Green Lake (29 page)

“Yes,” said Jacqueline, her face sullen. “Among others.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Dale drove aimlessly around the lake and wondered how he was going to live. His frantic killing of Bruce Beckworth had made his aunt livid. She called him crazy. Stupid. Dangerous. She wanted nothing further to do with him, and she was going to see to it that he lost his job as a conservation officer. She told him to go back to school and become a goddamned landscape architect or something equally useless so she would never have to set eyes on him again. She also threatened to have him put away if she heard about any dead or abused little girls within a hundred miles of him.

S
o she hadn't believed him about Kayla Lyman after all. The old bitch simply chose to ignore it.

After hearing all she said, Dale was tempted to tell her what a hypocrite she was, but he didn't let himself do it. She would make good on her promise to have him taken into custody and hold him in some dark, dismal place for months while he awaited psychiatric evaluation.

He lived in Augusta, but he avoided returning to his apartment.  He also avoided answering his cell.  He couldn't be fired if no one was able to tell him. He was suspended, yes, but he wasn't fired yet. Officially, he was still a member of the Kansas Department of Wildlife and Parks.

When he saw Madeleine's Audi make the turn from the highway onto the access road he inhaled deeply.

For a moment, he considered leaving her alone. He had other things to worry about. It had surprised him that Renard didn’t come running home once he learned about his house, but it soon became obvious he didn't know yet, so Dale had gone scattering a few seeds of suspicion and distrust at the lake office, knowing the office would be the first place Renard called when he couldn't get Madeleine. It wasn't as if he lied. Madeleine did say she had received some sort of grant. And she was in fact leaving the lake area.

Dale turned and went after the Audi. Pursuing Madeleine was something to do at the moment, and Dale figured he had absolutely nothing to lose.

Madeleine drove up behind Eris's truck and loaded the bags out of the truck bed into her Audi. She then went into the house to take a final look and found her throat thickening all over again as she gazed at the blackened mess.

She turned and walked outside and saw Manuel on his porch beckoning to her. Madeleine walked up to the log cabin. “Good morning, Manuel.”

‘‘You still haven't spoken to Renard,” he said.

She shook her head.
“My unpaid bill was too high so they wouldn’t let me get one.”

‘‘You
should have gotten a prepaid.  You saw Jacqueline?”

“Yes.” Madeleine told him of the scene with her family that morning.

He smiled and shrugged. “Would you like to come in and use the land line?”

“Could I?” Madeleine had tried the gallery from Jacqueline's house with no success.

“Of course.” Manuel put on his fishing hat. “Thank you for talking with me. And Madeleine, you and Renard feel free to use the cabin until you can make other arrangements. The key is on the kitchen bar.” When Madeleine stared at him he lifted a hand. “I will not be returning for some time.”

“Manuel...thank you. I keep feeling like I should apologize for what I did, but somehow I just can't. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” he said. He stooped to kiss her on the cheek, and then he stepped off the porch to go fishing.

Madeleine shook her head in confusion and went inside to pick up the phone. She listened to six rings and was about to hang up when she heard a click and a voice that said, “Bent Horn Gallery.”

“Sara?” Madeleine asked uncertainly.

“This is Sara Bent Horn. Who is this?”

“It's Madeleine Heron, in Kansas. Sara, I need to speak with Eris. Can you please tell me how to reach him?”

There was a pause then, “No, I'm afraid I can't. He's gone off with his brother Clint and I haven't seen them for hours. I think Clint had a girl he wanted Eris to meet.”

Madeleine ignored the last. “It's extremely important that I reach him. Eris's house has—”

“Burned down, yes, we know. Eris learned about it early this morning.”

“He knows?”

“He spoke with someone where he works.”

“Oh,” said Madeleine. ”I. . . please tell him how sorry I am—”

“You'll have to excuse me, Madeleine,” Sara said to her. ”A client just walked in. Goodbye.”

“Wait,” Madeleine said quickly, but it was too late. The dial tone droned in her ear.

“Damn you,” Madeleine whispered as she replaced the receiver. She sat at the kitchen counter and stared out the window. She wanted desperately to speak to him, tell him how sorry she was about his house and how badly she missed him and how much she needed him right now. She wanted him to come home.

Madeleine stuck the key in her pocket and walked dejectedly out of the cabin. She trod down the steps and watched her feet as she walked down the hill to the Audi. When she looked up, she saw Dale Russell standing in front of his truck, parked so it blocked the drive. He was smiling.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The moment Madeleine encountered Dale's sickly smile, she sensed something wrong. She spoke to him, he spoke to her, and there was nothing suspicious about what he said, but there was a hint of desperation in his demeanor that set off warning bells, and the quivering of his nostrils and visible tension in his body sent adrenaline rushing through her veins. Inexplicably, Madeleine believed herself to be in danger.

She responded by picking up a piece of charred wood and throwing it at him as hard as she could. The missile took Dale by surprise and hit him directly above the left eye. Madeleine didn't wait to see anymore, she spun on her heel and ran as hard as she could for the log cabin. Once there she fumbled the key out of her pocket and opened the door. Then she slammed it behind her and shot home the dead bolt. She ran to the phone to pick it up, and while she was listening to a ring at Gloria Birdy's cabin, the line went dead in her hands.

Madeleine dropped the phone with a clatter and ran to each window and door throughout the cabin to make certain it was locked. She thanked Manuel for the security bars on the windows and then had a sudden vision of Dale Russell attempting to burn her out, thought perhaps it had even been him at Eris's cabin. Then she heard him knock politely on the door.

“Madeleine? We need to talk. I know you're not coming out, and you obviously don't want me to come in, so I'll just stand right outside here on the porch and talk to you. Can you hear me? ... I think you can hear me. What the hell were you thinking of back there? You could have seriously wounded me with that chunk of wood. What made you throw it at me? Am I that threatening to you?” After a moment he continued. “Madeleine, I'm standing here asking myself what could possibly have provoked you. You know I would never do anything to hurt you, and it really bothers me to know you're so frightened of me.”

Madeleine couldn't stand it anymore. “Why did you cut my phone line?” she demanded.

“What?” he asked. “Why did I do what?”

“You heard me.”

“Your phone line? Madeleine, I don't know what you're talking about. Is there something wrong with your cabin's phone?”

“You bastard” Madeleine said through gritted teeth. “Get the hell away from me.”

“Not until you calm down and tell me what the problem is,” he said. “Just what is it that's got you all upset and afraid of me.”

“It's not fear,” she told him. “It's disgust.”

Dale was silent for some time, and Madeleine's adrenaline began rushing again. Her head jerked from one window to the next. She expected to hear the shattering of glass any second.

Finally he said, “Well, I can't say I didn't suspect as much. You've tried to tell me in several ways, haven't you?”

“Get away from me,” Madeleine repeated. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” said Dale. “I'm going to sit here all night if I have to and we're going to talk about just what it is that bothers you about me. I really want to know, dammit. You have no idea how important it is for me to know.”

“Bull,” she said. “You're just another bullshit artist who can't understand why everyone doesn't love him.”

“I understand more than you think I do,” he said. “I could tell you things about me, Madeleine. Things I'm not proud of, but it might make me more human to you.”

“You're already incredibly repulsively human to me,” she said.

A hard thump on the door made her jump. “God, you're hard-headed. What makes you think you're so fucking noble?”

“I never said I was. I've never claimed to be anything but what I am, and I've been straight with you from the beginning. I want nothing to do with you. Not now, not ever.”

“Which only makes me want to shove my dick in your mouth that much more.”

Madeleine swallowed. Had he said what she thought he said?

“Eris is on his way home,” she said loudly.

“I doubt it,” Dale responded. “He thinks you're gone. I told the people at the lake office you were headed out, got a grant. I'm sure they passed the information on to Renard when he called in.”

“I talked to him today,” Madeleine lied. “He's coming home.”

“Now why don't I believe you?” he asked. “Could it be the utter dejection in your steps when you were walking away from the cabin earlier?”

“You can't sit there all night,” Madeleine said.

“Yes, I can. Because if I'm not sitting out here, then I'm going to be inside with you.”

Madeleine's palms were sweating. “Dale, why are you doing this? Why won't you leave me alone?”

“Because chatting with you takes my mind off other problems, and Madeleine, my dear, I have plenty of those.”

“Problems?” she said, a challenge in her voice. “Like the way you killed Bruce Beckworth? What is that act of cowardice going to cost you?”

“Hell, I don't even remember shooting the man. One minute he's rushing me and the next he's lying at my feet pissing his pants. The whole thing is a blur to me.”

“What were you doing out here that night?”

“Watching to see if Renard came home. I knew he was gone, but you didn't say so. You wanted me to think he was away for only an hour or two.”

“You're sick.”

“You women always say that. In high school and college I was even worse, but you know the shit guys can get away with. High school drunks and fraternity pranks. And my aunt was pretty high profile even back then. A real hotshot attorney.”

He fell silent and Madeleine was instantly aware. She liked it better when he was talking and she could track his movements. The silence unnerved her. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until her vision began to darken. She sucked in air and listened, her ears straining for any sound.

Finally she heard what sounded like a yawn. Then Dale said, “You know, I just realized I might be one of those guys who's been pushed around by strong women all his life and suddenly shows his resentment by murdering someone. What do you think, Madeleine?”

“You mean Bruce Beckworth?” she asked.

“No. I mean Kayla Lyman.”

Madeleine stared at the door. “What?”

“You asked.”

“The little girl? You killed th
at little girl?”

There was another long moment of silence, and then he began to chuckle. “Had you going there for a minute, didn't I?
You are totally willing to think the worst, so yeah, it was big bad old Dale. And yup, it was me that run down ole Shelly Bigelow, too. Creamed her snotty shit good. What else did I do that you'll believe? Let's see . . .”

“You really are sick,” said Madeleine.

Dale chuckled once more then he fell silent again for a long time, long enough to make Madeleine think he was actually falling asleep and then waking up again, leaving her trapped inside, wide awake and terrorized.

Madeleine closed her eyes as a brief image of Kayla Lyman resurfaced in her mind. The sodden yellow sweat-suit. The floating hair and bloated features. She thought of the emptiness in Dale Russell's voice as he said the little girl's name in response to her question, and suddenly Madeleine began to wonder. Her imagination introduced her to a perverted, remorseless
killer of children on the other side of her door. And suddenly there was no longer any wondering in her as she saw in her mind's eye the image of him holding the little girl and heard him saying, “Which only makes me want to shove my dick in your mouth that much more.”

When the sun cleared the trees, Madeleine had a huge knife in her hand and was prepared to use it. She heard Dale talking, asking how she had slept, but Madeleine did not answer. Her eyes remained glued to the door. Dale staggered to his feet and kicked at the door in an effort to stretch his cramped limbs. She wasn't answering him, but he knew she wasn't asleep. He cursed himself for saying what he had. He ought to go now while he wasn't in too much trouble. No one could say he had done anything but aggravate her. She couldn't prove anything, and he had the cut over his eye to use against her. He kicked the door one last time and said, “You keep an eye out for me today, Maddie. You never know where I'm going to turn up.”

He left then, got in his truck and drove out past the cemetery. Madeleine watched through the window and breathed out in relief. She threw back the locks and opened the door to run out of the cabin as fast as she could to the Birdy’s. Halfway across the lawn she was tackled from behind, and she twisted to see a scarlet-faced Dale Russell holding her and laughing. She shouted as loud as she could and received a fist in the face for her efforts. He dragged her back to the cabin and hauled her up the steps to push her inside, one hand reaching behind to close the door. He sat on her chest on the living room floor and hit her again when she fought and tried to unseat him. He unzipped his pants and she screamed in rage at him and told him she would bite.

“You do and I'll kill you,” he said calmly.

“You're going to kill me anyway,” she said, and panic made her buck furiously again to get him off her.

Dale hit her again, hard, and held her quiet with his hands wrapped around her neck, choking off her air. A sudden pounding at the door made his head jerk up. One hand left Madeleine's neck to cover her mouth and nose.

“Madeleine?” asked a familiar voice outside, and she squealed and took advantage of Dale's surprise to bite down hard on his hand and scream for help when he jerked it away. In the next instant the lock on the door was released and the knob was turning. Dale leaped off Madeleine and looked wildly around himself for some way to escape. He ran to the mudroom door and yanked at the locks, leaving the cabin through the back door just as Eris entered through the front. Eris was stunned into momentary paralysis at the sight of Madeleine's battered face. Then he spat a vicious curse and followed her pointing finger out the mudroom door to race after Russell. He caught him at the cemetery road as he was trying to get in his truck. Eris's eyes were black with fury as he swung a fist that landed in Russell's stomach and made him double over in search of air. Dale sent out an arm to hold him off, but Eris knocked it away and hit him again, plowing into the side of his jaw and sending him to the ground with darkening vision. Dale got to his knees and held up both arms this time, begging for mercy. Eris hissed between his teeth and hit him twice more, opening up the cut above his eye and rendering him unconscious.

Dale slumped to the ground and Eris stood over him a moment, his chest heaving. Then he turned to walk back to the cabin.

Madeleine came out to meet him, and the pain in his shoulder caused him to stumble as she threw her arms around him. He held her tightly a moment then moved with her into the cabin to sit down. She buried her face in the hollow of his neck and clung to him so fiercely he found it difficult to breathe. Eris put his arm around her and held on. “Are you all right?”

She tightened her hold on him and blurted, “Don't ever leave me again. I'm pregnant.”

Eris's jaw fell. Dale Russell was momentarily forgotten.

But he wasn't gone yet. The sunlight pricking at his lids brought him around, and Dale rolled awkwardly to his feet. The blood in his eye was about to blind him, and after Renard's last blow he was so dizzy his sense of direction was slightly askew. He made his way to where he thought his truck was parked, telling himself everything he was going to do to make Renard's existence a miserable one. He stopped in confusion and found himself in the middle of the road. He turned to search for his truck and saw nothing but the headlights and grill of a dented brown station wagon barreling toward him at thirty-five miles an hour.

The impact with the vehicle threw Dale fifteen feet into the dense brush and growth that bordered the road.

Sheila Lyman hit the brakes in the station wagon and stopped screaming at her little girls about the bubble gum on the car seat so she could look and see what she had hit. She had come to see Eris Renard and thank him for treating Ronnie so nice even though Ronnie hated his guts and wanted to hurt him. Sheila had heard how Renard stopped the man who killed Ronnie, and she wanted to offer to take Renard to dinner or maybe even go out on a date sometime. The sight of his burned-out house had nixed that idea. Sheila figured Ronnie was probably the one who had burned it.

She craned her head and couldn't see any dead deer around her, but she did see a CO's truck, and the idea of having hit one of those scared her worse than Ronnie ever had. Sheila's tires kicked up dust as she sped away.

Eris and Madeleine moved to the window at the sound of the loud thump. Neither recognized the driver of the station wagon tearing up the road.

“Where do you suppose Dale went?” Madeleine asked, her voice worried. “The truck is still there.”

“I don't know.” Eris led her back to the sofa. He couldn't stop looking at her. “He won't come near you again.”

“Did you hurt him?”

Eris's nostrils flared. “I hope so.”

He touched her bruised face and saw her wince.

“Shouldn't we call someone about him?” she said. “I want to press charges.”

“He'll probably call someone about us.”

“I believed him, Eris. What he said about Kayla Lyman.”