The Lake

“Yeah, I do that.”

“My father’s name was Charlie.”

Here we go again, Leigh thought.

But it didn’t go any further, because Mace came striding down the corridor. He held his short-barreled revolver close to his shoulder, pointed at the ceiling. “It’s all right back there,” he said. Before reaching them, he stepped down into the den and disappeared behind the fireplace area that separated the den from the living room.

A little while later, he walked past the rear of the fireplace and made a circuit of the living room, checking the sliding glass doors and looking behind furniture. At the far side of the living room, he unlocked the door, ran it open, and stepped outside. He vanished, then reappeared, walking the deck that stretched along the entire rear of the house.

When he came back, he headed for the kitchen. Leigh heard his footsteps on the floor, then the squeak of the door opening into the garage.

Finally, he returned. “The place is secure,” he said, and put his revolver away. “That’s to say, nobody’s here but us. There’s no indication of forced entry. You’ve got drop pins on your sliding doors, which is good. You should do something about the windows, though. Pick up some quarter-inch dowel rods to drop in the runners, that’s the easiest way. Cut them off in lengths that’ll let you open the windows a few inches for fresh air, but no farther.”

“We’ll have to take care of that,” Leigh said.

“You might want to invest in an alarm system that’ll tie in to a private security patrol. Oh, and the gravel strip under the windows is a good idea. Announces the presence of intruders in that area. If and when, of course.”

Leigh nodded.

“Let’s take a look at the car.” He opened the front door. “Do you have your keys?” he asked.

“I do,” Deana said, pulling a chain out of her T-shirt. A house key dangled at its end.

They stepped outside. Mattie shut the door.

“That’s another thing,” Deana said, pointing at the newspaper on the stoop. “It’s always up at the top of the driveway. When I came out this morning, it was right here.”

“Okay. We may want to have the lab check it.” They crossed to the driveway. A shiny, black Trans Am was parked in front of the garage. “What time did you first notice the car?” Mace asked as they started up the sloping pavement.

“Around eight-thirty,” Leigh said. “Just before we phoned.”

“We were to go running,” Deana added.

“What did you do when you saw it?”

“Hauled ass back to the house.”

“Deana.”

“Sorry.”

“Did you hear any unusual sounds? Last night or this morning?”

“No.”

“Nothing.”

Just before they reached the top of the driveway, Leigh saw the old red Pontiac. Even in the bright sunlight, it looked ominous. It reminded her of that movie Christine. The car in that movie was red, too, but not a Pontiac. It had a life of its own, and she imagined this one starting up with no one inside. It won’t, she told herself. It damn well better not.

They crossed the road. Squatting, Mace touched the exhaust pipe. Then he peered through the open driver’s window. Mattie, beside him, looked into the backseat. She opened her shoulder bag and followed Mace to the front, where he bent down and inspected the smashed-in areas.

Mattie took out a notepad. She started writing.

“The damage appears consistent with the facts of the hit,” he said. He dug a pocketknife out of his pocket, pried out a blade, and scraped at the bent metal grille. His knife point came away with a tiny pile of powder that looked like rust. He fingered it off, rubbed the dust with his thumb, sniffed and tasted it.

Deana looked at Leigh and wrinkled her nose.

“We’d better have a crime-scene unit come out,” he said.

“Then this is the one?” Leigh asked.

“I can’t say for sure. It’s a strong possibility, though.” He looked over his shoulder at Mattie. “We’ll notify the Tiburon PD. They’ll need to be in on this, but they’ll probably be agreeable to letting our people handle the detail work.”

“Save a lot of back-and-forth,” she agreed. She hurried across the road and started down the driveway.

“Doesn’t she need my key?” Deana asked.

“She can call from the car.” Mace put away his knife. Getting down on his hands and knees, he lowered his head almost to the pavement and looked under the car. Then he stood up. He brushed gravel off his palms.

“What now?” Leigh asked.

“We wait for the lab people to do their work. It won’t take long to find out whether the blood down here matches up with the Powers boy.”

“Shouldn’t somebody search Del Mar?” Leigh asked.

“This car has been here for hours. He’s long gone. But he left the car behind, and that was a big mistake. It’ll help us nail him.”

“It’s probably stolen,” Deana said.

“Undoubtedly. But we’ll get some physical evidence from it. Maybe fingerprints, maybe hair samples, maybe fabric particles. When we run down the car owner, we might find out if he witnessed the theft—if that’s what it was. All this will take time, though. I don’t want you two staying in the house.”

Leigh felt her stomach flip as if the street had suddenly dropped from under her feet.

Mace looked from Leigh to Deana. His gaze settled on Leigh’s eyes. “I don’t want to alarm you, but…”

“You’re going to do it anyway.”

He smiled a bit. “Afraid so. You know what it means, of course, the car being here.”

“Exactly what does it mean?” Leigh heard a tremor in her voice.

“It means, A, the killer knows where Deana lives, and B, he paid her a visit.”

“Why?”

“Unfinished business.”

“Jesus,” Deana muttered.

“He was here,” Leigh said, “so why didn’t he do something?”

“We don’t know what he did or didn’t do.”

“I can think of a couple of things he didn’t do,” Deana said, and tried for a smile. The corner of her mouth trembled for an instant. She licked her lips, wiped them with the back of her hand.

“He might have left the car here as a message,” Mace suggested. “A warning that he can get to you if he wants. Or maybe he’s toying with you.”

“Toying?”

“This guy is not a normal person. He’s probably totally different from anyone in your experience.”

“You mean like a psycho?” Deana asked.

“That’s what I mean.”

“Move over, Norman Bates.”

“So there’s no telling what he might do.”

“You think he left it here just to scare us?” Leigh asked.

“Anything’s possible. But…”

“They’re on the way,” Mattie said, striding across the street.

“What were you about to say?” Leigh asked Mace.

“I think you should check into a motel, unless you have friends or relatives who wouldn’t mind putting you up for a while.”

“That isn’t what you were going to say,” Leigh challenged him. “It was something about the car and why it’s here. To scare us or what?”

“It would just be a guess.”