Edgewise (16 page)

“Okay, Bennie. Good night. Drive safely.”

She closed the door behind him and stood for a while with her back to it. For the first time in her life she felt as if she were losing faith in the world and everybody in it.

She had another nightmare that night. She was walking through an abandoned house, in midwinter. She went from room to room, and all the rooms were dusty and bare, except for a kitchen chair lying on its back, and a large rocking horse with no head and a threadbare tail.

Somewhere upstairs she could hear a shutter banging, and hesitating, and banging again. She stopped, and she listened, but all she could hear was the shutter, and the wind. She thought,
There's a storm getting up. I'd better close the windows.
But when she reached the foot of the staircase, she hesitated, though she didn't know why.

On the wall beside her hung a photograph of Jeff. The glass was broken and blood was running from Jeff's left nostril.

“Jeff,” she said. She reached out to touch the photograph but Jeff turned away, and when he turned away she saw that the side of his head had been crushed. She could see brains, and broken fragments of skull, and hair that was matted with blood.

“
Jeff!
” she said, but this time her voice was muffled and deep, like a slowed-down tape-recording.
“Juuurrrffffffff!”

It was then that she heard claws—or what she thought were claws—softly clattering on the floorboards upstairs. She thought she could hear panting, too. It sounded like dogs, or wolves.

The shutter banged, and hesitated, and banged.

It was then that a shadow fell across her, and a tall figure started to come down the stairs—a figure that was part-man and part-animal, part-wolf and part-deer. It came down awkwardly, with angular legs and arms, leaning against the side of the staircase.

She was too terrified to scream. She was too terrified even to breathe. She turned around and every door in the house slammed shut.

And then the phone rang.

“Mrs. Blake? Lily? It's Special Agent Kellogg.”

“Oh, hi. How are you? Sorry—I was asleep.”

“That's okay. I'm sorry to wake you. Well, I'm not entirely sorry to wake you. We've found Tasha and Sammy.”

Lily sat up in bed. She was so breathless that she could hardly speak. “You've found them? Oh, my God! Oh, thank God! Are they all right?”

“They're fine, Mrs. Blake. They're at Tampa General Hospital, in Florida.”

“They're in the
hospital
? Why? What's happened to them?”

“Nothing physically wrong, Mrs. Blake, so far as I know. But they've had a pretty bad shock, and we just needed to make sure that they were okay.”

“What kind of a shock?”

“It's your former husband, I'm afraid. He's dead.”

Lily switched on her bedside lamp. “What happened to him?” she asked, and her voice sounded like somebody else altogether.

“Look, we can come round and pick you up in fifteen minutes. We'll fly you directly down to Tampa and give you all the details on the way. Is that okay with you?”

“Please—I want to know how he died.”

“He was attacked, Mrs. Blake, by a person or persons unknown. His injuries were very serious. In fact, you could say that they were catastrophic.”

“Do you have any idea who did it?”

“I haven't had time to speak to the Tampa police yet. So far as I know, though, they don't have anybody in custody.”

“All right,” said Lily. “I'll get dressed. How long will it take us to get to Tampa?”

“About three and a half hours. We should arrive around two in the morning.”

They left Minneapolis on the last North Western flight of the day. It was snowing heavily, but the flashing lights on the tips of the aircraft's wings made it look as if the snow was suspended motionless in midair.

Special Agent Kellogg sat beside her, while Special Agent Rylance sat across the aisle, trying to get some sleep.

“Your ex-husband had rented a beach house on Crystal Island, just off Clearwater, in the name of Glennan. According to the police, he and the children pretty much kept to themselves.”

“I can't understand why Tasha didn't try to contact me—just to tell me that they were alive and well.”

“People go through a strange psychological change when they're abducted, Mrs. Blake, particularly children. Your ex-husband probably persuaded her that she would only upset you, if she called.”

“So what happened? Who found them?”

“It was yesterday evening, around about seven
P.M
. The old guy who lives next door heard a whole lot of noise like doors being slammed and furniture being thrown around. Then screaming. Tasha and Sammy came running out of the house and according to him they were terrified out of their wits.

“The old guy dialed nine-one-one, and then he went next door. The perpetrator or perpetrators had left the house, although the old guy said that it looked as if a hurricane had been through it. He found the remains of your ex-husband in the den.”

“Remains?”

“I haven't received a full report yet, Mrs. Blake. But the detective who called me said that I should try to prepare you for some very unpleasant details.”

“Go on.”

Special Agent Kellogg loosened his necktie. “Maybe this should wait until we get to Tampa, and I can talk to the medical examiner.”

“No, I want to know now. What did he mean by ‘very unpleasant?' ”

“Your ex-husband was attacked with extreme brutality, Mrs. Blake. He was literally torn to shreds. The old guy next door said that the last body he had seen like that was a scuba diver who had been mangled up by the propeller of a pleasure boat.”

Special Agent Kellogg paused for a moment, and then he said, “There wasn't very much of him there. One of his arms, and part of his rib cage. That was all.”

He paused again, and then he reached across and took hold of her hand. “I'm sorry,” he said.

They spoke very little for the rest of the flight. Lily was offered breakfast, but she couldn't have eaten anything. Her stomach had contracted to a small, complicated knot.

She didn't need to hear any more forensic details to know that Jeff had been torn apart by the Wendigo, and that she was directly responsible for his death. Much as she hated him for what he had tried to do to her, she couldn't help thinking about the early days of their marriage, and all the laughter. She had loved Jeff so much. Now that body that used to lie in bed beside her had been ripped apart, and most of it dragged away. She couldn't stop thinking about the pattern of moles on his left shoulder, like a constellation in the sky at night.

“Are you okay?” asked Special Agent Kellogg.

She nodded. She hadn't pulled down the blind over the window, but all she could see was blackness, and her own reflection, like a ghost of herself traveling through the night.

Tasha and Sammy were deeply asleep when she arrived at the hospital. They were both on plasma drips to increase their blood volume. A young gray-haired doctor told Lily that he had also given them a mild sedative to calm them down.

“They were both in shock,” he told her. “Whatever they witnessed, they were simply unable to articulate it. They literally couldn't speak.”

Lily looked down at them. She was desperate to take them into her arms, and hug them, but she knew how much they needed to sleep. They both looked well fed, and suntanned, and Sammy had gingery freckles across the bridge of his nose, just like Jeff used to get in the summer.

“Are they going to be okay?” she asked, touching Tasha's hair.

“It's too early to say,” said the doctor. “They're likely to experience episodes of panic and insecurity, and they'll probably have nightmares for quite some time. But an experienced therapist should be able to see them through it. We had a boy of seven here who saw his entire family shot dead right in front of him. It took him nearly a year, but he learned to cope with it in the end.”

She was still sitting between the children's beds at seven
A.M
. when Special Agent Kellogg brought her a cup of coffee and a sugared doughnut.

“You must be pooped,” he said.

She gave him a smile. “I want to be here when they wake up, that's all. I don't want them to think that they're all alone.”

“I've been talking to the detective who's running the case,” said Special Agent Kellogg. “He said that nobody saw anybody enter the house, and nobody saw anybody leave. There were no unfamiliar vehicles parked anywhere nearby, and none of the local stores or bars or gas stations reported any unusual customers.”

He nodded toward Tasha and Sammy. “It seems like the only witnesses were these two.”

“I don't want them questioned until they're ready,” said Lily.

“Don't worry about it. We have a child-interview specialist flying here from Quantico. She's very, very good. Very sympathetic. She's dealt with scores of investigations involving traumatized kids.”

“I feel so guilty,” Lily told him.

“Why should you feel guilty? None of this was your fault.”

“Maybe if I hadn't been so bitchy and self-righteous . . . maybe if I had let Jeff see them more often . . .”

“Hey—you told me yourself that he always caused trouble. What else could you do?”

I could have waited for the FBI to find them. It might have taken a whole lot longer, but Jeff was obviously taking good care of them. At least he would still be alive, and Tasha and Sammy wouldn't have had to see him being ripped into pieces.

Special Agent Kellogg got up to leave and, as he did so, Tasha opened her eyes.

“Mom?” she whispered.

Lily stood up and took hold of Tasha's hands. She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry, but her eyes filled up with tears, and her throat was so choked up that she couldn't speak.

“Mom, what happened to your
hair
?”

They were sitting in the day-room overlooking the bright blue water of Tampa Bay when Dr. Flaurus came in. Outside, the sun was shining and the yuccas were rustling in the warm Gulf wind. A seagull perched on the balcony rail, and stared at them with one emotionless eye.

Dr. Flaurus came straight over to them, holding out her hand. She was tall, with wavy brunette hair and a strong, handsome face. She was wearing a natural-colored linen suit and an emerald-green blouse.

“Jane Flaurus,” she smiled, with scarlet lips.

“Lily Blake,” said Lily. “This is Tasha and this is Sammy. Say hello, kids.”

“Hello,” Tasha whispered. Sammy said nothing at all, but covered his face with his hands and peered out at Dr. Flaurus through his fingers.

Dr. Flaurus pulled a chair across and sat down, crossing her legs. Out of her purse she produced a small tape recorder, which she set down on the table next to the
Star Trek
book that Sammy had been reading.

“If you'd rather I didn't record what we talk about—if the tape recorder makes you feel uncomfortable—then I'll put it away. But if I can listen to our conversation later, that will help me a whole lot.”

“Tasha?” asked Lily. “Sammy?”

“It's okay,” said Tasha, so quietly that Lily could hardly hear her. Sammy said nothing, and kept his hands in front of his face.

Dr. Flaurus said, “It's beautiful here, isn't it? So warm.”

“We have snow up to our armpits in Minneapolis,” said Lily.

“I love the snow,” said Dr. Flaurus. “How about you, Sammy? Do you like the snow?”

Sammy still didn't answer, but Lily could see him furiously blinking behind his fingers.

Dr. Flaurus talked for over fifteen minutes about nothing much at all. She asked Tasha and Sammy what TV shows they liked best, which lessons they enjoyed at school, which games they preferred to play. Lily began to think that she was never going to get around to asking them about Jeff.

“Would you like to live here in Florida, instead of Minnesota?” she said.

“Not now,” said Tasha.

“Not
now
,” Sammy echoed, with even more emphasis.

“But you liked it before?”

Tasha nodded. “We went swimming every day. We went to Busch Gardens and saw the animals. We had picnics and we went on all the rides.”

“I couldn't go on the Gwazi,” Sammy put in. “I wasn't tall enough. But Daddy said I'll be tall enough next year.”

“We won't be here next year,” Tasha retorted. “I don't want to come back here ever again.”

“I only want to come back here once,” said Sammy. “Just to go on the Gwazi.”

Dr. Flaurus said, “That person who hurt your daddy—they won't be coming back, I promise you.”

“It wasn't a person,” said Sammy.

“Yes, it was,” said Tasha.

“No, it wasn't. It was nobody.”

“It was a man, stupid. Kind of a man, anyhow.”

“It was nobody. There was nobody there.”

“Yes, there was.”

“Wasn't.”

“Was.”

Dr. Flaurus interrupted them. “Tasha, when you say ‘kind of a man,' what exactly do you mean?”

Tasha looked downward and sideways, as if she didn't want to face her recollection directly. When she spoke, she shook her fingers as if she were trying to describe something flickery and insubstantial.

“All of a sudden he was just
there.
”

“You mean he came straight into the house without ringing the bell or knocking on the door?”

“No. He was just there, in the middle of the den. He just appeared.”

“
I
didn't see him,” said Sammy.

“Well you're blind.”

“I'm not blind. If I'm blind, where's my dog?”

“Okay, okay,” said Dr. Flaurus. “Let's say that he just appeared. What did he look like?”