He tried to close the back, but it wouldn't go up; the handle of the
dolly stuck out four inches too far. He drove with the tailgate
down, and at every bump and pothole, his heart seemed to stutter.
His ears felt for the whistle, waiting for it to escalate into a shrill
scream and then descend to a guttural howl of fury waiting for the
hoarse rip of canvas as teeth and claws pulled their way through it.
And overhead the moon, a mystic silver disc, rode the sky.
'I drove out to Ryder's Quarry,' Henry went on. 'There was a
chain across the head of the road, but I geared the Scout down and
got around. I backed right up to the edge of the water. The moon
was still up and I could see its reflection way down in the
blackness, like a drowned silver dollar. I went around, but it was a
long time before I could bring myself to grab the thing. In a very
real way, Dex, it was three bodies... the remains of three human
beings. And I started wondering...where did they go? I saw
Wilma's face, but it looked ... God help me, it looked all flat, like a
Halloween mask. How much of them did it eat, Dex? How much
could it eat? And I started to understand what you meant about that
central axle pulling loose.'
'It was still whistling. I could hear it, muffled and faint, through
that canvas dropcloth. Then I grabbed it and I heaved... I really
believe it was do it then or do it never. It came sliding out... and I
think maybe it suspected, Dex... because, as the dolly started to tilt
down toward the water it started to growl and yammer again ... and
the canvas started to ripple and bulge ... and I yanked it again. I
gave it all I had ... so much that I almost fell into the damned
quarry myself. And it went in. There was a splash ... and then it
was gone. Except for a few ripples, it was gone. And then the
ripples were gone, too.'
He fell silent, looking at his hands.
'And you came here,' Dex said.
'First I went back to Amberson Hall. Cleaned under the stairs.
Picked up all of Wilma's things and put them in her purse again.
Picked up the janitor's shoe and his pen and your grad student's
glasses. Wilma's purse is still on the seat. I parked the car in our--
in my--driveway. On the way there I threw the rest of the stuff in
the river.'
'And then did what? Walked here?'
'Yes.'
'Henry, what if I'd waked up before you got here? Called the
police?'
Henry Northrup said simply: 'You didn't.'
They stared at each other, Dex from his bed, Henry from the chair
by the window.
Speaking in tones so soft as to be nearly inaudible, Henry said,
'The question is, what happens now? Three people are going to be
reported missing soon. There is no one element to connect all
three. There are no signs of foul play; I saw to that. Badlinger's
crate, the dolly, the painters' dropcloth--those things will be
reported missing too, presumably. There will be a search. But the
