I can beat it there, he thought. Then I won’t have to warn her.
He drove another mile before his realization: he had Ken’s phone in his pocket, and that’s where he had stolen Melanie’s number from in the first place. Mike dug the phone out of his pocket and stole glances at it to find her number in the recent calls. Her number was on the list from that very morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Davey
BY THE TIME they got home, the pill started working. His mom had stopped at a drive-through for fast food and insisted they eat something in the car, so Davey would have a full stomach as the prescription recommended. Davey felt different—less paranoid and able to think clearly—but didn’t feel any profound effects from the medication.
When his mom pulled into the driveway, Davey unbuckled his seatbelt slowly and climbed deliberately out of the car, placing his hands and feet with care, as if these small motions demanded his full attention. Without being told, he gathered the fast food trash and his mom’s bag from the store. He wasn’t sure if his mom noticed the change in his behavior, but he wanted to be subtle, so he underplayed what he assumed the effects should be.
Davey put the trash into the large can in the garage and smiled to himself when he remembered that it was trash night. He would have extra time to play out his act. He pulled the can back on its wheels and moved it slowly past his mom’s car. His sister had already gone inside, but his mom was still collecting her work from the back of the car. She paused to watch him go by. Davey swallowed a tiny yawn.
He left the trash can at the curb and shuffled back to the house. His mom met him at the door.
“Where’s your bag?” asked Melanie.
“I left it at the Career Center,” said Davey. He looked at his feet. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Do you have stuff for catcher’s camp tomorrow?”
“All except knee pads,” he answered. “But I can borrow those.” He walked over to the kitchen table and sat at his place, looking at the placemat. Although his torpor was mostly an act, he did find it very easy to concentrate on very small details for a long period of time. He could have suggested that he go to bed early, but he knew it would carry more strength if it came from Mom.
“Did you get enough to eat?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, not bothering to look up at her.
“Your sister is watching TV,” she said. “Do you want to go watch with her.”
“No thank you,” said Davey.
“Ice cream?”
“I’m stuffed, thanks,” said Davey. He regretted this last answer immediately. Davey sensed that turning down ice cream might be too obvious, but to his surprise, she seemed to believe his answer.
“You seem tired, honey,” she said, walking over to stroke his hair. “Do you want to go to bed early?”
“I guess,” he said, staying put in his seat.
“Come on,” she said, tugging at his arm, “You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Okay,” he said.
ONCE ALONE, DAVEY WENT through all the motions of preparing for bed. After his shower, instead of wearing his pajamas, he pulled out fresh clothes and dressed himself before climbing between the sheets. When Melanie tucked him in, he wore everything except the windbreaker, hanging from his doorknob.
In the dark, Davey shut his eyes and thought about the hunter—the monster working its bloody way across the state to reach his family. If he were dreaming, he would be able to watch its every move, but he didn’t dare sleep. It was too close. The best he could do while awake was to form a general sense of its actions. Flashes played across his closed eyes. He saw Doctor Stuart’s kind face twisted in agony. He saw another woman. He didn’t recognize her, but she was also connected to his blood.
Davey opened his eyes in the dark and tears escaped the corners of his eyes. He had almost gotten used to waking from horrible nightmares, but watching the monster eat its prey was too much for his conscious mind to bear. Davey panted as he slipped back into the mellow funk of the drug. He craned his neck and watched the band of light under his door. Footsteps crossed from left to right. The bright hall light was doused. He heard his mom padding down the stairs.
In the kitchen, the house phone rang. Davey recognized his opportunity and slipped from between the sheets. He grabbed his jacket from the doorknob and pulled his door shut behind him. His plan was simple, but relied on some luck. At the bottom of the stairs he caught his first break—his mom’s bag sat next to the coat closet. He crouched and rifled through the bag, grabbing her cellphone, keys, and wallet.
The front door was closest, but it made terrible squeaking noise when opened and a loud click when closed. He needed one more bit of luck to get away. Stuck to the side of the house, his mom’s office had a sliding door which he could open and close silently. It led to the side yard. Unfortunately, to get to the office he would have to pass right behind the couch where his sister was watching TV.
Davey crept past the closet and halted behind the potted palm so he could spy on his sister using the reflection in the window. He stood so still that his legs started to burn with the exertion. The volume on the TV was low and above it Davey heard the steady flip of magazine pages. Just from the sound of her page-turning Davey knew his sister was mad at something. He froze, watching the reflection of the back of her head. As perceptive as his sister was normally, when she was angry she was even more so: apt to complain that he was breathing too much or his heart was beating too loudly. He knew he couldn’t dare try to sneak past her.
He turned back towards the front door, ready to take a chance. Just as his foot crossed back into the hall next to the stairs, he heard his mom on the phone, pushing her way through the swinging door from the kitchen.
“I just think we’re not going to have time for that,” she said into the phone. Davey pulled his foot back and pressed himself flat against the wall. His mother was right around the corner; he heard her talking as she bent to pick up her purse. “Hold on, I’ll ask her royal highness. Susan?” she yelled, retreating down the hall.
“What?” he heard his sister from his other side.
His mom called something from the kitchen that Davey couldn’t quite hear. She addressed his sister from the other side of the TV room. Davey compared his options again. The front door was too risky, but now that his mom was on the other side of the TV room, she would see him sneaking into her office.
“Okay, I’m coming,” he heard his sister say. “God,” she said, exhaling.
When he heard his sister’s discarded magazine hit the table, Davey took a gamble. He sidled down to the plant and checked the reflection in the window one last time. As quickly and as quietly as his sneakers would allow, Davey tiptoed behind the couch and made the safety of his mom’s office without being seen.
He slipped out the sliding door, closing it harder than he intended. Glancing in the window, he found he was safe—his sister and mom were deeply engaged in the kitchen. Davey moved across the side yard and crossed through the Jankovick’s yard to get to the alley between the houses.
Crouched behind the bushes, Davey dialed Paul’s number.
“Hello?” Paul answered the phone timidly.
“Hey Paul, it’s me,” said Davey.