The thought that he might have been watched by their killers sent a chill through Gorman. He suddenly felt squirmy. His scrotum tightened and his penis drew in as if to hide.
Who could have done such a thing to Brian? The strength it must’ve taken!
Perhaps, he thought, there is a beast.
He was no longer enjoying the hot spray of the shower. He finished rinsing the soap from his body, and climbed out. To perk himself up, he concentrated on his good fortune as he dried and got dressed.
The killer, whether man or beast, had done him a splendid service. Gorman may or may not be able to use the incident in his book, depending on the outcome of the investigation. Regardless, all the proceeds would now come to him. Every last cent. Even if Janice should miraculously reappear, the contracts were destroyed. The initial correspondence implied no commitment (perhaps he could find those letters and destroy them…awfully risky…why had he thrown away Marty’s keys?) but basically Janice wouldn’t have a leg to stand on without the contract itself.
Besides, she’s dead.
Please, let her be dead.
As he finished buttoning his sport shirt, he heard a knocking on the door—a light, tentative rapping but it made his stomach lurch. It came from Brian’s room. He took a deep breath, cautioned himself to remain calm, and stepped through the connecting doors. Both of Brian’s beds were intact. He rushed silently to the closer bed, raked back its cover and sheet, and mashed the pillow. Then he opened the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Hardy,” the woman said in a cheerful voice.
She was young and attractive, rather tall and nicely put together, looking fresh and altogether sexy in yellow shorts and a green tube-top that left her shoulders bare and hugged her sizable breasts. Gorman knew that he had met her before. Then he remembered where. The cocktail lounge. Yesterday evening. One of those librarians.
“Oh,” he said, smiling. “Nina, is it?”
“Nora.”
“How are you this fine morning, Nora?”
“Just terrific. How about you?”
“Couldn’t be better.” He took a deep breath. The warm air had a pine aroma. “A gorgeous day to be alive,” he said.
“Every day’s good for that,” Nora said. “Anyway, the reason I dropped by, you mentioned you might be going on that tour today. Beast House?”
‘Yes, I intend to.”
“Well, my friends and I are also going over there in a while. They’ve got a ten-thirty tour. We were wondering if you and Mr. Blake might want to come along with us.”
Gorman glanced at his digital wristwatch. Nine fifty-two. It would be comforting, he thought, to take the tour with acquaintances. Far better than entering that awful house with a group of strangers. “I would be delighted,” he answered, “though I’m not certain about Brian. He seems to have wandered off, and I have no idea when he might be back.”
Nora glanced at the Mercedes. “You think he went for a walk?”
“Apparently.” Gorman shrugged. “Too bad for him. I’d be glad to…” He snicked his tongue. “Oh, I do have an errand to run first. Suppose I meet you and your friends at the ticket booth?”
“Fine. Great.”
“At ten thirty, correct? I’d best get moving.”
Nora nodded, smiling. “Okay, we’ll see you there.”
She turned and started away. Gorman watched for a moment, enjoying the way her buttocks moved in the tight shorts.
Back in his own room, he uncapped his gin bottle and took a swallow. He found a telephone directory in a drawer of the night stand. Nursing the bottle, he searched the yellow pages. Under the heading PHOTOGRAPHIC EQUIPMENT AND SUPPLIES—RETAIL were several listings. Most of the shops seemed to be located elsewhere; the book covered a county-wide area. Only Bob’s Camera and Sound Center was in Malcasa Point. On the three-hundred block of Front Street. “Marvelous,” Gorman muttered. He took a final swig of gin, and hurried out to the car.
Five minutes later, he drove past the store. He noted its location, and continued down Front Street, passing the dirt road he’d taken to the beach only a few hours earlier, then turning his eyes towards the grounds of Beast House. His gaze followed the rear fence until the building got in the way. On the other side, he picked it up again. He turned his head, watching the fence until the hillside rose up to block his view. From the two angles, he was almost certain he’d seen the entire length of the fence. Brian’s body was gone. He hadn’t noticed the other two, either, but of course their bodies wouldn’t be easy to spot at this distance.
He’d half expected to find a gathering of police, but the region back there looked deserted.
Perhaps they had already completed their on-scene investigation and departed. That seemed unlikely, though. Surely there would still be officers scouring the area for evidence.
He continued up the road. Marty’s old Plymouth, shrouded by morning shadows, was still parked on the shoulder where he’d left it. No police cars there. No coroner’s van.
He rounded a bend, then made a U-turn. Coming back down the road, he kept his gaze on the wooded slope. The instant the rear fence appeared, he raced his eyes along it. From this vantage point, he could see almost to its far corner.
His doubts vanished.
The bodies had been removed.
But by the police? He didn’t think so.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Janice rolled in her sleep and tumbled. Shards of pain tortured her awake. She lay motionless on her side, gasping, eyes squeezed shut.
Oh God, she thought, it hurts.
She whimpered from a searing rush of pain inside, and curled up. Her knees pushed against something soft and yielding.
What happened to me? her mind screamed.
Clutching her belly, she felt tape. She explored it with shaky fingers. It seemed to be holding a pad in place. A bandage? It ended just below her ribs. Moving her hands higher, she touched strips of tape on the underside of her left breast. The bandage started just above her nipple, covered the top of her breast and wrapped over her shoulder. The flesh beneath it felt burning. Her other shoulder was bandaged, too. Her right breast was bare, but tender as if bruised. Another bandage ran along her side to the hip. There, she found an elastic belt. She traced it to her groin and fingered the thick pad of a sanitary napkin.
What happened to me?
Raped. She must’ve been raped. The awful hurt inside. What did he use, for Christsake, a tree?
She started to sob, and the jolting spasms sent blasts of pain through her.
Who
Brian? Did Brian? She remembered being with him, but…had he gone nuts or something?
Where am I, a hospital?
It didn’t smell like a hospital, it smelled like a zoo. And she knew she wasn’t on a bed. She was on the floor, a soft nap of carpet against her bare skin.
She opened her eyes. In the dim blue light, she saw a heap of pillows beside her. She must have been lying on that until she rolled off.
Blue light. Pillows.
Where am I?
Gingerly, gritting her teeth as pain ripped through her, Janice got to her hands and knees. She forced herself to stand. She swayed, and raised her arms for balance. Then she turned slowly.
Nobody here. Just me.
The room was slightly smaller than her own bedroom. Looking up, she saw that the ceiling was covered by mirrors. Except for the carpet and pillows, the room was bare. No furniture, no windows…
