A cigarette or cigar might work as a delaying device, but he didn’t have one.
Maybe the girl.
Crouching over her small pile of clothes, he lifted the T-shirt. It had no pockets. He picked up the cut-off jeans and searched their pockets. Nothing.
Shit!
He couldn’t just set the room on fire and run: He had to give himself time. Time to get into Cabin 12, time to get into 9, time to get a good distance away in Donna’s car.
Wait.
Shit, he’d have to burn 9 and 12, too.
Forget it.
Forget the whole thing.
He suddenly smiled. Without a delayed fire ready to set this place ablaze, he wouldn’t have to rush. He could take his time, enjoy himself.
What he’d do, he’d wipe the place clean, make sure he left no prints.
He wandered the rooms with the girl’s T-shirt, rubbing all the surfaces he remembered touching. Somehow, it seemed pointless. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a hollow ache in his stomach as if something had gone very wrong. Something he’d forgotten about.
He dumped the backpack onto the floor. Along with the ground cloth and sleeping bags, four cans of chili and spaghetti rolled out.
He should’ve eaten. That’s what made the ache.
He rubbed the cans with the T-shirt.
No, it wasn’t just hunger. Something else was wrong.
He rubbed the aluminum tubing of the pack frame.
Shit!
Karen and Bob’s place! He’d never found out, for certain, whether or not it had burned.
That morning, on the radio, they’d only mentioned the one fire. If Karen and Bob’s place didn’t go up, then the cops would have all the proof they’d need.
Okay, maybe it went up, and he just hadn’t heard. He should still be careful with this place.
Not leave evidence.
Not leave witnesses.
He swept the room with his eyes, wondering if he’d missed anything. When he was satisfied the place was clean, he went into the bathroom and urinated. He came out. Bending down, he raised his cuff and slipped the knife from its sheath.
A single clean slash across the throats would do it. He’d stand back to stay out of the spray.
Knife in hand, he stood.
He took one step toward Joni’s bed and realized she was gone.
Impossible!
Rushing to the bed, he slid his hands across its sheets to be certain his eyes and the darkness hadn’t deceived him. No, the bed was empty. She’d somehow worked the ropes loose.
He glanced down between the beds. No sign of her.
Under the bed?
The doorknob rattled. Roy looked, saw the small girl reaching, pulling. The door flew open for a moment, and shut.
“Oh fuck!” Roy muttered.
He ran to the door, swung it open, and stepped out. He shut it silently. Except for a few lighted cabin windows, the parking lot was dark. Roy looked to the left, thinking she would head for the office. No sign of her. He glanced to the right. Still nothing. Maybe she’d run around back.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”
He would just finish off the other one, first.
He tried to twist the knob. It resisted, as if frozen.
Locked out. Keys inside.
Roy drew a deep, shaky breath. He wiped the sweat off his hands, then hurried around the corner of the cabin. Ahead was only darkness. Woods. The night sounds of crickets.
He wanted his flashlight.
He’d left it inside.
Walking quietly, he entered the darkness to find Joni.
The little bitch!
His hand ached, gripping the knife so hard.
He’d rip her! God, he would rip that little bitch! Up one side, down the other.
“Where are you?” he muttered. “Think you can hide from me, little bitch? I know your smell. I’ll sniff you down.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 1.
“That’s it,” Donna said. “Lilly let the beast into the house, so it would kill the children and Ethel.”
“That’s how it looks,” Jud agreed.
“It’s not the way Maggie told it on the tour. Maggie had her barricaded in the bedroom, remember?”
“I think,” Jud said, “that Maggie lies a lot.”
“Do you suppose she lied about Lilly going mad?”
“I doubt it. That’s too easy to check on. We just need to see a local newspaper from the time to verify that. Lilly probably did flip out. If she was really behind the murder of her own children, that could send her over the edge. From the sound of it, she wouldn’t have needed more than a nudge, at that point.”
“And watching Xanadu kill the children gave her the nudge?”
“Likely.”
“I wonder what Xanadu did after she was gone. Do you think he stayed in the house?”
“He might’ve. Or maybe he went off, and continued the way he’d lived before Lilly.”
“But he did come back,” Donna said, “when Maggie and her family moved in. Maybe he was waiting, all that time, for Lilly to return. When he finally saw someone living there, he must’ve thought she’d come back.”
“I don’t know,” Jud said. “I really don’t know what to think about any of this. The diary sure throws a monkey wrench into my theory about the beast. Assuming the diary is authentic. And I think we have to assume it’s authentic, at least to the extent that Lilly Thorn wrote it. Nobody else had any reason to tell a story like that.”
“What about Maggie?”
“She kept it locked up. If she’d written it herself, faked it, she would’ve used it somehow: had it published, sold copies on the tour, something. I think she kept it for her own personal…”
A knock on the door silenced Jud. He picked up his automatic. “Ask who it is,” he whispered.
“Who’s there?”
“Mommy?” The girl’s voice was chocked with fear.
“Open it,” Jud said.
As Donna got to her feet, Jud lay down flat in the space between the beds.
He watched her unlock the door and pull it open. Sandy was standing in the darkness—standing on tiptoes to ease the pain of her pulled hair, tears shiny in her eyes, a six-inch knife blade pressed to her throat.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” a man asked, and laughed. He pushed Sandy ahead of him into the room, and kicked the door shut.
“Tell your friend to come out,” he said.
“There’s no one.”
“Don’t shit me. Tell him to come out, or I’ll start cutting.”
“She’s your daughter, Roy!”
“She’s just another cunt. Tell him.”
“Jud!”
He pushed his pistol under the bed, and slowly stood, hands out to show they were empty.
“Where’s your piece?” the man asked.
“Piece?”
“Everybody’s playing dumb. Cut the fuckin’ dumb show, and tell me where’s your gun.”
“I don’t have a gun.”
“No? Your buddy did.”
“Who?”
“Shit.”
“Who’re you?” Jud asked.
“Okay, knock it off. Both of you, get your hands on top of your heads and interlace your fingers.”
“Donna, who is this guy?”
“My husband,” said Donna, looking confused.
“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me? Look, fella, I didn’t even know she was married. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. You think you’re mad, my wife’s gonna kill me. You aren’t gonna tell her, are you? Why don’t you put down that blade, man? The kid didn’t do nothing. She didn’t know from Adam. We just stuck her on this guy, gave him a couple bucks to babysit while we…you know, had a good time.”
“Get over against the wall, both of you.”
“What’re you gonna do? You’re not gonna…hey, we didn’t even do nothing! I didn’t even touch her. Did I touch you, Donna?”