Night Songs (26 page)

    "Lilla. If that guy's still at work, Lilla's in danger."

    He stopped, and she sat up. "What the hell are you doing, Colin?"

    "We ought to at least bring her back with us to the station where she'll be safe."

    "The hell with her," she said. "What about Matt? Are you going to leave us in the car with a maniac running loose while you go chasing after another nut? Over my dead body."

    His shoulders squared, and she knew she ought to feel some manner of guilt about the way she'd spoken about a friend. But as far as she was concerned, Lilla was beyond their help now. The young woman needed a professional, a doctor, and what they needed was some safe place where Tess Mayfair couldn't get them.

    She waited, blinking in disbelief when Colin swerved the car onto Surf Court. A hand lifted to punch the back of his neck, a curse throttled in her throat when Matt squirmed to get closer to her. Then the car stopped, and Colin opened the door. The engine was still running. When she leaned over the seat, he bent down and smiled with a shrug.

    "I can't do it, Peg. You take the car and get hold of Garve."

    "And what about you?" she demanded.

    "I'll get Lilla and bring her here." He waved behind him at the houses on the street. "There're some lights on. I'll take her to Bob's or Efron's. I'll call as soon as I get there."

    "Colin, this is stupid."

    "No," he said. "Maybe. Now hurry. I don't want this dumb fog to get any thicker."

    There were a dozen reasons why he shouldn't go, and a dozen more why he should. While she was debating, he reached in and grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and closed the door. He walked quickly toward the beach, hopping onto the curbstone and following it until he reached the sand. The fog was much thinner there, and he didn't disappear until he was halfway up the first dune.

    "Mom?"

    She glared at the spot where Colin had been, then struggled into the driver's seat, looked around and jerked her head until Matt understood and followed. He kept the blanket. He watched as she snapped on the headlights and made an awkward U-turn.

    "Mr. Ross?"

    "He went to get Lilla," she said, her hands holding the wheel white-knuckled. "Will he be hurt?"

    "No," she said; told him, "No," again, softly, when she saw the fear widen his eyes. "No, he'll be all right."

    The fog scattered when they reached Neptune, and she craned to take a hard look at the sky. It was darker now, the Screamer closer. She suddenly wished strongly they'd had another name for the windstorm. She blinked-twilight on Haven's End before it was even two. She drove recklessly, not slowing when gray patches flared the car's lights back into her eyes.

    Then she looked at her hands; they were trembling. She squeezed the wheel more tightly. When that didn't work she pushed a palm over her cheeks, shoved clawed fingers back through her hair. The car slowed when they reached Naughton's Market, slowed even more until they reached the intersection, and the amber light winked on the hood, turned the windshield gold, followed with sweeping shadows as she swung a tight circle and parked in front of the station. The lights were on, and she could see Garve at his desk.

    "Mom?"

    She couldn't move.

    The next thing she had to do was turn off the engine, but she couldn't loosen her grip on the wheel. "Mom!"

    She swallowed, closed her eyes, and couldn't help a short scream when someone rapped the window next to her head.

    Matt grabbed her arm and shook her, calling, until she made herself as stiff as she could, suddenly released the hold on her muscles and sagged back in the seat. She smiled weakly at Garve and didn't protest when he helped her out of the car and into the office, one hand at the small of her back and the other on her elbow while he listened gravely to Matt explain what had happened.

    When she was seated, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands, she smiled again. "It's true," she told Tabor when he sought her confirmation. "It's true. She was… I honestly couldn't stop her, Garve. Before I could move she was… gone." Peg sipped, wincing at the hot liquid, shuddering at the chill that refused to leave her system. "She was hurt terribly even before she fell."

    "Yeah!" Matt said excitedly, standing in front of the gunrack back by the cellblock door. His fear seemed gone, concern for his mother settled now that Garve was in charge. "Boy, it was just like you see in the movies! Her-"

    "Matthew!" she shouted, coffee slopping into her lap.

    He cringed and turned slowly, the protection he'd constructed gone with the name that struck his back like whip.

    "It's all right," Tabor said. "Take it easy, the two of you, all right?" He dropped into his chair and clasped his hands at his stomach. "First thing is to call Hugh and let him know what happened. Then I'll take a ride out there and-" He stopped when she stared at him. "No, you won't have to go back."

    Mutely, she accepted the paper napkins he handed her and daubed at the spill darkening her jeans. She felt terrible. Very few things bothered her more than losing control, and all control had left from the moment she'd seen Tess plunge off the cliff. A part of her reasoned the reaction was natural, part because she was thinking first of her son.

    But she
had
lost control, and what kind of way was that to keep Matthew from harm?

    Gingerly, she took another sip of coffee and smiled apologetically at her boy who was still by the gunrack watching her fearfully. By the time Tabor finished his call to Hugh, she felt somewhat better, and turned her smile to the chief when he queried her a with look. "Okay, then," he said. But he didn't move. Instead, he dialed another number, waited, scowled, and slammed the receiver down. "Goddamn Nichols," he muttered.

    "El's not here?" She looked around, realizing for the first time the deputy was missing. "But the car-"

    "Yeah, I know. But it was here when I got back.

    Washed like he was expecting to be in a parade. The car, but no Eliot. I've been calling his place for the past hour, but I can't get an answer and nobody I can raise has seen him. Jesus, he must be under a tree with Wally."

    "Nobody…" She set the cup on the desk. "Garve, what's going on?"

    He looked back at the boy, who was studying the shotguns and the rifle in the cabinet. Then he pulled his chair as close to the desk as he could, leaned forward on his forearms and rubbed his chin with a thumb. "Peg, I got to be honest, I haven't the faintest idea. Half the town leaves yesterday like the whole place was on fire, that's on account of the Screamer. But today… well, you're the first person I've seen since I got up. Except for Lee."

    She passed on a comment that rose automatically; this wasn't the time to kid him about his lovelife.

    "Maybe… maybe they're afraid the storm will hit sooner than after midnight. They might be too busy to answer."

    "Oh, it will." He snapped a finger at a pink sheet of paper. "Got the word about five minutes ago. Damn fools at the National Weather place, they didn't want to make a mistake. It moved right out into the ocean, stopped, thought about it, and it's coming right back."

    "Oh, God, the windows."

    "Yeah, exactly. Between trying to get hold of Eliot, I've been calling everyone I can think of." He shook his head, and shrugged. "Hardly anyone left. This place is going to be a disaster if they don't come back soon."

    She sighed, bit softly on her lower lip. "What was that about Wally?"

    He looked disgusted. "Bob comes in a while back, bitching about Sterling leaving the ferry unattended. No sign of him, the ferry's at the island. Cameron had to bring over his supplies on his own." His expression was sour. "He was lucky he didn't end up in Chesapeake Bay the way he pilots that thing."

    "Lilla," Matt said, so loudly they started, not realizing he had walked up behind the chief. "What's this?" Tabor asked, half turning in his seat. "Matt, I told you not-"

    "Lilla, sir," Matt said when he didn't look away. "I told Mom and Mr. Ross about the fog, but they didn't believe me."

    Peg kept her silence when Tabor lifted a hand to prevent an interruption, but she could not help an annoyed frown when Matt explained to the chief about the fog and Lilla's singing. She expected him to laugh, or to touch the boy's shoulder and nod to humor him. What she didn't expect was the thoughtful expression that blanked Tabor's eyes for the briefest of moments.

    "Garve, you don't believe that."

    "I heard her this morning, Peg."

    "Yes, but-"

    "I
told
you, Mom. And I'll bet the storm-"

    "Matthew, please!"

    Tabor rose, walked to the open door, and put a hand on the frame as a smoke gust of fog drifted down the street. "It's an odd day, Peg," he said. "That Screamer just turned around like someone yanked on its chain. It should be halfway to France by now. Halfway to France." He sniffed, scratched his head. "An odd day."

    She rose and joined him, folding her arms under her breasts. "Odd, yes. But nothing more."

    "Yeah. Sure."

    "Honestly, Garve, you're going to scare the boy with talk like that. It's bad enough, what he saw. Don't make it worse."

    He nodded an apology, and snatched his hat off the rack. "You staying?"

    "I have to," and explained again about Colin's call.

    "All right, then." He looked at Matt. "You're a deputy now, son, okay? You have to protect your mother and watch for the crooks while I ride out to the cliffs."

    He looked stern, but she caught a wink as he waited for Matt's answer.

    "Really?" the boy asked, "really?"

    "Really. Your mother, she'll do the easy stuff like answering the phone for me. You have to do the rest. Think you can handle it?"

    "Oh, boy!"

    "Right." Another wink when she mouthed
thanks
as he passed her, a wave before he was in the patrol car and ghosting down the street. She stood at the door for over ten minutes, returning inside only when the fog suddenly thickened.

    And from the woods across the way, she heard Lilla singing.

    

    

    The wind had already routed the beachside vanguard of fog by the time Colin reached the top of the last dune. The light here was brighter than under the trees, clinging to a muted glow as the overcast broke apart to gather again in dizzying swirls and sweeps of high roiling black; the beach was gray, desolate, and covered with remnants of settling, quivering foam as the tide raced in thunder for the woods, retreated, held its breath, and charged again; what warmth remained had turned to a damp chill that penetrated his jacket as if it were gauze.

    He squinted against the wind, entranced for a moment by the dark of the ocean, a black-ice depth that resembled the face and fury of a season not yet arrived. Deep winter storms were his favorite, when there were no bathers around to tempt the undertow and give the impression that the Atlantic was friendly-a nice place to cool off, a great place to frolic, a fine place to cultivate a smooth-sheened tan. In the cold, however, when the tourists were gone, the ocean gave up the sunlight masquerade and turned its true color-metallic and harshly beautiful, slashed through with white, rising in great swells not meant for surfing or diving-exposing the power that stalked behind the facade of a tranquil summer.

    But it wasn't yet Thanksgiving, and the sea he watched was already December's.

    He turned away quickly and headed across the flat toward the shack. There was no sense calling out; the wind would carry his voice clear to New York before Lilla would hear it. He grunted when he tripped over an exposed rock and nearly lost his balance, remembering the slow-motion fall of Tess Mayfair off the ledge.

    She had tried to kill him.

    He knew it, even though he'd denied it to Peg.

    She had tried to kill him.

    And worse Peg had not seen her as closely as he had, She had not seen the white edges of Tess' ragged wounds, the bleached look of her ribs smashed and stabbing through all that flesh, the complete lack of blood anywhere on her. And she had not seen the fact that Tess' eyes were pure white.

    If Tess had been lying on the road in that condition, he would not have hesitated in pronouncing her dead.

    Though he had said that Tess was probably attacked by the same person who had murdered Warren Harcourt, once away from the others he couldn't quite believe it. It had to have been an accident. A car accident, or something like that, something at the boarding house that maybe brought a portion of it down on her. Not a fire; they'd neither seen nor smelled smoke and there was no… he swallowed… there was no charring on Tess that he'd been able to see.

    No; not assault this time, though that did not make his intention to get Lilla any less urgent. The wind out there was bringing the sea too damned close.

    His hands hid in his pockets as he approached the shack, his mind forceably shifting away from the cliffs to the present. Garve, he thought, would take care of Tess' puzzle. Right now, he reminded himself again, he had his own task to do, and as he rounded the shack's corner he wondered if this was such a good idea after all.

    But he chided himself half humorously when he reached the building and hesitated. Then, with a mental kick to his backside for giving in to the day and to Peg's case of nerves, he knocked, the door swung open slowly, and he reeled around and stumbled a dozen paces away, one shoulder up, an arm flung across his face. Gagging, retching, flailing with his free hand at the stench that enveloped him and burned through his nostrils.