Ghost Light (47 page)

Alex closed his eyes and threw his head back, unable to stop the loud howl of pain that ripped out of him. H knew, even then that at least one leg, probably both were broken. His right foot was being crushed beneath the van’s front tire. Through a shimmering haze a pain, he looked up as the driver’s door opened and someone stepped out.

He was stunned and had to lick his lips furiously before he could make a sound other than a gut wrenching groan. A hot, burning pressure was building up inside his head, making him think it was going to burst as he stared into the steady, glassy gaze of his son. His silhouette looked massive, towering against the churning gray clouds overhead.

“Billy,
please!
” he shouted, his voice little more than a ragged gasp. “For Christ’s sake! Get this fuckin, thing off me!”

He leaned back on his elbows and tried to wriggle his foot free from underneath the tire, but any movement merely ground it down all the harder and sent searing waves of pain through his body.

“Do what I say!” Alex shouted, trying hard to keep a commanding edge in his voice. “Right now… get the fuck… back into the van… and get… this thing…
off
me!”

Tears of pain were streaming down his face as he stared up into Billy’s pale, trembling face. Billy was breathing so fast his cheeks puffed in and out like overworked bellows, but there wasn’t the slightest trace pity in his expression as he stared down at his father d slowly shook his head.

“Christ, Billy, it hurts!
It fucking hurts!
Get the fucking thing off me!” Alex bellowed, but Billy simply clenched his fists and, looking past him toward where Cindy was lying on the ground, continued to shake his head from side to side.

“You little
shit
! You little fucking shit! You broke y goddamned legs!” Alex wailed.

Dark, crashing waves closed over his mind, and he struggled not to lose consciousness in spite of the deep pain that embraced his legs and flooded up into his hips.

“You
bastard
! You rotten little piece of fucking shit!” he shouted, but his voice started to fade and he closed his eyes and leaned back as another, stronger wave of pain almost dragged him down into unconsciousness.

“When I … when I get my hands on you—”

He ended with a loud, gasping grunt. With one last burst of energy, he tried to ignore the overwhelming pain and pull his leg free, but it was caught beneath the tire as surely as if he had stepped into a bear trap. With very second the pain got stronger and stronger, and thick blackness nibbled at the edges of his vision, threatening to close in on him.

“I had to do something,” Billy said.

His voice was so fragile and shattered Alex barely card—or understood—him.

“I couldn’t just… just sit there and let you hurt
A
unt Cindy any more. I couldn’t do it, dad!”

6

C
indy had closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind as she waited for the sting of death. But when that last fatal pain didn’t come, and then when she heard the van’s engine roar to life, she opened her eyes. For fluttering instant, she didn’t dare to believe what she was seeing. Ignoring the pain in her leg, she lurched forward, as if she could somehow stop what she could see was going to happen, but it was already too late. Billy was sitting behind the steering wheel of the van leaning forward in his seat like an enraged race driver. The van bucked forward—just like it had the last time Cindy had let Billy try to drive—and slammed into Alex. The impact knocked Alex onto the ground just the arrow whisked off out of sight. As the swirl of exhaust and dust started to clear, Cindy saw that Alex was down on the ground… and he wasn’t getting up.

Cindy cringed, listening as Alex swore at his son, telling him to move the van, but Billy just stood there, wearing an expression of grim determination as he shook his head, and said, “I couldn’t just… just s there and let you hurt Aunt Cindy any more. I couldn’t do it, dad!”

Covering her leg wound with her good hand, Cindy forced herself up onto her feet. Limping horribly, she made her way toward the van. All the while, her ears were ringing with the echoes of Alex’s curses. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Billy’s face. He looked stunned, completely drained of all energy and life, and beneath that was the soul-deep fear of what would happen to him if his father ever got his hands on him.

He did that for me! Billy saved my life!
Cindy thought.
I can’t let Alex get him! Ever!

Every step sent sharper, deeper jabs of pain lancing through her body, but she made her way slowly over to where Alex lay on the ground. After staring for a moment into his pain-glazed eyes, she noticed the hunting bow, lying to one side, only a few feet from Alex’s grasp. Moving as quickly as she could, she went over to it and picked it up.

“You’re dead!”
Alex screamed when he looked over at her. “I’m gonna fucking
rip
you to
pieces!
”

He thrust himself viciously away from the van. His hands dug deep furrows into the soil as he strained back, trying to wiggle free. Above the labored sounds of his breathing, there was another sound—a loud, crackling, grinding noise that Cindy knew was Alex’s ankle bones, being ground into mush. With a keening wail of agony, he stopped his efforts and collapsed back onto the ground.

“No, I don’t think so,” Cindy said. It took a great effort to speak at all. The pain rippling like waves of acid through her leg made her mind go blank, but she shook her head to clear it, focusing every ounce of her remaining strength on a single thought—

He killed them… killed them all! Every person who ever meant anything to me! Debbie!… Harry!… and Alice! And he liked it! He was gloating over what he had done as if he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. As if life had no value at all to him!

Her hands were trembling as she gripped the bow handle with her left hand. A jolt of pain from her broken wrist stung her like a bee sting, but slowly, deliberately, she pulled the last arrow from the quiver, raised the bow, and rested the arrow on the hand grip.

“You miserable bastard,” she whispered through raw, cracked lips. Burning tears streamed from her eyes. Every word, every movement, every breath took an immense effort. The pain in her leg was almost intolerable, and her mind felt mushy and floating from the loss of blood. She was afraid she was going to pass out soon, but she had in her mind the single, clear thought that this man was responsible for
everything
that had happened to her.

And he will have to pay for it with his life!

Trembling with rage and pain, she gripped the feathered end of the arrow and started to pull back.

“You don’t deserve to live,” she said in a low, rasping voice. “I’m gonna do to you exactly what you were going to do to me.”

She pulled back on the arrow a little more, but suddenly a jolt of pain made her stop and cry out as her left wrist collapsed under the mounting pressure. A gauzy haze filled her vision, and she staggered backwards a few steps. She almost lost her grip on the bow, but, gritting her teeth, she held on to it, shook her head to clear it, steadied herself, and then started to pull the arrow back again. Once more, though, her wrist folded in on itself from the pressure of the pull, and this time the arrow dropped to the ground.

Cindy had been putting all of the pressure of standing up on her one good leg, and when she bent over to pick up the arrow, she fell down. The impact jiggled the arrow sticking in her leg, and her agony went to an entirely new level of pain. A burst of raw laughter from Alex hammered her ears.

“Ain’t that too bad, huh?” he shouted with a wild snort of either laughter or pain. “That’s just too fucking bad!”

Murderous fury filled Cindy, but she knew the loss of blood was weakening her, fast. She realized that, probably even if her left wrist hadn’t been broken, she wouldn’t have been able to pull back the bow. It was too powerful for her. She wished she had the strength to get up again and use the bow to beat Alex to a bloody pulp, but she was close to fainting. Panting heavily, she swung her blank gaze in Billy’s direction and waved for him to come over to her.

For a frozen instant, Billy just stood there. Cindy could see by the twisting expression on his face that he knew, if he went to her now, it would be the ultimate betrayal of his own father. His lower lip was trembling, and his chest hitched as though he were crying tearlessly.

“Please… Billy,” Cindy gasped, collapsing back onto the ground. “Help me…”

Just then, the rain that had been threatening all morning began to fall. Cold, plump drops hit her face like stinging pellets of ice, sending deep shivers racing through her body. Cindy tried to keep her eyes open, but the darkness was swirling inside her like a tornado and pulling her down… down…

“What should I do, Aunt Cindy?”

The desperate-sounding voice seemed to come at her from inside the torrent of darkness that was dragging her under. It sounded a bit like Billy’s, but there was a hollow, echoing quality to it that frightened her.

Am I dying?… Is this it?… I’m dying?

The thought filled her with a cold dread, but she also found a measure of relief in it.

Maybe now I’ll see Debbie again… and mom and dad, and Harry, and Alice… Maybe now I’ll finally be at peace…

The stinging drops of rain splashing against her face brought her back to awareness, at least a little bit, but the loss of blood had been too severe. As consciousness slipped away, she felt like she was floating on a dark cushion of air. The chill that had gripped her body was gradually fading away into a soothing, red heat. She sensed that someone was standing there beside her, and when she wedged open her eyes, in her shattered vision she saw, not just Billy, but someone else; it looked like a tall woman whose smiling face glowed with a soft, radiant blue glow.

Cindy wasn’t even sure if she was talking out loud or not, but she heard herself or
someone
say, “Billy… go get help… the keys to the car… under the floor mat… go… drive and get… get…
help!
”

Then, like an avalanche of night, the darkness finally closed in and dragged her under.

Final Words

F
or the first few seconds after she woke up, Cindy had no idea where she was. Through slitted eyes, she looked around but could see only that she was in a room that looked almost too clean and orderly to be real. The thought crossed her mind that she really might have died and gone to Heaven.

She forced her eyes open wider, but the streams of hazy white light pouring in through the half-closed window blinds made them sting. Her vision doubled, and a watery film of tears made everything shatter and sparkle with spirals of vibrating light.

No, I’m not dead
, she thought, fighting hard to clear her mind,
but I must be damned close to it.

She licked her lips, feeling their rough, leathery texture. When she swallowed, her throat made a loud gulping sound and sent a burning pain down into her chest that brought tears to her eyes.

No, I’m alive all right
, she thought.
I must be in the hospital or something.

She realized that she was lying in a bed with fresh, clean sheets covered by a thin blanket. The pillow underneath her head made a wild crinkling sound whenever she shifted. When she raised her right hand to wipe the stickiness she felt around her mouth, she saw the network of plastic tubes that was taped to the back of her wrist. Glancing to the other side of the bed, she saw that her left hand was encased in a white cast that went all the way to her elbow. Feeling down her leg with her right hand, she encountered the thick padding of the bandage that was wrapped from below her knee all the way to her crotch.

Okay, so I’m not dead, but where am I? What the hell happened? How long have I been like this?

She closed her eyes and tried to remember everything that happened. A cold shudder filled her as images ol the events out at the camp came back to her in disjointed, scary flashes.

Alex… and a searing pain… an arrow sticking right through her leg… and her wrist… broken… a bloated, black corpse, half-submerged in the lake… and Billy, seen hazily through the windshield of the van… yes, Alex’s van… the gagging stench of rotting meat… and the roar of the van’s engine, racing whining high… a grinning mouthful of pointed teeth… Alex’s? Or someone else’s?… the whistling hiss of an arrow, passing close to her ear… and screams and curses, echoing from the surrounding woods… strangest of all, a vision—it had to have been a vision—of a woman, just like the one Krissy had talked so much about, surrounded by a dazzling glow of soft, blue light… vaguely familiar…

These and other images and memories twisted inside her mind like a nest of snakes, but no matter how hard she tried to sort them out and connect them into some kind of logical sequence, they would keep shifting and fluttering in her mind like a shuffling deck of playing cards.

She lost track of the time as she lay there, trying to make sense of her fragments of memory. The harsh white light gradually shifted across the floor and rippled up the wall like the surface of the water seen from down below. Eventually, she slipped back down into the soft darkness where all confusion and fear melted like snow in a hot, March wind.

2

T
he next time she became conscious, she was immediately aware that there was someone in the room sitting in a chair next to her bed. Fighting waves of dizziness and grogginess, and coiling fear, she wedged her eyes open. She let out a strangled yelp of surprise when she saw that her visitor was a man she didn’t recognize. He was dressed in a sharp, three-piece suit, and was smiling down at her. His short-cut, dirty blond hair framed a squarish face and piercing eyes.

“Hello,” the man said softly.

Cindy liked the mellow tone of his voice. She forced smile and tried to say hello, but her throat felt like it was packed with sand. She looked on both sides of the bed, then indicated with a feeble wave of her right hand the glass of water she saw with a straw sticking out of it.

“Here, let me help you,” the man said, smiling as he held the straw up to her lips.

Cindy took a tiny sip, just enough to wet the back of her tongue. Even the slight motion of shifting up in the bed sent a spike of pain through her, and she felt completely wrung out from the effort.

“Thanks,” she said. Her voice sounded like an old woman’s dying gasp.

“Well, I see you’re feeling… at least a little bit anyway,” the man said. He was still smiling, but then was an officiousness about him that put her on her guard.

If he thinks I’m doing better, then I must
’
ye beer pretty bad off
, Cindy thought, but the only sound she could make was a strangled whimper that sounded little bit like the word, “Yeah.”

“Look, if you’re not feeling up to talking right now, I can come back tomorrow,” the man said. “I’ve been checking on you every day.”

“Who—”

That was all she could manage to say, but the man apparently understood her question. Leaning closer t the bed, he filled her field of vision with his square smiling face.

“My name’s Greg Mitchell. I’m the police chief for the City of Portland.”

“Uh—”

“Look, I’ll just leave for now and let you rest. I can come back tomorrow.”

“No,” Cindy gasped. “Tell… me—”

Her voice cut off sharply, ending with a low gagging sound. Mitchell lifted the straw to her mouth again and she took a longer sip. This time, the water actually felt as though it made it all the way down her throat.

“Where are… kids?” she said.

“Oh, don’t you worry a bit about them,” Mitchel said. “We’ve temporarily placed them in a foster home They’re doing fine and just waiting for you to get out a here.”

“Is he… dead?”

“Who, you mean Alex?” Mitchell said.

As soon as he said the name, a hardness came over his features that unnerved Cindy in spite of her semi-conscious state. She nodded her head, indicating she wanted him to continue. The pillow crinkled like an exploding string of firecrackers inside her ears.

“Well, he’s in pretty rough shape,” Mitchell said, “but he’ll live… long enough to stand trial.”

“Do you… know… who I am?” Cindy said.

The effort of speaking and focusing her eyes on Mitchell’s face was tiring her out. Once again, a powerful wave of blackness swept around her, nibbling at the edges of her vision. Trailing white streaks of light zipped in front of her eyes, hiding the policeman’s face.

“Well, we know pretty much everything about you, Mrs. Toland. We’ve already been in contact with the Nebraska authorities, and I’ve had a pretty interesting conversation with Bill Holder, your lawyer.”

A tingling jolt of panic traveled the length of Cindy’s body, but she was fading too fast to react.

Oh, God! They know I took the kids, and now they’re going to take them away from me!

“When they brought you to the hospital three days ago—”

“Three… days?”

“That’s right. You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for three days, now. When Tom McDonald, the cop from Gray found you out there at the camp, he said you were babbling on and on about—well, a whole slew of things, but after you said something about Alice Crowther, he remembered the news report about her death a few days ago and notified me.”

Cindy shifted in the bed as if she wanted to sit up, but Mitchell rested his hand gently on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, now. Like I said, we’ve been in touch with your lawyer, and we’ve got a pretty good idea what happened and why you stole your nephew and niece away from their father.”

Cindy looked at him, her vision shimmering with tears. She wanted to ask him if she would ever see Billy and Krissy again, but the burning pain welling up inside her choked off her voice.

“Look, Mrs. Toland, what you need right now is rest. But don’t you worry about a thing. The Nebraska authorities have assured us that you will be granted legal custody of those kids. We’ll be keeping them in foster care only as long as we have to.”

“And… Alex—?”

The effort of speaking was too much. She let her head fall back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Mitchell kept speaking, but his voice sounded as though he was using a megaphone a great distance away from her.

“We’ve already gathered some preliminary evidence, indicating that Alex was responsible for Alice Crowther’s murder. If we can get enough, we’ll try him for murder, and believe me, after what he did to you—well, if you decide to press charges for attempted murder, I’m fairly confident we’ll be able to convict him. Of course, I would like to nail him for Miss Crowther’s death, too, but that’s a bit more up in the air at this point.”

Mitchell’s voice echoed inside Cindy’s mind like a long, rumbling roll of thunder.

“But I suspect he’ll be hoping we do put him in jail here. If the folks in Nebraska ever convict him of what they think he might have done, he faces the death penalty out there. Hell, he’ll probably be begging us to convict him here in Maine.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice caught a little in his throat.

“The Nebraska authorities have been checking up on several John Doe cases out your way, and—well, they have positively identified your husband as the victim in an incident in Council Bluffs, Iowa. I—I’m awfully ;sorry.”

Cindy tried to respond. A hot flood of tears was
b
uilding up inside her, but she was dropping deeper and deeper into sleep. In her mind, she kept repeating
C
onners’ last words, hoping that the next time she woke up she would be able to remember everything he had said, but they, like her memory of the events out at
t
he camp, soon blurred together.

3

“H
ey, so how you guys been doing?” Cindy said.

Squaring her shoulders, she sat up straight in the bed and smiled as the two children were ushered into the room. The hospital attendant signaled that he’d be back in a few minutes and closed the door quietly as he left. Cindy held her breath so the tingle of pain dancing through her wouldn’t show on her face as she raised her hand and waved them over to the bed, but both of the children seemed to be holding back, shying away from her. Billy looked especially nervous as he cast a fearful glance over his shoulder at the closed door.

“Hey, come on, you guys. I’ve missed the heck out of you! Tell me. How’ve you been getting along?” Cindy asked.

“Pretty good, I guess” Krissy responded quickly in a high, tight voice.

Billy said nothing; he simply nodded and looked down at the floor.

Fighting back her tears, Cindy felt a rush of deep sadness fill her as she looked back and forth between the two kids. She wanted to leap out of her bed and hug them both so closely to her they’d almost suffocate, but he was having a difficult enough time just sitting up and looking a lot more chipper than she really felt. After a moment of awkward silence, Krissy edged up to the bedside and leaned forward to kiss Cindy lightly on the cheek. After that, she drifted over toward the window where the light coming through the slatted blinds silhouetted her body with a soft glow.

“Well now, Mr. Mitchell told me you were staying with a family in Portland, pretty much in, the old neighborhood,” Cindy said. “So are you happy to be going to school again?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Krissy said. “Ms. Remick’s really neat!”

Again, Billy said nothing and simply nodded his head. He was still hanging back, keeping close to the door.

“So Billy, you must be happy to see all your old friends again, huh?” Cindy said.

The physical and emotional strain were already beginning to wear her down, but, considering everything these kids had been through, she knew she had to hold up and be strong… at least in front of them. She stared at Billy, making intense eye contact with him. After a heartbeat or two, his lower lip began to tremble and a watery glaze filled his eyes. Cindy could almost hear his thoughts, and she wished she could say or do something that would help him—somehow—deal with what had happened… especially the guilt he must be feeling for what he had done, deliberately trying to run over his father as if he wanted to kill him. She knew it didn’t matter that he had done it to save her; he was terrified that he had done it in the first place!

“Hey, come over here,” she said, patting the edge of the bed with her right hand.

Billy took a single step forward, then paused and looked back as though he were still desperate to find an escape route. Repressed emotions churned inside him like a thunder storm that was threatening to break at any second.

“Please, Billy,” Cindy said in a low, mild voice. “Come over here and sit with me. I—I know you’re confused and… and upset about everything that’s happened. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you were even little bit angry about it all, but you have to know that it’s okay to… you know, to feel whatever it is you’re feeling.”

Her scalp tingled and her face flushed when she recalled watching Billy stand there in the camp kitchen, his expression twisting with hurt and fear as his father had shouted at him, calling him a little pansy.