Dark Daze (15 page)

“Okay, but if this gets too personal, I’m
outta here.”

Brie agreed, and Shawna continued shaking her
leg so hard it made the table vibrate.

“He’s charming and funny. When he asked me
out, I thought it might be fun. After all, I’d never dated anyone
famous before.” She ran a finger along the rim of her coffee cup.
“Come to think of it, after a few months I did notice a weird
quality. He had quick temper and acted bizarre sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Ian studied her
movements.

“He loved the gorier things in life, but he
was a horror novelist, so I didn’t think too much about it. Even
his writing was odd because he spent very little time in his
basement working on it, but he never missed a deadline. And he
wouldn’t let me see his work when he wrote a new book. But I had to
dump him ‘cause some of the things he did were downright
creepy.”

“What kind of things did he do?” Brie
asked.

“Well, he would get this light in his eye
sometimes; as if he were a cat and he had just eaten Grandma’s
canary. He would watch the news, waiting for something terrible,
and sometimes he would laugh and clap when something bad did
happen. It wasn’t all the time, just every once in a while, but it
freaked me out, know what I mean?”

Brie nodded. She probably understood better
than the waitress did. Kingsley searched for news of his victims,
for his stories to unfold.

“Was he upset after you dumped him?”

Shawna stared at Ian as if he were insane for
even asking. “Yeah, I mean, who wouldn’t be? But I know the man in
the ski mask wasn’t him, because he was at least a foot taller and
much thinner than Don. Really, a man can’t just lose thirty pounds
in one month, even if he could grow taller. If they ever created a
pill for it, they’d make millions.”

“When did you break up?” Brie asked.

“About two years ago.”

“So when did the stalking start? About
eighteen months ago?”

She nodded and glanced at the door then at
the clock, her leg shaking again.

“I only have a few more minutes, so you
better get to it.”

“Okay, Kingsley isn’t exactly the one who
stalked you—”

Afraid he was about to say more than he
should, Brie broke into his explanation. “He hired someone to do
it.”

She looked at him, and he nodded. Shawna
would call the police on the ‘crazy people’ if they told her the
truth. They didn’t even know how he did it yet. If they told her he
somehow magically made a monster to chase them and the story wrote
itself in his books, they would be in a nuthouse by morning.

“I used to live next to him about a year ago,
and we had a dispute over a tree. We both moved since, but he’s
having me stalked. It’s all in his newest book. I think his anger
toward you might have made him do the same thing. I believe he
wrote this book about you.”

He pulled the book from inside his jacket and
handed it to her. She stared at it, apparently certain it would
bite her if she touched it. After a second, she took the book and
read the back cover. Her face paled, and she heaved, pressing a
hand to her mouth. She excused herself and ran to the bathroom.

When she came out, she was shaking. Brie
thought she might avoid them, but she sat down again.

“Do you know where he lives now?” Ian asked
as the color slowly returned to her face.

“We’re going to a movie, so if you wouldn’t
mind, could you keep Buster for a little while longer?”

Paul let out a long sigh. “I’ve been trying
to figure out how to tell you…Buster took off. I don’t know how he
did it, but he slid open the glass door and ran away.”

Ian stared at the i-com. This couldn’t be
happening now. Not when they were so close to Kingsley’s house.

Paul and Mandy lived in Barstow, only an hour
or so past the writer’s California City home, but that time might
make all the difference. Ian tried not to be concerned. Buster
didn’t run away very often, but when he did, he always came back.
He always did.

“If you need us to stop by, we can. I don’t
know if it will help though. He probably found himself a girlfriend
and they took off to be alone for a while.” Ian tried to sound
nonchalant.

“Don’t worry, we’re searching for him, and we
will find him. You just enjoy yourself, and we’ll deal with this
problem,” Paul said.

“Thanks man. We’ll give you a call when we’re
done. End connection.” His i-com clicked, and he slid it in his
pocket.

“Is everything ok?” Brie asked.

“Buster ran off. He does it sometimes. He has
an uncanny knack for doing what he wants, even if you don’t want
him to. It’ll be okay.”

Ian drove up the long driveway leading to
Donald Kingsley’s secluded hillside house. The building was three
stories above ground and big as a mansion. A glass covered elevator
stood on the corner of the manor, and several new cars waited under
a thick tarp. Ian pulled his vehicle to a stop at the end of the
line of cars, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed too soon. The house
seemed empty, which was a surprise because the sheer size of it
seemed to call for servants.

Ian’s limbs locked for a moment. Brie and he
would win today. They would win, and they would love each other
even more for it. He sent the wish off toward wherever wishes were
granted and shoved open the door. Crouching with Brie at his side,
they rushed down the row of cars. At the front of the house, a wide
window, curtains open, revealed a study or library of some sort.
Several books, encased in a large glass box, were displayed inside.
Including the book that controlled, or at least influenced, his
fate.

Ian winced as a he slipped on a rock. A deaf
man would hear their approach. Ian’s sneakers seemed to find every
leaf, every bit of sand. Why were they called sneakers when they
were only a little stealthier than cleats?

Ian swallowed, gave Brie an apologetic shrug,
and continued along the face of the building, peeking in windows to
find Kingsley. If he was even home.

A deep rumbling shook the glass as Ian passed
the elevator. He pulled Brie behind a shrub shaped like a book.
Probably some gardener’s idea of funny. The elevator moved down
from the top floor, carrying a lone figure toward the lower levels.
Kingsley wore a long black robe with strange red markings, which
were barely visible in the darkening evening. He held several
items; a large book, two bones, some candles, and various other
things too small to see at this distance.

“What do you think? Should we ring the bell?
Tell him we’re reporters with the nuthouse times?” She winked at
him and smiled. “‘Cause I think we should sneak in and find out
what all this is about.”

The mischievous look in her eyes was
precious. It soothed his tense muscles, if only for a second. His
little soldier was trying so hard to be brave and keep her pain
from showing.

She was the one for him. No doubt about
it.

As the elevator disappeared underground, Ian
grabbed her and kissed her. For a moment, he let himself enjoy the
pressure of her body against his, and the passionate way she
returned his kiss. So free, so unique, and fearless beyond words.
No matter how much she dreaded this trip, she’d never turned away
from it.

“You’re wonderful,” she said when he released
her, her words echoing his own thoughts. “Whatever happens in
there, I will never stop feeling that way.”

“Let’s go.”

She headed toward the house. They moved
around the property, searching for an unlocked door or window, but
found none. The front door, unlikely to be open, was their last
hope, short of breaking a window or ringing the bell.

The porch housed a gargantuan door at least
nine feet tall and wide enough for two or three people to enter at
the same time. A dead bolt and a numeric lock on the knob were the
only apparent restrictions to entry. If the locks were engaged,
they’d have to find another way to enter. Ian reached out, his
heartbeat beginning to accelerate, and turned the knob. It turned
easily, and the door opened, unrestrained.

“Hmm, someone may just be rolling out the
welcome mat. We should be extra careful. I don’t trust this.” She
once again echoed his thoughts.

He nodded to her and moved inside the foyer.
Brie followed close behind him. Down the hall from the foyer, Ian
could see a visitor’s salon. To the left stood the open door to the
library and an archway at the end, and to the right, three closed
doors. The house must be five or six thousand square feet. This
search might take forever.

He crept down the hall, leaving the door open
behind them. Even a soft click from closing it might alert Kingsley
to their presence. Ian moved to the first door on the right, Brie
close behind him. The game room featured vaulted ceilings, a
gold-trimmed pool table, and a well-stocked bar. The realtor in him
drooled, even as the man in him balked. The ostentatious home must
have cost Kingsley a fortune.

The elevator in the corner was the only other
way out of the room, but taking it would be like using a bullhorn
to announce their arrival. There must be stairs around here
somewhere, in case of emergencies. The second room on the right had
a formal dining table at its center, elaborately carved cherry wood
furnishings, and a swinging door on the far wall.

He leaned in close to Brie’s ear and
whispered, “I’ll bet the stairs are off the kitchen. I doubt
Kingsley would allow his contemporary house to be so archaic as to
have stairs where the visitors could see them.”

Brie followed him around the table. Praying
the hinges wouldn’t squeak, Ian opened the swinging door into an
empty kitchen with stainless steel from floor to ceiling. It seemed
like being on a submarine, surrounded by metal casing and the
oppressive ocean pushing in. A small niche in the wall opposite
them housed the stairs.

His head spun.

What would they find down there? And what
would they leave with? He’d been trying to be confident and gung ho
about all this, but the truth was, he was just as scared as she was
of losing what they’d found. The thought made him grit his teeth.
He would not lose her.

Shaking his head, trying to clear it of the
distracting thoughts, he edged toward the narrow staircase. The
steep incline and decline of the two side-by-side stairs called to
mind the funhouses he’d seen as a child. He expected to find them
getting narrower and narrower until finally the person climbing
them could proceed no further.

His limbs turned to jelly and his breath
rasped so harshly in his own ears, he was sure it could be heard
three towns away. Brie slipped her hands into his, holding them for
a moment before releasing them. When his muscles solidified, he
started down the stairs.

The stairs stretched on forever as Ian
stepped from one to the next. His heart beat in a jerky rhythm, and
his mouth went dry. They were close. Ian didn’t have Brie’s
intuition, but even he could sense it. He hauled Brie behind him
when the dark mahogany boards widened into a wine cellar with
another stairway at the far end.

Her breath grazed his ear and neck, and her
hand came to his arm, holding him tight all of a sudden. “Be
careful.”

Even in these circumstances, she was
frightened more for him than herself. The image on the painting
must worry her, though she hadn’t mentioned it since they’d left
his mother’s house. Truth be told, it worried him too. What would
he find behind this barrier—or the next? Ian glanced at his feet,
willing them forward. If only he felt as strong as she seemed in
this moment. A low rumbling came from the room within, and he
pressed his ear to the door.

The mumbling in the other room seemed like
words. Latin maybe, or some other unusual language. A strange scent
wafted from the crack under the door. His hand grasped the knob of
its own volition. The well-oiled hinges moved silently. Beyond, he
found a narrow room lit by tall candles.