one of the gifts she’d returned. Briefly turning her frightened gaze on Jonathan, she saw now that his hands and feet were bound. He was so still, so awfully still.

“I’ll freeze in this,” she said, turning back to Drake.

“Put it on.” His voice left no room for argument. Nor did the knife in his hand.

Hands shaking, she undid the tiny gold buttons of her jacket, slid it off her shoulders. Next her skirt, pulling it down over her hips, painfully aware of every agonizing second of Drake’s eyes on her. Do what he says. Don ’ t antagonize him. Just wait your chance. Oh, God, what chance? What possible chance was there with Jonathan…Why was this happening? Why? She slipped the negligee over her head.

“No!” The word snapped like a whip. “Everything. Take off everything.” Slowly, deliberately, he began to caress the knife blade, sliding the flat of it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.

A moment later she stood naked before him, writhing inwardly beneath his scalding, vile scrutiny. The pores of her skin tightened against the penetrating cold of the cellar—against him. Her fingers clumsy, she quickly put on the negligee, sliding the flimsy straps over her shoulders, feeling the skirt like spider webbing against her bare ankles.

“Now, get down on the floor.”

She did as he said. The cement was rough and needle-cold against her flesh.

His eyes moved over her. He smiled—a slow smile. “Nice,” he said. “Very nice.”

Was he going to rape her now? Was it all part of some sick ritual he’d planned for revenge? Revenge for what? Please, God help me.

She hated the tears that blinded her eyes. She hated her helplessness.

He knelt down, but other than to tie her hands and feet, he made no attempt to touch her. A reprieve? She allowed herself a faint ray of hope. Jonathan was tied up, too. There would have been no need for Drake to tie him up if he were already dead.

Maybe if she started Drake talking, stalled for time, she would think of something—something to do. It worked in the movies. She shivered. She was so cold. She ached with it. Why don’t the police come? Aren’t they supposed to be watching the house? Maybe Jonathan will wake up. And do what, Katie? His hands and feet are bound.

“You said you wanted revenge,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Why, Drake? Was it because I couldn’t love you?” She knew, of course, it was something far more complex than that. Hadn’t Drake said he’d been searching for her for a long time? He’d known all about her—even that she’d once lived in Lennoxvillle. And he was in the war with Todd. But it was the only thing she could think of to get him talking.

He grunted as he gave the rope about her right wrist an extra turn. She winced, feeling it cut into her flesh. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he spat out. His pale eyes bored into hers. It was all she could do not to look away. “It’s Raynes I want revenge against. You’re nothing more than the means.”

“But Todd—Todd’s dead.” Wasn’t he?

“I know that,” he said, standing now to appraise his work. He looked pleased with himself. “I took your picture off his body. It was in his wallet along with your address.”

His tone was so off-hand that for a moment Katie couldn’t comprehend the words. She did understand that Drake put that picture in Jason’s hand, which of course was the sole reason he’d gone to the funeral parlor. But why? Why did he take that picture from Todd. And why was Todd’s body never found?

Keep him talking. That’s your only hope now. Jonathan’s only hope. Fortunately, he seemed to need little prodding. She could sense him wanting to talk—wanting to spew out all the deep, dark secrets worming around inside of him. But not from any feelings of guilt. Oh, no, not guilt. Never guilt. Rage was what she felt from him. That, and a need to brag.

“Tell me, Drake,” she said in the way of a sympathetic friend. “Tell me what happened.”

He gave her a long, hard look, as though deciding something about her. Then, when her gaze didn’t waver, his own eyes shifted to a spot just above her head, becoming gradually veiled as if he were seeing something in the distance—something from some other time and place.

He began suddenly to pace the brief expanse of cement floor, his movements jerky, erratic.

His words began falteringly. “We—uh, were on our bellies crawling through the hot, stinking jungle. Everything was quiet—quiet, like death. There was just me and Raynes by that time. The rest of them—gone—blown away.” He caught her in the grip of his stare.

But Katie wasn’t sure he saw her. She didn’t move her head.

He turned from her, bent and picked up the lamp from the floor and positioned it on the sawhorse near the small, dirt-smeared window.

In the lamplight, his face was an evil mask.

“Only me and Raynes left,” he mumbled, almost to himself. His eyes darted back to her, seeing her now. No doubt of that. “I itched,” he blurted, and chuckled low in his throat. “Now isn’t that the damnedest thing to remember? Just between my shoulder blades, I itched. It was making me crazy. My hair under my cap felt like one giant, squirming insect. I was filthy and sweating, and it was so damned hot—and the bugs—the sweat running into my eyes, half-blinding me. But I didn’t dare move a muscle—not one hair—and then I heard something.

“Beside me, Raynes whispered, It’s okay, Devlin, they’re on our side. Now, how could he be sure of that? They all looked alike.” He sneered, and Katie saw the terrible cruelty of his mouth. “We’d come upon a small village,” he went on. “I could see an old man working the rice paddy just a ways off.” Drake wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, though there was no warmth in the cellar. “A woman—not a real woman—not like you, Katie…” He crouched down beside her and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. She remained very still. “A hank of hair, and bones was all she was. She was standing in front of this shack calling out to the old man.”

Drake’s face was dangerously close to hers now, his breath warm and moist and vile. His eyes moved from her, fixing on the space of cellar where Jason’s effigy had hung—swaying—creaking—she remembered the feel of a warm breath on her cheek in the darkness.