The Cellar Read online

  “If he’s the kind of guy I’m willing to kill, there’s always someone who’s glad to pay me for it.”

  They got out of the car. Jud took Donna’s hand and led her across the road. “Do you mind a workout?”

  “Okay by me.”

  They entered the forest. Jud went first, seeking out ways through the tightly grouped pines and around impassable areas of rock or fallen trees. Twice, he stopped to let Donna rest.

  “You didn’t tell me this was an obstacle course,” she said at one point.

  The last few yards were steep, and Jud looked back at Donna. Her face was determined. She backhanded a drop of sweat off the end of her nose. Wet hair clung to her forehead. “Almost there,” he said, and reached down a hand to her. He pulled her to the top of a dead trunk, then they both hopped down. “Made it.”

  They walked easily along the level crest of the hill and came to a windy clearing.

  Donna stretched, spreading her arms. “Ah, that breeze feels good.”

  “You can wait here. I’ve got to pick up a few things down below.”

  “So that’s your game!”

  She accompanied Jud to the edge of the clearing, where he pointed down to the outcropping. “I left some equipment in those rocks,” he told her.

  “That’s where you were last night?”

  “That’s the place.”

  “I’ll go with you, okay?”

  Together, they climbed downhill. Then they made their way up the rocks to the top, where they looked down at the back of Beast House.

  “I can’t imagine going in that place at night,” Donna said. “It’s bad enough in daylight.”

  “I’ll climb down and get my gear,” Jud said.

  “Fine. I’ll wait.”

  As Donna sat on a ledge of rock, Jud worked his way down to the recess with its two small pines. His pack and rifle and Starlight seemed just as he had left them last night when he rushed downhill to stop the woman. He put the scope in its case and loaded it into the pack. He strapped the pack shut. Then he slung it onto his shoulders. He picked up the rifle case and climbed to the top.

  “Let’s go up to the clearing again,” Donna said.

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t much like staring that house in the face.”

  “That’s actually the back of its head,” Jud told her.

  “Whatever.”

  They climbed to the grassy clearing. Jud put down his rifle and pack. Donna, stepping close, placed her open hands against his chest and looked up at him. “Can we talk some more?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  “About killing?”

  “If you want.”

  “What happened today…” She lowered her eyes. “What happened was, I found out my…sister…” Her voice broke. She turned away. With her back turned, she took a deep breath. Jud put his hands on her shoulders. “My sister was killed!” she blurted, and broke into tears.

  Jud turned her around and held her tightly.

  “I killed her, Jud. I killed her. I ran away. He wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t have had to. God! I didn’t know. I didn’t know! I killed them. I killed them both!”

  2.

  After a while, Donna settled down. She stopped talking, and only cried. Jud lowered her to the grass. Sitting against his pack, he held her. Her tears made the front of his shirt wet. Finally she stopped.

  “We’d better get back,” she said. “Sandy. I don’t want to leave her alone too long.”

  “We’ll leave when you tell me what’s going on. Who killed your sister, Donna?”

  “My ex-husband. Roy Hayes.”

  “Why?”

  “Partly to get at me, I guess. Mostly, though, to make her tell where I am.”

  “Why would he want to know that?”

  “He’s been in prison. He…raped Sandy. She was just six, and he took her out riding on his dirt bike…and raped her. He’d done things to me, before. Vicious things.

  “I knew they’d let him out, someday. I figured we’d drop everything, and take off. So that’s what we did Sunday morning when I found out he was loose.

  “It never…it just didn’t occur to me he’d go to Karen. I don’t know what I thought. But I never…God, I never thought he’d go to Karen or anyone, and…he must’ve tortured her. God, and it was all because of me!

  “We shouldn’t have run. We should have stayed. I should have got myself a gun, maybe, and just waited for him to come. But it never even occurred to me. I just thought we’d leave town, and maybe change our name, and everything would work out fine. But it didn’t happen that way. And now he knows where we are.”

  “Where did your sister live?”

  “In Santa Monica.”

  “What’s that, ten or twelve hours from here?”

  “I don’t know. Something like that, probably.”

  “Do you know when your sister was killed?”

  “Sometime last night.”

  “Early, late?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He could be in town right now.”

  “I guess so.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “He’s thirty-five, about six-foot-two. Very strong, or he always used to be. He weighed about two-ten.”

  “Have you got a picture of him?”

  She shook her head. “I destroyed them all.”

  “What color’s his hair?”

  “Black. He always wore it short.”

  “Anything else about him?”

  She shrugged.

  Jud got up and helped her to stand. “Are you convinced,” he asked, “that running away doesn’t work?”

  “He convinced me.”

  “Then let’s go back to the inn and wait for him.”

  “What’ll we do?”

  “If I have to, I’ll kill him.”

  “I should be the one to handle him.”

  “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me.”

  “I don’t want you to kill anyone…not for me.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing it for you. It’d be for myself. And for the voices.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  1.

  “Larry and I have to go out for a while,” Jud said as he walked Donna across the parking lot after lunch. “I want you and Sandy to stay in our cabin until we get back.”

  “Okay.”

  No arguments. No questions. Her complete trust gave Jud a good feeling.

  He watched her turn to Sandy, who was lagging behind with Larry. Instead of making a rift, yesterday’s incident at the beach had created an intimacy between the girl and Larry. During lunch, they had talked like best friends. Jud found their closeness peculiar under the circumstances, but convenient.

  “Sandy,” Donna said, “we’ll be spending a while in Jud and Larry’s room. Do you want to get your cards, or a book, or something to keep you busy?”

  The girl nodded.

  “We’ll be right out,” Donna said. They went into their cabin, leaving its door open.

  Larry, in a quiet voice, said, “The poor child has been devastated.”

  “It’s gotta be rough.”

  “Rough indeed. She’ll be scarred all her life. That miserable brute ought to be shot.”

  “He probably will be.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Tonight, if we’re lucky.”

  “Tonight?”

  “There’s a good chance he’ll show up sometime today. If he does, I’m going to be there with a gun.”

  “What about Beast House?”

  “It can wait another day.”

  “I suppose you’re right, though I would feel better if we were finished once and for all with…”

  “I can’t let this guy get his hands on Donna and Sandy. He’s hurt them enough, already.”

  “Certainly. I’m not suggesting we abandon them. Not at all.”

  “Besides, going after the beast tonight would be premature.”

  “How s
o?” Larry asked.

  “I want to know more. That’s why we’re going to visit the Kutch place this afternoon.”

  “Beast House?”

  “No. The other one. The one without windows.”

  2.

  As soon as Jud was certain that Donna could handle his rifle without difficulty, he and Larry drove away. He turned right off Front Street, taking the narrow dirt road that led to the beach. In an area sheltered by trees, he parked.

  As Jud took his .45 automatic from the trunk, Larry said, “That, of course, won’t stop the beast.”

  Jud tucked the automatic under the belt at the back of his pants, and covered it with his shirttail. “What makes you think we’ll run into the beast? Doesn’t it confine its rampages to Beast House?”

  “Nevertheless.”

  He watched Larry lift a machete out of the trunk. “Nevertheless what?”

  “One never knows, does one?”

  Jud shut the trunk. “You can stay in the car, if you want.”

  “No. It’s quite all right. I’ll come along. I can hardly resist an opportunity to see inside this curious house. And you’re right, of course: We should be perfectly safe from the beast.”

  Jud checked his wristwatch. “Okay, the one-o’clock tour should just be starting. Let’s go.”

  “What about Axel?”

  “If he’s home, I’ll take care of him. You just stick close beside me.”

  “I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Jud didn’t answer that. He led the way through the trees until they ended. Then he dashed across an open space to the back of the garage. Larry followed.

  “Do you know if there’s a back door?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  “Let’s find out.” He walked toward the rear, careful to keep the garage between him and the ticket booth of Beast House, a hundred yards away. When he was even with the rear of the brick house, he rushed across to it.

  The back of the house was solid brick.

  “No door,” Larry said.

  Jud walked through the overgrown yard to the far corner. He peered around it. No door there, either: just the gray metal box of the house’s ventilation system. Across Front Street, the south part of Beast House’s fence and lawn were visible, and deserted. “Stay close to the wall,” Jud said. He wiped sweat off his brow and moved forward.

  At the front corner of the house, he stopped. Signaling Larry to stay back, he looked at the ticket booth across the street. The side that faced the street had a closed door, but no windows. As long as Wick Hapson stayed inside, he wouldn’t be able to see Jud.

  Beyond the ticket booth, the tour group was clustered near the Beast House porch, probably hearing about Gus Goucher. Jud waited for them to file inside.

  “Stay here till I signal.”

  “Is Axel home?”

  “His pickup’s here.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “That’s all right. It might make things easier.”

  “For heaven’s sake, how?”

  “If he’s a trusting soul, the door won’t be locked.”

  “Wonderful. Marvelous.”

  “Wait here.” Jud again checked the ticket booth, then walked swiftly across the front lawn to the door.

  The inner door stood wide open. Jud pressed his face to the screen door, trying to see inside. He couldn’t see much. Except for the light from the doorway, the interior was dark. Quietly, he pulled open the screen door, and entered.

  He moved quickly away from the lighted area. For at least a full minute, he stood motionless, listening. Convinced he was alone, he patted the walls near the door and found a switch. He flicked it. A lamp came on, its bulb filling the entryway with dim, blue light.

  Directly ahead, stairs led to the upper floor. To the right was a closed door, to the left a room. He stepped into the room. By the faint light from the foyer, he found a lamp. He turned it on. More blue bulbs.

  Dark carpeting covered the floor. Pillows and cushions littered it. A lamp stood in a back corner. There was no other furniture.

  Jud went to the screen door. Looking through it, he checked the area near the ticket booth for Wick Hapson. No sign of the man. He opened the door a crack and waved to Larry.

  Before Larry reached the door, Jud pressed a forefinger to his own lips. Larry nodded and entered.

  Jud pointed out the room with the cushions. Then he stepped to the closed door at the right of the entrance. He pushed it open and found a light switch. It turned on a chandelier over a diningroom table. The chandelier bulbs were blue.

  Except for the lighting, Jud found nothing unusual about the dining room. A china cabinet stood in one corner. A large mirror occupied the far wall above a buffet. The table had six chairs, but formal dining tables often had that many. He saw two more matching chairs beside the highboy.

  Beyond the head of the table was another door. Jud went to it and pushed it open. The kitchen. He entered it, careful to walk quietly on the linoleum floor. He looked in the refrigerator. Even its interior light was blue. Pointing at the bottom shelf, he grinned at Larry. The shelf held at least two dozen cans of beer.

  Next to the refrigerator was a door.

  As he began to pull it open, Jud saw light on the other side. Blue light. He opened it farther and looked down a steep flight of stairs to the cellar.

  He shut it quietly. Stepping around Larry, he went to the dining room. He brought one of the straight-backed chairs into the kitchen and tipped it against the door, bracing its back under the knob.

  Then he motioned for Larry to follow.

  They went from the kitchen to the foyer and silently climbed the stairs. Just off the hallway at the top was a large bedroom. They entered it, and Jud turned on its blue overhead light. Larry flinched, and slapped the hilt of his machete. Then he laughed quietly, nervously. “How exotic,” he whispered.

  Mirrors ran the length of the walls, and one was attached to the ceiling directly above the large bed. There were no blankets on the bed, only blue satin sheets.

  As Larry knelt to look under the bed, Jud checked the closet. The hangers held nothing except robes and more than a dozen nightgowns. He pulled out one of the nightgowns and it filled with air, swaying as if it had no weight at all. Dainty pink bows at the shoulders and hips were all that connected the front and back of the gown. Through the sheer fabric, Jud could see Larry stepping over to the bureau. Jud put the nightgown away.

  “Oh dear!” Larry muttered.

  Jud rushed over to Larry. The open drawer held four pairs of handcuffs. Looking in another drawer, he and Larry found a pile of steel chain with padlocks. In another was an assortment of bras and panties, garter belts, and nylons. Two of the drawers contained only leather: leather slacks and jackets, brief leather bikinis, vests, and gloves. From a hook at the side of the dresser hung a riding crop.

  They shut all the drawers and left.

  The bathroom smelled of disinfectant. They quickly searched it, finding nothing unusual except the sunken bathtub. It was large, perhaps seven feet by four, with several metal rings fixed into the tile walls at head level.

  “What are those for?” Larry asked.

  Jud shrugged. “They look like handles.”

  At the far end of the hall, they entered a small room with bookshelves, a desk, and a stuffed chair. By the blue overhead light, Jud made his way to a lamp behind the chair. He turned it on.

  “Ah, light,” Larry whispered as white light filled the room. He began to inspect the book titles.

  Jud checked the desktop, then the drawers. The drawer on the upper left was locked. Kneeling, he removed a leather case from his pocket. He took out a pick and tension bar, and worked on the lock. It gave him no trouble at all.

  The drawer was empty except for a single leather-bound book. A strap with a lock held it shut like a diary. He quickly picked that lock and opened the book to its title page. “My Diary: Being a True Account of My Life and Most Private Affairs,
Volume 12, in the year of our Lord 1903.” The name beneath the inscription was Elizabeth Mason Thorn.

  “What do you have there?” Larry asked.

  “The diary of Lilly Thorn.”

  “Good heavens!”

  He thumbed through the pages. Three quarters of the way through, he found the final entry. August 2, 1903. “Last night, I waited until Ethel and the boys were asleep. Then I carried a length of rope down to the cellar.” He shut the diary. “We’ll take it,” he whispered. “Now let’s have a look in the other room and get out of here.”

  The door of the room across the hallway was shut. Jud twisted the knob. He inched it open.

  Larry clutched his arm.

  From inside the room came a strange, windy sound. Jud listened closely, ear to the crack. He heard hisses, sighs, a blowing sound like the wind makes coming down a canyon. He silently closed the door.

  When they got downstairs, Larry whispered, “That was the beast. It was in there sleeping.”

  “I think it was just Axel.”

  “Axel, my foot!”

  “But he wasn’t alone,” Jud said.

  “Indeed not!”

  “I heard at least three people in that room. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Marvelous suggestion. I’m with you 100 percent.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The green, metal sign read, WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT, POP. 400. DRIVE WITH CARE. Roy slowed down to 35 miles per hour.

  He saw a dozen people lingering near a ticket booth in front of an old Victorian house. He glanced at the sign. Its red lettering wobbled and dripped like wet blood. BEAST HOUSE. He grinned, and wondered what the hell it was.

  Slowing, he studied the faces of the people near the ticket booth. None looked at all like Donna or Sandy, not even with the changes six years might bring. He kept moving.

  He watched the sidewalks for them; he watched the road and parking spaces for their car. A blue Ford Maverick, Karen had said. She wasn’t lying. At that point, she had been beyond lying.

  When he saw a blue Maverick parked at a Chevron station, he couldn’t believe his luck. Karen had mentioned car trouble, but that shouldn’t take so long to repair: He’d expected Donna to have a day on him, at least.