Dead of Night

Page 34

For the longest time, they didn’t talk, and as they neared the farmhouse, Ashe could hear the bells in the cottonwood trees.
Tolling for what was to come, he thought.
“Ashe?”
“Yeah?”
“Where do you live?”
“Around.”
“Around where?”
He shrugged. “What difference does it make?”
“I’m just curious. Do you live in a house?”
“Sure. But not like yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mine’s not big and fancy.”
“I hate my house,” she said passionately. “I can’t wait to get out of there. And when I leave, I’m never coming back.” She pulled her jacket tightly around her as the breeze picked up. “Can I ask you something else?”
“I guess.”
“You heard those girls calling me names the other day, didn’t you? Amber and the others. That’s why you stole their stuff. You did it for me.”
“What’s the girl’s name who was laughing so hard?”
“You mean Holly Jessup?”
“Holly Jessup. Holly...Jessup,” he said slowly, committing her name to memory.
He stared straight ahead, into the night. He’d wanted to do more than steal from them, but he couldn’t without giving himself away. One of these days, though, when it was safe, he’d come back.
“Why did you do it?” Sarah persisted. “Why do you care what they call me?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“But why do you want to be my friend? We’re not even the same age. We don’t go to the same school. You won’t even tell me where you live.”
“None of that stuff matters, Sarah. We’re friends because we’re the same. I knew it the moment I first saw you. It’s like our souls are mirror images.”
She thought about that for a moment and nodded. “I think you’re right. I think we are the same.”
They were approaching the farmhouse now. A place of shadow and legend. A place of death.
But I am the real demon, he thought.
It would be his footprints they would find in the blood. His mark that would be left upon the body. And after he was done, after he was gone, the town would live in terror for another seventy years.
Chapter 15
On Friday afternoon, Lukas Clay got off work early so he could be at the house for a delivery of flooring he’d ordered. While he waited for the truck, he set to work stripping the wood molding in the parlor and kept at it until well after dark.
Then, tired but still a bit restless, he popped the top off a Turbodog and sat out on the front porch in the cold night air, listening to the freight trains in the distance and watching moonlight drift down through the trees and sprinkle across the surface of the pond.
As content as he was with the way things had worked out for him, Lukas was still sometimes amazed by how easily he’d settled into rural life. He’d left Union County after high school and had never considered returning until after his father died.
Even then, the only reason he’d come back was to settle the old man’s affairs and sell off the property and the house where he’d grown up. He’d hoped for a quick turnaround so he could get back to the business of figuring out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. But real estate could sometimes sit on the market for months or even years in the South Arkansas economy, and while Lukas impatiently waited for a bite, he’d been offered the position of chief of police in Adamant.
The offer had been extended, he was told, on the basis of his impressive service record and his prior experience on a midsize police force, but Lukas suspected his last name, more than anything else, had been the real catalyst.
Whatever the prompt, the proposition had intrigued him. Opportunities hadn’t exactly come pouring in since his discharge, so after only a day of mulling over his options, he’d accepted the position and had immediately set about finding himself a little place in town that would be convenient to the station.
In the ensuing months, he’d sold off parcels of the old man’s land, which had given him some start-up cash. But the old homestead had generated nary a nibble, and Lukas had started driving out to the country on weekends to try to spruce up the place.
At first, he concentrated on minor, cosmetic repairs, but when he discovered how much he enjoyed working with his hands, he tackled the bigger plumbing, wiring and roofing projects. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of a hard-core renovation.
The satisfaction he got from bringing the old place back to life surprised him, considering that his childhood home didn’t hold happy memories. His father had seen to that. But it was a good house on a nice piece of ground that was far enough from the road to provide a little peace and quiet on weekends. All the privacy a man could want.
And the work agreed with him. Lukas had found a strange kind of nirvana in a place he’d once thought of as hell. He relished the prickle of the sun beating down on his shoulders and the ache from a long, hard day settling deep into his muscles. He liked dropping into bed at night, so tired that he was dead to the world until the sun woke him up the next morning.
After a while, he’d gone inside, showered and hit the sack. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when the cell phone on the nightstand rang. No one from the station ever bothered him out here unless it was an emergency, so he didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Yeah?”
“Sheriff Clay?”
“No, this is Lukas Clay.” He put a slight emphasis on his first name.
“Sorry, my bad. Your daddy was the sheriff, right?”
Lukas rolled onto his back. “Who is this?”
“Somebody you been looking for, Luk-ass.” The male voice drawled the name, mocking Lukas’s pronunciation. “I hear you been asking around town about me.”
Lukas sat up in bed. “Fears?”
“You still want to talk?”
“Yes, but I’d rather have this conversation in my office instead of over the phone.”
“That’s a problem, see, because then I’d have to check my book and my people would have to get back to your people...turn into a real hassle. Let’s just do this now and get it over with.”
“Where are you?”
“Look out your window.”
Lukas got up and parted the curtain. An old blue-and-white pickup was parked in the drive and he could see someone sitting behind the wheel. He was surprised and a little unsettled that he hadn’t heard the engine. He must have been sleeping pretty damn hard. Some nights it was like that.
“That you up there, Luk-ass?” An arm gave a wave out the window of the truck.
“Yeah.”
“You alone? I hope I’m not interrupting something.” Fears chuckled.
“I’ll be right down.”
“Hey, grab us a beer on your way out. I got a little parched on the drive over.”
Lukas quickly dressed, then slipped his .38 into the back of his jeans. Shrugging into his jacket, he headed out the front door.
Derrick Fears had gotten out of the truck and stood leaning against the front fender with his arms folded and his feet crossed at the ankles. As Lukas crossed the yard, Fears spread his arms and grinned. “You wanted to talk, here I am.”
Lukas could see his face clearly in the moonlight. It was thin and creased, the visage of a man who had aged quickly and not well. But beneath the jeans and insulated hunting vest, his body was still powerful and sinewy.
“Hey, where’s my beer?”
“Sorry, fresh out,” Lukas said with a shrug.
Fears’s hair was clipped so short, his scalp gleamed in the moonlight. His head was lowered and the way he looked up through his lashes was both cagey and deliberate. “You never answered my question. You out here all alone?”
Lukas gave him a hard appraisal. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Oh, I got my ways, don’t you worry about that.”
He appeared sober, but his eyes were moving about ten times faster than normal, and Lukas detected a slight quiver in his voice that made him wonder what Fears had recently shot up or ingested. Crystal meth was the drug of choice in most rural areas because of the cost and the ease of procurement. But amping could produce some erratic and violent behavior, the prospect of which made Lukas grateful for the feel of his gun against his back. The house was miles from the highway.
“Who told you where I’d be?” he pressed.
“A little birdie I know says you’ve been spending a lot of time out here.” Fears glanced around. “You’ve got the place looking pretty spiffy. Much better than the last time I was out here.”
“When was that?”
“Long time ago. Back when your old man was alive. He gave me the scenic tour once.” Fears nodded over Lukas’s shoulder. “There’s an old storm cellar back in those woods. Used to be a house out there, too, but it burned down. You ever go out there?”
“Not recently.”
“Maybe you should check out that cellar sometime. No telling what you might find down there. Besides spiders and rattlers.” He grinned.
“Maybe I’ll check it out one of these days,” Lukas said.
“Yeah, you do that.” Fears gazed off into space. “That storm cellar was where your old man used to interrogate his prisoners. And by interrogate, I mean beat the shit out of.” He turned and cocked his head as he studied Lukas’s reaction. “What do you say we go down there right now, just me and you, and check it out? I’ve got a flashlight in the truck. Be like a stroll down memory lane.”
“Maybe later.” Lukas didn’t like the sudden feral gleam in Fears’s eyes. He’d seen that look before. “Where were you last Tuesday?”
“Home,” Fears said.
“Just like that? You don’t even have to think about it?”
“That was the day after the ice storm hit. I didn’t have to go in to work, so I slept in.”
“All day?”
“Well, you know how it is. Guy like me needs his beauty rest. You don’t believe me, talk to my old lady. She can vouch for me. I’ve been staying out at the house with her ever since I got back to town.”
“I’ve already checked,” Lukas said. “Your mother was at the hospital on Tuesday. She pulled a double shift so she was there from early morning until late evening. Looks like she’s not in any position to provide you with an alibi this time.”
Fears wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. “And just why the hell would I need an alibi?”
“Someone broke into the DeLaune house that day. When I went over there to check things out, I saw a reflection in a window right before I got a lamp bashed into my skull. That reflection looked a lot like you, Derrick.”
Fears laughed. “No shit?”
“No shit. So why don’t you tell me why you were there?”
The amusement faded. “You’ve got the wrong guy, Sheriff.”
Lukas didn’t bother correcting the title. “I don’t think I do. I saw you pretty clearly in that window.”
“Then why ain’t you already got my ass sitting in a jail cell somewhere?”
“Maybe I’m waiting to hear your side of the story.”
“Mighty big of you. It’s more than your old man would do, that’s for damn sure.” Fears folded his arms and leaned back against the truck. “Let’s just say, hypothetically speaking, it was me you saw in that window. Maybe I was there at the house looking for the same thing you are.”
Lukas stared straight into his eyes. “And that would be?”
“You’ve been asking questions about that girl’s murder, which makes me wonder if you’re trying to find her killer. Maybe you and me want the same thing.”
“That still doesn’t tell me why you broke into the DeLaune house.”
“I never said I was there. We’re speaking hypothetically, remember?”
Lukas’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know something about Rachel DeLaune’s murder?”
“I know I didn’t do it, so chances are pretty damn good that whoever whacked her is still around in these parts. And the son of a bitch was more than willing to let me take the blame.” Fears shifted his stance, his gaze going back to the woods behind the house. “Everybody thinks your old man was such a great cop, but he really blew it on that case. He never even looked at anybody but me. It was too damn easy to blame the weirdo. He wanted a confession, so he took me down in that cellar and tried to beat one out of me. He left me lying down there in my own blood and shit for two days, and when I still wouldn’t crack, he started in on me again. The way I see it, I’ve got some payback due me.”