Night Terror (11 page)

“Why don’t we go on upstairs, Audrey.”

“You wanted to come down here.”

“That was a mistake,” admitted Virgil.

“No. It was good I saw it,” she said, patting the shirt back into place and gently closing the drawer. “Good I did.” She closed the drawer slowly and perused the toys again. “He used to play with this telescope all the time when he was smaller. Knew all the planets. Then he got bored with it. He got into mathematics. Zach had a way with patterns. He could memorize them, figure things out.”

“He was a smart kid,” said Virgil.

“Richard bought him this because
he
loved astronomy when he was a kid,” she said, stroking the telescope, leaving oily finger patterns on the shiny black surface. “Oh, Richard,” she whispered, biting her lip.

“I’m sorry” was all Virgil could think of to say. He stopped and turned at the foot of the stairs. “If you get any information I can use just call.” But Audrey never answered.

22

VIRGIL WAS HALFWAY BACK
to town, still mulling over his meeting with Audrey, when Birch’s voice on the radio shattered his thoughts.

“We got a situation here, Sheriff.”

Virgil recognized Birch’s voice on the radio immediately. He snatched the mike. “What’s wrong?”

“Evan Johnson’s holding a shotgun on Babs St. Clair and he looks like he’s gonna use it.”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Right in front of Babs’s place. She’s sitting on her steps.”

Virgil goosed the cruiser. It was only five minutes to downtown, but five minutes could be a long time. “Sitting?”

“Yeah. She’s cool as a cucumber. But I don’t like the look in Evan’s eyes.”

“Who’s talking to him?”

“Steve.” Steve Meyers was senior deputy. He’d been with Virgil for over twenty years. Steve had as much training as anyone on the force with hostage situations and negotiating with gunmen, which was about none.

“What’s he doing?”

“Telling Evan that no one’s gotten hurt and if everyone stays calm maybe no one has to go to jail.”

“That’s good. Reassure Evan that we aren’t going to try to rush him or anything like that.”

“Steve’s doing that.”

“You really think Evan’s serious?”

“He’s madder than I’ve ever seen him.”

That was bad. Evan got into more fights than any other forty-year-old Virgil knew. Virgil had always wondered if Evan’s keg might blow over one day and get him into something
real.
Virgil sure didn’t want to see it turn into real homicide right on Main Street.

“I’ll be there in two minutes. Tell Steve to keep doing what he’s doing and everyone stay calm.”

“Right.”

Virgil slipped the mike back into place and blasted through the intersection onto Route 26 without slowing for the yield sign, lights flashing but no sirens. It was a straight shot from there into town and he made the last mile weaving in and out of traffic, slowing only as he neared the hill that led up Main Street.

It was a busy Wednesday morning. Every parking space was filled on both sides of the street and people milled along the shop fronts. Just ahead, the stores gave way to the small residential area between downtown and the hospital. Some people had noticed Birch’s and Steve’s flashing lights and were gawking or moving in that direction. Others could have cared less and were going about their shopping. That was an affected Maine attitude. Acting like it was none of their business. But Virgil knew they’d be the first ones to dig around for the real gossip.

He eased in between one of the cruisers and a pickup truck and parked on Babs’s lawn. Babs gave him a look that said she didn’t think that was necessary, but then she went back to staring at Evan. Virgil figured he would have paid closer attention if Evan had a shotgun pointed at him.

From behind, Evan looked like a bear in blue jeans. But Evan wasn’t fat. He was broad muscled. The only loose flesh on the man was his beer gut. As Virgil eased around to stand a few feet to one side of Steve, he could see that the shotgun was actually
resting
across Evan’s stomach, aimed directly at Babs as she sat casually on her front stoop.

“Don’t try anything, Sheriff,” said Evan. He sounded like someone who had decided on a course of action and was

rlamnprl wpll point* to follow throncrh on it ”All it takps is
two pounds of pressure on this trigger and this old bitch turns into ketchup.”

Virgil glanced at Babs. She was more calm and collected than anyone else on the scene. The whole damned commotion was too weird. It seemed more like a comedy skit than a real
situation.
But the shotgun wasn’t joking.

“Evan, how about we talk this over,” said Virgil.

“Time for talking’s done.” Evan’s finger twitched and he tensed, but there was no chance either Virgil or Steve could reach the gun before it blasted Babs into eternity.

“Why, Evan?” said Virgil, giving Steve a head shake to still him, edging a step closer himself. He glanced toward the road and saw Birch in a firing stance, his pistol leveled at Evan’s back. If Evan fired, he’d be dead before he could pull the trigger again. Not that it mattered. One blast from the shotgun would finish Babs. “Why do you want to do something like this? Think of what it’ll do to your family, to Janie.”

Evan’s mouth twisted and his hands shook. The muscles in his face looked as tight as barrel bands. “It’s too late now.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s never too late as long as you just put that gun down.”

A siren sounded somewhere in the distance and Evan jerked his head toward Virgil. “Who’s that?” said Evan, nodding over his shoulder toward the approaching car.

Virgil gave Birch a nasty look and Birch stepped out into the road, waving. In a second the siren went dead and Birch hurried quietly back to his position.

“Just another of the boys, Evan. Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“No, you don’t look like you are and that’s good. We can work this out in a sensible way and go home.”

“Don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“ ’Cause I’m gonna kill this bitch.”

“Now, you don’t want to do that. Your mother will be heartbroken, Evan. She’s got a bad heart.”

Evan nodded, sniffling. “I don’t want to hurt Mama. That’s for sure. But I’ve had it up to here with her!” He cocked his chin toward Babs and then spat tobacco into the grass.

“You just don’t want to listen,” said Babs.

“I’ve listened to enough of your shit!” shouted Evan. The shotgun shook in his hands, sending ripples across his belly. He glared at Virgil and yet Virgil didn’t sense any danger to himself. “Kill me, Sheriff,” he said. “Just kill me.”

“No one’s going to kill anyone. We’re going to talk through this and work something out. Then everyone can go home in one piece.”

“It’s too late for that,” said Evan, his finger tickling the trigger. “I can’t go home now that Janie’s gone.”

So that was what precipitated this. Evan was a beater. But like most abusers, he
thought
he loved the girl. If Janie’d left him and he thought Babs was to blame, then there was gonna be hell to pay. Virgil was sure at that moment that Evan was about to do it.

“Evan!” he shouted. “Wait a minute! Take a breather. You don’t have to do it
this minute.”

Evan seemed to consider that. His chest swelled and his nostrils flared. He twisted his head from side to side, stretching. But his finger was still tight on the trigger. Virgil timed his move as Evan twisted his head again, and took another step closer.

“What is it Babs wants you to listen to?” said Virgil, grasping at straws.

“She talks bullshit. And she talks it over and over to my old lady until
she
believes it too. Tells her to leave me or something’s going to happen to her. Now I ask you, should I put up with that kind of shit?”

“Well, no, Evan. I don’t guess you need to have someone butting in,” said Virgil. “Of course not. And you have a right to your privacy just like anyone else. You should come to me and let me handle it though. That’s what I’m here for, you know.”

“Like you’d do something.”

“Well, I would. Now put down the gun and let’s talk this out like peaceable people. No sense anyone getting hurt.”

“She
needs to die!”

Virgil nodded. “I don’t want anyone to go to jail. I just want to straighten this out. Now put down the gun before something happens and everyone’s sorry.” Virgil thought that he’d seen the light of reason glinting in the corner of
Evan’s eye. Evan was an asshole, but he doted on his aging mother and Virgil knew he didn’t like being locked up.

“Janie’s going to die if she stays with you,” said Babs.

“You bitch!” The gun shook again.

Virgil took three sliding steps forward as Evan raised the gun from his belly with shaking hands. “Don’t do it, Evan!”

“Gonna kill her! Gonna kill that old bitch now!”

Babs seemed to get the picture at last. Her eyes widened and she crabbed backward up onto the porch, but the hem of her dress caught on the splintery treads and she ended up lying back on her elbows with her knees up.

“Gonna blow you away, bitch!” screamed Evan, stepping closer, waving the shotgun at her.

“Evan!” shouted Virgil, trying desperately to get the man’s attention. He knew it was now or never. With his heart pounding in his chest, he lurched forward. He shoved the shotgun upward just as Evan pulled the trigger. The roar seemed only inches from Virgil’s ear. He continued forward, throwing all his weight against the bigger man, hoping that Steve was right behind him, because he knew he didn’t stand a chance in a one-on-one fight with Evan.

But to his surprise, Evan was all done. He collapsed under Virgil and lay there, the shotgun fallen to his side. It was a second before Virgil realized that the bigger man was sobbing. Virgil shoved the shotgun aside and Steve took it away.

“Come on, Evan,” said Virgil, rising to his feet and offering Evan a hand up.

Evan wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and took Virgil’s hand. Birch handcuffed Evan and led him to Steve’s cruiser.

“Maybe you should use leg irons,” said Babs, also standing.

Virgil sighed. “They’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep him under control.”

“You should have been keeping him under control all along.”

“Janie wouldn’t press charges,” said Virgil. “Ever.”

Babs nodded. “And so he just keeps beating her. Until one day he kills her. But it’s going to be sooner than you think.”

“Babs, you don’t know that.”

“I do know it. It’s in the cards. I think he’s going to kill her today.”

Virgil shook his head, watching Birch protect Evan’s head with his hand as Evan was pushed into the backseat of the cruiser. “He isn’t going to kill anyone today and probably not for a while.”

“The cards say different.”

“The cards are wrong. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil turned toward his car. “We’ll need a statement.”

“How’s Doris today?” asked Babs.

Virgil stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “As well as can be expected.”

“I pray for her every day.”

“We appreciate that.”

He couldn’t believe how calm she was. She didn’t even seem fazed by the crowd that was milling on her lawn.

“He really won’t get out today?” said Babs. “There’s no way he could get bond?”

Virgil shook his head. “By the time we get him booked, it’ll probably be too late to catch a judge and it’ll more than likely be a higher bond than Evan’s mother can afford after this. It’ll take them a while to come up with the money.”

“We’d better go check on Janie right now, then,” said Babs.

“I’ll have one of my deputies run by their house.”

“No. We have to do it.”

Virgil sighed, frowning at her. “All right, Babs, if it means that much to you.”

“We have to make sure she’s okay.” The way she said it made Virgil sure Babs didn’t believe she was.

“Come on,” he said wearily, waving her toward his cruiser.

23

VIRGIL PULLED ONTO MASON STREET
, watching the manicured lawns of downtown turn to taller grass. The houses here weren’t any older, but they didn’t receive the care their brethren downtown did, and Arny’s Quick Mart seemed to be the boundary line where all sense of proprietorship went out the window. The street ended in a gravel cul-de-sac lined with twenty-year-old trailers. Virgil tried to remember which one belonged to Evan and Janie.

He glanced across the seat. Babs’s fixed gaze through the windshield ahead reminded him of a drugged-out kid.

“You’re going to have to press charges, you know,” said Virgil.

She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to take on the karmic debt.”

Virgil blinked.

“It’s that one,” said Babs, pointing to a particularly seedy double-wide with broken windows and two cans of overflowing garbage. The rusted hulk of a 1960s station wagon glared at them from the back of the driveway. Virgil pulled in beside the ramshackle stoop and climbed out of the cruiser.

“Stay in the car,” he said, but it was too late. She was faster than she looked. Before Virgil could round the front of the car, Babs was already heading for the front steps. He
caught up with her at the door. “I’ll knock, if you don’t mind,” he said. Babs nodded, waiting.

The door sounded tinny and frail beneath his knuckles. Trailers were such pieces of trash. He thanked his lucky stars he and Doris had never had to live in one. Not that he was looking down on people who did. Not all of them.

“She isn’t answering,” said Babs, biting her lip.

Virgil tried the door but it was locked. He glanced toward the rear of the trailer. “I can see that.”

“What are we going to do?”

Virgil frowned.
“We
aren’t going to do anything. You’re going to wait here while I check the windows. She may have gone for a walk.”

“I have a bad feeling about this. It was all in the cards.”

“Keep your feelings to yourself.”

The windows were the old crank-out variety and they were all open, but not wide enough for Virgil to get his head under. So he was forced to shield his eyes from the sun and try to peer into the darkness through the dirty, angled glass and rusted screens. “Janie? Are you in there?”

He glanced back to make sure Babs was going to listen to him for a change, but the worry in her face irritated him all the more. There was no reason yet to think anything was wrong. No reason except that Evan was running around town with a shotgun threatening to shoot people, Janie didn’t seem to be answering his knock, and Babs was worried about her karmic whatever-the-hell it was.

The last window was a few inches higher off the ground than the others and he had to stand on tiptoe to peek inside. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that this was the master bedroom. He could make out a double bed with ruffled covers, a dresser cluttered with papers and beer bottles, an open closet door with clothes hanging, and finally segments of his own face in diamond patterns. He stared at his reflection for a moment, trying to make out what it was he was looking at.

It was a mirror, blasted into a million fragments. There were odd patterns
on
the glass, liquid blotches tugged downward by gravity. He had a hard time looking away from the devastated piece of furniture, but as he did, more of the room came into focus. As his field of view widened,
he saw more of the wet spots: on the paneling, one wide crimson splotch on the bed cover.

He spun on his heel and raced toward the front door, shoving Babs roughly aside. Adrenaline raced through him and he barely felt his arthritic knees as he kicked twice at the door, bursting it from its hinges.

As he rushed into the house, he noticed a wall phone to his right. “Call 911,” he shouted at Babs. “Tell them to get an ambulance over here, now!”

He ran down the hallway to the open bedroom door ahead. He could already see a bare arm, lying on the floor. As he reached the door he placed his hand on the jamb for just an instant, steeling himself, taking a quick, deep breath.

Janie lay facedown on the lime-green carpet that was soaked in blood. She’d been shot from the front, because the remains of her nylon nightgown had been torn outward as was the flesh around the gaping hole between her shoulder blades. Virgil dropped to his knees, reflexively testing for a pulse at her neck, but of course there was no sign of life. Her body already felt a little cool to him.

“Tell the paramedics not to hurry,” he said. “Tell ’em to send the medical examiner instead.”

He knelt beside Janie, trying to remember the last time he’d spoken to her. He and Doris had known the girl all her life. She’d graduated with their son. But life hadn’t been good to Janie. She’d begun to drink after her first marriage went wrong. Then she hooked up with Evan and went from bad to worse. Virgil had always wished there was something more he could do for her than just
threaten
Evan. Virgil gritted his teeth, hating the smell in the room. It was the same odor he’d had to suffer through at a thousand different locations. The salty-sweet smell of death. No, Janie would never press charges, and now it was too late. Seemed like it was just getting too damned late, period.

But he had to take care of the living now. Babs gasped behind him and he climbed shakily to his feet. She was biting her fist when he got to her, staring past him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“I told you to stay where you were,” he said.

“Is she?”

He nodded.

“I knew it,” she sobbed. “I tried to get her to leave him. I saw it coming in the cards. But she wouldn’t listen to me. I knew he was going to do something today.”

“There was nothing you could have done, Babs,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and turning her back down the hall. “Come on. You shouldn’t be in here.”

He helped her to the cruiser, then called Birch on the radio. Birch didn’t sound too surprised. Virgil supposed
he
should have seen it coming too. But over the span of his life, there were a lot of things Virgil should have seen coming.

“I came by today to warn her,” said Babs. “Evan was asleep, but he woke up and threatened me.”

“With the gun?”

Babs nodded. “I wasn’t afraid of him. It’s not my time and I told him so. There’s nothing he can do to change that. Janie was scared, but I think she was more afraid for me. She came out onto the porch and asked me to leave.”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“I did.”

“You called the Sheriff’s Department and told them that Evan threatened you with a shotgun?”

Babs frowned. “I don’t think I mentioned that.”

Virgil heard sirens winding up in the distance. There’d already been more of them sounding through town than Arcos had ever heard in one morning. “What
did
you mention?”

“I said that Janie was in terrible danger and someone needed to get over there before something happened to her.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“Birch.”

Virgil nodded. He’d get the real story out of Birch. Babs was having trouble catching her breath and her jaw was quivering.

“Things like this happen, Babs. They aren’t right. But they happen.”

“It picked her up like a leaf.”

“What?”

“Blown in the wind. It was all in the cards, and there was nothing I could do. What good are they?”

The picture of Janie, tossed by the hurricane blast of the
shotgun flashed across Virgil’s mind. He stared at Babs. But everyone knew a shotgun could do that.

The sirens were closer now, any second the sound of screeching tires would accompany them. “We all do what we can, Babs. Bad things happen and then things get better for a spell.” But who was he to be preaching that philosophy? He didn’t believe it. Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse.

Another cruiser pulled up beside Virgil’s and Tod Smith, Virgil’s under-sheriff, climbed out, brushing back an errant lock of brown hair before slipping his hat over his head. “What happened, Sheriff?”

Virgil gave him the rundown. “I’ll leave you in charge, Tod. The medical examiner should be along any time. You know what to do.”

Tod nodded, heading back to his car for his crime-scene kit.

Babs stared at the frowning face of the old station wagon, but she seemed to be reading Virgil’s thoughts. “Things are going to get a lot worse, I think. You should let me do a reading for you.”

Virgil forced a smile that looked more like a sneer. “Maybe I’ll do that sometime.”