Flesh (26 page)

“Turn off the light,” Alison commanded in a sharp whisper.

He didn’t ask questions, just hit the light switch.

Alison turned away from him and stared out the door windows.

Still, no Roland.

“He killed Helen,” she said. “He…I hurt him but he’s up there.”

“Oh my dear God.”

Alison heard a quiet clatter. She looked over her shoulder. Dr. Teal’s cane was clamped between his knees. He held the pale handset of the wall phone and spun the dial. “Police emergency,” he said, his voice as firm and vibrant as if he were standing at the lectern in a hall packed with enthralled students. He waited a few moments, then said, “We have bloody murder at 364 Apple Lane, and the cur is among us. Get here immediately.” He hung up the phone.

“Come away from the door,” he ordered.

Alison backed away, unwilling to take her eyes from the windows. She halted when the professor’s hand curled gently over her shoulder.

“It’s all right now, darling. He won’t hurt you. The police will be here shortly, I’m sure.”

“He killed Helen,” she said. Her voice came out squeaky and tears filled her eyes.

Professor Teal patted her shoulder. “Stay here.” He slipped past her. He walked toward the door, his cane swinging at his side like a nine iron. Glass crunched under his slippers. He eased the door open.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” Alison whispered.

Ignoring her, he leaned outside. His head turned, tilted back. Then he brought his head back through the opening and looked around at Alison. “You say that you injured him?”

“I…gouged one of his eyes.”

“Bully for you. Perhaps you incapacitated the rotter, I’ll bash his head to pulp if…what about Celia?”

“She’s not home.”

“Thank God for that.”

“I don’t know. I’m…I think maybe he got her last night.”

“Dear God, no.”

“She went on a date with his roommate and never came home.”

“Two of my girls. Two of my sweet, darling…oh, he shall pay dearly, dearly…” Professor Teal threw the door open wide and stepped out.

“No!” Alison yelled.

She ran after him, leaped the area of broken glass, and came down on the flagstone outside the door. Professor Teal was already at the bottom of the stairway. “Wait inside,” he told her.

“Wait for the cops!” Alison cried out. “Please!”

Ignoring her, he began to trot up the stairs. Alison darted beneath the stairway, reached between the risers, and grabbed the old man’s ankle.

“Unhand me!”

“He’ll kill you, too!”

“We shall see about that.” He tried to shake his foot free.

Alison almost lost her grip. She wrapped her other hand around the man’s bony ankle and hung on.

Brakes screamed. Through the gap in the stairs, Alison saw a squad car lurch to a stop, red and blue lights spinning. A man raced around the front of the car. He pulled a pistol from his holster and he ran straight over the lawn toward Alison.

“You win,” the professor said.

She didn’t trust him. She kept her grip on his ankle until the policeman jangled to a stop, crouched, aimed at him, and shouted, “Freeze, cocksucker, or I’ll blow your fucking brains from here till yesterday!”

“He’s not the one!” Alison yelled.

She stepped out from under the stairway.

Professor Teal turned around slowly. “I am the owner of this house,” he said. “We have every reason to believe that the killer is upstairs.”

“Who’d he kill?”

“My roommate,” Alison said. “And he tried to get me.”

“Is he armed?” asked the burly policeman.

“I don’t know. Not that I saw.”

“He’s still up there?” Without waiting for an answer, he started up the stairs. Professor Teal stepped out of his way and came down as the officer continued to the top.

Alison went to the professor’s side and put an arm around his back.

“Silly old bear,” she said.

He smiled sadly.

They both flinched as a gun blast shocked the night. Alison’s head jerked sideways. She saw Roland at the top of the stairs, arms out. The policeman flopped backward over the rail, yelling with alarm, flapping through the air. His yell stopped short when he hit the ground. For a moment, he seemed to be performing a weird headstand, legs kicking at the sky. Then he toppled. He lay on his back, twitching. There was a knife in his chest.

Roland, at the top of the stairs, turned slowly. He was no longer naked. He wore jeans and an open shirt. The left side of his face was slicked with red from his empty socket, red that dribbled onto his shirt and chest. With zombielike slowness, he lifted his left hand to study it with his one eye. The policeman’s bullet hadn’t missed Roland completely. Alison saw that his forefinger was gone entirely. His middle
finger dangled by a strip of flesh, swinging like a pendulum. He clutched it with his other hand, tore it loose, and sailed it down at Alison like a blunt dart. It dropped into the grass at her feet.

He began to descend the stairway.

Professor Teal pushed Alison away and stepped almost casually to the foot of the stairs. He raised his cane overhead, prepared to strike when Roland came into range.

Alison rushed toward the policeman. He looked dead. She pictured him falling. Had he been holding the revolver? She didn’t know. But it was not in either of his hands. She scurried around his body, trying to find the gun.

Where
is
it!

She looked toward the stairway in time to see Roland leap. He dove from high above Professor Teal. The old man swung his cane at the flying body. It missed Roland’s head and broke across his shoulder. Roland slammed the professor to the ground.

Alison jerked the knife from the policeman’s chest, whirled and ran at the sprawled, struggling men. Roland hammered the professor’s nose with a fist. He rolled off. He was on his back, pushing himself up with his right arm. He raised his injured hand as if signaling Alison to halt.

Alison flung herself onto him. He fell back. He tried to push her away, fingers and stumps thrusting at her face. She drove the knife down hard. Roland squealed. Then his right hand clubbed her ear. Stunned by the impact, she felt herself being shoved off him. On her side, she saw Roland grab the knife handle. The blade had pierced his left nipple, but it hadn’t gone deep. A rib must’ve stopped it. Roland yanked the knife free.

His ravaged hand reached for Alison.

She rolled, scurried to her feet, and ran.

She ran for the street.

The dewy grass was slippery, but she ran all out, sprinting, flinging her legs out with long quick strides, pumping
her arms. The loose cuff on the end of its chain whipped across her knuckles, her forearm, sometimes lashed her side or breast.

She heard Roland gasping and whimpering behind her. Not very far behind her. She didn’t dare to look.

Faint white plumes puffed from the exhaust pipe of the police car.

One foot pounded the sidewalk. The other foot landed in the grass at the other side. She sprang from the curb, rushed past the front of the car. Turning, she glanced over her shoulder. Roland hit the hood belly-first and slid across it, teeth bared, ruined hand reaching for her, knife clenched in his other hand. Alison spun away from the reaching hand. Its two fingertips grazed her belly. Stumbling backward, she grabbed the handle of the driver’s door.

She jerked open the door, leaped inside, and slammed the door shut while Roland was squirming off the hood. The window was open. She started to crank it up. Roland stumbled toward her. The glass slid higher. He stabbed. His knife blade pounded the window and skittered down with a grating whine like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Alison released the emergency brake.

Roland opened the door.

Alison cried out, “No!” How could she
not
have locked it.

She rammed the shift lever to Drive and stomped the gas pedal to the floor.

The car surged forward.

Roland yelled.

The door bumped against its frame.

Alison swerved away from the curb to miss a parked Volkswagen.

She looked at the side mirror.

Roland was sprawled facedown on the pavement, half a block away.

Jake entered the dispatcher’s cubicle, nodded a greeting to Martha, who looked back at him with grim eyes, and turned to the girl.

She was sitting on one of the molded plastic chairs that belonged in the waiting area outside the cubicle. It must’ve been brought in so she wouldn’t have to wait alone. She held a plastic coffee cup in both hands. The left side of her face was red and puffy. She wore Martha’s old brown cardigan over a blue nightgown. She looked up from her coffee as Jake approached.

“I’m Jake Corey,” he said. “I’m in charge of the investigation.”

She nodded.

“Would you like to step this way?”

She glanced at Martha, who nodded that it was all right. She stood up.

Jake held the door open for her. She walked stiffly, staring down at her coffee as if concerned about spilling it. Though she must’ve been about twenty years old, she had the look of a hurt and frightened little girl.

Jake pulled the door shut and stepped to her side.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Just over here.” He gestured toward Barney’s office. “We can’t talk about this in front of Martha.”

She walked beside him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He opened Barney’s door and flicked the switch. Over
head fluorescent lights came on. He followed the girl into the room. “Sit in the chief’s seat,” he told her.

“Behind the desk?”

“It’ll be more comfortable.”

She stepped around the desk, set her coffee cup on the blotter, and sat down. The stuffed chair bobbed and squeaked. She rolled it forward as if to take shelter behind the big, protective desk. Her hands curled around the sides of the cup.

Jake sat on a folding chair across from her. “You’re Alison?”

“Yes. Alison Sanders.”

“Dr. Teal told me what you did. You’re a very brave young lady.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. He’s very upset, of course.”

“The policeman, is he dead?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” Jake muttered.

“You didn’t get him, did you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not yet. But we will.”

“It was Roland,” she said in a steady, low voice. “I don’t know his last name, but he lives in room 240 of Baxter Hall on the campus.”

Jake took a notepad from his shirt pocket. He quickly scribbled the name and room number. “Was he a friend of yours?”

She shook her head. “I’ve only seen him around. He’s a freshman.”

“Do you have any idea why he might have done this?”

“I don’t know.” Alison rubbed her forehead. “He was somehow involved in…His roommate took Celia out last night. That’s Celia Jamerson. She was living with…”

“Celia Jamerson?” Jake asked, surprised. He saw the slim girl sitting by the road, scuffed and bleeding, holding her tremulous arm. “A van tried to hit her Thursday?”

Alison nodded. “She went out with Roland’s roommate last night and she didn’t come home. I went over to the dorm this afternoon to ask Roland about it. That was the only time I ever really talked to him. He said they’d gone to some motel in Marlowe, but I didn’t really believe him.” She met Jake’s gaze with weary, knowing eyes. “I think Roland killed her. Maybe he killed Jason, too. That’s the roommate. Maybe Jason’s in on it, but I don’t think so.”

“What happened after you spoke with Roland?”

“I went over to a friend’s house. We had dinner. Then I walked home. The place was dark. Helen’s door was shut. I thought she’d gone to bed, but I guess she must’ve already been dead. Roland must’ve been hiding somewhere. I went up to my room and went to sleep. He woke me up. He got a handcuff on me. And he put tape on my mouth. He was naked. I thought that what he wanted to do was, you know, rape me. I mean, I’m sure that
is
what he wanted to do, not just kill me, or he wouldn’t have bothered with the cuffs and tape. Anyway, we fought and I…I blinded him in one eye.” Her right hand left the coffee cup. She lifted her thumb and stared at it. “I washed,” she muttered. “Martha let me wash up. She found a key that opened the cuff. And gave me her sweater. She’s very nice.”

“You said that Roland was naked.”

“He had a belt on. That’s all.”

“Did you notice anything peculiar about his appearance?”

She looked at Jake and raised her eyebrows. “You mean like a tattoo or birthmark or something?”

“Did you get a look at his back? Or feel it?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just wonder if he had any kind of a bruise or bulge down his spine.”

“I don’t know. Not that I noticed. Why?”

“It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it right now. After you gouged his eye, what happened?”

“I got away. I ran downstairs and went to warn Helen. But
she was…” Alison caught her lower lip between her teeth. She shook her head.

“Then you went outside?” Jake asked.

“Yeah. I went down and broke into Dr. Teal’s kitchen, and he came out to help.”

“Okay, fine. He’s filled me in from there, up to the point where you ran for the patrol car.”

“That’s about all, then. Roland almost got me, but I drove away and…he was lying in the street the last time I saw him. I drove here to the police station and told Martha what happened. She sent a car and ambulance to the house and phoned someone.”

“She called the chief. He phoned me, and I went over. Could you describe this Roland?”

“He’s…eighteen, I guess. Skinny. About five-seven. Black hair. He’s minus his left eye and two fingers of his left hand, and he’s got a knife wound on his left nipple.”

“He won’t go far in that condition.”

“I guess not.”

“Did you notice if he had a car?”

“I don’t know. There was a VW bug on the street by the house. I almost hit it with the police car. It might not have been his, but—”

“A yellow bug with a banner on its aerial?” Jake asked. He felt excited. He felt sick.

“I don’t know about the banner, but I’m pretty sure the car was yellow.”

“My God,” he muttered.

“What?”

“It
was
him. He tried to pick up my daughter this afternoon.”

A corner of Alison’s lip curled up. “Your daughter?”

“She ran away from him.”

“Jesus. She’s all right, though?”

“Yeah, fine. It threw a scare into her, but she’s fine.”

“How old is she?”

“Four and a half. She lives with her mother.” Jake wondered why he added that. He stood up. “It’s time I go after the guy, Alison. Do you have a place to stay?”

“The house,” she said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, Professor Teal has a spare room downstairs.”

“The odds of Roland showing up are slim to none, I think, but until he’s accounted for…”

“You mean I need to disappear for a while?”

“Just to be on the safe side.”

“I don’t know. I guess I could check into a motel. I don’t have my purse, though.”

“You’re welcome to stay at my place. I’ll be out, anyway.”

“Thank you, but—”

“It’s comfortable. There’s food and drink in the fridge. And that way, I’ll know where you are and I won’t have to worry about you.”

She made a small, slightly crooked smile. “You’d worry about me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice,” she whispered.

Jake felt his face redden. “Well, you’re also our main witness.”

Alison picked up her coffee cup. It was still full.

They left Barney’s office and returned to the dispatcher’s cubicle. “Alison will be coming with me,” Jake said.

Alison set the cup on Martha’s desk. “Thanks for the use of the sweater,” she said. “And for helping.”

“No problem, honey,” Martha said.

Alison started to unbutton the sweater.

Martha held up a hand. “You keep that on, you’ll catch a chill.” Grinning, she added, “And you don’t want to give Jake any ideas. Not that he’s not a perfect gentleman. You can just send it back to me when you’re done with it.”

Alison thanked her again.

They left, and went outside to Jake’s car. Alison climbed into the passenger seat. Walking around to the driver’s door, Jake scanned the area. He saw no cars moving on the nearby streets. He saw no parked Volkswagens. He got in and started the engine.

“You didn’t notice anyone behind you on the way over, did you?” he asked.

“No. And I was looking. I was afraid he might come after me.”

“The shape you left him in, he’s probably not coming after
anyone.
He might very well be dead or dying by now.”

“I hope so,” she muttered.

“I’d like to find him alive,” Jake said. Find him dead, he thought, and you probably won’t find the damn snake-thing. It’s got no use for a dead man. The fucker’ll pull a disappearing act and turn up in someone else and you’ll be back to square one.

Jake watched the rearview mirror as he drove. The road behind him appeared clear, but Roland could be staying far back with the headlights off.

Jake turned onto a side street, killed his lights, and swung to the curb. “We’ll wait here for a while,” he said.

“Fine.”

He shut off the engine. He smiled at Alison. “I’m sure we’re not being followed. This is just a precaution.”

He glanced at her bare legs. Her negligee was very short. Her open hands rested on her thighs as if to hold the gown down. An awareness came to Jake, suddenly, that he was alone in the car with a very attractive young woman who was no doubt naked except for the skimpy nightgown and Martha’s sweater. And he was taking her to his home. The awareness gave him a warm feeling that threatened to become more than that.

Watch yourself, he warned. The last thing she needs is to get the idea that you’re getting turned on.

Turned on? Forget it, Corey.

He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, and looked at the side mirror. “Looks all right,” he said.

Though he felt sure that Roland wasn’t tailing them, he decided to take a roundabout course to his house. He knew that he should make the trip as fast as possible, drop her off, and start searching for Roland.

But he wasn’t eager to find Roland.

And he wasn’t eager to get rid of Alison.

She was very quiet. Jake wondered what was going on in her mind. Nothing pleasant, probably. She’d gone through hell tonight. Most people never have to face such an ordeal. If they do, they often don’t survive to cope with the emotional trauma.

“Things must look pretty bleak,” he said.

Alison turned to him. “I’m alive,” she said. “I feel pretty lucky.”

“It took a lot more than luck.”

“I don’t know if I deserve it, though. I mean, why me? This must be how people feel when they survive an airline crash. Kind of guilty that they’re still alive when so many others aren’t.”

“I suppose so,” Jake said. “Do you have classes tomorrow?”

“I’ll probably cut them. I don’t think I could handle sitting in a classroom.”

“That’s probably best. I hope this will all be over by then, but if it’s not I won’t want you going anywhere. You and I will be the only ones who know where you are, and I’d like to keep it that way until further notice, okay? That’s the only way we can be certain you’re secure.”

“No one to tell,” she said.

“What about your parents?”

“They’re in Marin County.”

“You could call them if you want.”

“No reason to stir them up. They’d go hysterical on me.”

“Boyfriend?” Smooth, Jake thought. Slipped it right in. He felt vaguely ashamed of himself.

“We broke up,” she said. “Tonight, as a matter of fact. It’s been a banner night.” After a few moments of silence, she added, “I should probably phone him in the morning, let him know I’m okay.”

“Fine. Just don’t tell him where you are.”

“Fat chance of that.”

Jake saw his house just ahead. He decided to circle the block before taking Alison in. Just as a precaution, he told himself.

“You don’t think someone
sent
Roland over?”

“No, nothing like that. He could get to someone, though. If nobody knows where you are, nobody can tell him.”

“There’s more to this than you’re letting on, isn’t there?”

Jake hesitated, then answered, “Yes.”

“And it has something to do with Roland’s back.”

“You’re sharp,” Jake said, smiling at her.

“Must be pretty bad, if you’re afraid to tell me.”

“It’s a long story,” Jake said. “And we’re almost home.”

“Maybe it’s something I should know.”

Jake didn’t answer. He steered around the final corner, checked once more to be sure there was no Volkswagen in sight, then swung into the driveway of his house.

Alison held the hem of her negligee to prevent it from sliding up as she scooted off the car seat. Jake shut the door after she was out. He walked backward across his yard, a hand resting on his holstered gun, his head turning slowly, eyes scanning the neighborhood as if he expected Roland to charge out of the darkness.

He didn’t seem nervous, though. Just careful. Alison felt safe with him. She didn’t like knowing that he would leave just minutes from now.

He opened the house door. Alison followed him inside.
The lights were already on, the curtains shut. The warmth of the house felt good after the chill outside.

“Just make yourself at home,” Jake said. “The kitchen’s over here.”

He led the way. Alison began to unbutton her sweater, but stopped when she realized what she was wearing under it.

Jake turned on the kitchen light. “There’s food, soft drinks, beer in the refrigerator. Help yourself.” He pointed at a cupboard. “Hard stuff in there, in case you get the urge.”

“What’s your daughter’s usual bedtime?”

“Oh, Kimmy’s not…” He laughed softly. “What’s your hourly rate?”

“In my prime, five bucks per hour. For Kimmy, no charge.”

“That’s good, since she isn’t here.” They left the kitchen. “Sofa,” he announced, walking in front of it. “Where I’ll stretch out when I get back. Television.” He bent over the coffee table, picked up the remote control, and turned the TV on and off, demonstrating. He smiled a bit self-consciously.

Alison followed him to the bathroom. He flicked on its light. “Fine if you want to take a bath or shower or something,” he said and blushed slightly.