“Don’t you have time for breakfast?” Angie asked.
“Nope. I need to be on the road so I can be back in time to fix the old hag’s car before she comes to get it.”
“All right,” she said with a yawn of her own.
She got up and followed him to the door. James put on his cap and his old flannel jacket, then opened the door, letting in a gust of cool air. Still standing in the door, James turned and gave her a kiss, “Remember, don’t let anyone in.”
“Okay, okay, hurry you’re freezing me.”
Angie shut and locked the door behind him. As James walked to his truck, he heard her knocking at the window. He turned and she blew him a kiss from the window beside the door. He smiled and returned the gesture, then continued on to the truck.
She watched through the window until his taillights disappeared around the corner. Then she yawned again and started back to bed. She got halfway down the hall, then returned to the living room and picked up the shotgun and carried it with her to the bedroom.
James’ strange warning had made Angie a little uneasy, so for once in her life, she wasn’t able to go right to sleep. She kept playing what James had said over and over in her head. What had he seen in those visions of his? One thing was for sure, when he came back from Beaumont she was going to sit him down at the kitchen table and get him to tell her everything.
Angie rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Still, sleep remained just out of reach. After tossing and turning for several minutes, she finally started to drift off when she heard a knock at the door. At first she thought it was her imagination, but then she heard it again. She got up, grabbed the shotgun and went back into the living room. James must have forgotten something, she thought.
“Angie, I’m home,” James’ voice came from outside.
As Angie passed through the living room, she set the shotgun on the couch. “Just a second.”
Angie peered through the peephole, and saw James, “What’s the password?” she said smiling playfully.
“I forgot my key to the shop.”
Remembering James’ strange advice, she went over to the window beside the door for a better look. It was James all right, and when he saw her looking at him through the window, he blew her a kiss.
Laughing, Angie unlocked the door.
As she opened the door, she said, “Honey, you really should think about…” but that was all she got out before a clawed hand grabbed her throat.
James yawned again as his pickup turned onto Highway 87. Despite his new sleep schedule, he still wasn’t getting enough sleep. For three weeks he’d been running on about two hours of real sleep and this morning his fatigue was really standing up and making itself heard; he was having trouble just keeping his eyes open. He passed through Newton and had just passed the city limits sign on the other side of town when his head dipped to his chest. He woke up immediately, but he had nodded off just long enough to see a clear a picture in his mind — a picture of his own front door. At first it didn’t register on James what he had seen, then he slammed on the brakes.
Angie! Jimmy!
James turned the truck around and tore off back to town. Driving like a madman, he rocketed through Newton, running the town’s one red light without slowing. Though he was pushing the old Chevy as hard as he could, it seemed like forever before his headlights shone upon his familiar drive. He slid past the drive and slammed on the brakes. The pickup slid to a stop right in the middle of the front yard.
The door’s open!
James got out of the truck in a rush, knocking his cap off as he slammed the pickup’s door. When he was no more than halfway to the door he saw her. All that was visible from behind the partially open door was her left arm, covered in blood. The sight of that bloody arm, the bloody hand and the ring on it drove James right over the edge.
CHAPTER 6
Maybe They’re Right
Greg had passed by the Taylor’s house at 4:15 a.m. and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He continued on down the road for several miles before turning around. About thirty minutes later he passed back by the house on his way back to the highway. This time James’ truck was parked in the middle of the yard with its driver’s side door open and the headlights on.
Greg whipped the patrol car into the driveway.
The front door was open, and he thought he could vaguely make out what looked to be a figure lying in the doorway. Inside, Greg thought he could see movement.
Greg radioed for backup and stepped out of the car. He didn’t take his gun out of its holster, but he did unfasten the safety catch. He took out his flashlight with his left hand, so his right hand would be free, and walked toward the door.
“James! Ang… Oh, Jesus.” He saw the bloody arm in the door.
Now he drew his pistol.
He pressed the button on his shoulder mike. “I’ve got someone hurt out here at the James Taylor residence. That’s the fifth house down FM Fourteen-fourteen,” he said in a shaky voice. “Send all units and an ambulance.”
Greg hesitantly walked up to the door with the flashlight in his left hand and his nine-millimeter in his right. “James! Are you in there?”
Greg used his flashlight to push the door the rest of the way open, revealing Angie’s corpse. She wasn’t nearly as mangled as Sharon had been, but she was just as dead. Her throat was torn out, and she had major gashes running down her right arm from the shoulder to her elbow.
“Get away from her!” a voice only vaguely recognizable as James’ screamed from inside the house.
Greg looked up and James was standing in the hall. His eyes had the look of a cornered animal. He held a double-barreled shotgun in his hands and it was leveled at Greg’s chest.
“James, it’s me, Greg.” Greg said softly, then he slowly holstered his gun and took a slow step over Angie’s body, toward James.
James quickly threw the shotgun up to his shoulder, taking deliberate aim, “Don’t come any closer, you bastard!”
Greg was between a rock and a hard place. He knew he would be better off if he were not standing right over Angie’s body, but he was afraid to step forward any more than he had for fear that James would think he was advancing on him. Also, if he stepped back he would be exiting the door and he was afraid James would think he was trying to get away. And, since he was in the doorway, sidestepping to the left or the right was impossible. He decided he would try to step forward and to the right at the same time, this would put him in the living room, away from Angie’s body and in the open.
“I’m just gonna slowly step over to the side into the living room,” he said in a soft voice.
“Stay right where you are!” James shouted.
A war was raging inside James’ head. He had returned to find his wife brutally murdered in the doorway of their home. Grabbing the shotgun from the couch, he had sprinted into his son’s room to find his son’s mangled corpse. Then, when he returned to the living room, he found his best friend standing over the remains of his wife. His mind screamed, It’s the beast in disguise, shoot it! but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. He stood there trembling, both hammers on the old shotgun pulled back and his finger on the trigger.
“Put the gun down, James,” Greg said softly.
“NO!” James shrieked, causing Greg to wince, thinking James was going to fire. But he didn’t, not yet.
After James’ outburst, Greg was afraid to speak again; but, after gathering his thoughts for some time, he finally said, “Then let’s talk. Tell me what happened.” He surprised himself at how calm he was when he did speak. His voice was soft and slow, like he was speaking to a child.