"No. That’s stupid and too dangerous," said Katelynn, doing her best to regain her composure. "Let’s take Gabriel’s tape to Sheriff Wilson. Sam was supposed to meet with him later this morning anyway. Wilson will believe you. He has to!"
Jake shook his head. "The tape doesn’t prove anything, Katelynn. It’s just the disjointed ramblings of a sick old man on the brink of death. We don’t have time to gather the type of proof we need to convince anyone else, let alone the Sheriff. The police haven’t uncovered a single piece of evidence at any of the crime scenes that even hints at this thing’s existence. What makes you think we’ll be able to convince them otherwise? No, we don’t have time. Every minute we delay is another minute someone else might lose their life. I couldn’t live with that. Could you?"
Katelynn started to cry halfway through Jake’s explanation, and by the time he finished speaking she turned and moved away from him, the tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Jake started to reach out to her, apparently thought better of it, and let his hand fall softly back down to his side. He turned to face his other friend.
"Sam?" he asked, and the rest of the unspoken question was clear in his eyes.
He did not want to go alone.
A moment ticked by, neither of them moving, their gazes locked, unspoken words flying between them; memories of all the times they’d stood against whatever was the enemy, imagined or otherwise, memories that only a deep friendship could ever supply.
Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sam shook his head.
No.
Not this time.
Jake held Sam’s gaze a moment, then looked away. Crossing the room to the door, he opened it and without turning said, "Give me two hours. It won’t suspect that I’d come right back after it. It will still be thinking it scared us off. Now’s my chance to catch it off guard. Two hours. If I’m not back by then, well, then I’m probably not coming. Go to the police and tell them everything you can. They won’t believe you, but at least we will have done our best to warn them."
Without another backward glance, Jake stepped outside and quietly closed the door after him.
Chapter Thirty-two: Attack Plans
Outside on the steps, Jake hesitated a moment, torn between his desire to go back inside to talk his friends into coming with him and the need to protect them from what he was about to do. Deciding that it just might be best if he went at it alone, he turned away and moved down the drive to where he’d parked the Jeep. Loki came running out of the early morning light, having followed him out through the doggie door in back. Jake let the dog into the Jeep, and then climbed in after him. He took one last look at the closed front door, then started the car up and pulled away.
It took only a few minutes to reach the construction site. He stopped at the end of the drive and headed for his trailer. Jake knew that very soon it would be full daylight. For that he was glad. Knowing that his friends would have continued trying to talk him out of going, Jake had already decided that his best chance of going after the beast was when it returned to its lair. That was the time to strike, when it felt safe, when its defense were down. Believing itself to be protected from harm by secrecy, it would be totally unprepared for an attack.
So attack he would.
He pulled the key ring off his belt and unlocked the trailer door. He moved quickly, having already decided exactly what he would need on the drive over, a vague plan being slowly formulated as he raced through the quiet city streets, intent on his mission of destruction. Moving inside, he marched over to his desk and slid open the top drawer, withdrawing the 9mm Beretta laying there.
Jake crossed over to the storage closet that dominated one whole end of the trailer and unlocked it. He was more convinced than ever that the Nightshade had taken up refuge in the Riverwatch estate and that was Jake’s destination as well. He was fairly certain the electricity would still be on; it was, after all, the scene of a current police investigation, but the last thing in the world he wanted was to get over there and find himself trapped in the dark with that thing, so he was taking no chances. From the closet’s third shelf he took down a large Coleman lantern and an extra bottle of propane fuel. He checked to make certain that both the lantern and the propane bottle were full and then shut and relocked the cabinet.
At least I’ll get a good look at the thing, he thought with a touch of black humor, smiling grimly at his own joke.
He turned back to the door, surveying the small, cluttered room around him as he did, wondering if there was anything else laying around that might be useful Just what the hell do you bring on a monster hunt? he asked himself sarcastically.
Your will, a voice said in the back of his mind. He quickly left before the voice made him lose his nerve altogether.
Once back in the Jeep, he gunned the engine, swerving around the dirt lot that formed Stonemoor’s makeshift parking area and rushed back down the drive, not stopping at the end but swerving directly onto the road without slowing, knowing the streets of Harrington Falls would be empty at this hour.
It took him only a few minutes to reach the stone arch that formed the gateway to the Riverwatch estate. He stopped and took a moment to mentally prepare himself.
If you’re going do this thing, Jake, do it right, he told himself, and took several deep breaths to slow his breathing and get his heartbeat back under control. Won’t do you any good to go in there half cocked. That will only get you killed.
He decided to leave the Jeep here, at the base of the drive. When he was ready, he climbed out. Loki tried to follow him. Jake had allowed Loki to come along because he intended to use the canine’s keen instincts to help track down the beast, but now, at the moment of choice, he had a last-minute change of heart. Jake shoed the dog back inside the vehicle, not wanting to endanger his closest companion.
"I’ll be right back, Loki," he said soothingly, and turned away from the dog’s whining, his heart breaking with the thought that he might not see his friend again. He took some comfort in the fact that Sam or Katelynn would care for the Akita as if he were their own, and that got him focused again on the problem at hand.
The rising sun was reflecting off the waters of the lake as Jake started walking up the drive. Just how intelligent is this thing? he wondered, a bit uneasily. Does it already know I’m here? Is it going to be waiting for me inside the mansion? The answers to those questions could mean the difference between life and death.
Equipment in hand, he began walking up the drive toward the mansion, the road stretching out before him. By the time he reached the wide wooden steps that led onto the veranda, he was grimly resolved to carry out his task or die trying. He didn’t believe the beast would give him a second chance, so he determined it was all or nothing. He’d said his goodbyes, at least as much of a goodbye as he’d ever give, and he was certain that if he failed to return Sam would go to the cops, the newspapers, and everyone else he could think of in a wild attempt to get someone to listen. If they failed to pay attention, then Sam would be sure to get himself and Katelynn as far out of town as possible. Knowing those he cared about would escape even if he didn’t, Jake felt some of the tension leave his frame. He was in no way certain he would succeed, but at least things would be taken care of in his wake.
The steps loomed up before him and Jake cast aside such thoughts, clearing his mind as much as possible, readying himself for the coming confrontation. At the foot of the steps he stopped and looked up.
The twin elms that lined the drive draped the mansion in their shadows, lending it a dark brooding presence all its own, as if it were a living, breathing thing that gaped at him; the dark windows like eyes that sought him out where he stood. They seemed to stare disapprovingly in his direction. It was as though the structure was watching him and didn’t like what it was seeing. He looked quickly away. His gaze came to rest on the pools of darkness that crept out from beneath the porch. This was no better, as his fear-filled mind began to imagine it saw movement there beneath the wood.
In that moment, Jake thought about turning around, getting the hell out of Harrington Falls altogether and running for the other side of the country just as fast as he could, but his reasoning of a few moments ago quickly rose up and cast the idea back into the depths from which his mind had dredged it.
I am going in there, I am going to do what has to be done, and that is that.
Do your best, Jake thought in defiance and stepped onto the first riser of the veranda.
*** ***
In the silence after Jake’s departure, Sam and Katelynn stared at each other, uncertain of what to do next.
Katelynn broke the silence first, "Do something, Sam!"
He just looked at her, saying nothing.
"Come one, Sam! Don’t just sit there. You’ve got to stop him. He’s going to get himself killed!"
Sam knew it was useless, that once Jake made up his mind about something, nothing short of a bullet to the back of his head was going to stop him from doing it. The panic-stricken look on Katelynn’s face made him realize that he had to at least make an effort.
But he was already too late.
Even as he turned toward the door, the sudden roar of the Jeep’s engine could be heard outside. Opening the door, Sam was in time to witness Jake’s brake lights disappearing around the corner at the far end of the street.
He felt a hand on his good shoulder and turned to see Katelynn behind him, the anguish plain on her face. They had no idea where Jake was headed, and neither of them could summon the courage to meet him at Riverwatch.
Katelynn spoke softly, "Oh, Sam, what are we going to do?"
He didn’t know. Unless they did something, however, there was a very good chance that Jake was going to become the Nightshade’s next victim.
An idea suddenly reared its head.
"Stay here," Sam told her, and disappeared back inside the house. A few minutes later he reappeared carrying his backpack.
"Let’s go," he said.
Sam tossed the backpack onto the rear seat of his car and climbed in behind the wheel. Katelynn quickly followed. When Sam pulled out and headed down the street, she said, "Riverwatch is the other way, Sam. Where are you going?"
"We’re not following Jake," he replied. "We’ve got an appointment with someone else." He handed her a piece of paper.
In the light from a passing streetlamp, Katelynn recognized it as a page torn from the phone book. A name and address about halfway down the page was circled in red ink.
The name was Damon Wilson.
*** ***
At that moment, Damon was seated in his study, staring at the pages of the reports in front of him without really seeing them. He didn’t need to; he’d read through them so many times over the last few weeks that he practically had them memorized, even down to McClowski’s spelling errors.
Nothing in them told him what he so desperately needed to know.
What was killing the citizens of Harrington Falls?
After three frustrating weeks of relentless investigation, he was no closer to the truth than when he’d started. It was wearing on him. By day he was short-tempered and mean, taking out his frustrations on his staff in one fashion or another. By night he was an insomniac, words and phrases from the investigation scrolling through his mind. On the rare occasions he did sleep, usually after being awake for several days and nights, he was tormented by nightmarish visions of the victims themselves, torn and mangled. He’d taken to downing several shots of Scotch before heading to bed, hoping the liquor would deaden the memories enough so that he could get some rest.
It was a vicious cycle with no end in sight, and Damon knew that unless he found some answers soon, something, somewhere, was bound to break, and it would probably be him.
Damon turned, glancing out the sliding glass door that was behind him. Through the glass he could see that it was well past dawn.
He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight.
For days now, the dark had been bothering him.
It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t look out the window at night without growing uncomfortable. It sat there on the other side of the glass, black and thick, watching, waiting, looking for the smallest opportunity to break into the light and snatch another life out from under his very nose.
Damon turned away from the door, intending to return to the papers in front of him, when the sound of car doors slamming reached his ears.
He glanced at the digital clock on the other side of the room.
7:30 a.m.
Who the hell?
Maybe there was a break in the case, he thought suddenly. Maybe they didn’t want the information to go out over the radio for fear of the press catching wind of it. While he knew it was wishful thinking, Damon’s steps grew lighter, a sense of heady anticipation welling inside him.
The bell sounded, and its echoes hadn’t even faded before he slipped the lock and opened the door.
"Mind if we come in?" Sam asked the Sheriff. "We really need to talk to you."
Without a word Damon stepped back, allowing Sam and Katelynn room to step inside. After Sam introduced Katelynn, Damon indicated the hall that led to the living room and they all headed in that direction.
Katelynn took a seat on the sofa, Sam beside her, and, without thinking, Damon chose the seat across from them, the coffee table like an unconscious dividing line between them. It was only after he sat down that Damon felt the first traces of the adversarial nature of their choice of seating, a feeling which grew as his police instincts recognized he’d been right; Sam and his friends did know something about what was happening in Harrington Falls.
Damon spoke first. "I know I suggested you make an appointment to see me this morning, Mr. Travers, but I didn’t expect to see you this early," he said lightly, hoping to dispel some of the tension he could feel slowly enveloping them. "What can I do for you two?"
He watched as they glanced at each other, saw Katelynn nod her head to Sam, and so wasn’t surprised when it was the latter who addressed him in reply. The ball had quite clearly been dropped in Sam’s court.