Hope disappeared from Healey's face. He sat down resignedly on one of Ray's chairs. "Tell me what happened."
All eyes turned toward Henry. He was now the point man for all of this mumbo jumbo. He'd found Ray's body, and though he hadn't said anything about the twins, they all knew by now that he was the one who'd discovered the vandalized rock art. Which apparently granted him some sort of authority.
Sighing, Henry explained in a matter-of-fact, step-by-step manner exactly what had happened. He left out the part about the shadows in his cabin and following the shades of the Oriental babes over to Ray's, but in order to keep the story as emotionally true as possible, he described his uneasy feelings and the certainty he'd felt while looking at Ray's cabin that something terrible had happened inside. Then he talked about the train. They'd all seen that, so he held nothing back, describing that black locomotive in all of its hellish glory, explaining how even from far away he'd sensed its dark power. The others nodded as he spoke. He saw the fear on their faces, recognized it, felt it again himself.
"I guess what we're saying," he told Healey, "is that we need some assurances that something will be done to protect us. We're out there every day while you're safely in your office-"
"My office isn't that safe," the superintendent pointed out.
"All the more reason for us to come up with ... some sort of plan." Henry realized he was floundering. He had no place left to go.
"There's something out there," Stuart said. "And I don't want to meet it face-to-face."
Henry glanced out the open door. The state police had left only a few minutes prior, taking with them signed statements from the witnesses and, under plastic, Ray's body. It was the same forensics team that had come out to examine the still-unidentified woman and Laurie Chambers, and one investigator had joked that they ought to set up a satellite station here at Canyonlands, though no one had laughed. Henry thought now that the remark had hit too close to home. They were all on edge, waiting for someone else to die, and he wondered if any of the other rangers were thinking of quitting or, at the very least, transferring to another park. He certainly was.
No. That wasn't true. He was thinking about leaving Canyonlands in an objective, disassociated way, but he was not actually considering it.
Because of the twins.
There was a stirring between his legs, and he tried to think of something gross so he wouldn't get an erection: run-over squirrels, squished bugs, dog shit.
He suddenly realized that everyone was looking at him again. He'd zoned out and had no idea what turn the dialogue had taken. It seemed as though someone had asked a question and was waiting for his response. His gaze settled on Healey. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head to indicate his distracted state. "What?"
"I said," the superintendent repeated with exaggerated patience, "what do you think we can do to alleviate this problem?"
His mind ran down a host of options: restricting access to sections of the park, always working in teams of three, hiring a shaman... .
He thought of the twins.
Henry looked around the room at his fellow employees. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think there's anything we can do."
Seventeen
Bear Flats, California
"I can't believe it," Leslie said.
Jolene leaned back on her friend's couch, sipped her wine. "Believe it."
"But I don't understand why you haven't gone back. I mean, this is amazing stuff here. Aren't you the least bit curious?"
Jolene sighed. How could she explain to her friend the utter wrongness of that cellar, the horrible fear she'd felt while down there, the terrifying nightmares she'd been having ever since? She couldn't, she realized. Those were feelings too profound for words, sensations that could not be translated into language. "No," she lied. "I'm not curious."
They were silent for a moment, both of them sipping their drinks.
"A penis?" Leslie said finally. "Really?"
Jolene nodded.
"So you think Chester or one of the other Wil-liamses was some kind of serial killer?"
"I guess," Jolene said.
But that wasn't what she really thought, was it? That wasn't the reason she hadn't gone back. The truth was that her fear ran far deeper than that, was far more primal. It was the childhood fear of ghosts and monsters and the vast unfathomable unknown, and it was connected to the face she and Skylar had seen through the window at night. And the graves.
"Do you think I could see it?"
"The penis?" she said, stalling.
"The house. Everything."
Jolene shook her head.
"Come on!" Leslie prodded. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing."
"Why? Do you think Anna May would be against it?"
"No," Jolene admitted. "One thing I'll say for Anna May is that her commitment to history is pretty pure. She's not planning to hush this up to save reputations or protect the family because they donated the house. She's keeping quiet until she finds out everything she can and gets an accurate picture, but she intends to go public with all this and tell everyone."
"A house of horror brings in a lot more tourists than a dusty old museum."
"It's not even that. She genuinely thinks all information should be available no matter how gruesome or damaging or embarrassing it might be. I kind of admire her for that."
"Information deserves to be free. Isn't that the computer hackers' code or something?"
"I don't know." Jolene thought for a moment, finished her drink, then sighed. "I guess I can take you over there if you want. I do feel kind of bad for bailing on poor Anna May. I should at least apologize. She's called my mom's house about a dozen times over the past week, and I've been ducking her."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Now, about your mom's house ... ," Leslie said.
Jolene groaned. "One problem at a time, please."
Leslie laughed.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, Jolene thought. Maybe she'd built up the cellar experience in her mind so much that it had been blown way out of proportion and she was obsessing over something that wasn't nearly as horrific as she believed it to be.
She hoped.
They drove over to the Williams place in Jolene's car. Anna May's Oldsmobile was parked in the circular driveway, and Jolene pulled to a stop behind it, tapping lightly on the horn to announce their presence. Maybe the old woman wasn't as skittish as she was, but Jolene knew that if she were working in this house and someone surprised her by showing up without warning, she'd probably have a heart attack. The place was spooky. Even if she hadn't seen what she'd seen, she'd be creeped-out by the building. Especially on a day like today, where the sun was hidden behind a dark bank of threatening clouds, and the entire town lay under a gloomy shadow.
By the time they got out of the car, Anna May was on the porch. She was smiling widely, and for that, Jolene was thankful. At least the old woman wasn't angry with her. Although that also ratcheted up her guilt another notch. How could she have been so thoughtless as to abandon Anna May without an explanation?
She wasn't thoughtless, Jolene told herself. She was scared.
She found herself wondering if the reason Anna May was working alone was because the other members of the historical society had been frightened away, too.
"Mrs. Carter!" Leslie called. She bounced up the porch steps and gave the old woman a hug. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"I've been busy," Anna May said. "As you can see."
Indeed, the interior of the house was filled with boxes, papers and pictures that had been brought over from the old museum. The Williams family's furniture had been temporarily pushed against the wall along with other donated pieces. Jolene glanced over at Leslie, who shot her a "What do we say now?" look. Neither of them knew how to bring up the questions they really wanted to ask.