The Impersonator (37 page)

He stepped inside the cave and started purposefully in my direction. “Indeed she does. She is the one who told me. And she thinks I’m in my room right now,” he said, his voice buoyant with the sort of self-satisfaction that comes after a hard-won contest of chess. The cave floor was slippery with strands of seaweed caught like hair on the jagged rocks, but he was sure-footed.

“It’s too late, Henry. The game’s over. There are already three letters in the mail to the authorities, exposing you as a bootlegger and—”

“Liar! You just figured it out yourself five minutes ago. And you won’t be telling anyone.”

“
And
as the murderer of four girls in Dexter, at least two in Portland, and one in California.”

That caught him like a blow to the face. He was still a good distance away but I could see his lips tighten and his eyes squint with hate. My only chance was to convince him to flee.

“You think you’re so smart, but you’re really a dumb Dora. You don’t know a thing about those girls. They deserved everything they got. They asked for it. Like Jessie asked for it. Besides, you can’t prove a thing.”

“The information I gave the authorities will let them prove it. Face it, Henry, we’re finished. Both of us. I admitted in those letters that I’m not Jessie. I’m leaving tomorrow, and no one will ever hear from me again. If you leave right now,” I continued in a tone of friendly advice, “you can get clean away too. You have until tomorrow to put as much distance as possible between yourself and Oregon.”

“You’ll be dead by tomorrow, you interfering little bitch!”

“If you kill me now, suspicion will fall on you at once, and you won’t be able to get away.”

“You are just like her. Goddamnit!” he screamed, years of pent-up torment bursting out of its confines. “I hated her! And I hate you even more. I waited so long for that money—Jesus Christ, seven years they said I had to wait until they could legally declare her dead. Seven years! Do you have any idea how long that is? And then you come in at the last goddamn minute and try to steal everything. It’s
mine
!”

Like a slavering beast with its mouth open and its eyes glittering wet, Henry panted heavily. The madman had lost all control, and I thought this was the moment to make a break for it, to push past him on the ledge, to escape while his rage consumed him. But his was a cunning madness that sensed my thoughts before I could act on them. A sly look came over his face. His chest began to heave as he calmed himself with great gulps of the cool, moist air, and as I watched, he harnessed his demons, calling them back from pointless ranting for the promise of a greater pleasure—killing.

Slapping his palm again and again with a driftwood club as large as his arm, he came closer, now a canny predator toying with his prey. I couldn’t back up any farther. The only place for me to go was into the roiling sea where a girl who didn’t swim well even in a still pond stood no chance. I’d be dashed against the rocks before I had time to drown.

Henry was only a few yards away. I played my last card.

“David Murray is coming. He’s probably here now, looking for me.”

That brought some flicker of thought through his mind, and he said, not too convincingly, “Murray? That dumb mick? I’ll take care of him when it’s time. Right now, it’s time for you. You wanted to be Jessie, I’m gonna help you be Jessie. You look like Jessie. You sure as hell act like Jessie. Well, I’m gonna help you die like Jessie.”

For a big man, he moved fast. With his powerful forehand, the club struck my legs out from under me and I collapsed to the floor. The force was so great that the driftwood cracked. Then I saw my leg and realized it wasn’t the club that had snapped. Yet I felt nothing at all. Confused, I looked at my leg for what seemed like hours, until an agonizing pain exploded at the point of contact and spread to every pore in my body. I cried out in anguish.

Seconds later came the second blow, aimed squarely at my head. I managed to take the brunt of it with my arm. Head ringing, I fell back, blinded by the searing pain, and braced for the blow that would crush my skull and end the suffering.

Henry chuckled with glee. “That should hold you for now. What, did you think I was going to kill you myself? Hell, no, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t kill Jessie. That surprises you, doesn’t it? But I’ve always been smarter than you thought I was. When they find your body, the ruling will be accidental death by drowning. You’re going to drown here, like she did. Nobody’s ever gonna blame me. Your broken body will wash up on shore with water in your lungs, and the only possible conclusion will be that you were caught in the caves at high tide and drowned. Unless your body washes straight out to sea like Jessie’s did, damn her to hell. That cost me a seven-year wait for my money! I need your body, so this time, I’ll be watching for it when the tide turns in a couple hours. This time, I’ll make damn sure the body’s retrieved.”

He tossed the club aside and looked behind him at the vanishing ledge. “I’d love to stay and watch, but I’ve got to go before I get trapped in here too. Wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”

He started away, then turned back, a foolish grin on his face. I heard a metallic click as he came toward me, a pocketknife in his hand. Reaching down, he pulled up a hank of hair from the side of my head and roughly sawed it off. Taking a white handkerchief out of his pocket, he placed my hair tenderly in its folds, then turned to go. He didn’t say another word. He didn’t look back. No need to. Jessie Carr was as good as dead, a second time.

51

The water didn’t come slowly and gently, lapping at my feet, as it did in my dreams. One frigid surge poured over the ledge and drenched me head to toe, and a second one followed.

The pain was so severe, I threw up. Gagging and spitting, I dragged myself with my good right arm toward the rockslide where the ledge was still dry. The floor acted like a cheese grater, shredding first my dress and then my flesh like so much cheddar, but I kept at it until I was a few feet higher, out of the water’s reach.

My left leg was useless. My shoes had vanished. Shivering violently, I licked the salt from my lips and watched as ocean swells surged through the mouth of the cave, increasingly violent as they became trapped in the confined space. High tide was only a couple of hours away. Even if I could have walked, the ledge between me and the entrance was under water. There was no way out now.

The tide showed no mercy. Another surge rolled me over. Like a sodden rag doll, I pulled myself closer to the rockslide. In minutes the entire floor would be covered.

I looked up through the crevice at the slit of sky feeling as if I’d fallen to the bottom of a well. Here, I thought, the men stood as they hauled the boxes up like buckets of water with that pulley I’d stumbled over when I first took a walk in this area. What did it matter now? Everything is irrelevant when you are looking squarely at death.

The water came at me again, not in regular waves from the sea but from all directions now, sloshing over me and throwing my body to and fro as I hung on to a rock. I didn’t consciously decide to climb higher on the rockslide; it was the instinct for survival that forced me up, inch by inch.

There was no ceiling above me. This part of the cave opened to the sky some thirty feet up. I didn’t fool myself that I could get out that way—even with all limbs intact, it would have been impossible for anyone to climb up the sheer walls of that great gash in the earth. I was simply trying to escape the relentless sea. Teeth chattering, I got up on one bleeding knee and began to claw my way up, dragging my broken leg behind me, wondering why I wasn’t dead already from the pain.

Several times I gave up and fell on my back, exhausted and throbbing, but every time the water rose and lapped at my feet the dream came back and I could hear Jessie urging me on.
Keep going. Try harder. Don’t give up. Not much farther.

Inside the crevice I had almost reached the level of the cave ceiling. The sea had nearly filled the cave behind me completely. My time was running out. As I made a final effort to wrench my body a foot higher, my fingers touched some powdery dirt. Even in my current state I realized that water would wash away loose dirt. I had reached a place the water could not reach, the top of the rockslide. I could go no higher.

I lay there on that bed of nails for what seemed like eternity, sweating from the exertion even as I shook from the cold and wet, until I noticed a flat space to my left. Gathering my strength with several deep breaths, I hoisted myself up and over to a narrow shelf that protruded from the wall and rolled onto its smooth floor with relief.

My right hand brushed against something soft. Unable to see in the fading light from high above, I could only feel. It felt like a sack of sticks. I pushed it back out of the way a bit, and my shaking fingers closed around something small, round, smooth, and hard … a string of beads. Even in the dark I knew what they were—my Venetian beads.

Except that
my
Venetian beads were still around my throat.

I had found Jessie.

52

More than anything in the world I wanted to go to sleep. Sinking into warm oblivion where everything was soft and dry seemed immeasurably better than the black hell of pain that engulfed me. Death would feel good. But Jessie would not let me go.

I’ve waited for you for so long. You can’t leave yet.

I couldn’t stop shivering. My clothes, my skin, my hair, every part of me was wet. Every part of me hurt except my leg, which was already dead. The rest of me wanted to stop hurting too. Some things are worse than dying. Sleep was the escape.

I just want to go to sleep and be warm again, I told her. I want my mother. Let me go.

Teach me a song.

What?

Teach me a song. One you used to sing on stage.

“Three Little Maids from School Are We”?

Yes, that one. Sing it.

I can’t. I’m too cold.

Sing it.

I can’t!

Sing it.

Three little maids from school are we

Pert as a school-girl well can be

Filled to the brim with girlish glee

Three little maids from school.

Louder.

Everything is a source of fun

Nobody’s safe, for we care for none

Life is a joke that’s just begun

Three little maids from school.

I like that. Now teach me the dance that goes with it. The one your mother taught you.

I can’t. I can’t move.

I’ve waited so long.

All right, all right. Here’s how it goes. On eight beats, tiny mincing steps: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Stop, bow right; stop, bow left. Eight again in a circle. Repeat, opposite direction.

Oh, this is fun! Let’s do it again!

I can’t.

I want to do the dance!

We don’t have a third.

Yes we do. Here’s your mother.

Mother? No, you’re dead. My mother’s dead, Jessie. She died when I was twelve.

I was orphaned at eleven. Same thing. Come on now, sing the words while we all dance! From the top.

Three little maids from school are we

Pert as a school-girl well can be.

Filled to the brim with girlish glee

Three little maids from school.

Now the chorus. It should be louder. Sing louder.

Three little maids who, all unwary

Come from a ladies’ seminary—

Why did you stop?

My throat hurts! I can’t do it. Leave me alone! I just want to go to sleep.

Don’t you dare die now! Stay awake! I’ve waited for you all these years. Keep singing.

Freed from its genius tutelary

Three little maids from school.

Louder! You sound like a raspy whisper.

Three little maids from school!

You skipped a line. Let’s start over. Louder.

Life is a joke that’s just begun

Three little maids from school.

Oh, I like that one! Shhh. Listen! Do you hear that?

What?

Someone’s calling Jessie! Do you hear? Up high.

No, I didn’t. Yes, now I heard. She was right. Someone was calling for Jessie. Someone was looking for us. David Murray? Had David come to the house and found me missing?

Down here! I called. We’re down here. The words rang clear and loud in my head—like the songs I’d been singing—but Jessie was having none of it.

They can’t hear that. Louder.

Here! Down here, I rasped.

They’re going away. Louder!

Help! Help!

It’s no good. They can’t hear you. Whistle.

What?

The unholy whistle. Quick.

I took a few shallow breaths to put some air in my lungs, fitted my tongue against my teeth, and let fly the shrillest notes on a sliding scale that I could manage.

“Jessie? Jessie?” I heard them calling from very far off. To save my life I couldn’t reply.

A flurry of unintelligible orders followed, then scrapes, clanks, and squeaks. I heard a string of mumbled profanity as the person lowered into the crevice realized he had missed the shelf where I lay.

“I see her! Shit, she’s too far away,” Ross shouted. “Haul me up, quick! We need to move about six yards over.”

In moments he was back. Climbing out of the sling that brought him down, he set an oil lantern on the shelf. “Jessie! Jessie! Thank God you’re alive!” He leaned back and shouted, “I got her.” He continued, more gently, “We’ve got the doctor on his way. Can you get over here—no, never mind, I’ll pick you up and try not to hurt you. Damnit, you feel like ice!” He gathered me clumsily in his arms and shifted me into the canvas sling.

“Get Jessie.”

“What? Yes, yes, I’ve got you.”

“No, get Jessie. I’m not Jessie. Jessie’s there.” Only then did he notice the remains. He lifted the lantern. “That’s Jessie,” I croaked. “Henry killed her. He tried to kill me the same way. You can’t leave her here.”