Slice (39 page)

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M
r. Oswald Thayer walked up the hill toward Jessie's house in shock and grief. Todd was dead. Monica, too. So many dead . . . but he was still alive.

Oh, Antonio
, he thought.
What has happened to the world?

Police were swarming all over the place. They were on the street and in Jessie's house, and the chief was calling for backup. An officer had told him to go back to his house and lock the door, but old Mr. Thayer couldn't think straight at the moment.

He wandered into the dark shadows at the far end of the Clarkson estate, allowing his tears to finally come. He'd loved Todd and Monica like the children he'd never had. Even Bryan and Heather he'd once been very fond of, before Bryan had changed and become so consumed by greed and hedonism. Now they were all gone.

And he, well past his eightieth birthday, still lived. Up ahead, on the grass, heading toward the woods, he spotted two children. It was Abby Clarkson and a little boy. They shouldn't be outside. . . .

“Abby,” Mr. Thayer called. “Children!”

They were holding hands. The little boy looked up at Mr. Thayer, although Abby continued staring straight ahead as she walked.

“Children, you must return home,” Mr. Thayer said. “It's not safe for you out here tonight. The world has gone mad.”

The little boy looked up at him with sweet dark eyes.

“What's your name?” Mr. Thayer asked him.

The boy let go of Abby's hand.

Then he leapt at Mr. Thayer, sinking his long fangs into the old man's neck.

Mr. Thayer died almost instantly.

He wasn't all that regretful. The world had gone mad, after all.

O
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WENTY

A
s police sirens wailed and flashing red lights filled up the street below, Aaron climbed off the old man's body and took Abby's hand in his once more.

“You're not scared, are you, Abby?” he asked.

“No,” said the little girl.

“Good.”

They walked into the woods.

“I'm taking you to a very special place,” Aaron told her. “You promise you won't be scared?”

“I promise.”

“You'll do anything I tell you?”

“Yes, anything,” Abby said.

Aaron smiled.

They headed out toward Suicide Leap.

O
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F
rom the shack, they could hear Emil moaning and coming to. John tightened his hold around Jessie's arm and pulled her along into the woods. She resisted, but he was stronger and pulled her in a thicket of bushes, clamping his free hand over her mouth.

They could hear Emil shouting, “I'll fucking get you for this, Manning!”

Through the bushes, Jessie could see the madman emerge from the shack, rubbing his chin. He ran off into the woods.

For several moments John held her stone-still, his hand still clamped over her mouth. Finally he whispered in her ear, “If I let you go, you must stay right here and make no sound. He'll hear you and come back. I took his blade, but I'm sure he has another.”

Jessie nodded.

“The police will be here momentarily,” John told her as he released his hand from her mouth. “The chief called for backup and they were going to swarm the woods.”

“Where's Abby?”

“Safe. The police have her.”

“Aunt Paulette?”

“They took her to the hospital.”

Jessie's eyes burned into John's. “Tell me what kind of deal you have with Emil, and how it came to be.”

“I have no deal with him. Not anymore. When I met him in Mexico, I promised not to turn him over to the police. That's what he thought anyway. He didn't know that I'd already contacted the FBI and was working with them to find out what Emil knew. If I had any deal, it was with the FBI. As I gathered material for my book, I kept them fully informed. The note he sent me after his supposed death in the shoot-out gave me some very specific details, which I then shared with the FBI.”

“What kind of details?”

“He'd buried a huge fortune in cash and jewels on your property. In the note I sent back to him, I told Emil that I'd return to the United States, buy the property and then split the money with him. But what I was really doing was leading the FBI and the CIA to the loot. We found it the day I moved in, buried so far down bloodhounds hadn't been able to locate it. I've been working with the feds all along, Jessie. I couldn't tell you everything because I wasn't allowed to. It was risky for me to tell you as much as I did.”

“So he came back not only to kill me,” Jessie said, “but to get his share of the money.”

“Yes. Apparently he thought I had it waiting for him. Only there is no money. The feds took it long ago.”

Jessie glared at him. “Why should I believe you?”

“Why shouldn't you?”

“Because none of this explains Aaron.”

“I can't explain Aaron.” John looked up through the bushes to make sure Emil hadn't returned. “Except . . .

I think, you were right, Jessie. You
did
manifest him. I tracked down some of the paranormal experts I interviewed for my book
The Killing Room
. I described the situation here and they convinced me that it
was
possible. Aaron came back at the same time that Emil did because he wanted to protect you. Your grief and guilt over Aaron kept him alive all this time. His spirit never crossed over. He stayed here, waiting in a way, watching you. As you got stronger and your grief and guilt receded somewhat, he faded into the background. But he was never really gone. And when he sensed you were in danger—that you were being hurt—he came back.”

Jessie felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Emil didn't bring Aaron back,” John said. “I was wrong about that. He knows nothing about the boy. It was
you
who brought him back, Jessie. And it's you who is going to have to send him away.”

“Never,” she whispered. “Not again.”

“Jessie, Aaron has killed a lot of people.”

“No!” she insisted. “It was Emil.”

“I spoke with the FBI earlier today. There's been no trace of Emil's DNA at any of these crimes. But what's clear from all of them is that the killer was small. There's always a wound made first in the legs or thigh or abdomen. That brought the victims down, so that the killer could slice their throats.”

“That doesn't mean that it was Aaron. . . .”

“He's been killing people he thinks have hurt you, or could keep him from you. . . .”

“That's crazy! Inga never hurt me!”

“Did you have any words with her right before her death?”

Jessie remembered the pique she'd felt, the foolish jealousy, when Inga had gone over to see John. Aaron had been able to sense that. . . .

“But Mrs. Whitman . . . Detective Wolfowitz . . . Ashton and Piper . . .”

“Well, the kids had been rude to you, and besides, anyone connected to Bryan and Heather was going to be fair game if Aaron was trying to defend you. As for Wolfowitz, he'd been hounding you, upsetting you . . . and Mrs. Whitman had insisted that Aaron wasn't real. She blew his cover, in a way.”

Jessie was crying. “None of this makes any sense. Aaron wouldn't hurt anyone!”

“What about the night at the barn with Abby? He was trying to kill her.”

“No!” Jessie's voice was getting loud. “They were just playing!”

“Look, Jessie, the first thing we've got to do is get away from Emil. Then we deal with Aaron.”

“No!” She pulled away from him, getting to her feet. “You're in league with Emil! You have a deal with him! You want me to send Aaron away again and I won't!”

“Jessie, please be quiet!”

“I'm going to the police!” she seethed. “I'm telling them that you're involved with Emil! I don't believe your story! I heard with my own ears that you have a deal with Emil. You're in league with him. I should have known better than to trust any man again. I'm getting out of here!”

“Jessie, no!”

He reached out for her, but she was too fast.

Jessie bolted away into the woods.

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A
aron and Abby had reached the gorge.

“Sit here,” Aaron told the girl.

Abby obeyed, her little legs dangling over the sheer drop.

“I have something I have to do,” Aaron told her. “Wait for me here. Don't move. I'll be right back.”

“Yes, Aaron.”

The little boy smiled and headed back into the woods.

O
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J
ohn dared not call out after Jessie, fearful he'd draw Emil back to them. Instead he just ran forward through the dark, in the direction he thought Jessie had gone.

He stopped running. He heard something. A snap of a twig.

Was it Jessie?

Or Emil?

He stood very still, on alert.

The woods were utterly and completely dark now. Not a sound from the trees. No wind. No night birds. No owls.

Complete darkness and silence.

It was at that moment that John felt the sharp blade penetrate his side. He pulled back immediately, but it was too late. He felt the warm blood collect under his shirt.

Then, burning through the darkness, he saw the yellow eyes of the boy.

“Aaron,” he said.

The boy pounced. But John was ready. He deflected the boy off of him and sent him thudding into a tree. His little body slid to the ground, collapsing into a heap.

But he was quickly on his feet again, snarling, coming at John, his hands now talons and his teeth as long as a wolf's.

“What kind of devil are you?” John cried, before turning and running into the woods.

O
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“
M
ommy!”

Jessie stopped running. She was breathing hard and fast. The fragrance of the woods filled her nostrils. Old leaves. Moist earth.

And fear. She could smell her own fear. A sweet and sour fragrance, like something rotting.

“Mommy, I'm scared!”

It was Abby. It was definitely Abby's voice coming through the trees.

But John had told her Abby was safe.

John had lied.

Jessie had been right not to trust him.

“Mommeeeeee!”

“Abby!” Jessie called out, turning and running in the direction of her daughter's voice. “I'm coming, baby! Mommy's coming!”

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“
N
ot so fast, Manning! Not so fast!”

Before John could get very far, Emil Deetz burst into view and tackled him to the ground. Rolling through the carpet of dead leaves and moss, John didn't have the strength to fight him off. The pain in his side was agonizing. He was losing a great deal of blood.

“Here's for what you did to me in the shack,” Emil snarled, hauling off and punching John in the face, breaking his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere. “I thought we had a fucking deal!”

“You're a fool,” John managed to say, although his words were garbled from the blood in his throat. “There is no money. It's gone. I was working with the FBI the whole time. And they'll be here any moment to pick you up. They've surrounded the woods. There's no way you're getting out of here.”

Emil sat on John's chest, glaring down at him. “Well, if that's true, you fuckwad, then I still have enough time to finish you off. I don't like traitors. That fucking Screech Solek was a traitor, but you're even more despicable than he was.”

He removed a long razor from his shirt and pressed it against John's throat.

“Hello, Daddy.”

Emil's eyes darted up.

Aaron stood beside them, looking at the two men with wide, innocent eyes.

“Who the fuck?” Emil blurted out.

“Emil Deetz,” John said, struggling for breath, “meet your son.”

O
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J
essie pushed her way through a tangle of bushes and branches and found herself on the edge of Suicide Leap.

Abby stood on the opposite side of the gorge, her frail little figure illuminated by the moon. She was crying.

“Abby!” Jessie called. “Don't move, sweetie!”

Abby was perched on the exact spot over the chasm that Jessie's mother always warned her about.
Stay away from that spot, Jessie. It's very steep there. You could fall.
Jessie's eyes looked down into the fifty-foot drop of rocks and ragged earth.

Abby held out her arms to her. “I told Aaron I wouldn't be scared, but I am, Mommy, I am!” she cried.

“Just stay right there, sweetie, and don't move a muscle! Mommy will come get you!”

“Please hurry, Mommy! I feel like I'm going to fall!”

“Hang on, baby!”

And Jessie began a precarious walk around the rim of the gorge.