They (32 page)

Mike nodded, brow furrowed in concentration. “There’s also the possibility that making Frank’s presence known would make them aware of
us
.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Frank said.

Reverend Powell glowered at Frank.

“Still,” Mike said, rubbing his jaw, thinking. “It
might
work.” He turned to Frank. “You haven’t been in contact with your mother and Tom for almost eighteen years now, right?”

“Yeah, and I ain’t calling her sorry ass now,” Frank said, his voice rising with a hint of annoyance. “So you can forget it.”

Reverend Hank Powell’s features had softened, becoming concerned. He looked at Frank pensively, as if he were a doctor treating a patient. “What is it you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Frank said quickly. Vince could tell that Frank was afraid of something just by the way he responded so fast. “It’s just that I don’t think contacting my mother is going to help. She’s going to wonder why I would want to see her after eighteen years. She’ll be suspicious.”

“That might be true,” Mike said, nodding. “But then again, you said yourself that the last she knew of you, you were a drug addict. You’re clean now, and that will come as a surprise. That could provide reason for your wanting to contact her.”

“
Forget it
!” Frank said, hissing the sentence through gritted teeth.

Reverend Powell was watching Frank with a different look; compassion. “Are you afraid of physical violence? Of some kind of physical harm coming to you?”

Frank fidgeted. “No. I…I don’t know. It’s just…”

“You’re afraid of their
power
,” Reverend Powell said softly. “You’re afraid of the power they have over you. You think it’s a psychological power, and I’m not going to debate that now. But you
are
afraid of something malignant happening to you, something that you can’t see or feel, correct?”

Hesitating for a moment, Frank nodded.

“Frank,” Reverend Powell leaned forward, staring directly into Frank’s eyes. “Do you really believe these people
have
supernatural powers?”

Frank looked like he was going to bounce off the walls. He cast nervous glances at Vince and Mike, and then turned to Hank. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “All I know is that…their power
scares
me. I’ve
seen
what they can do. And I’m…I’m just scared of it happening to my family.”

Hank regarded Frank solemnly. “Are you afraid they will…somehow find out what you’re up to?”

Frank nodded. “Yes.”

“And
how
will they find out?”

“
I don’t know
!” Frank yelled, now animated with worry and fear. He rose from his chair and began pacing the den. “I don’t know how they’ll find out, but they will, I just
know it
! I can
feel it
. It’s like…an
instinct
, my inner voice telling me that the minute I show myself they’ll be able to look into me and see my motivations. Then that will lead them to you, to my wife and kids! Christ!” He ran a hand through his long black hair, visibly shaken.

Reverend Powell remained calm. “Perhaps that’s exactly what you need,” he said.

“Whatever,” Frank said, heading to the bar. He retrieved a Coke. The others remained seated around the table, waiting for something to be said. Vince felt nervous, like everything that was happening, the bad vibes, the mixed emotions, were his entire fault.

Vince thought Reverend Powell would have sought this opportunity to proselytize to Frank but he didn’t. Instead, the preacher said, “Perhaps we should plan another method of attack. Have you thought about talking to the Pennsylvania State Police to see if they’ve discovered any new information on Maggie’s death?”

“That’s a strong possibility,” Mike said. “But that would have to be something Vince will have to do.”

“I can do it tomorrow,” Vince said.

“We can analyze whatever they tell us then,” Reverend Powell said. “If no new information is forthcoming, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Mike said. “Any clues they would have left would point at somebody else. Or nowhere at all.”

“What about the attempt on your own life?” Reverend Powell asked Vince. “Have you heard anything more from the detectives investigating?”

“Nope.” Vince shook his head. “That’s something I can follow up on as well.”

“What kind of research will it take to connect the attempt on Vince’s life to this cult, The Children of the Night?” Hank asked Mike.

Mike sighed. “I really don’t know. It will be almost impossible until we hear what kind of leads the police in Irvine find.”

Reverend Powell remained silent for a moment, as if deep in thought. Frank Black remained at the bar, sipping his Coke.

“I still think a contact with Gladys Black is our best bet,” Reverend Powell said. “At least from the secular level of our investigation.”

“I’m not contacting that bitch,” Frank muttered.

“I’m no longer considering using you for that option,” Reverend Powell said without turning around.

“I’ve got an idea,” Vince said.

Mike and Hank turned to him. Vince could feel Frank’s eyes light upon him too. “We could…or
I
could…get in touch with her somehow. I could go on the notion that…I’m contacting mom’s old friends and family to…tell them mom is now deceased.” He looked at Mike for some kind of approval.

“It might work,” Mike said, turning to Frank who remained silent behind the bar. “But it would have to be done with a phone call. We don’t have the time to communicate by mail.”

“How are we going to get her phone number?”

“I’ve got it,” Mike said.

“You want to contact her so fucking much,” Frank muttered from the bar, “you guys contact her. Leave me out of it.”

“And what will
you
do, Frank?” Reverend Powell turned toward the imposing figure who, despite his physical appearance, looked like he was scared to death. “If we contact your mother—if Vince does, rather—what will you do?”

“I could ask you the same question?” Frank shot back, defiant.

“I’ll be praying for guidance and strength for all of us,” Reverend Powell replied. “The Lord hasn’t failed us yet and I don’t believe He will. And God forgive me for this hint of self-righteousness, but I believe we need somebody who is a Christian in this battle. Because, my friends, while you see this battle as a secular one, I see it as a spiritual one first and foremost. And while I join you in the physical aspects of this case with as much vigor as you, I have the spiritual background to arm ourselves against the forces of darkness.” He cast his gaze across each of them, turning to Frank who met his gaze with equal determination. “I can sense your fear. And I can sympathize. We are dealing with the forces of darkness, there is no doubt about that. Our enemy is great, both in spiritual prowess but in physical strength as well. They have their agents of destruction, their assassins, and they have the uncanny ability to work like the mafia.”

Frank huffed. “You can say that again!”

“I will do everything physically to help the three of you,” Reverend Powell continued. “And I will act as a spiritual advisor in the fight and work at breaking down the forces of darkness through prayer. If you’d like, I can even make the call to Gladys myself. I can do so on the grounds that as Maggie’s friend, I came across her name and phone number and wanted to inform her of her sudden passing.” He looked at Mike pensively. “What do you think?”

“It might work,” Mike said, turning to Frank. “It just might. As long as you…”

“I’ll keep my occupation a secret from her,” Reverend Powell said, nodding. “Deception can work for the Lord, too.”

“Why don’t we sleep on it,” Mike suggested. “Tomorrow is Thursday. We’ll have three hours tomorrow morning to finalize our plans by the time the west coast wakes up.”

Vince nodded. Frank looked like he agreed with the plan, as did Reverend Powell. “Agreed,” Reverend Powell said. “We can talk more about what the rest of our plans will be for the day. I think one of those things will be for Vince to contact Tom Hoffman. I can go with him to the Warwick Township Police Station as well.”

“What about us?” Frank asked.

“Perhaps you can come with us,” Reverend Powell suggested. “There is the matter of those dead dogs to deal with. I’m sure Tom can provide you with information that wasn’t leaked to the press. We can reconvene on strategy tomorrow by noon.”

“Sounds good,” Mike said, standing up.

Vince felt better now that they had some kind of plan. As he helped clean up the basement, he couldn’t help but wish that this would be over soon. Perhaps the end was drawing near. He felt that it was.

As they ascended the stairs to the main floor of the house, Reverend Powell said, “One of you will have to sleep in the living room. I’ve got linens in the closet.”

“I can do it,” Frank said.

“Maybe we should rotate shifts,” Mike said, pausing in the living room. “One of us stay awake in the living room as a look-out for a few hours.”

“That’s a sound idea,” Hank said.

“I’ll go first,” Frank said, planting himself in an easy chair, well out of sight from outside. “It’s a little after ten o’clock now. How does three hour shifts sound?”

“Three hours is fine,” Mike said. “I’ll go next. Be sure to have a pot of coffee brewed before you wake me up.”

“Of course,” Frank said.

“I can bring a bottle of whiskey up from downstairs if you want a shot or two to help you sleep,” Reverend Powell said.

“That’ll be great,” Mike answered.

When Reverend Powell headed back downstairs for the whiskey, Mike turned to Frank and Vince. “Whatever we do tomorrow, we stick together. Even if we do meet with Sheriff Hoffman.”

“What’ll we tell him?” Vince asked.

“Leave that to me,” Mike said.

Reverend Powell returned with the Jack Daniel’s bottle and handed it to Mike. “Now I think we’d better turn in. I can take the third watch. Vince, you luck out tonight.”

“Get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow
you
get to be up at two in the morning,” Frank said. Vince grinned as he caught a glimpse of a smirk on Frank’s face.

“I’m in the bedroom at the end of the hall,” Reverend Powell told Frank. “And I’m armed. I know you and Mike came well armed, but is there anything else you may need?”

“I have my nine and an extra clip,” Frank said. He took the gun out of his waistband and laid it on the arm of the chair. “I’ll be fine.”

“I will, too,” Mike said.

“Okay.” Reverend Powell looked at his guests. “The beds are ready, there’s fresh towels in the linen closet and you can have the hallway bathroom. Mike, get me up at four.”

“You got it,” Mike said.

With a curt nod, Reverend Powell retreated down the hallway to the master bedroom.

“Well, I’m turning in, too,” Mike said. “Will you be alright, Frank?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He turned and headed toward one of the bedrooms.

Vince turned to Frank and shrugged. “I don’t feel tired yet.”

“You’re welcome to hang out with me.”

Vince thought about it for a moment. What he really wanted to do was call Tracy, but he knew Mike would probably be able to hear him in the next room. He knew there was no way he would be able to get out of Frank’s sight long enough to steal downstairs and use his cell phone. He sat down on the sofa reluctantly, facing his old childhood friend in the darkened living room.

They remained seated in the darkness for a minute. The outside sha
dows were long and dark and the only sounds were those of the crickets chirping in a rhythmic susurration. The toilet in the bathroom upstairs flushed and then the door opened to the sound of padding footsteps making their way to one of the bedrooms. There was the sound of a door closing and then silence.

Except for the crickets.

Vince looked out the window. The curtains were drawn, but there was a thin line between them that he could see out of. What he saw wasn’t much; he tried to see into the darkness, but he knew there wasn’t much beyond the front porch except the long driveway that led to the lonely two lane country road and beyond that a vast corn field.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this,” Frank said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Frank replied. Vince’s vision had adjusted to the darkness in the living room, and he could make out Frank seated comfortably on the chair. The handgun was on the arm of the chair, Frank’s hand inches from it. Frank was looking out the window, too. He turned to Vince. “I’ve always lived in cities. Never lived in a place like this before. I’ve always dreamed of escaping from the noise and the shit and just…hiding out here.”

“It’s definitely a great place to get away from the city,” Vince said.

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice had taken on a reflective tone. “Maybe…when this is all over I can…come out to a place like this. Just pack up Brandy and the kids and bring them out to a place somewhere far away from all the shit big cities breed. Violence, despair, poverty, pollution. You know…?”

“With the work you do, you could make a nice living quite easily out here,” Vince said.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded. He turned to Vince. “What was it like for you growing up out here?”

Vince thought about it. When he’d first come to Lititz last week he’d been instantly transported back through time to when he was young and innocent, ready to face the world. He remembered driving by his old friend John’s house, seeing the family car that he remembered from those long ago days and resisting the urge to get out and walk up to the front porch and knock on the door. He remembered hating Lititz when he first moved out here. He’d been plucked out of his junior year in high school in Toronto without warning and whisked almost five hundred miles away, to a place in the middle of nowhere. He’d missed his friends in Canada terribly, but adjusted to life in the country fairly quickly. He told Frank this in quiet tones as the two men sat in the darkness, Frank’s fingers caressing the handgun. He told Frank how he kept expecting to run into people he’d gone to high school with and how that hadn’t happened yet. “Do you want it to happen?” Frank asked, interrupting Vince’s monologue.