The Beast House (30 page)

Janice frowned. Her eyes looked alert. “Police? They’re going in?”

“I guess so.”

The girl pushed herself away from the wall. She squinted as the spray struck her face, and turned around. Dropping the soap, Nora stood up. “What…?”

“I’m going.” She bent over and rubbed the backs of her legs to get the suds off.

“I think you’d better stay with us,” Nora told her. “You’re in no shape to…”

“I’ve gotta be there.”

Tyler grabbed a wet arm as Janice climbed over the side of the tub.

“I’m all right.”

The girl seemed steady on her feet. Tyler let go, pulled a towel off a nearby rack, and gave it to her. Janice started rubbing her hair furiously.

“The police will take care of it,” Nora said. “You ought to lie down in bed and wait.”

She shook her head. “It’s my parents. It’s me. I’ve gotta be there.”

Nora shut off the water. “You haven’t got any clothes.”

She dried her face. She winced, her face going tight with pain as she blotted water from a torn shoulder. “I’ve got clothes. In my room.”

“Or a car,” Nora said, climbing from the tub. “The cops impounded your parents’ car.”

“I’ll drive her,” Tyler said.

“Oh shit,” Nora said.

“You guys get dry. I’ll get Janice some clothes.”

She rushed from the bathroom. She grabbed her handbag off Abe’s bed and ran out the door. The cool breeze felt good as she raced across the courtyard.

This time, she thought, there won’t be any waiting, any stewing as she wondered if Abe was all right. In ten minutes, she would be with him. If he’d already gone into the house, she would go in, too. She would be at his side and know.

She shoved her key into the lock, twisted it, opened the door and swept a hand along the wall until she found the light switch. The lamp between the beds came on.

Her bed was still unmade from her afternoon with Abe, its coverlet on the floor where they’d kicked it down, the sheets rumpled. On the other bed was her open suitcase. Bending over it, she snatched out a neatly folded pair of blue jeans, the yellow blouse she’d worn on the tour, a pair of fresh pink panties and her sneakers. A bra? The straps might hurt Janice.

She considered changing herself. Not enough time. Clutching the clothes to her chest, she dashed from the room. The door smashed shut as she leapt off the stoop.

Except for Hardy’s Mercedes and her own Omni, the courtyard was vacant. She saw no one wandering about. The windows of the other bungalows were dark.

Stopping at her car, she pulled open the driver’s door. A shoe fell as she reached inside to flip up the lock button. She opened the back door, flung the clothes onto the back seat, and tossed the shoe in after them.

Then she rushed to Abe’s bungalow. She twisted the knob.

Locked. Of course.

She pounded the door.

Nora opened it. Her hair looked dark and matted as if she hadn’t taken time to dry it enough, but she was dressed except for her blouse. “I thought you were getting Janice some…”

“They’re in the car. She can dress on the way. Let’s go.”

Holding the blouse to her breasts, Nora leaned out the doorway and glanced around.

“It’s all right. Come on.”

Nora turned away. “Come on,” she called into the room.

Janice didn’t pause to question her. Nora stepped aside and let her pass. “This car?” she asked, nodding toward the Omni. She fingered scratches at her side, but made no attempt to cover herself as if unaware of her nakedness.

“I tossed some clothes in the backseat for you.”

With a nod, Janice started for the car. She moved stiffly, wincing as she climbed down the stairs, limping a bit as she stepped to the car. Nora, hurrying ahead of her, opened the rear door.

Tyler rushed to the driver’s side and climbed in. The car wobbled as Nora dropped onto the passenger seat. Tyler twisted the ignition key.

“Let’s take it easy,” Nora said. “We’ve got an injured girl with us.”

“Hurry!” Janice blurted from the back seat.

Tyler rammed the shift into reverse and hit the gas pedal.

Abe eased off the accelerator as a pickup swung in from a sidestreet. It sped down Front ahead of them. It didn’t stop for the blinking red traffic signal, and neither did Abe.

“Five’ll get you ten that’s the chief,” Jack said.

Just the other side of Beach Lane, it swerved onto the shoulder. Its tires kicked up dust as it lurched to a stop. Abe steered behind it.

“You lose,” Abe said as a stocky woman leapt from the pickup. Linda? No, Lucy, he recalled. She was out of uniform. She wore jeans and a flannel shirt. The shirt tail hung out, drawn in around her waist by her gunbelt. She glanced toward Abe’s car, then turned and jogged past the front of her truck.

Abe, Jack, and Gorman climbed out. Gorman followed a few steps to the rear. Abe raised an open hand as their approach caught the attention of the others.

Four others. Lucy, Chief Purcell, and two officers in uniform. They stood near the open door of a police car. Another patrol car was parked just beyond them. The flashers were dark.

“Abe Clanton,” Abe said. “This is Jack Wyatt, Gorman Hardy.”

Purcell nodded. “You should’ve stayed at the Inn. But since you came, I want all of you to keep your distance. Stay here at the road unless we tell you otherwise. We don’t want civilians getting mixed up with this.”

“Yes, sir,” Abe said. “It’s your ballgame. If you need a hand, though, give us a shout.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Purcell said.

One of the patrolmen knelt on the car seat and came out, a moment later, with a shotgun. Abe recognized it as a .12 gauge Ithica semi-automatic.

“There’s no rear exit to this place,” Purcell said.

“No windows, either,” Lucy added.

A quick flash of light made Lucy flinch. Purcell and the others frowned at Gorman.

Gorman snapped another photo. “Thank you,” he said, and lowered the camera.

Purcell shook his head. “Let’s go.” He walked up the dirt driveway toward the house, Lucy at his side, the other two following.

“Are we simply going to stand here?” Gorman asked.

“We’ll do as he said.”

Gorman took a step away, but Jack clamped a hand on the back of his neck. “Stay,” he ordered. He looked at Abe. “Do you think they am-scrayed?”

“Their pickup’s in front of the garage.”

“They must know the girl got away. They’ve got three stiffs in the basement, that woman and baby prisoners, and a beast in there. How’re they gonna cover up all that?”

“I’d say they can’t,” Abe said.

“Hope those cops know what they’re doing.”

“They asked us to stay out of it. We’ll stay out of it.”

Near the dark front porch, Purcell pointed to each side. The two uniformed patrolmen spread out. They positioned themselves to the left and right of the porch stairs. Purcell and Lucy mounted the stairs. Lucy drew her revolver and flattened her back against the wall. Purcell stepped in front of the door.

“I can’t see,” Gorman complained in a whiny voice.

“Shut up,” Abe muttered.

He stared at the distant door. He saw the shape of Purcell raise a hand to knock. He couldn’t hear the knock. Purcell lowered the hand to his side.

Abe realized he was holding his breath. He let it out.

Then a dim blue swath of light silhouetted Purcell and someone standing in the doorway. Abe heard his heartbeat. Seconds were passing. Purcell must, he thought, be talking to the person. Who was it, Maggie Kutch? Probably denying…

A man’s voice, faint with the distance, cried out, “No!” Purcell suddenly hunched. A gunshot popped in Abe’s ears. Purcell doubled over and staggered backwards. As he tumbled down the porch stairs, a blast from somewhere to the side sent the cop with the shotgun spinning. The other cop whirled around and aimed toward the pickup. Before he could fire, a shot kicked his head back.

Lucy froze against the wall as if crucified.

Abe dashed between the parked cars. He jerked the revolver from the back of his jeans as he raced in a crouch up the driveway. “Hit the deck!” he yelled at Lucy.

The front door slammed shut, cutting off the blue glow.

Lucy crouched. An instant later came the flat bang of a rifle. She dropped to one knee and swung her revolver toward the pickup. She fired four quick rounds. A man cried out, came stumbling into Abe’s view from the cover of the pickup’s hood, fell to one knee and aimed his rifle at Lucy. He jerked and flopped to the thunder as bullets from Lucy and Abe and Jack socked his body.

Abe straightened up. He heard nothing but the ringing in his ears.

The sprawled man didn’t move.

Lucy was still on one knee. Through the ringing, Abe heard shell casings clatter and roll on the wooden floor of the porch. He realized she was reloading.

He and Jack hurried forward. He crouched over Purcell. The man was on his back, clutching his belly and squirming. “Take it easy,” Abe told him. “We’ll get help for you.”

He heard quick footsteps behind him. As he stood, a blink of light illuminated the chief’s contorted face and bloody shirt. “For Christsake, Hardy!”

Gorman sidestepped and took another photo of Purcell, then rushed toward the officer who’d fallen to the left of the porch stairs.

Jack, kneeling by the one to the right, called, “This one’s dead.”

Lucy backed down the stairs, her revolver aimed at the closed door.

Light flashed as Gorman shot two photos of the cop at his feet. Abe shoved him roughly aside and dropped down next to the motionless body. This one had a chest wound. He searched the neck for a pulse. “Dead,” he called. He straightened up. “Lucy, get back to your car and radio for an ambulance.”

With a nod, she took off running for the road.

Jack was standing above the man who’d ambushed the two officers. Abe went over to him. “It’s the old shit that took our tickets,” Jack said.

“Guess we cancelled his,” Abe said.

Gorman, panting, ran up beside them. His flash lit the skinny, grizzled old man. In the instant of brightness, Abe saw half a dozen bullet holes in the front of his sodden shirt and trousers: small entry holes from Lucy’s .38, large exits from the slugs that had caught him in the back. Gorman stepped to his feet, crouched, and took another picture.

“We going in?” Jack asked. His voice was hushed and eager.

“Right.”

“She’s gonna be ready.”

“She’ll expect us to break through the front door. We’ll go in the back.”

“There is no back door,” Gorman pointed out.

“There’s the tunnel.”

“Where you killed the beast?”

“Want to see it?” Jack said.

“I must.”

“Better grab a weapon,” Abe told him.

With a nod, Gorman rushed over to the head-shot policeman. Abe and Jack reloaded while he took two photos of the dead man, knelt down, and lifted the revolver out of the grass.

“Do you know how to use it?” Jack asked.

“I’ve had some experience.”

“Just don’t point it at anyone you don’t plan to shoot.”

“I’m not a fool,” Gorman said.

Abe stepped over to Purcell. The chief still held his belly, but he was no longer squirming. “We’re going in to take care of business,” Abe told him. “Hang on here. An ambulance is on the way.”

As they started for the road, Abe saw Lucy running toward them. Clamped under one arm was a first-aid kit. Abe rushed up to her. “We’re going in through a tunnel under the house.”

“Maybe I’d better…”

“Take care of Purcell. Keep an eye on the front door, but don’t try to go in.”

She nodded.

“Who shot Purcell?”

“The Kutch woman. Maggie. She was just talking calmly and all of a sudden…”

“If she comes out, blow her down.”

“You’re fucking-A right I will.”

Abe slapped her back, and ran for the road. Jack and Gorman followed. Abe stopped at one of the police cars long enough to find a long-barreled flashlight. Racing across Front Street, he glimpsed headlights far to the left. From somewhere in the distance came the sound of a siren. He dashed past the Beast House ticket booth, vaulted the turnstile and ran up the walkway.

“Wait up!” Gorman called.

He took the porch stairs two at a time, stopped in front of the door, and rammed the heel of his shoe into it just below the handle. With a splintering crash, the door flew open.

He switched on the flashlight.

Jack came up behind him.

“Wait up,” Hardy called again. A moment later, he came huffing up the porch stairs.

The three men entered the house.

The beam of Abe’s light caught the snarling face of a creature near the foyer wall. He turned his revolver on it, but held fire as he realized it was nothing but the old, stuffed monkey posed to hold umbrellas. He let out a deep breath.

“Let’s take it cautious,” he whispered. “There’s one beast unaccounted for and three women.”

“Do you think they might be here?” Gorman asked.

“Anything’s possible,” Jack told him.

“The tunnel’s our way in,” Abe said, “but it’s their way out if they decide to retreat.”

“Do you think they had time to get here?”

“Yes,” Abe said. He started forward, the powerful beam of his flashlight pushing a stream of brightness into the dark.

Tyler swung off the road behind Abe’s mustang. The ambulance sped by. Near the porch of the Kutch house, a woman stood up and waved both arms. On the ground around her lay several motionless shapes. Tyler’s throat constricted.

“My God,” Nora muttered.

The ambulance skidded onto the driveway, siren wailing, light flashing. It raced toward the woman.

“Follow it,” Janice said from the backseat.

Tyler stepped on the gas, swerved around Abe’s car, and swung onto the driveway. The ambulance stopped. She slowed as she drew up behind it. Two attendants jumped down and ran to the back. As they opened the rear doors, she set the emergency brake.

“That guy down over there’s a cop,” Nora said.

Tyler bolted from the car. She sprinted past the ambulance. In the glare of the whirling red lights, she saw a body to the left of the porch. It wore a uniform. A woman with a revolver in one hand was on her knees beside a man, gesturing to the attendants as they rushed forward with a stretcher. The man on the ground was a stranger.