Ghost Light (14 page)

“Well, you see, I’m a salesman, and I’ll be on the road quite a bit this week and next. I really wanted to call my wife back tonight and see how she’s doing.” He decided against elaborating further just so there’d be less of a chance that he’d get caught up in a lie.

“Okay, Mr. Toland,” Mrs. Clark said, apparently softening. “Tell you what. Give me your account number, and I’ll see what comes up on the computer right now.”

“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks—thanks a lot,” Alex said.

He cleared his throat and hardly dared to breathe as he slowly read the account number from the top corner of the bill. It was almost lost beneath the scrawls of his doodle. There was a long period of silence on the line after he heard Mrs. Clark punch the numbers on her computer keyboard. Alex closed his eyes and wished to hell he had a beer to slug down while he waited, but if his luck held, this was going to be a whole helluva lot easier than he’d expected it to be.

“Mr. Toland?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t quite know what to make of this, but it appears that the last call your wife made to you was from a pay phone.”

“A pay phone?” He licked his lips and hoped to hell his voice didn’t betray his anticipation. “Well, she—I know she’s been doing a lot of driving, so she may have, but I—”

His mind went almost blank as he mentally tried to form his next question.

“Could you please give me that phone number’?”

“I don’t quite see the point if, as you say, she called you from there several days ago.” After a short pause, Mrs. Clark read the number, and Alex scribbled it across the woman’s face he had drawn.

“And where exactly did she call from? Can you tell?” Alex asked, unable to keep the sharp edge of command out of his voice.

“It’s from area code 207. That’s the state of Maine.”

“Maine?”

“The whole state. The exchange number indicates that your wife called from the Portland area. Now, this may not be the call you were wondering about— Well, yes. Apparently it is. It was last Thursday, just after three o’clock in the afternoon. The total charge came to only… sixty-one cents.”

“Portland, Maine, huh? Well, Mrs. Clark, I want to thank you very much for your help with this.”

“Oh, it was nothing at all,” Mrs. Clark said. “My pleasure. And thank you for using MCI. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of any more assistance to you.”

Alex sank back into the couch and let a wide, wolfish smile spread across his face. “Oh, believe me,” he said, almost laughing out loud. “You’ve been a great help.”

“Well, as I said, that call originated from a pay phone. I’d suggest, if you or your wife know anyone in the Portland area, you might want to give them a call.”

“Oh,” Alex said, “I don’t know about that.”

It took a great effort not to leap up from the couch and let out a wild whoop of joy.

“As a matter of fact, in a day or two, after I take care of a few things around, here, I was thinking about heading out to Portland, Maine, myself. Thanks again for your help.”

Before Mrs. Clark could say anything, he hung up the phone and, leaning his head back against the couch cushion, started to laugh. Wave after wave of laughter ran through him, and before long, he closed his eyes and had to double over, he was laughing so hard.

This was all falling into place
much
too easily!

3

W
hile her aunt’s back was turned toward her, Krissy slipped into the small bedroom and eased the door quietly shut. The wooden floor creaked softly under her feet, but it had a muffled, quality that was almost comforting, like walking on crunchy, fresh snow. After so many days of sitting in the back seat of the car, her legs felt all gummy and weak. It felt funny to walk, sort of like being an invalid who had just gotten out of bed after a long illness.

The tattered window shade was drawn all the way down, turning the wide band of sunlight that filtered through it into a deep yellow, almost muddy color. Scattered beams of bright light angled through small holes in the shade and lanced the floor like laser beams. The lighting in the room reminded Krissy of the color of the river water the time last summer when her mother had taken her and Billy for a riverboat ride on the Missouri River. The dust suspended in the air was suffused with a subtle, shimmering glow that made the air look dense, like it was alive with sparkling flecks of gold. A wasp, trapped behind the shade, buzzed and bounced against the glass, seeking escape. Krissy watched its small, distinct shadow dart from side to side as the rasping buzz grew steadily louder.

Yeah, this is nice… really nice
… Krissy thought, letting the warm, comforting feeling of the room fill her. I kinda like it here.

Forgetting all about the bad smell she had noticed in the apartment before, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her thin chest expand to its fullest. The wasp’s buzzing grew louder, until it seemed to fill the room. A curious tingling sensation spread up from Krissy’s feet, twining and curling around her body like a mild electric current. The hairs on the backs of her arms stood up and began to sway subtly from side to side. Her cheeks and forehead tingled like the time she had splashed some of her father’s after shave on her face.

All sounds and sensations were deadened except for the high-pitched buzzing of the trapped wasp. That sound created such a lulling peacefulness that Krissy felt as though she had jumped into the Missouri River and was drifting down to its swirling, muddy bottom. She was surrounded by warmth and a tugging, yearning feeling that made her almost want to laugh—or cry—out loud.

“Krissy?”

She barely heard Aunt Cindy call to her from out in the hallway, but she ignored the call as she walked slowly to the center of the bedroom and stood there, her arms held up, suspended a little bit away from her sides. Looking down, she saw one sneakered foot, illuminated in sharp detail by a harsh beam of sunlight. The worn floorboards stood out in sharp detail, but everything else around her seemed dark and very distant. She had the sudden, disorienting feeling that her feet were lifting off the floor, and she was drifting, floating in the air and spinning lazily like a top. All the while, though, her gaze was fixed on the suffused wash of yellow light that came through the window shade. Motes of dust glittered like flecks of gold… shimmering planets, spiralling in the still air. As her vision sharpened, she thought she saw them forming levels that made a gossamer stairway leading up to, and through, the window shade.

“
Krissy
…”

When she heard her name called a second time, she thought for a moment that it was the buzzing sound of the trapped wasp; but then it came again, softly… teasingly.

“
Krissy
…”

This time she knew that it wasn’t the wasp, and it wasn’t her aunt’s voice. This voice sounded … different, somehow, as though it was muffled through some kind of filter or something. A wave of chills tingled up Krissy’s back, but she kept her unblinking gaze fastened on the embracing yellow light and the shimmering stairway. The light pulsated and began to spread like a slow stain, filling the room with enclosing arms of stifling heat.

“
Krissy
…” the voice repeated, sounding both fainter and clearer at the same time.

“Umm… I do kinda like it here,” Krissy whispered. She heard her own voice, but had the odd sensation that it was someone else’s. She licked her lips, feeling their rough, dry texture, like sandpaper, and was mildly surprised that she could make even the tiniest of sounds.

“
Krissy… you’ll be… safe here
…”

The eerily detached voice continued to whisper, saying words that seemed barely connected. They seemed to be coming at her from all directions at once… or else they were echoing inside her head, like distant memories.

“You have… to… believe in… me… you’ll be safe here…”

Krissy’s eyes began to fill with tears as she stared, wide-eyed into the light, which throbbed heavily now, keeping time with her high, hammering pulse. The electrical tingling that surrounded her body became stronger, almost painful. Hot pin prickles ran up and down the length of her body. She wanted to cry out, but even though she swallowed hard and licked her lips, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make a sound. Her gaze was held fast by the amber light that swirled in front of the window, surging and twisting like thick strands of honey, suspended in midair.

At some point—she had no idea when—she realized that the liquid spill of light was assuming subtle, indistinct shapes. Like the voice talking to her, the shapes melted from sight before she could quite grasp them. Then, in a single, shattering instant, she realized that the glow of light was taking on a vaguely human appearance. She saw eyes, wide open and staring at her. Long streamers of hair framed the face, cascading like fast-moving storm clouds, and a mouth with full lips pursed as though about to speak.

“You have to… trust me… believe in me… you’ll be safe… here… at least…for a… little while…”

The words echoed with a hollow rumbling sound inside her head, like someone was shaking a large sheet of metal. Each syllable made her ears flutter painfully, but the few words she
did
hear and understand made her feel welcome… welcome and safe.

“
Krissy!
”

Again, her aunt’s voice called from the hallway, louder this time, piercing, like the high screech of tires on a wet road. In the space of a heartbeat, the glow of light and the face inside it faded away. A clutching of sour nausea gripped Krissy’s stomach when she turned around just in time to see the bedroom door fly open so fast it hit the wall and rebounded with a vibrating rattle. Aunt Cindy’s dark silhouette was framed in the doorway, looking scary and big.

“Oh, there you are!”

Krissy’s skin felt like stretched leather as she looked at her aunt, swallowed, and forced herself to smile. A dull pressure in her lower stomach made her want to go to the bathroom.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was dry and croaked like an old woman’s.

“Good Lord, Krissy! Don’t
ever
go sneaking away like that! You had me really scared!” Aunt Cindy said.

Krissy regarded her aunt with a tight, fearful gaze, but she was only vaguely bothered by the expression of concern she saw on her aunt’s face. Aunt Cindy’s voice sounded too harsh, too
real
, she thought, and she was angry at her for bursting in here and making that shiny face she had seen—and almost recognized—disappear so quickly.

“I was just… was just checking the place out,” she said. Her voice caught and almost choked off, but she was amazed that she could even speak at all.

Taking a fluttering breath, she walked over to the window and snapped the shade up so fast it flapped loudly against the roller. The motion raised a cloud of dust, and the sudden blast of light stung her eyes, almost making her sneeze, but her gaze was instantly fastened on the trapped wasp.

It was dead on the windowsill, nothing but a dry, empty husk. As Krissy stared at it, her vision became a watery blur, but she didn’t even consider whether it was from crying or from the bright light. Sniffling loudly, she turned and looked back at her aunt.

“So, do you think we’re… Are we gonna live here?”

Aunt Cindy’s expression softened as she took a step toward her and shrugged, slapping her hands together. “Gosh, I don’t know, honey… Maybe.” She seemed to want to come over and hug her but was holding herself back.

Flicking her forefinger, Krissy snapped the dead wasp onto the floor, surprised that it didn’t suddenly fly up and try to sting her. For an instant, she considered stepping on it, grinding it to dust under her toe, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Well,” she said distractedly; she was unable to stop wondering how long that wasp had been dead there between the shade and window, “If we do, can this room be mine?”

Aunt Cindy considered for a moment, then nodded and said, “Sure. I don’t see why not.” She still sounded a bit bemused.

“Oh, good,” Krissy replied, nodding as she reached for the edge of the shade and pulled it back down. When she turned around to scan the rest of the room, the soft yellow glow of light was back, filtering through the shade and softening everything so once again the room looked old and faded. Any hint of a ghostly face or anything else was gone, but even the prospect that this room might be haunted didn’t seem to bother her. She believed what she had seen and heard, even though she couldn’t explain the really weird way it had made her feel. She hadn’t been really scared, but it didn’t make her feel completely happy or secure, either.

“Yeah,” she said warily, her voice no more than a sigh. “She said—I mean, I think we’ll be safe here… at least for a little while.”

The Fun Begins

A
lex was wide awake more than an hour before dawn on Friday morning. The small amount of sleep he had gotten had done him little good, and three cups of black coffee hadn’t helped. He felt all tight and trembling inside; “Wound up tight as a tick,” as his mother used to say.

It was now a little before eight o’clock in the morning, and time to get things started.

After spending most of the last three days trying to figure out every possible angle of what he had planned, he couldn’t conceal his nervousness as he sat down on the couch in his living room and picked up the telephone. He stared without blinking for several seconds at the wash of dull orange sunlight that lit up rectangle of the faded carpet. The floor was littered with gray clots of dust, empty beer cans, and old newspapers; and there was a real bad smell of rotting food in the room. Shaking his head as though dazed, he exhaled noisily and started dialing the number in Chicago, which he had gotten the day before from directory assistance.

This was it—the first step.

If he fucked this one up, everything else he had planned to do would go down the shitter.

The telephone receiver was slick and cold in his sweating hand as he started punching the eleven numbers for the Chicago Hilton. Before pressing the last number, though, he hesitated, his mind flashing on his fear that, in spite of everything he had thought of, there still had to be something he had not taken into account. But when he thought about what that asshole Harry Toland and his fucking wife, Cindy, had done to him, his resolve stuck. Grinning grimly, he pushed down hard on the last number and pressed the phone to his ear.

The phone began to ring at the other end of the line and was picked up after three short beeps.

“Chicago Hilton,” said a woman’s voice, clipped and almost British-sounding. “How may I direct your call?”

“Yeah—uh, room 1237.”

“One moment, please, and I’ll connect you.”

A cold, hard tingling passed through Alex’s body, squeezing his chest as he listened to an assortment of clicks and buzzes on the other end of line; then the phone began to ring again. He sucked in a shuddering breath, but his lungs still felt like they were on fire and about to explode.

“—Umm—’ello,” said a sleepy-sounding voice. It was a woman’s voice, but Alex couldn’t tell from those two slurred words if it was the same woman he had heard on Harry’s answering machine last week.

Squeezing his nose shut with his fingers and purposely making his voice rattle, sounding thick with phlegm, he said, “Hi, yah… it’s me.”

“Huh?” The woman’s voice still sounded sleepy, but she seemed to be coming around slowly. “Who’s
me?
”

“Me—Harry… Who’d you expect?”

“Harry?” said the woman, sounding both surprised and perhaps a bit suspicious, but certainly fully awake now. “What’s the matter? Why, you sound absolutely terrible!”

“Oh, no—no. It’s nothing. I just… I just caught a bitch of a flu bug.”

Alex froze, wondering if Harry ever swore with this lady, but it was already even too late to worry whether or not he sounded at all like Harry, so he forged ahead before the woman’s suspicions could get any stronger.

“Yeah—” he said, pinching his nose so tightly it hurt. “I don’t know what it is—if it’s the flu or something, but I came down with it last night. I feel like sh—I feel terrible.”

“Oh, honey, that’s too bad,” the woman said. She sounded genuinely concerned, but all Alex could think was—
Holy shit, I think she bought it!
He wanted to shout for joy, but he realized that he had just started and still had to play it out to the end.

“Yeah, I—I don’t think I’ll even try to go to work today.”

“No, I don’t blame you, not from the way you sound. You should stay right home in bed. God, you don’t even sound like yourself.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m all congested and fevery,” Alex said, trying to disguise his voice even more. “I figured I’d just stay in bed and sweat it out.”

“Do you want me to come over? I can bring you some chicken soup or something once I get home?” Alex thought for a moment, unable to decide how to answer her: if he said no, she might get even more suspicious; but if he agreed, she might arrive at Harry’s house before he left for the Buzzy Bee Motel. That sure as hell would totally fuck things up! To buy himself a little time, he cupped his hand over the phone and started coughing noisily.

“Oh, honey-bear! You
really
do sound miserable!”

“Uhh,” Alex said, sniffing loudly and making every effort to sound completely stuffed up. “Yeah… yeah, some chicken soup would be nice, but maybe you don’t want to take the chance of catching whatever it is’ I got.”

“Oh, no, honey-bear, I don’t mind… not if I can help you.”

Shit!
Alex thought. This was one of those goddamned things he
hadn’t
thought of, and he didn’t have an alternative. He snorted loudly again and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, how ’bout you come over later—say, sometime this evening. That’ll give me a chance to sleep for most of the day ’n see if I feel any better. Also, you’ll have a chance to unwind after your trip. By the way, how was the… the thing?” He had no idea if she had been on a business trip to a convention or whatever.

“
Thing
sure is the right word for it,” she said. “I had an absolutely horrible week… especially being away from you, baby! I spent as much time fending off good ole’ Mark Ford’s advances as I did working at the convention. God, that man’s a pig!”

“Uh-huh.”

There followed a short silence as Alex tried to think of something.else to say, but before he could speak, the woman continued, barely missing a beat.

“I don’t want to get going on all that again, but you
know
I didn’t do anything, baby-doll—especially not with my boss. Uggh! How
could
I? I’ve been saving it all for you, sugar.” It might have been his imagination, but Alex thought she sounded more disappointed and frustrated than concerned for how Harry “baby-doll” might be feeling.

Fucking women
, Alex thought.
They’re all alike!

“I just wish you weren’t feeling so bad. The only thing that kept me going all week was looking forward to our meeting at the Bee. You know, maybe I could try to reduce your temperature with that ice-cube-in-the-mouth trick we tried a few weeks ago.”

“Uh, no—not today,” Alex said.

He wasn’t really sure what she meant, but his first thought was that she might be hinting about giving him a blow job with a mouthful of ice. Yeah, that’d reduce the temperature
and
the swelling, he thought, almost snickering with laughter. Frozen dick on a stick! Then, for a tingling instant, he panicked when he thought that he might have forgotten to make himself sound sick. If he had, though, the woman seemed not to notice as she went right on talking.

“But it’s a good thing you called me when you did because I must’ve overslept. I have to get a move on if I’m going to get packed and catch my plane on time. Oh, I love you babycakes.” She made a series of smacking, kissing sounds into the phone that made Alex’s skin crawl. “And I hope you’re feeling better real soon, honey-bear. And when you do…”

“Umm,” Alex said, hoping he sounded too miserable to respond to anything she might suggest.

“Well, I’ll drop by later today, then, okay? Say, six o’clock?”

“Yeah… six will be fine.”

More than fine!
Alex thought.

“Okay, then. I’d better be going now. Bye-bye, lovie. See you soon.” Again, she kissed into the phone. “And as sick as you are, I can’t wait to see you. Bye-bye, honey-bear… I love you!”

“Yeah, bye,” Alex said. “I-uhh—love you, too.”

Before she could start in again with any more cutesy talk, Alex clicked the phone off with his thumb and replaced the receiver. Staring blankly up at the ceiling, he sank back into the couch and let his breath out in a long, slow whoosh. It felt as though he had forgotten to breathe throughout the conversation, and now, as he inhaled, air ripped like a flood of water into his lungs. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands so hard against his eyelids he saw tiny yellow spirals of light that dissolved into the pulsating darkness.

A single thought whispered in his brain and reverberated until it started to grow louder and louder, like rolling thunder. The thought was almost masked by the high, keening sound of laughter, but Alex had no idea if he was laughing out loud or not.

He didn’t care because that single, echoing thought was—
I did it! So far. I fucking-A did it!

2

O
n Monday of that week, the “young married couple” who had wanted the apartment so badly still hadn’t made up their minds, so Cindy decided to rent the apartment on Coyne Street. She didn’t want to move in until she had a chance to give the place a thorough cleaning, so early Tuesday morning, right after they handed over a deposit of two month’s rent and signed the lease, she and the kids went to the grocery store and bought buckets, sponges, mops, rubber gloves, and several bottles of Pine-scented Lysol. At Sears, they bought a small vacuum cleaner. From the motel where they were staying until the apartment was livable, she also called the local phone company and ordered a telephone, which was installed two days later, on Wednesday afternoon. With both the lease and the telephone company, she had debated whether or not to use a phony name but had finally decided against it if only because she had no idea how to prove she was anyone other than who her driver’s license and credit cards said she was. She knew, if the state police and FBI were after her, she was leaving such an obvious trail that it wouldn’t take long for them to run her down.

After spending two full days cleaning, the place was ready. Because they didn’t have any furniture, their move amounted to little more than lugging their suitcases and a few bags of groceries up the creaky flight of stairs. There were still plenty of items they had to buy—like oven cleaner and a toilet bowl brush. Over the next few days it seemed to Cindy as though they were heading off to one store or another at least half a dozen times a day. She was writing checks as if there was no limit to her funds.

Throughout the rest of the week, they did a lot more cleaning and then settled into their new place. But even after scouring the place with Lysol, the smell of something rotting still tinged the apartment. It was especially strong in the hallway. Krissy seemed unable not to mention it every time they either went out or came in. Cindy had to keep reminding herself as much as the kids that this was only a temporary situation, and that she had better plans for them once they got their feet on the ground. The kids, she thought, at least seemed genuinely relieved not to be sitting in the back seat of the car for ten hours a day or sleeping in cheap motels and eating every meal at McDonald’s. When she decided to splurge and buy them a small color TV and a Super Nintendo, Billy, at least, seemed fully content. She even ordered a cable hookup. Every evening while Cindy tried to distract herself from her problems with the latest Dean Koontz novel and Krissy either played with dolls or colored, Billy would fill the small apartment with repetitive electronic music and random bleeps, buzzes, and muttered curses.

Be it ever so humble…

Early Friday morning, just about the same time Alex was making his phone call to the Chicago Hilton, they went to the local Ames to buy some more sheets and towels and a few other odds and ends. Billy kept pestering her for a new Nintendo game until she finally caved in. As they wandered up and down the aisles, grabbing just about everything that drew their fancy, Cindy started to feel twinges of guilt. She justified spending money so freely as their reward after a full week of hard work, but she didn’t like spending money this way, especially because she still hadn’t had a chance to talk over her change of plans with Harry.

But where the devil was he? Cindy wondered whenever she thought about him and home, which was often. What the hell was he up to? And why hadn’t he called?

She tried to convince herself to say to hell with him! Yeah, she thought for the dozenth time already today as she grabbed several rolls of paper towels from the shelf and threw them into the shopping cart. To hell with him! She could make this work even if she had to do it alone!

It was only when she looked at the kids and saw the deep level of hurt still lingering in their eyes—especially at night, when she was tucking them in—that she couldn’t help but wonder if she really was doing the right thing and saving them instead of hurting them even more!

And she couldn’t stop wondering what was the matter with Harry. Granted, he might be busy with the store, especially if he really was trying to get it in order to sell the place; but, Jesus, the least he could do was call her! If he thought this was some kind of game for her, that she was having fun taking off like this, then the next time she did talk to him, she would make sure to let him know just how much worry and stress she was under.

“You know what?” Krissy said, wrinkling her nose as she walked along beside Cindy. One hand was hanging loosely off the shopping cart’s handle while the other one gripped the edge of Cindy’s jeans pocket.