Under Lucas's guiding hand, she moved toward the door. All the true darkness in the world had come to visit this once-peaceful, uneventful farmstead, coloring it with the evil hues of dark spirits now haunting its deep corners, closed doors, cupboards, nooks, and crannies. While Lucas had been off examining the back rooms, Jana and Meredyth had braved with flashlights the grim darkness of the root cellar, a cubbyhole of a basement below the kitchen. Meredyth felt the cold fingers of the earth in the cellar close round her soul again now, the long fingers of tainted banshees saturated with the odor of mold and mildew that had washed the cellar's stone walls with a luminescent green.
Once a benevolent home, the farmstead was now forever stained by the violent danse macabre of Lauralie's insanity. The evidence of evil promenading in shadow-box fashion here would soon fill a murder book fleshed out with Perelli's film tape and Chang's observations, but the stains on the floors, the walls, the curtains, the very DNA of the two dead here, and the one who walked away would remain indelibly on this house no matter the amount of ammonia and bleach used to combat it. The ugly dark dye of evil this way had spread, Meredyth thought, and its palpable presence remained inside the farmhouse, as if on a phantom plane, yet here too on this quantifiable plane, reaching out to the living with ghostly fingertips that scratched the ethereal nerves of angels.
But worse than having turned this old farmstead into an eternally dark interior place, was the darkness let loose on the exterior world from here-as if spirited away on a black-hearted demon's back. She should have seen it while hovering over the chimney below, how the evil had swept up and out the chimney on a spectral beast. Worst of all was the darkness lurking free now, outside somewhere, and going by the name of Blodgett… Lauralie Blodgett.
Meredyth went ahead of Lucas, stepping through the doorway and out into the night air, breathing deeply of its clean purity, reclaiming it as her right, and daring the dark to descend upon her. Courageous, defiant girl, she told herself, remembering her father's words once when she had had to get stitches in her knee for a terrible gash.
'She's out there someplace, Lucas, with all that pent-up hatred and rage toward us all,' she quietly said, sensing him beside her as she searched the darkness.
Lucas, his hand on her shoulder, replied, 'You can't see it for the helicopter light, but just beyond is a harvest moon…the stars. Light in the firmament.'
'Lucas, I want to look beyond tonight, beyond this case, and I want to make a future with you. I want to share your heart, and for you to share mine.'
'Who knows what irony Lauralie has wrought, that she has inadvertently brought us closer than we have ever been before. All stemming from her hatred and lunacy. Ironic.'
'She hates everyone she perceives has let her down, and all men have failed her miserably, as did we all, miserably. As far as she's concerned, all men are interested in only one thing, gratifying what's between their legs. So her emasculating Arthur is classic behavior; it fits with her worldview of currying favor with men for sex. But this thing with the hearts, I tell you, that runs even deeper. Her own heart has been turned to stone.'
'Yet she was a child born of passion,'
'At least we see her coming. We understand her somewhat. Arthur didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell.' She began walking toward the front of the house, Lucas at her side. 'This dark in her soul, Lucas, it's a real black place, an abyss like the one the Biblical monster Abbaddon crawled up from. She's filled with this inky blackness. And she's out there someplace in the world lying in wait for us.'
Six hours and too many cups of coffee to count later, Chang and company shut down the crime scene, and everyone left the farmstead while it was still dark, leaving yellow police-line tape over the doors and windows.
Chang had the two dogs transported to his lab along with Belkvin's body. Still the man's genitals had yet to be found. The two hearts were placed in separate coolers, each labeled and numbered. Each was also initialed with the supposed name of the owner: ADB and ML.
Meredyth and Lucas had remained until the end, and with the APB that had been placed on Arthur Belkvin's BMW and on Lauralie Blodgett, they felt relatively sure that someone somewhere soon must spot the vehicle and/or its occupant and call in for the reward.
Yawning, tired, headachy, Meredyth now lay her head on Lucas's shoulder as he drove for her ranch home. They had informed Captain Lincoln that since he intended on turning the case over to the FBI, they were taking some time away. Jana North could play host to the FBI, Lucas had told the captain, who, not wishing for any argument, had agreed. 'You two have done a remarkable job of taking the case to first and goal, Lucas,' Lincoln summed up in football terms. 'Time others carried the ball into the end zone.'
'Lauralie's the one who'll select the end zone. Captain. Watch out for her.'
'She's eluded us, I'll give her that,' Lincoln replied, 'but not for long now. I think it's a good idea, you two stepping back, getting out of harm's way for the time being. Take a trip; get out of Texas altogether for a time. You are her primary target, Meredyth. Makes sense your not wanting to be a sitting duck here. When she learns she can't find you, she'll become frustrated, and she'll make a hasty, foolhardy move, and we'll be ready for the misstep.'
The agreement was that any further packages arriving for either Lucas or Meredyth, either at their homes or at the precinct, would be handled by the FBI.
Lucas yawned again, needing oxygen to the brain. He feared he'd fall asleep and run off the road. He flicked on the car radio for music or a talk show to keep awake. It was miles yet to Meredyth's getaway. She'd fallen asleep on his shoulder altogether now.
A pair of headlights roared up behind him and around the car at a good twenty miles an hour over the limit, a sporty-looking expensive car, but he let it pass without thought. No way was he going to get involved with a speeder, and to get on the horn, he'd have to wake Meredyth off his shoulder. Besides, the sun would soon be up, and he wanted a bed and sleep, not a police station and paperwork to fill out.
Another pair of headlights came up on the rearview, but this driver remained at a safe, sensible distance, maintaining the limit.
CHAPTER 18
Lucas Stonecoat breathed in deeply, taking in the dawn air as it streamed in through the window of the moving vehicle. As they passed below a covered bridge, he smelled the aged, gray wood and the pleasant greenery that graced the banks of the little river below. He had memorized the way to Meredyth's home away from home. He could see the shimmering edges of the lake in the distance, the waning moon creating diamonds along the lake's placid surface. He made out the beginnings of acres of white rail fencing that seemed to move with the grass and the rolling hills. He soon made out the stand of trees around the main house, and beyond this the stables. He thought of Yesyado, the thoroughbred horse he'd ridden the last time he was here. He thought of their excursion in the canoe, and their lovemaking on the bank. He had grown so fond of Meredyth.
Fond, he thought, mulling over the euphemism they had now for so long substituted for the word love-the real feeling they held for one another. He kissed her head where it lay on his shoulder, taking in the smell of her perfumed hair. He kissed her a second time, realizing she was completely oblivious to him. 'I love you, Meredyth Sanger. Do you hear me? I love you.'
She squeezed his thigh, letting him know that she had indeed heard the endearing words. 'I love you too, you dumb Cherokee. I've always loved you.'
'You're awake?'
'Not really, but I will remember this in the morning….'
'We're almost home,' he informed her, changing the subject.
'I can't wait to hit the bed.'
'I hear you.'
'You don't happen to have any peyote on you, do you? Maybe some stashed in the car?'
'Are you nuts? This is a police car.'
'Hmmm… just wishful thinking.'
'How 'bout some of that stockpile of brandy or wine in your cellar?'
'Dad's cellar… but I'm sure we can find something to agree upon.'
