After Midnight (5 page)
He wasn’t telling me anything new. “Now and then,” I said. “But most of them weren’t
killed
there. They were just dropped off, you know? It’s not like there’s necessarily a homicidal maniac hanging around in the woods.”
“
I
sure wouldn’t want to live near them.”
“Well, I don’t mind. I like it, normally. It’s nice and peaceful.”
“You live there
alone?
”
“I’m alone tonight.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you really
can’t
be sure he won’t come back.”
“I wish you’d stop saying that.”
“You sound like a nice person.”
“Thanks.”
“I’d hate to think you might end up…you know.”
“I won’t,” I told him.
“Do you have a name?” he asked.
“No, actually I’m one of those people who isn’t that lucky.”
He laughed a little, and I smiled.
“My name’s Alice,” I said. (That isn’t really what I told him. I told him my true name, which is a secret as far as this book is concerned…unless you’re smart enough to find my hidden message.)
“Hello, Alice,” he said.
“Hello, Tony.” (Tony isn’t his real name, either, by the way—in case you were daydreaming when you read the introduction. Tony, Serena, Charlie, Judy, etc.—all made up. The same goes for Miller’s Woods, and so on. Just thought I’d remind you.)
“I guess I dialed a wrong number,” Tony said.
“I guess you did.”
“I was trying to call this gal…”
“I know. Judy. She must’ve dumped you, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“You probably called her once too many times after midnight.”
“Think so?”
“It scares people. You shouldn’t do it.”
“Maybe not.”
“Besides which, it makes you sound desperate. If you want to get back on Judy’s good side, you don’t want her to think you’re desperate about it.”
“You’re probably right.”
“You bet I’m right.”
“Good thing I dialed the wrong number,” he said.
“I’m glad you did. My creepy visitor would probably
still
be here.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Go to bed, I guess.”
“You shouldn’t stay there. Not by yourself.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Is there a neighbor you could stay with for the rest of the night?”
“Not exactly. Nobody nearby.”
“What about…?”
“Anyway, I’ll be fine. I really don’t think he’ll be coming back tonight. As far as he knows, the cops are on the way over.”
“I hope you’re right,” Tony said.
“So do I.”
“I’d hate to read about you in the paper.”
“Me, too.”
He laughed quietly. Then he said, “I’m serious about this, though. Is there a friend you can call? Someone who might be willing to come over? Maybe a relative?”
“None.”
“What about heading over to a motel?”
“At this hour?”
“Most of them over by the highway are open all night. You might have to ring a bell, or something, but…”
“I’m not going to any motel. Are you kidding? I’m probably ten times safer staying right here than if I try to drive over to one of those places at this hour. Anyway, haven’t you ever heard of Norman Bates?”
“You’ll be fine if you don’t take a shower.”
“I’ll just stay home and take one.”
Tony was silent for a few moments. It made me wonder what he was thinking about. Then he said, “Look. Why don’t I come over there? Just so you won’t be alone in case this guy decides to try something.”
His suggestion didn’t come as a huge surprise. Still, it made me feel uneasy.
“I don’t think so, Tony. Thanks for asking.”
“I realize we don’t know each other very well.”
“We don’t know each other period,” I pointed out. “You called the wrong number and we’ve been talking for about five minutes. Now you want to come over?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Maybe you are and maybe you aren’t. Maybe this whole thing’s a set-up. It’s pretty convenient, you just happening to call here when you did.”
“I dialed the wrong number.”
“Maybe you did and maybe you didn’t.”
“Jeez,” he said.
For a few moments, he was silent.
Then he said, “Anyway, it’s getting pretty late. I’d better hit the sack. Good luck with your intruder, Alice. It was nice talking to you. Pretty much. Bye.”
He hung up.
After that, I put down the phone and crept through the darkness to the sliding door.
The other side of the glass was smeared where the stranger had licked it, where he’d rubbed it with his wet face. It looked like a dirty car windshield after you’ve run wipers across it.
I found a clean place next to the mess his face had made, and peered out as if gazing over his shoulder.
The warnings from Tony made me nervous. Maybe the stranger
would
sneak back.
Maybe, next time, he wouldn’t let a door stop him.
Not that it had actually
stopped
him, this time.
I could still picture him writhing against it.
Trying my best to ignore the image, I must’ve spent about ten minutes pressed to the glass. I had to make sure the coast was clear. But I couldn’t get the awful picture out of my mind.
If he’d still been there—the glass gone—my right breast might’ve been pushing against his bare chest. He could’ve been squirming against me, rubbing me, spurting on me.
I finally stumbled backward to get away from the door.
The moonlight showed what he’d left on the glass.
It made me feel sick. Trembling, I turned away. I shut the curtains, then found my purse on the couch and made my way to the other door. I opened it and stepped into the hallway. This time, I was glad to see the foyer light.
This time, too, I wasn’t afraid of being seen.
That’s not quite true. The idea of being seen frightened me; it just didn’t stop me. I walked swiftly down the hall and into the living room. Almost nothing showed on the other side of the glass wall. Just darkness. But the glass gave back an image of me.
Me, striding across the carpet, my purse swinging by my hip, the robe flowing around me, my legs flashing out long and bare as if the robe were an exotic gown with a slit up its front.
I looked like the heroine of a gothic romance.
Or a madwoman from a horror movie.
Especially when I reached up with both hands and lifted the saber off its hooks above the fireplace.
The saber felt good and heavy.
I stepped away from the fireplace, turned toward my dark image in the glass, and watched myself slash the air a few times.
Was
he
watching?
With the wall of glass in front of me and the foyer light behind my back, I could probably be seen clearly all the way from the edge of the woods.
I raised the saber high.
“You want me, pal?” I asked. “Come and get me.”
I swung the blade a few more times.
I felt powerful and excited. I looked pretty cool, too.
But then I started to feel stupid and silly and even a little scared, so I turned away from the glass and hurried toward the foyer.
Normally, I would’ve left the house through the sliding door in the den. That was just my habit. It probably started because the den was where I spent most of my time, after dark. I’d be in it for hours watching the big-screen television, so I generally felt comfortable there and didn’t want to wander through the huge, empty house to get out. So simple just to use the door that was there, slip outside, slide it shut and hurry over to the garage.
Not tonight
.
I just couldn’t. Not after what the stranger had done on the other side of it.
Somebody will have to clean that up, I thought.
Not me. Not tonight, anyhow.
Standing in the foyer, I wondered if there was anything I needed. I had my keys inside my purse. Since I planned to come back first thing in the morning, there was no reason to take my swimsuit, towel, oil, paperback, etc.
The doors were locked. I’d turned off all the lights except for those that were supposed to remain on all night.
I suddenly remembered the air conditioning.
Serena and Charlie usually turned it off before retiring—except when the weather was terribly hot.
When I was in command, I often forgot about the thing and left it going all night.
Since I’d just now thought of it, I rested the saber against my shoulder and marched up the hallway. At the thermostat, I flicked the switch to the Off position.
“What a good girl am I,” I whispered.
Then I wondered which door to use.
Not the den door, that was for sure.
Serena and Charlie’s bedroom had a sliding door. So did the living room, and the dining room beyond that. But all those doors could be seen from the back yard, the pool and the woods. If the stranger was watching, he might see me leave the house. He might even see me go to the garage.
And know where to find me.
I decided to leave by the front door.
First, though, I had to pee. The guest bathroom was just off the hall on my way back to the foyer, so I went in. I’d given little Debbie a Winnie the Pooh nightlight for her second birthday, and there it was, spreading a soft glow through the dark.
I didn’t touch the switch for the overhead lights.
Late at night, it’s always best to avoid turning on lights. At least if you’re in a room with windows. The sudden brightness, where a moment earlier the windows had been patches of empty black, announces you to the world, gives away your exact location.
The bathroom had a pair of high, frosted windows that were clearly visible from nearly anywhere outside the front of the house.
So I settled for the light from Pooh bear.
With the door open and the lights off, I placed the saber and my purse on the rug just in front of the toilet. Then I took off the robe, draped it over a towel bar, and sat down.
Too bad I’d already shut off the air conditioning. Not because I suddenly felt hot, but because I was so noisy. Without the air going, the only sound in the house seemed to be me.
Talk about giving away your location!
Leaning forward, elbows on my knees, I could see out the open bathroom door. I kept watching. I half expected someone to drift by in the hallway, or come in.
The thoughts gave me gooseflesh. Prickly bumps sprouted all over me, the way they do sometimes when I try to squash a really awful spider in the corner of a ceiling and it gets away and falls on my bare arm.
I felt crawly all up and down my body.
Nobody showed up in the doorway, though.
Finally, I got finished. I was reluctant to flush, but did it anyway. In the silence, the noise of the flush was like a sudden roar.
So loud that
anything
might’ve happened somewhere else in the house: phones might’ve rung; somebody could have shouted out my name; the stranger might’ve smashed the glass of a window or door.
At last, the noise subsided.
I put the robe on, belted it shut, then crouched and picked up my purse and the saber. In the doorway, I stopped. I leaned forward, easing my head into the hall, and looked both ways.
Nobody.
Of course.
I stepped out and walked quickly to the front door.
Getting it unlocked and open would’ve been tricky with my left hand, since I’m a righty. So I switched the sword to my left hand. With the blade resting against my shoulder, I used my right hand to unfasten the deadbolt, turn the knob, and pull the door open.
It swept toward me.
For some reason, the porch light was off.
It shouldn’t have been off.
And nobody should’ve been standing on the front stoop, but someone was.
A tall, dark figure reaching for me.
I shrieked.
Through the noise of my outcry, he said something. I couldn’t hear it, though. Still shrieking, I swung the saber at him.
A left-handed, feeble try.
He staggered backward to avoid the blade.
It missed him, but he stumbled off the edge of the stoop and fell backward. He landed on the grass. A
whoomp
exploded out of him; the impact with the lawn must’ve knocked his wind out.
I leaped over the threshold, ran across the stoop and hopped down. Stradling his hips, I raised the saber high with both hands and swept it down as hard as I could.
It chopped his head down the middle, cleaving his face in half. It split his head open most of the way to his neck, but his jaw stopped the blade.
He thrashed and gurgled between my feet.
My saber was stuck, either between a couple of his lower front teeth or in the bone of his jaw. I shook it and tugged it. Instead of coming loose, it jerked his head this way and that.
At last, it came out.
I was all set to give him another chop, but he’d quit moving.
He looked pretty dead.
Pretty
isn’t a great choice of words, under the circumstances. Anyway, there was no good reason to give him another whack.
I felt too shocked and worn out to do much of anything, so I just kept standing over him, his hips between my ankles. I had the sword clutched in my right hand, but held it off to the side so blood wouldn’t rub off or drip on me.
I stood there for a long time.
Staring down at the body.
It was lit by the dim glow from a lamp near the driveway.
It wore a short-sleeved plaid shirt, blue jeans and loafers. No socks.
It sure wasn’t my prowler.
I figured it was probably Tony.
My guess was right.
When I finally recovered enough to move, I stepped away from him, put my saber down on the grass, then crouched beside him and searched the pockets of his jeans.
He had a comb and handkerchief in his left front pocket. A wallet in the left back pocket. In the right front, a leather key case and some coins. In the right back, a pistol.
