The Healer (16 page)

Jonah grabbed him by the collar and was dragging him out of his car when Mark Ahern began to scream for help.

“Help! Somebody! Anybody! Help me! Help me!”

Then the garage door hit the floor with a soft thump, closing them in together. Mark was swinging at his attacker and kicking with both feet, but had yet to connect with a blow. Then suddenly the man’s breath was hot against the back of Mark’s neck as he found himself slammed facedown on the hood of his own car.

“Let me go,” Mark said. “My neighbors will have heard me. They’re probably calling the sheriff right now.”

“Let’s both call him,” Jonah said, as he yanked the man up, then shoved him back down again, this time faceup against the car. “Let’s tell him all about the nasty little game you’ve been playing with Lucia Andahar.”

Mark groaned inwardly. He’d been right. The man knew! But how?

Jonah saw the shock on the mailman’s face. He knew he had the right man. Now it was time to make him sorry.

He grabbed Ahern and slammed him face-first against the wall of the garage.

Blood splattered as the blow broke Ahern’s nose.

“Oh, God…my nose…my nose,” Ahern moaned.

“Next time it’ll be your neck,” Jonah said.

Ahern began to cry. “You’re crazy! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and tried to get away, but something was wrong with his arms. They moved, but not where he wanted them to go. They were flopping at the ends of his shoulders like the arms of a rag doll. Panicked, he tried to scream, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Jonah moved closer until there were only inches separating their faces.

Mark saw his own reflection in those strange, gold-colored eyes and found himself unable to look away. He was totally helpless—at the mercy of a stranger who he was sure was going to kill him. It was ironic that, at that moment, he realized he was in the same position as his other victims had been before he’d finished with them. It was not a comforting thought.

“I said…talk,” Jonah said.

Mark opened his mouth. “I didn’t hurt her.”

Jonah grabbed him by the collar with both hands and flung him across the hood of his car, then circled it and dragged him up to his feet.

“Yes, you did, you son of a bitch, in every way that counts. And you know it. You tortured her with words. What was next? The real thing, or are you the kind of coward who can’t get it up and has to be satisfied with just talking about it?”

Mark didn’t want to tell him, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. When the words began to spill out of his mouth, he was horrified. All the years he’d gotten away with murder because he wasn’t the kind of man who had to brag, and now he was talking louder and faster than Pastor Wagner on Sunday morning. The only explanation was that he was losing his fucking mind. That was it. He’d gone crazy and just hadn’t known it.

“I picked her because she was alone. Because she didn’t have anyone to protect her. I always pick them like that. Those are the best kind. They scream the loudest and bleed the longest.”

Rage swept through Jonah like wildfire in a drought-stricken land, burning hot, burning wild, burning out of control.

He grabbed Ahern by the arm and dragged him into the house.

“Where is the proof? Show me! The blue paper! The red and black ink pens! Where are your little keepsakes? And don’t tell me you don’t have any, because I can see them in your head.”

Ahern wanted to run, but his legs would function only to follow the Indian as he dragged him from room to room in his house.

Ahern felt his shoulder separate as Jonah yanked him hard. “Tell me now, or I swear to God I’ll kill you where you stand,” Jonah muttered.

Screaming in pain, Ahern could only point to the library. And once Jonah dragged him in there, he found himself digging out the blue pad and his pens from a drawer, and showing them to Jonah. Then he took a key out of his pocket and held it in the air.

“What’s this for?” Jonah asked.

Ahern pointed to a large ornate trunk against the opposite wall.

“Open it,” Jonah ordered.

Ahern staggered to the trunk, dropped to his knees and jammed the key into the lock. It turned with a click. He fell backward as Jonah looked inside.

The scent of death was everywhere, on everything. Jonah didn’t touch anything inside, but he knew within seconds that the trinkets and scarves, the purses and wallets, were all trophies from this man’s other victims. He felt their fear; he knew that they’d died horrible and violent deaths.

Ahern was rolling on the floor, squalling and begging for mercy as Jonah backed away from the trunk, then pointed at him.

“Get up.”

Ahern stood, but when he tried to run, all he managed to do was wet himself.

“You’re coming with me,” Jonah said, and grabbed him by the arm.

Ahern tried to say no. He tried to pull free. He tried everything he could think of to get away, but the only things that worked were his feet and legs, and they were moving at someone else’s whim.

Jonah eyed the pad of blue paper and the pens Ahern had pulled out of his desk, then decided to leave them where they lay. Those were things for the sheriff to deal with. He headed for the door, taking Ahern with him. Moments later, they were outside, going down the sidewalk, then across the street, moving back toward town.

The kid on the skateboard stopped to stare. Something was wrong with Mr. Ahern. Blood was running out of his nose, and it looked like he’d peed his pants. Startled, he ran into the house to tell his dad, who looked out the window, then quickly called the sheriff.

Tom Mize was in his patrol car on the way back from Doc Bigelow’s office, relieved to know he had not suffered a stroke or a heart attack after all, when he got the call from Earl that an Indian had assaulted Mark Ahern and was dragging him down the street.

He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but just the thought of facing that man again made him sick to his stomach.

“I need assistance,” Mize told Earl. “Get yourself into a patrol car ASAP.”

“But, Sheriff, there won’t be anybody to man the dispatch if I—”

“Move it, Earl! Now!”

Deputy Earl Farley keyed off the mike and grabbed his coat. He was on the way out the door when he realized that Harold Carter was waiting for him to come talk to Luce Andahar about her stalker. Well, she would just have to wait. He checked his handgun, making sure it was riding safe in the holster, then headed for his patrol car. He’d never shot at anything but paper targets and critters with fur or feathers, and he hoped this wasn’t the day that all changed.

Ahern was only vaguely aware that people were coming out of their houses. Some even began following, calling out to know what was happening, but Jonah didn’t answer and Ahern couldn’t, so the crowd kept their distance.

Someone called Shug Marten to share the gossip, and he dropped his half-eaten sandwich and grabbed the phone to call Harold Carter.

Harold was heating up some soup for himself and Luce when the phone rang.

“Hey Luce, get that, would you?”

She picked up the receiver. “Carter residence.”

Shug was surprised to hear a woman’s voice at Harold’s place, then realized it was Luce.

“Luce, is that you?”

“Yes…Shug?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Something big is happening. I just got a call saying your Indian friend beat the hell out of Mark Ahern and is dragging him toward town. I just thought—”

Luce dropped the phone and grabbed her coat.

Harold caught her on the way out the door.

“Whoa, there…where’s the fire?”

“That was Shug. He said that Jonah is heading toward Main Street with Mark Ahern, who’s beat all to hell.” She shuddered. “That means Mark is the man who’s been stalking me.” Then she covered her face with her hands. “Why? Why would he do something so ugly? I thought he was a good person.”

Harold patted her shoulder. “I don’t know what’s happening, but what say we both go find out? Let me get my coat.”

Moments later they were down the stairs and hurrying out onto the sidewalk. A couple of cars drove past, and the barber shouted a hello to Harold as he locked up his business for the night.

Harold waved without looking to see who it was, then pointed down the street to their right.

“Down there! I see people running.”

They started down the street together, but within moments, the crowd parted and Luce got a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired man dragging another man by the arm.

Jonah.

She began to run.

She ran past the beauty shop and the bank, and then started to cross the intersection just as Earl Farley came flying around the corner in a patrol car.

“Oh, Lord,” Luce muttered, and jumped back in fright.

Jonah was oblivious to the crowd and their cries of alarm. When one man roared up in a four-wheel truck and jumped out with a rifle in his hand, Jonah never missed a step.

“Stop right there!” the man yelled, and then lifted the rifle to his shoulder. “I’ll shoot you where you stand if you don’t turn him loose.”

Jonah turned and looked at him. Without raising his voice, he fixed the man with a steady stare.

“Get in your truck and go home. Now.”

The man turned pale. His hands began to shake, and despite every instinct he had to shoot the stranger who’d beat up their mailman, he put down his rifle, got in his truck and drove away.

All that did for the crowd was add to the mystery of what was going on. By the time Jonah got to Main Street, at least forty people were behind him, shouting and talking and calling out to Ahern in concern.

He felt their fear and distress, but he also knew they wouldn’t act. Then he heard an approaching siren. Finally he could turn Ahern over to the authorities.

At that moment Tom Mize came flying out of an alley in his patrol car, running hot, with lights and siren blasting. At the same time, Earl Farley, in the other patrol car, turned the corner by the bank.

Jonah sighed, then braced himself for the impact he saw coming. Damn it all to hell, this was going to make turning the stalker over to the sheriff even more difficult than it already would have been.

Earl screamed out in shock as Sheriff Mize shot out of the alley right in front of him.

Mize caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, and turned to look just as Earl hit the brakes and turned left. Cursing the world and everyone in it, Mize hit the brakes and turned right. Both cars began to spin out. The ensuing crash was like something out of a Hollywood movie.

Mize sailed past Earl on the first spin, as Earl’s car began to slide, leaving wide streaks of black on the concrete. The scent of burning rubber filled the air. Then, somehow, they managed to miss each other on the first spin. Just when the onlookers were about to breathe a sigh of relief, the separate vehicles slid sideways, and again, collision was imminent.

Still cursing, Mize did the only thing he could think of and jammed his car into Park. The roar and clank that followed from the engine was the sound of every gear in the box shearing off to the hub. His car shuddered and jerked as Earl’s car sailed on past, coming to a stop up on the curb only a few inches from the plate-glass windows of the jewelry store.

The crowd was silent, waiting to see what happened next.

Both sheriff and deputy sat for a moment, then, in unison, got out of their cars, and turned and looked at each other.

Jonah took that moment to drag Mark Ahern out into the street, then dump him at Mize’s feet.

Sheriff Mize looked at Ahern, then at Gray Wolf. He could still remember the helpless feeling of being unable to speak or move, and was almost afraid to open his mouth. Still, with so many witnesses, he felt safe in giving it a try.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“Talk,” Jonah said, pointing to Ahern.

Mark rolled over onto his back, then opened his mouth.

“I’m the one who’s been stalking Luce Andahar. I’ve been leaving her notes for months. I set a trap and tried to kill her dog so she wouldn’t have any protection. It didn’t work. Then I left a note in her coat pocket when I was at the diner this morning.”

He covered his face with his hands, unable to believe what had just come out of his mouth.

To a man, the crowd was silent, stunned by what they were hearing.

Then Jonah looked up and saw Luce. She was coming toward him. Her steps were staggering, and her face was pale. He could tell she was in shock. He couldn’t blame her. The damned mailman. Who would have guessed?

She walked into his arms and hid her face against his chest as he held her close.

“You did it,” she whispered, and then looked up at him. “Is it over…really over?”

“It will be if Sheriff Mize can find the time to arrest the bastard,” Jonah muttered.

Mize was staring at Ahern as if he’d never seen him before.

“Is this true, Mark? Why would you do such a thing?”