'Good evening, Al, at least I assume this is Al—who else would call at such a totally inconvenient time? Remind me to tell you sometime what I think of your telephone calls, Al. What can I do for you? Over.'
His voice came blasting tinnily out from the machine.
'Thank God you're all right, are you all right, and what about Chesler? Tyler saw what he said looked like the bridge wash by a minute ago. Over.'
'It was the bridge. We're both wet but thanks to Tommy unhurt, just bangs and a mild case of hysterics, but if I sit here and chat with you we'll both freeze to death, so I think I'll sign off if it's all the same to you.' And she did so.
All four feet squished as they walked, but despite the wind the effort of movement kept the cold from becoming seriously threatening, and the path back to the Road was both shorter and less strenuous than it had been on the other side. It was nearly full dark when they reached the deserted road.
'Where are we now, Tommy?'
'About a half a mile up from the washout.'
'Then it's about a mile to the Dodsons?'
'Is that where we're going?'
'No, you're going home. It shouldn't take you more than ten minutes and it's not that dark. I'm going on up.'
Tommy stood for a long minute, his face screwed up with the effort of thought. Then he shook his head and turned decisively uphill.
'I suppose you can threaten me with your gun, or handcuff me to a tree, but short of that you won't get rid of me. Tyler told me to guide you, and that's what I'm going to do. Sorry, Casey, you're stuck with me.' She saw his teeth flash white in the dark and heard him move off. She fell in beside him and undipped the flashlight from her belt.
'All right, and thank you, Tommy. I'll take you, but on one condition: you have to promise me that if I tell you to do something, you'll do it, immediately, no questions. Even if you think I'm in danger. You've saved my life once tonight, but remember, I'm a cop, and it's what I'm paid to do. Promise me? No hesitations?'
'Okay. We're going to the Dodsons', then?'
'No, we're not. We're going to see Vaun Adams.'
Something in her voice stopped him dead. She kept walking.
'Vaunie? But you don't… you can't think… Vaun? But, she's…'
'I think it would be best if you went home, Tommy, I really do.'
'But you're not going to arrest her? She couldn't have killed those girls, she couldn't have.'
'Tommy, do you know anything you haven't told us about?'
'No, but—'
'She couldn't have done it because you like her, is that it?'
'Yes, but—'
'I like her too, Tommy, but there's a lot of things we've found that make us want to ask her some more questions, to see what she knows.'
Euphemisms for the truth, but Tommy was just simple enough to half believe them and trust in her official status. His agitation lessened, though he remained dissatisfied. At the foot of Vaun's hill he looked up to where a soft glow illuminated the windows of the big room.
'I'll go up, but I won't go in.'
'You can go now, if you want. You've been a tremendous help, Tommy. I can't even begin to thank you.'
'No, I'll take you to the door.' Tommy had accepted the responsibility and was no more about to abandon her than he would have left Tina Merrill, although just then he'd have been hard put to decide which task was the more unpleasant.
13
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Kate pulled at the bell rope and listened as the deep, gonglike sound reverberated through the still house and died away. She heard no vibrations of walking (or running) feet, no sound of response. She tried the door, and was surprised to find it locked. Apprehension stirred in her. She pushed past Tommy and moved around the front of the house to the big expanse of windows. She could see the back of the sofa, the wood stove with a low fire flickering in its glass front and a squat black pot on top, a single electric light shining above the sofa, a low glossy cabinet with its door slightly ajar and a nearly empty bottle on top. No glass.
Moving faster now, Kate continued around, tried the side door, found it locked, and moved up around the house past the woodpile to the back, where the house dug itself into the hillside. Narrow windows, below knee level, were all that appeared of the lower story. A shaft of light from the swinging door that joined the kitchen and living room, propped open now, angled across the kitchen table, set with one plate, one bowl, silver. She went down on her knees, trying to see into the living room from this side.
'What's wrong, Casey? Isn't she—'
'Oh, God, oh God, I knew it,' Kate moaned, and tugged impotently at the window frame. The damn woman would choose tonight to start locking her doors!
'What's the matter?'
'Damn it all, man, get out of my way,' she swore and pushed him aside, ran back to the neat stack of firewood next to the side door, and snatched up a sturdy branch. At the window she ordered Tommy back out of the way, yanked off her jacket and held it up across her face, and slammed the piece of wood into the window. She ran the branch hard along all four edges, and shards of glass exploded onto the tile floor, the chairs, and the potted plants with a violent sound that shocked the night. Kate swept the splinters from the ledge with the stick, threw her jacket across the bottom of the frame, scooped the flashlight up from the ground and thrust it at Tommy, and rolled herself into the room.
'You stay there,' she ordered, and crunched rapidly across the glass into the living room.
Vaun Adams lay neatly tucked up on the sofa that faced the fireplace, her face slack, one hand limp over the edge of the pillows. A small, stubby glass and a paperback novel lay on the floor beneath the hand. The tumbled black curls gleamed even in the dull lamplight, and her face was the pallor of death.
But alive, still alive, though her heart was slow and erratic.
'Tommy!' Kate yelled, 'I need the nurse. Go find her, fast.'
'You mean Terry Allen? Yes, I think she's up here today, though she usually works—'
'Go!' she screamed, and he took off, the flashlight skit tering its beam across the ground as he ran heavily past the windows. Kate found a bowl in the kitchen and got to work on Vaun. It took an agonizingly long time before Vaun roused enough to vomit, and she sank immediately back into her deadly lethargy. Kate left her lying on her side and retrieved the walkie-talkie. Her back twinged, for some reason, as well as her thigh. She ignored them.
'Hawkin, Hawkin, c'mon Al, I need you.'
'Hawkin here, Casey, what's up?'
'Vaun Adams has taken some kind of overdose. I emptied her out, but I need medical support right now. Tommy's gone to get the nurse, but this lady needs a hospital. Is there any chance of getting a medicopter in?'
'The wind's died down a lot. If you can get a lighted clear area, they should do it. Any chance of that?'
'I can't leave her now, but when Tommy gets back we'll do something. This may be him now, gotta go.'
If anything Vaun looked worse, her breathing slow and rasping. The bob and swirl of lights coming up the hill had caught Kate's eye, and she went to open the front door to Angie and Amy Dodson and a hairy man whom she took to be the absent Tony, returned from Sacramento. She spoke quickly.
'Vaun's sick. She needs a doctor. There's a medical helicopter that'll be here in twenty minutes, but they need a big, flat, clear area with lights around it to land in. Can you do it?'
Angie recovered first.
'The pony's field, that's the best place. We'll make bonfires at the four corners. Would that do it?'
'Ideal, but hurry.'
