He looked at her. 'And me?'
'She says she wants someone else,' Sue admitted, not looking at him.
Rich's face hardened. 'I don't care what she says. I'm in. I may not be Joe Macho, but I can take care of myself'
'That's not it,' Sue said. 'There's more to it than that 'I have to talk to her some more.'
'Talk to her, then. But I'm in. Tell her that. I'm in.' 'I'll try,'
Sue said.
After work, he and Anna came home to a dark house. He knew Corrie had said she was going to be late, but the sight of that dark house disturbed him, and though he pretended for Anna's sake that everything was fine, as soon as he turned on the lights and the television, he went into the bedroom and dialed the number of Wheeler's office.
He let the phone ring ten dines before hanging up. He walked back into the living room and was about to suggest to Anna that they grab some Taco Bell food and cruise by the church on the way back the black church
--when Corrie walked in, tired, angry, but obviously alive and all right. He was grateful, but he said nothing, only sat down on the couch, pretending he'd come in to watch the news
Corrie made dinner, Cajun chicken. It was the sam old game: he did not talk to her, she did not talk to him but they both talked endlessly to Anna.
Everyone went to bed early.
Rich was awakened by a small hand pressing against his shoulder.
'Daddy?
He opened one eye, saw Anna standing next to the bed in the dark. 'What is it, honey?'
'There's a man outside my window.'
He was instantly alert and pushing off the covers. man?' He swung his feet onto the floor and grabbed baseball bat from under the bed.
'Yeah. And he keeps laughing at me.'
Rich felt his body grow cold.
No. Jesus, no.
'I don't like the way he laughs, Daddy.'
'I'll take care of it, sugar.' Rich tried to smile at his daughter, though he was not sure how well he succeedo His smile felt faint and plastic on his face. 'You wait in bed here with Mommy.
'I'm afraid.' i 'I'll take care of it. I'll make sure no one's there, an when it's all safe, I'll come and get you and tuck you in bed, okay?
How does that sound?' i 'Okay,' Anna said uncertainly.
Rich walked slowly down the hall to his daughter's bedroom. Robert had said he'd seen the Laughing Man. was that what the vampire looked like? The Laughing Man That was one thing Sue's grandmother was always vague on--the way the vampire looked. She made it sound : though its appearance varied, changed. Could it assume the shape of other monsters? Of fears?
If it was the vampire, they were safe. There were willow garlands around all the doors and windows. Sue's family had spent the past few days making them from what remained of the willow trees after the fire, and she'd brought some into work. He had availed himself of the Wings' generosity, picking up two long garlands and cut ting them to fit, placing them around the doors and windows after dinnen
Anna's door was open, her light on. He walked into the room and turned off the light. Her curtains were closed, but when he opened them he wanted to be able to see. The light would make the world outside as black as pitch, and he wouldn't be able to see a thing other than his own reflection.
He walked slowly across the floor, bat in hand, almost as though he expected to find someone hiding in the curtains. Winnie-the-Pooh stared at him blankly from the baby chair in the corner of the room. He stepped over
Anna's Ping-Pong paddles ..... He stopped.
He could hear it from here, through the glass, through the curtain, and the hackles rose on the back of his neck. He had heard it before and he recognized it. That familiar throaty chuckle, that low, quiet laugh that would not stop but would continue without pause and grow slowly into loud, wild guffaws.
He forced himself to walk forward, push aside the curtains and look into the side yard. And there he was. The Laughing Man.
Rich was frozen in place, unable to move, unable even to think. He was suddenly confronted with his worst night mare, and though he'd known what to expect, had been halfway prepared for it, he had not anticipated the incapacitating terror that had taken hold of him.
The Laughing Man looked at Rich from beneath his brown derby and chuckled. He was standing next to the storage shed not five feet away, hands clasped primly before him, wearing the same dark brown suit he had always worn, and he was laughing. Rich had never seen the Man this close before, and for the first time he noticed the complete absence of lines or character on that mirth struck face, the one-dimensional unreality of the perpetually smiling eyes.
The chuckle grew, increased in intensity, became a chortle, a cackle, a laugh, and there was no gap, no pause for air, only that inhuman unstoppable laughing. 'Daddy?' Anna said behind him.
He turned, the spell broken, to see his daughter's frightened face looking in at him from the hallway. He let the curtain fall. 'I'll be there in a minute,' he said, and his voice sounded surprisingly normal to his own ears. He waited for her to leave, go back down the hall, dimly aware that the laughing had stopped. When he was sure was gone, opened again. she he the curtain
The side yard was empty.
He let the curtain fall once again and, still with a death grip on the bat, walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He returned to his bedroom, where Anna was lying on his side of the bed, and Corrie was looking at her through mostly closed eyes.
'Is he gone, Daddy? Is the man gone?'
'What man?' Corrie said sleepily.
'Yes,' he whispered to Anna. 'He's gone. But I think you should stay with Mommy and Daddy tonight.'
She nodded, and he saw the relief in her eyes. 'Okay.'
He crawled next to her, the covers over to bed pulled both of them.
Let's go to sleep now, he said.
'All right.'
He smiled. 'Sleep tight.'
'Don't let the bed bugs bite.' Anna smiled.
She was still smiling two minutes later when she fell asleep.
Corrie waited until after Rich left for the office to tell Anna that she would not be going to school today. Her daughter had not yet learned that school was something to be hated and avoided--she still enjoyed going to kindergarten each daymand she looked crestfallen when Corrie told her that today they were going to do some thing different.
'But Jenny said I could play with her on the teeter totter Anna whined.
'She never lets me play on the teeter-totter.'
'You can play with Jenny tomorrow. Today we're going to do something extra special!'
'What?'
'I can't tell you yet. But I'll give you a hint--it's even better than ice cream!'
Anna should have been thrilled. Should have. But was not. There was reluctance in the way she nodded, apprehension in the way she followed her mother into the bed room. Corrie ignored her daughter's mood. She dressed Anna in her best pink outfit, clipped the matching pink barrettes in her hair, and gave her the little pink purse to hold. The two of them walked outside together. Corrie unlocked the car, opened it, but Anna backed up. 'Come on,' Corrie said. 'Get in.'
Anna shook her head. Her daughter was afraid of her, Corrie realized.
She knew that should make her sad, but somehow it didn't. It made her angry. 'Get in the car' she ordered.
No daughter of hers was going to go against the word of the Lord Jesus Christ.
