Spring Rain (25 page)

Bill’s hands got clammy as a scary thought hit him. Maybe
somebody sneaked up and unhooked the dog! He would run off if that happened. What if he got hit by a car? He was so little and fast a driver might not see him until it was too late. What if he was lying in the street somewhere bleeding and crying?

“Is something wrong with him?” He swallowed to get the wobble out of his voice. “Is he hurt?”

“Not yet, I don’t think,” the voice said, and Bill heard a wicked chuckle. “But you’d better check the jetty before the tide gets any higher.”

Bill went cold all over. He dropped the phone and ran wildly down the steps, out the door, and across the yard. He charged through the dunes and across the beach. He didn’t stop until he was climbing on the jetty.

“Terror! Terror!” He couldn’t see the dog anywhere.

He tried to see to the end of the dark jetty stones as they marched into the sea, but he couldn’t. It was very dark out here on the beach, the moon hidden by clouds. The only illumination was the dull, deep gray wash reflecting off the heavy clouds from the bright lights of Atlantic City in the distance. All he could make out about the jetty was the white foam of waves breaking around invisible rocks.

He stood absolutely still for a minute, listening. Was that a bark he heard over the rushing and breaking of the waves?

“Terror! Where are you, boy? Come here. Come to Bill.” He slapped the side of his leg, then realized the dog could never hear the slap over the water’s noise.

Then he heard it, weak and far away but definite. A bark. A terrified bark. From way out on the jetty.

“Come on, boy,” he called again. “Come to Bill. You can do it. You can make it back here.”

More barks, but they didn’t move toward him like they would if the dog was coming. They stayed far off and eerie.

He’s stuck out there!

The thought raced through Bill’s mind as he climbed over the first black rocks. Somehow the little dog had caught a foot or something, and he couldn’t get free. Bill’s mouth dried as he realized that the pup could drown out there, wet and scared and alone, if he didn’t save him.

“I’m coming, boy,” Bill called. “I’m coming. I’ll get you. Don’t
be afraid.” As he talked, he began a cautious trek across the uneven assortment of great rocks. It was so easy to run and climb and jump on them in the daylight. He and Mike did it all the time. It was spooky at night when you could barely see where you were putting your foot. The last thing he needed was to step into a hole between rocks and get stuck too. He’d never be able to help Terror then.

He jumped across a large gap between two rocks and rushed to the next rock. The darkness hid what in daytime was a mere bump in the rock’s surface, but now it reared up and ambushed him. He tripped over it going full speed and went down. He threw his hands out to protect himself as he pitched forward, and they hit space. He came to rest with his belly teetering on the edge of the rock and his chest, head, and arms tilted downward. His hands were actually dragging in cold seawater swirling at the bottom of the cleft between the rocks.

He lay gasping, his chest tight with fear. He felt like he might never breathe again. How had he missed bashing his head?

Terror barked. No, Bill decided. He squealed, fear lacing the sound.

I’ve got to help him! God, help me!

The water in the cleft gurgled higher, covering his arms to the elbows and slapping him gently in the face. Bill lifted his head and raised his hands. He reached out. His fingers touched the rock in front of him, and he pushed. He slid back on the rock where he half lay until he could leverage himself to his knees. He was wobbly when he stood, and his right knee hurt like blazes, but he was all right.

“I’m coming, Terror. I’m coming!”

He looked at the part of the jetty still stretched before him, waves creaming against its sides. It had never looked so long. Water swirled in and around the rocks, and each wave brought the water level a bit higher.

Each wave put Terror in greater danger.

Bill went around the cleft by climbing over the rocks beside it and made it over the next several rocks with no difficulties, but he came to an abrupt halt when he saw the chasm that lay ahead of him. The Grand Canyon.

At least it looked like the Grand Canyon right now. He and Mike always thought that the army guys who had built the jetty
had forgotten to add one giant rock, and it made for a deep ditch between the rock where Bill stood and the rock on the far side. Water, a dark gleam in the heavy night, fell and rose as the waves ebbed and advanced. A piece of driftwood floated on the surface. He had to cross this chasm because the rocks beside it were too jagged to climb on in the daytime, let alone at night.

Bill knew he’d jumped this chasm many times when he and Mike played here, but it looked so wide in the dark. What if he misjudged? He could break a leg or something, and then both he and Terror would be the victims of high tide.

He looked down into the canyon and saw the black water heaving and the foam swirling. It scared him just looking down, but he knew the water wasn’t really deep. It just looked that way. There were rocks under there, like the second layer. If he fell in, he wouldn’t go under. He’d just go to his waist or something. And he’d break a leg or an arm. Or his neck.

You can do it. You can do it.

Terror’s howl pierced the night, and Bill looked out to the end of the jetty. He could just make out a large wave rolling over the top of Terror’s rock. The dog was a shadow, jerking and pulling, trying to get away from the water. Soon a wave would come and cover him. It would pull him right off the rock, sucking him back into the water. He’d be dashed against the rocks and killed if he wasn’t drowned first.

“I’m coming, Terror! I’m coming!”

Swallowing his fear, Bill sat on his rock and lowered his feet into the hole. His feet disappeared into the swirling water.

You’re taller than the hole is deep. You’ll be okay. You’re taller than the hole is deep. You’ll be okay.

He took a deep breath and pushed off. For a minute he felt suspended in space. Then cold water grabbed at him. His sneakers hit the algae slick rock at the bottom of the ditch. He felt his feet slip.

“No!”

He flailed about, trying to save himself, but couldn’t on the slippery, uneven surface. He knew a moment of pure panic as he fell.

His head didn’t quite go under, at least not all the way, but the rest of him did as his fall and a wave surge coincided. The piece of driftwood bumped gently against his cheek. The frigid temperature of the sea took his breath, and he was panting as he stood. He
climbed onto the far rock. The chill air whipped about him, making him shiver.

But he was almost there. He could hear Terror’s constant whine now, and he could see patches of white fur.

“Hang on, buddy! I’m almost there.”

He took a step and froze as he realized his feet were under water and what little visibility he had was gone. He slid one foot forward, searching for the edge of the rock. The water ebbed, and the rock showed again. He breathed a sigh of relief but knew that any minute the water wouldn’t pull back so far.

The noise of the waves amazed him. They crashed so much more loudly at night than in the day. He hadn’t realized that before. It was scary, spooky. Even so, he kept moving, stepping in and out of rising and falling water as he climbed up and down and over the great rocks.

“It’s okay, Terror,” he called again and again. “It’s okay. I’m coming.”

He glanced up and saw a huge wave, crest white with spume, about to break over Terror’s rock. It would definitely wash him out to sea. Bill jumped the last crevice and grabbed just as the wave broke.

The wave caught him full in the face as he bent over the pup. He coughed and sputtered and tried to lift the very wet and frantic Terror, but he couldn’t. The wave receded, pulling him down on his knees beside the terrified dog. His toes hooked over the edge of the rock toward land and held on. Water now covered the rock with no relief, lapping partway up his thighs as he knelt.

He felt rather than saw the rope about the animal’s neck. At first he didn’t realize what it was. He squinted at it through water-spotted glasses, puzzled. Then it hit him with all the force of the line drive that had clipped him in the nose last year. Someone had tied Terror to the rock!

Anger burned in Bill, hotter than he’d ever known in his life. Who would have done such a terrible, terrible thing? He grabbed the rope and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. He pulled again harder. Nothing. It was wedged firmly in a crevice, and with all the water, he couldn’t see where and how.

Moving quickly he put himself, still on his knees with his back to the sea, behind Terror. When the next wave broke, it struck him in the middle of the back, but his body protected the
dog, at least a little bit. He began working his hands around the rope at Terror’s neck. He found the knot quickly, and his cold fingers began to pick at it.

Come on, come on!

Whoever the guy was who had tied Terror up had used the slipknot that boaters use to tie up to a dock, loop inside loop inside loop. He’d tied it himself lots of times when he’d gone out on Uncle Ted’s boat with him and Matt. He stood, gave a brisk tug, and the loops fell apart. The rope dropped away just as a wave struck him in the back of the knees. He felt himself stumble and grabbed Terror.

As the wave receded and pulled at him, he braced himself. When the sickening sensation was gone, he picked up the dog and held Terror against him like a mom did a burping baby. He was relieved and surprised that they were both still solidly on the rock.

Thanks, God. Just a little bit longer, okay?

He cradled Terror, cooing to him as the dog lay shivering against his chest, his wet little head pressed against Bill’s neck.

“Just stay still, okay? We’ll be back on land real soon.”

He looked back the way he had come, and in that moment Bill knew fear like he’d never experienced before. The houses were so distant, their lights little pin pricks, like stars. The night was so dark, and the water swirled wildly over the rocks in front of him. He couldn’t see where to step. He just couldn’t see.

“The dog and the kid are together.”

Clay pulled the phone from his ear and squinted at it. “What?”

“The dog and the kid are together. And they’re okay, at least for the moment. Just a bit wet.” An evil laugh floated down the line.

“Who is this?” Clay demanded, but there was now only a dial tone. It had to be the same man who called Leigh last night. How many crank callers could there be in one neighborhood? And he had threatened Bill.

“The dog and the kid are together.”

“Hey, Mom.” He leaned into the hallway and called up to Ted’s room. “Is Terror up there with you guys?”

“No.” Her voice floated down the stairwell. “Isn’t he with you?”

Obviously not
, Clay thought as he pondered the call.
“Just a bit wet.”
His mouth drew together in a hard line as he understood that there was only one place they could be getting wet.

Clay grabbed the big flashlight his mother kept on the kitchen shelf. He threw open the back door and almost knocked Leigh to the ground. He grabbed for her, but she saved herself by jumping backward down the steps.

“Are you okay?” He was afraid she might have twisted an ankle or something.

She brushed his question aside with a wave of her hand. “Is Billy here?” Her voice was full of tension, and he could see her chin quiver.

Clay shook his head.

Leigh ran her hand through her hair. “He’s gone. The phone was off the hook, making that bleating noise. I told him not to answer!”

Clay hated to speak, knowing he was going to upset her more. “I just got a strange phone call telling me he and Terror were together.”

Leigh went still. “Was it the same man who called me last night?” She spoke in a whisper, like it was all she could manage.

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear his voice then. But this guy had a nasty laugh.”

She shivered in spite of the heavy jacket she wore, wrapping her arms about herself. “Yeah. He did. What else did he say?”

Wishing he didn’t have to tell her the rest of the message, but knowing he did, Clay said, “He said they were getting wet.”

“Wet? Wet!” She turned toward the beach and started to run. “I’m going to kill him.” She didn’t clarify whether she meant Bill or the caller.

Without speaking they ran through the dunes, Clay shining the flashlight ahead of them. When they gained the beach, Clay fanned the light along the tide line. Nothing.

“Where is he?” Leigh asked, panic edging her voice. She stared out over the ocean. Clay could see her nightmare thoughts flash across her face.

“He’s not floating off to China, Leigh.”

“A lot you know,” she spit at him. “A lot you care!”

Clay blinked. Where had that venom come from? To set her
mind at ease, he fanned the flashlight beam across the water. Nothing but undulating waves. Then, to his great disbelief, he caught quick sight of movement as the band of light glided over the closest jetty. He threw the beam back across the rocks.

The light reflected off the spume of the incoming waves, making the foam almost iridescent against the black of the water. The beam also revealed a small form far out at the end of the jetty, water churning at its feet.

Leigh moaned and swayed, her hand at her throat. As he automatically put out a hand to calm her, Clay’s own heart felt squeezed of life as fear unfurled in his chest. But he never touched her. She moved too quickly.

“Billy! Billy!” Leigh ran onto the jetty.

“Leigh! Wait!” Clay raced after her and grabbed her arm. “You’re going to trip and fall.”

“Let go of me!” She turned on him, slapping at his arm. “I’ve got to get Billy!”

He tightened his grip. “We’ve got to get Bill,” he corrected. “Now wait for me and the light, or I’ll have to drag you back too.”

She made a hissing noise and pulled free.

Clay shone the light in front of them, but even so it was tough going. The shadows dipped and swelled, making the terrain shift and twist. He grabbed for her hand to help her, though she was nimble in her walking shoes.