building, they heard footsteps in empty rooms or scratching sounds within the walls. And once, a whispering from a dank, stygian cellar.
But there was never anything to be found when they investigated.
Other than that, the only sounds were the wind moaning and their own boots stepping over groaning timbers. But that did not satisfy Cabe that he was imagining any of it. Because, someone or something was there. Behind them, in front of them, maybe on the rooftops or down in the cellars. More than once he had caught movement out of the corner of his eye. And there was no mistaking one thing: they were being watched. Eyes were peering at them from shadowy tangles, leering from behind shuttered windows and staring from dark, damp places.
At the edge of town, they found a few log houses that showed signs of recent occupancy. Beds were made and tables set, firewood stocked and barns hayed. There was dust over everything, but it made Cabe think that whoever had lived in those places had left in one hell of a hurry. In that part of the country times were always harsh and you didn’t abandon your belongings and wares without a real damn good reason.
In one of the houses they found a single yellowed bone.
It was sitting in the center of the floor, a human femur. Both he and Graybrow examined it and came to the same conclusion: the marks punched into it were from teeth.
“What do you make of all this?” Cabe finally asked.
But Graybrow just shook his head, saying, “I think it’s much worse than what folks are saying. Whatever happened here…maybe I don’t want to know.”
Cabe just looked him dead in the eye. “You scared?”
“Damn yes, I am.”
And Cabe was, too. He had never experienced such a total sense of terror before. And what made it all the worse, all that much harder to handle was that he did not even know what he was afraid of. Only that if it found him, if it reached out and touched him, he feared he’d lose his sanity.
They found a livery in which a dozen horses were stabled. They were very much alive and had plenty of feed and water. There were saddles and rigs, bits and reigns. Even shoes and nails stacked on a bench.
“Somebody’s here, all right,” Cabe said.
They checked out the old jail and then the only church in town. Its spire was high and leaning, the cross missing. If there was one place the Mormons would have set to right, it would have been the church. It stood at the end of a weedy road, surrounded by a rusty wrought-iron fence with spiked corner posts that rose up five, six feet. It was frightful and uninviting, looked like it might fall right over at any moment. The windows had been planked- over and a weird, gassy smell emanated from it.
Cabe climbed the rickety steps and tried the iron door-puller.
“Locked,” he said, sounding relieved.
Graybrow stood just outside the fence with the horses. “You see what’s carved into that door?”
Cabe did.
He was not an educated man, but he could read. And had read widely in his lonely occupation to pass the time. What he saw carved in the face of the door were signs and symbols generally associated with witchcraft and black magic-pentagrams and pentacles, stylized inverted crosses.
Regardless, he had seen enough.
They both mounted and rode through those streets one last time, each with their weapons in hand. The shadows were elongating and they heard sounds, murmuring voices, distant movement…as if whatever lived in Deliverance was real anxious for the sun to go down.
When they got outside town, Cabe and Graybrow rode like hell was opening behind them and that wasn’t too far from the truth.
17
It was well after dark when Cabe finally tracked Dirker down to a sordid rooming house called Ma Heller’s Place just this side of Horizontal Hill, the red-light district. He had been all over town looking for the sheriff ever since returning from Deliverance and this is where he found him, staring up at the house astride his gray mare.
Cabe brought him into a tent-roofed saloon called the Mother Lode and laid it out for him over warm beer.
“Empty?” Dirker said.
Cabe just shrugged. “It is and it isn’t. There’s something there, but I’m not just sure what.”
Dirker just gave him those ice-blue eyes full blast. “Maybe you better explain yourself.”
So Cabe did. He took his time, telling the sheriff everything he had learned about Deliverance and James Lee Cobb and how he figured the degeneration of the place was definitely connected with the man. At least, it seemed likely. Because something was wrong there, the place had gone from a God-fearing Mormon enclave to a vile pest- hole and there had to be a reason.
Dirker didn’t laugh at him or dismiss it outright. He gave it all pause while he sipped his beer. “I’ll grant you that something strange has happened there…but witchcraft? Satanism? Christ, Cabe, I just can’t swallow that sort of business.”
“Don’t blame you, Dirker. Not in the least. I wouldn’t have swallowed it myself unless it was rammed down my throat,” Cabe said. “I think…I think what ought to be done here is a posse organized and taken in there. Hell, maybe the army. But something ought to be done.”
“Then why don’t you do it? I told Forbes that you were the man for the job.”
Cabe just stared at him. “I guess…I guess I appreciate that. But this whole thing is bigger than me. Even all that money he promised me, it ain’t enough to get me up to Deliverance by myself. That place has to be torn apart and rooted out.”
But Dirker wasn’t so sure. “When the time comes, I think that’ll be my decision.”
Cabe just sighed. “Goddammit, Sheriff…listen now, this ain’t a matter of who’s in charge. It’s a matter of something being real fucking wrong up at that place and something having to be done about it.”
But Dirker would only tell him he’d think it over, maybe do a little more intensive research on his own. What you don’t understand, Dirker told him, was that there was more than just that crazy town to deal with here. There was the vigilantes and last night they had raided Redemption. And word had it the Mormons had brought in the Danites now and things were about to get seriously ugly.
“Way things stand, Cabe, I can’t afford to have all my men sniffing around that deserted village, not with what’s going on.”
Cabe understood that, said, “Sooner or later, Sheriff, this is going to have to be dealt with. And I hope it’s before more people are dead or missing.”
Dirker agreed with him on that. “But right now,” he said grimly, “how about we discuss why I’m out here instead of at my office? How about that?”
Cabe finished his beer. “Why are you out here?”
“It’s about your friend Freeman.”
And it was more than that. It was also about the Sin City Strangler. Dirker told him that not less than two hours before…just about sunset, in fact…the killer had struck yet again, carving up another prostitute. This one was named Carolyn Reese and she worked at the Old Silver Gin House. But the law had gotten lucky this time, for another whore had seen a man with her shortly before it happened.
Cabe was paying attention now. “And?”
“And the description was of a tall man, narrow face, dead-looking eyes. Worn a Stetson and a canvas duster. He also wore the star of a Texas Ranger.”
Cabe felt his head go dizzy, felt a rushing sound in his ears. “Freeman…Jesus H. Christ. I figured there was something wrong there, but, dammit, I didn’t want to think this.”
Dirker nodded. “Well, it just so happens that I wired the Rangers in Abilene. They had a fellow named Freeman working for them. But he disappeared about six months ago back up in Wyoming. He was a short, rotund fellow with an eye patch.”
