She nodded.
“Tell me about your friend,” Hawkins said. “Is she…?”
“He,” Allyson corrected. “I don’t know. I only saw him for a moment. He’d been stabbed—more than once I think. And the fence, he fell and the fence—”
“What about the fence?”
“The fence—the fence had iron spikes on top and he fell—Oscar fell, and it—the spike—it went right through his chin, all the way through! It was awful! I think he’s dying… he may already be—but then I saw him, the killer, standing there with a knife, so I ran—I had to run before he—before…”
“Of course you did,” Hawkins said. “You were right to run. You’re still alive because you made the right decision.”
“But Oscar…”
“Where is he?” Hawkins asked. “I’ll send an ambulance.”
“The Elrods’,” Allyson said. “At the back of the property—we went around—near the alley.”
“I know it,” Hawkins said. “Let me call it in. Then you need to come with me.”
“Why? I don’t understand?”
“I’m taking you to your family,” he said. “Your grandmother’s place. Your parents should be there with her by now. You’ll stay there until we apprehend Myers.”
A worried look flashed across Allyson’s face. “Has something happened at home?”
“No,” Hawkins said. “But you’ll be safer at your grandmother’s house. Apparently, she’s fortified the place.”
“Oh,” Allyson said, nodding. “That makes sense.”
Only in your world, kid, Hawkins thought. I don’t envy you.
As Hawkins stepped away from Allyson to make the call to dispatch, several people in the gathered crowd started shouting questions, their concerned voices overlapping each other.
“Can you tell us what’s—?”
“How many people have been killed?”
“What are the police doing to keep us safe?”
“Do you know who the k—?”
“Has Michael Myers really returned?”
Hawkins raised his hand to request silence. “Everyone! Calm down,” he shouted. “I need you all to return to your homes—now! Lock your doors and windows. We’re in pursuit of the suspect.” A bit of an exaggeration, but more reassuring than telling them they were still searching for the suspect. “If you notice anyone or anything suspicious, call 911 and report it to the emergency operator. Once the suspect is in custody, the sheriff will hold a press conference and all your questions will be answered. For now, please go home, lock up and stay safe!”
Reluctantly, they quieted down and dispersed. All of them lived relatively close by, so didn’t have far to walk to get back inside. Hawkins radioed dispatch to request an ambulance at the back of the Elrod property, but judging by Allyson’s descriptions of his injuries, Hawkins doubted the boy had survived.
And he doubted the boy would be the last victim tonight.
34
As Officer Phillips turned the squad car off the rural, tree-lined road onto Laurie’s gravel driveway, the twin sets of spotlights mounted on the sloped roof of her house powered on, bathing them and the entire front yard in light. In the passenger seat, Officer Francis raised his forearm to shield his eyes and said, “Forgot to bring my sunblock.”
“Damn,” Phillips said. “How do you afford the electric bill?”
“They’re motion activated,” Laurie said, then, “I don’t get many visitors.”
Phillips rolled up to the intercom and looked over his shoulder at Laurie. “Pass code for the gate?”
“Open my door,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
“Case you haven’t noticed,” Phillips said. “We’re the good guys.”
“I have trust issues,” Laurie said. “Sue me. Besides, this seat is killing my back. What is it made of, plastic?”
Francis chuckled, “Ever try to scrub puke out of fine Corinthian leather?”
“Fine,” Phillips said, stepping out of the car to open her door. As Laurie walked to the control box, he smiled and asked, “Want me to cover my eyes while you enter the code?”
“You’d just peek through your fingers,” Laurie said. “Turn around.”
“Seriously?”
Laurie shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”
She entered the security code and, as the gate rumbled open, climbed back into the cramped, uncomfortable backseat.
Karen looked at Ray. “She’s not wrong,” she said, shifting over to give Laurie room. “About the seat.”
“Present company excluded,” Francis said, “the back is reserved for perps. Don’t want them to think they’re traveling in the lap of luxury.”
“No worries there,” Laurie said.
Once the gate opened wide enough, Phillips shifted into gear and drove through the gap. “We’ll drop you off and stand wait at the gate for your daughter to arrive. We have an officer on the scene in contact with her now.”
Laurie spent almost a minute at her front door, unlocking locks and retracting deadbolts before she could usher Karen and Ray inside. While Ray took it all in, immediately noticing the steel mesh on the windows and the deadbolt locks on all the interior doors, Karen walked around refamiliarizing herself with the interior she had known as a child—before she’d been removed from Laurie’s care.
In the living room, Karen paused in front of the wood-burning stove. The vent pipe entered the sealed chimney at a ninety-degree angle through a wall of bricks. The chopped wood stacked beside the stove indicated that it served more than decorative purposes. “What happened to the fireplace?” she asked. “Besides the obvious.”
“Vulnerable point of entry,” Laurie said. “Had to go.”
“Obviously,” Ray said sarcastically.
Ignoring Ray’s comment, Laurie continued, “Poured concrete down the chimney, bricked up the wall.”
“Aren’t you worried about the vent pipe?” Ray asked.
“Diameter’s too narrow,” Laurie said deadpan. “Michael won’t fit. Not in one piece.”
“Home is where the heart is, right, Laurie?”
Laurie spread her arms wide and smiled. “Mi casa es su casa, Ray.”
She stared at him, waiting for another sarcastic comment.
But Ray nodded, following Karen into the kitchen, noting the woven wire mesh on the windows there, multiple locks on the back door. Watching him, Laurie saw her residence with fresh eyes. With airy floral-patterned wallpaper, the kitchen was brighter than the wood-paneled and red-brick living room. Ray’s attention turned to the small desk and chair facing shelves stacked with four security monitors, a personal computer, and a police scanner.
“I can watch my entire property from here,” she told him. “The gate, the front door, both sides, and the back of the house. No surprises.”
Ray nodded and looked toward the wall on the opposite side to the doorway, where she’d hung her gray welder’s mask, like a country kitchen decoration. Nope, she thought, nothing abnormal about that at all. Every home should have one.
While Karen walked toward the cream-colored island in the center of the kitchen, laying her palms on the blue countertop, Ray noticed something that disturbed him on the floor near the pantry: a dead rat in what looked like a homemade trap, if the person building the trap had fantasized about medieval torture devices. When Laurie walked into the kitchen, Ray pointed at the contraption. “What is that?”
“A dead rat,” Laurie said. “Surprised you’ve never seen one, Ray. They live in the fields out back but every now and then they get in through a crack in the foundation and try to raid the pantry.”
“I know what a dead rat looks like,” he said. “I meant that—thing that… eviscerated it.”