Code 61

THIRTY-ONE

Wednesday, October 11, 2000

23:30

“The vampire hunter?” asked Sally.

“Yep.” He was holding very still, as I looked. There was no doubt. I could see bulges on his back and down one side, that looked like that pack he'd had earlier, and something else I couldn't quite make out. But it was him, all right. I watched him move toward the porch, creep up the steps, and then crouch down using a pillar as cover, and peer into the house through the glazed doors. He froze there. After a minute, I handed the night scope to Sally.

“Look at the front porch, behind the right-hand pillar.”

Without the benefit of the scope, the night was suddenly much darker.

“Oh, yeah. I see him.” After a second, she said, “Carl, ya think, I mean, since he hunts vampires, you know… ”

“That he's got one now?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Naw. I think he's still looking.” I tried to sound convincing, but I was thinking on another track altogether. I was hurriedly going back through all the evidence regarding Dan Peale. Could he and Chester be the same person? They were close to the same height, if the data on Peale was correct. They could be of an age. He'd appeared just as we were getting into Peale, and that had been a remarkable coincidence even at the time.

“What's he doing?” I whispered to Sally.

“Just squatting there,” she said.

I picked up my own walkie-talkie, and called Borman, sotto voce.

“We have a man on the grounds,” I said, “but I believe I recognize him. Whiskey Charlie.”

“Ten-nine?” he crackled back.

“Initials Whiskey Charlie.”

There was a pause, then, “Ah, ten-four. The expert, then?”

“Ten-four. That's the one. Heads up, he might know more than we do. Ah, and let's go code sixty-one on this… ” No names, no locations.

“Ten-four.”

I placed the walkie back in its carrier. “What's he doing, now?”

“Hasn't moved.”

My mind was flying, trying to evaluate our situation. It occurred to me it was possible that if Chester wasn't Peale, he may have followed Peale to the house. If we approached, we would cause some sort of commotion, especially if we confronted him on the porch. If Peale were in the house, he could well take off.

But the actions of the people in the house, at least those we'd seen, seemed very normal.

Which left me with Peale not in the house, but meant that Chester could be Peale and just be waiting for the residents to go to bed before he entered.

That didn't add up, really, either. I completed my little circle of reasoning.

“Bullshit,” I said, “it's just Chester.”

“I know it's just Chester,” answered Sally, “and now he's moving,” thereby relinquishing her right to the night scope.

“Give me the scope,” I said.

She did, and I picked him up as he crossed the porch and kept going left, toward the far side of the house. He hesitated at the corner, then disappeared around the side of the house.

“Shit. He went around the other side.”

What to do? Move, and possibly reveal our position? Stay put and never see where he went? One set of night-vision gear didn't help, although I probably wouldn't have split us up, regardless.

“Okay, Sally. We gotta go to our right. We'll go about a hundred feet, then head toward the house. Maybe fifty feet, to the big tree that's in the yard, there. We'll be out of the trees, so we lie down. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We stay on the ground, and we look at the back side of the house, and this side, and I think we also get the front from there.” I began moving. “Keep it quiet,” I said, “and just hang on to my coat.” I had the scope, and could see very clearly, indeed. Sally would be moving into darker ground without that benefit.

It took us about a long minute to cover the distance. I glanced at the house through the scope, and saw that we could see the back and the near side. Just the edge of the front porch. That would have to do.

“We're at the tree. It's on your right.”

“I can see it when we're this close,” she said.

I looked up, without the night scope. The tree loomed large, and distinctly. I cleared my throat quietly. “Okay. Well, then… ”

With that, we both lay down in the wet grass, in the rain, and waited.

I handed the scope to Sally. “You watch, I'm going to try to contact the office from here.”

“Right.” She eagerly took the vision gear from me. As soon as she started looking, she said “Nothing.” That at least let me know the equipment was still functioning.

I tried the office three times on the INFO channel, to no avail. Then I tried Borman on the OPS channel. Damn. We were now way over his radio horizon, and had even more trees between us. I'd probably have to stand up to get either one of them.

We lay there in complete silence for a good fifteen minutes, and I was beginning to believe that Chester, or whoever he really was, had either gotten into the house, or left altogether.

“You think Mr. Chester could be Dan Peale?” whispered Sally.

“Possible,” I whispered back. But I'd had a little time to think about it. “Don't think so, though. I don't think the timing's right for some stuff.” But I was tired, and I couldn't be absolutely sure that there hadn't been time for him to be in both Nation County and in Lake Geneva. “Not sure, though.”

“How do we find out for sure?” she asked.

I hate whispered conversations. If we're supposed to be quiet, then, by God, shut up. In this case, however, it had a benefit. Because she'd asked the question, I stopped planning alternative approaches to reacquiring Chester, and realized that Borman was the only person on our side who'd actually ever seen Dan Peale. And I didn't think Borman had ever actually seen William Chester. How do we find out, indeed?

“We let Borman take a look at him,” I said. “Now hush up.”

I got a sharp little fist in the ribs for that.

We lay there in the rain for another five minutes, as I tried to persuade myself that patience was, indeed, a virtue. We'd already moved once. Twice might be pushing our luck too far. I was a little concerned, though, because the area where I thought that elevator shaft into the mine was located was now more behind us than to our right. All I needed was for Peale to emerge from the ground at our rear.

“You might use the scope,” I whispered, “and check behind us once in a while.”

I could almost hear her mental relays click into place. “Shit,” she whispered. “Shit, shit, shit… ” as she rolled over, and raised her head to see behind us.

After a second, I made out, “Clear.” There was a rubbery rustling as she rolled back onto her stomach, to see ahead again.

It was relatively quiet for almost a minute, with only the heavy dripping of the tree to listen to. Then, Sally made a subdued noise that sounded like a cross between a balloon with a slow leak, and a frog with sinus trouble. As she did, I caught a faint movement at the far end of the Mansion. It had to be Chester, coming around to the rear.

“Give me the scope,” I hissed. Reluctantly, she did. I pressed it to my eye, and sure enough, there was William Chester in all his green glory. As he crept under the rear kitchen window, the interior lights suddenly came on, and framed him in a brilliant rectangle. He ducked back, and I blinked, because of the “bloom” of the night scope as it failed to adjust instantly to the light.

I lost sight of him. At first, I thought he'd stepped back around the corner, but as I made a precautionary sweep of the area, I caught a glimpse of him moving to our right, toward the bluff and the trees. Toward the same area where Old Knockle had spotted him and the illegal car on the day of Edie's wake. Of course. He must have parked down there again, and was on his way back to the road.

I stood, to get a better view of him as he faded into the wet woods, and said to Sally in a normal tone of voice, “Call Borman. Have him go to the face of the cliff, down at the highway. He's heading for the highway!” I hated to move Borman, but we needed him to get a look at Chester, to make sure he wasn't Peale. We also needed him to make sure that Chester didn't get away in a car.

I started off toward the bluff, a good distance behind Chester, but I knew where he was headed. I could hear Sally behind me, telling Borman to get moving.

Running while holding a night scope to your eye is about impossible. There's no compensation for the bouncing you do as you move, and everything is just a blur. I put the scope at my side, and kept moving, but slower, since I couldn't see much in the natural light, and I didn't want to run smack into a tree. The damned night scope had degraded my night vision for a few minutes.

“Where are we going?” asked Sally.

“He went into the woods just ahead of us here,” I said. “It'll take him a few minutes to get down a ravine that's just ahead here somewhere.” I put the scope back to my eye, and looked around. I thought I could see the upper reaches of the ravine just to our right.

“Tell Borman to shut his headlights off before he gets to the highway. We don't want our boy seeing him coming.”

Sally was a good dispatcher. She repeated exactly what I'd said into her mike. While she did, it occurred to me to try the little infrared searchlight that was a part of the scope. It only had a range of about twenty-five yards, but it made everything within that distance much clearer through the scope. It also drained the battery about four times as fast.

The beauty of the IR searchlight is that people can't see it without a night scope of their own. Wily, those Russians.

Sally had a hand on my raincoat as I slowly threaded my way into the ravine. The rocks, which had been slippery the other day, were like greased marble now. It was very slow going.

“I can't see shit,” said Sally.

“Good thing,” I said. “Stop here.”

She did. “What for?”

“He's got to be down the ravine from us,” I said.

“Let me watch for a few seconds. I think I should be able to pick up movement.” I must have watched for a good fifteen seconds, which seemed like forever. Nothing. No sound, no sign of Chester.

“See him?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Can I,” asked Sally, “take a peek at where we're going? It'd help.”

Good idea. As we were transferring possession of the night scope, there was a rattling among the rocks somewhere below us. We fumbled the scope, and I heard it hit what sounded like a wet branch, and then a sharp click as it struck a rock.

“Shit.”

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” said Sally.

“You got a flashlight?” I asked, disgusted with my self.

“Yeah, a Mini-Mag, in here somewhere… ” And I heard the sound of her raincoat being unzipped and pulled about as she tried to find a path to her utility belt.

“Not your fault,” I said, waiting for her to hand me the light. I wasn't going to move, because my only orientation for finding the night scope was the knowledge that it was just about straight down from my feet.

I saw the glow of her little flashlight still inside her raincoat. She must have hit the switch. She was about to cast light all over the place as she brought it out.

“No! Turn it off!” I whispered as loudly as I could.

She tried, she really did. I think she reached her other hand inside the twisted raincoat to try to turn the light off without fumbling it, too. In doing so, she lost her balance, and disappeared with a thud and a bump and a rush of raincoat against branches.

It was thunderously quiet.

“Shit, Houseman” came a faint voice. “I fell.”

“You okay?”

“No.”

I slowly bent my knees, hanging on to a branch. I had no idea whether I was on a large rock, or just a small one, and I sure as hell didn't think I'd help Sally if I came crashing down on her.

“What's wrong?”

“My butt hurts,” she said.

“You still got that flashlight?”

“Yeah.”

“Go ahead and turn it on,” I said. “We gotta get you up.”

The light came on right beneath me. She had fallen about four feet.

“Anything else hurt?” I asked.

“Just my butt,” she said. She slowly got to her feet, which brought her head to about the level of my knees. “Everything else seems fine.”

Although the rock I was standing on was pretty big, I was about three inches from the edge. I took about a half step back, and said, “As long as you're down there, see if you can find the scope.”

She shone the light downward, and said, “Got it.” She reached down and handed it up to me.

I laid it on my rock, and reached down with my left hand. “Grab hold, and I'll get you up here. Turn off the light before I pull, okay?”

She did. I counted three, heaved, and up she came.

I peered through the night scope as soon as she was stable on the rocks. It still worked. One thing about Red Army gear, it's known for being rugged. I panned down the ravine. Nothing.

“See anything?”

“Nope. Even if he didn't hear us, he's long gone.” I decided a little more noise didn't really matter. “See if you can reach Borman,” I said. “See what he's got down at the bottom of this ravine.”

She did. He reported that all he could see was what he thought was a car. I guessed he still had his lights off. At least he was getting better at following instructions.

“Tell him we're on the way down, and we think the suspect is ahead of us.”

She did, and we began moving down the ravine again. It took us about five or six minutes, but we made it to the bottom.

With my night scope, I could see the car Borman meant, along with Borman and his car about fifty yards up the road, off on the shoulder. There was no sign of our intrepid Mr. Chester. I looked back up the ravine, and over the parts of the bluff below the trees. Nothing.

“Tell Borman to come on over,” I said. I was disgusted with myself, and with the way things had turned out.

We checked on the car. A rental out of Jollietville, Wisconsin. No wants, no reports of any activity concerning it. Just a bland car.

We looked into the car from the outside, but there was nothing in the interior except a receipt on the passenger seat. I could see the header of the rental company on the pink paper. No name. The doors were locked. Lack of clutter was to be expected from a rental. None of us could read the information on the sheet through the rain-spattered window because the drops reflected our flashlight beams. In a moment of inspiration, I lifted the night scope to my eye, and hit the zoom button. No reflections, and the paper became twice as big. “William Chester,” I said. “Rented yesterday, at one-fifteen P.M.”

When such a simple thing as thinking to use the night scope makes you feel better, you know you're having a bad night. The fact that it was a rental though, and not stolen, confirmed in my mind that Chester definitely was not our vampire.

“Where the hell'd he get to?” asked Sally.

A very good question. My first thought was that he'd just climbed out of the ravine when I dropped the night scope, and had gone deep into the trees. Either that, or he knew about that private cable car arrangement.

In my experience, the most exotic explanation is just about invariably wrong. “Probably back over into the trees,” I said. Even with a night scope, there was no way that one or two of us would be able to track him down in the trees, the underbrush and the rain.

I looked at Borman. “Not one of our better nights,” I said. “How about giving Sally and me a ride back up to the Mansion? That's probably where he's headed.”

“Sure. You think he's really Peale?”

It was somehow reassuring that it had occurred to Borman, too. “Not now. This car isn't something snatched off the lot, it's a rental.”

“Oh.”

“But be damned careful. Somebody else could be doing some hunting tonight, too.”

“Right.” He sounded just a little unsure. Good. At least he'd keep his doors locked.

“Okay,” I said, “after you drop us off this time, come back down around here, and set up someplace where you can watch this car. If he sees us leave, I think he might try to leave.”

“Could he try to get back to the Mansion on us?” I liked that. It was the first time Borman had used “us,” and it made me think he might be coming around.

“I dunno,” I said. “He's a persistent bastard, but he's gotta give up sometime.”

We piled in Borman's car, and off we went. We'd find out.

When we got to the top of the drive, and we were getting out of the car, I turned on the night scope to check the front of the house. The thing flickered, and went dead.

“Shit,” I said. I tapped it a few times. Nothing. I tapped it a bit harder with the heel of my hand. Nothing. I removed the battery, wiped it with my hand, and reinserted it, making sure it wasn't shorting out due to the rain. No luck.

“What's wrong with it?” asked Sally.

“Battery seems dead. Nothing works.”

“Great.”

“Well,” I said, “that just means we stay here near the front. I don't want to go making a lot of noise stomping through the brush.”

Borman rolled his car quietly back down the hill, and Sally and I trudged the last few yards to the edge of the gate and the wall. We found a relatively dry spot where a pine branch hung over the wall, and hunkered down there.

“Did you bring the case for the night scope?” Damn. Of course I hadn't. I'd left it at our first surveillance point.

“We'll find it at first light,” I said. “Ought to be about six-thirty or so, up here on the bluffs.” I looked at my watch. It was 01:19. “About five hours from now.”

We watched the front of the house in turns, after about 01:45. One of us would doze a bit under the trees, in a crouch with our back against the tree trunk, while the other watched. We agreed on thirty-minute shifts. Sally stood first watch.

Sally was the one watching at about 04:40 when we heard the noise. I wasn't dozing at the time, and joined her at the wall before she even tried to get me.

We both listened. Nothing. Just the patter of raindrops, and the heavier dripping from the eaves of the house, striking the porch roof.

“What was it?”

“It sounded to me,” said Sally, “like somebody hitting something. Thumping sound, like wood on wood. Two, maybe three times.”

“I only heard one,” I said. “Loud, but soft, you know?”

“Yep.”

“Loud footsteps, maybe?”

“I don't think so,” she said. “Maybe like somebody throwing a snowball at the side of the house.”

Obviously there was no snow. But she'd described the sound perfectly.

We waited. Any more dozing was out of the question. I really missed that night scope.

About ten minutes later, I could have sworn I heard a muffled male voice, angry. It sounded like it came from inside the Mansion.

“You hear that?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Shhh.”

It was quiet again, but not for as long.

Even in the dark, we could see the front door fly open as a figure ran down the porch steps, slipped, fell flat in the driveway, rolled, got up, and came running toward us as fast as it could go. The sound of bare feet slapping onto the drive was audible even at our distance, and got louder as the figure approached.

Sally and I didn't utter a word. We just both started moving quickly to our left, to intercept whoever it was.

We beat whoever it was to the gate by about two seconds.

“Stop!” I said it loud enough to be clearly heard. The figure didn't even slow down.

I didn't have time to think, I just stepped out, lowered my right shoulder, and got bowled over by the impact. But I hung on, and rolled on top.

Sally shined her flashlight on us, just in time for me to see Toby's mouth open as he took a deep breath and screamed right in my face.

I was startled, but clamped a hand over his mouth, and said, loudly, “It's just cops!”

He went silent, but I kept my hand in place. His eyes were darting, and I could feel his chest heaving under me. I shifted, to let him breathe, and he started to try to get up.

“Stay put!”

He was looking right at me, but I don't think he had the slightest idea who I was.

“Get ten-seventy-eight,” I said to Sally. If we ever needed help, it was going to be now. Whatever had scared Toby out of that house…

His first words, at least those that were understandable, were “Oh, fuck, oh shit.”

“Toby, what are you doing here?”

I got a frightened, blank look. Sally stopped talking on her portable long enough to say, “He signed himself out.”

Of course. Voluntary commitment meant that he could sign out of the treatment center whenever he wanted to.

“Listen up!” I said to him. “Get a grip!”

“He's here!”

“Who?”

“Dan, you dumb fuck! He's here, I gotta go… ” And with that he began to struggle to get away from me.

“Settle down, damn it!” I needed him to at least stop struggling.

It was then that he brought his fist up and smacked me on the left side of my head. I think it was a reaction, nothing more, but I responded by hitting him squarely in the face. I felt his head thud back down into the drive, and saw his eyes cross. But he stopped struggling.

“Ow,” he said groggily. He had one of those instant nosebleeds, that looked much worse than it was, because the rain was keeping his face wet. “That hurt.”

No time for an apology, although I was aware of a surprised look from Sally. I was just glad I hadn't hit the stud between his eyes.

“Tell me what's happening in there!”

“Don't fuckin' hit me again,” he said.

“Talk!”

“Dan's back, man. He's in there, and he's really, really pissed. I told you fuckers, he's not gonna like this shit. I told you!”

“Who all's in there with him?”

“What?”

I grabbed him by the collar, becoming aware for the first time that he was clad in flannel pajamas. “Get your shit together,” I said. “Tell me who else is in that house with Dan.” I said it slowly, and fairly quietly.

He snuffled some blood in his nose, grimaced, and said, “Me. Me, and Kevin, and Huck and Melissa.”

“What about Hanna?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, sniffed, and then sneezed, covering both of us with a fine spatter of blood droplets. “Excuse me.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

I had a dilemma. We had to get into the house, and fast. I didn't want to take a chance and leave Sally out here with Toby, in case Dan got by me and came out this way. Yet, I didn't want to have to drag Toby into the house with us, either. I couldn't cut him loose, and have him wandering about, because he wasn't in any condition to be left on his own.

I stood him up. “We're going into the house. Come on.” I started guiding him toward the Mansion, and he actually took two or three steps before it dawned on him.

“No way!” He started to twist, and I was afraid he'd tear his pajamas and break free.

In a moment of inspiration, I grabbed both his arms, and got right back in his face. “I think Dan's out here.”

His eyes widened.

I was lying, but what the hell. It was his turn to be deceived.

I must have been very convincing, because Sally reached for her gun, and started to look behind her.

The three of us hustled across the drive, and up the porch steps. Toby was looking behind us all the way. Good. Sally had her service weapon out, and I pulled mine, as well.

“What did the office say?”

“Borman's on his way up now,” she said. There wasn't a hint of a quaver in her voice. Dispatch training.

“And?”

“They're rounding up everybody they can get,” she said.

Just as we reached the door, I heard an engine roaring up the drive. Borman. We paused on the porch, as he came steaming up the drive, through the gate, and slid to a halt just a few feet from the bottom of the steps. He jumped out, and came running up the steps.

“Whaddya got?” he asked, breathing heavily.

We told him, in about five seconds.

“Now,” I ended, “you shove Toby here in your car, lock the doors and make sure the cage is tight. Then follow us in.”

He didn't even ask a question. That was the way it was supposed to work.

Sally and I entered the house.

As we passed through the main doors, the patter of the rain was filtered out, and the sudden quiet was remarkable. I hadn't realized how much the sound of the rain had pervaded our world outside.

We stood still, the sound of the water dripping from our rain gear making the only noise in the whole, huge house. It was completely dark, and very warm in contrast with the outside temperature.

“Use your Mini-Mag,” I said, “and see if you can find the lights.”

A moment later, the overhead light in the entryway came on.

We looked around. Nothing appeared disturbed. I holstered my gun for a second, slipped out of my raincoat and let it drop to the floor. I pulled my gun again. “Take off your coat,” I said softly. “It'll be quieter.”

I heard her removing it. Silence again. Then, a little bump of a sound, from the direction of the inglenook under the stairs. I glanced at Sally. She nodded that she'd heard it, too. The two of us moved very slowly toward the foot of the stairs, and into the darkness again.

Sally shined her light into the inglenook. Curled up under the wooden bench seat was a body clad in a flannel nightgown. Hanna.

“Hanna,” I said. “You all right?”

She simply stared.

“Hanna?” said Sally.

“Go away,” Hanna hissed.

“Where's everybody else? Come on, Hanna, tell me,” I said evenly.

At that point, there was a noticeable suction in the air as the main doors opened and Borman came in. Hanna curled up tightly, and covered her eyes with her forearm.

“Leave me alone. Go away.”

“Hanna, look at me. Tell me where everybody is.”

She did look at me, but she didn't speak. Then her gaze shifted up, toward the staircase. I didn't know whether she was looking for an escape path, or hoping to see someone start down the stairs.

“Just tell me where everybody is,” I said quietly. “That's all you have to do.”

“I don't know,” she said, in a faint, shaky voice. “Maybe you better go upstairs.”

“Why upstairs?” I hoped.

“I'm not going up there,” she said. “But I think you better go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” I asked. “Who all's upstairs?”

“I think Melissa and Huck are up there,” said Hanna. “Please don't talk to me. You'll make him mad at me.”

“What's going on up there?” I asked.

“He's angry with them,” she said, very calmly and simply. “I heard it.”

“Where's Kevin?” asked Sally.

“He left,” said Hanna. “Please, please don't talk to me anymore.”

“There will be some more police coming,” I said. “Don't be afraid of them. Officer Borman here will take you to his car. You'll be safe there.”

Before he could protest, Sally and I were already on the bottom steps. I was leaving him with his car, because I thought he could more ably hold his own against Dan Peale, if he showed up to get at the two in the car. Sally was good, but I thought she'd be better off with either Borman or me. And I wasn't too keen about going upstairs alone, to tell the truth.

I reached out and flipped the switch at the bottom of the stair, and the chandelier above the landing came on. We headed up the stairs.

At the top, I looked down the hall. Everything seemed perfectly fine, except for one jarring note. There were wood splinters on the hall carpet, near the door across from Edie's room.

“Whose room is that?” Sally whispered.

“Edie's on the right, Melissa on the left, I think,” I said. I saw the switch plate, and turned on the hall light.

“Oh boy.”

“Let me go first,” I said.

“No problem.”

“Keep alert.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Except for the sounds of our muffled steps on the carpet, it was absolutely quiet. A very bad sign.

I glanced in Edie's opened door as we got to it. It seemed empty. I stuck my head in. All looked to be as we had left it the last time we were here. Except for some purplish flowers on the bed.

“It's clear,” I said, as I pulled back into the hall.

We crossed diagonally to Melissa's shattered door. It had obviously been hit very hard.

“You stay here in the hall. He could be anywhere. Don't come in unless I tell you to.”

“Okay,” said Sally.

I looked more closely at Melissa's door as I entered her room. It had been struck repeatedly with considerable force, probably kicked. There were two places where something had penetrated completely, and the removal of whatever it was had pulled fragments out into the hall. Probably the kicker's foot.

I reached around the door frame, found the light switch, and turned it on.

The door was off its hinges at the bottom, and I pushed it back with my shoulder as I crossed the threshold. The first thing I saw was the overturned chair. The low bookshelf under the window was also overturned, the books spilled out onto the rug. The curtains had been pulled down, the dangling rod bent but still in the bracket. The window was opened about three inches. I moved my eyes to the right, and saw that the mattress was half off the bed frame, and the sheet and blankets were on the floor. There was a broken bed lamp near the head of the bed, and a framed picture all askew on the wall beside it. In the plaster wall was a large dent, at about my eye level. Another, a little lower, with what looked to be blood in the center. I followed the logical line downward, and there was a pool of blood on the floor, at the corner of the bed. And a foot with a bloody, white cotton sock on it just visible as it protruded from the space between the bed and the wall.

I was over there in two steps. I peered down into the narrow space, and saw a crumpled body in a pair of pink polka-dotted cotton pajama bottoms and a blue T-shirt. The body was on its left side, facing the wall, and the knees were drawn up toward the chest, and the right arm was bent over the head, the elbow covering the face, in a familiar protective posture. The left arm wasn't visible. There was quite a bit of blood, mostly dried.

The purplish red hair told me it was Melissa.

I put my gun in my holster, and leaned gingerly on the bed, reached down, and felt for a carotid pulse. She flinched, startling me, and filling me with relief at the same time.

“Melissa,” I said, “it's me, Houseman. We're here. It's going to be all right.” There was a slight movement, and her left hand moved, just a bit. She made a weak “thumbs up” sign.

“Sally!”

I unclipped my walkie-talkie from my belt, and called Dispatch, as Sally entered the room, and hurried over.

“Comm, Three, ten-thirty-three.”

Because we'd prerequested help, the dispatch center was unusually alert.

“Three, go,” came snapping back.

“Comm, we're at the Mansion, we have a civilian down, multiple injuries, need a ten-fifty-two. This is ten-thirty-three.”

It never hurts to repeat the 10-33.

“Ten-four, Three.”

I shoved the walkie-talkie in my back pocket, and watched as Sally lay on the bed, reached down, and took Melissa's pulse. We couldn't move her, in case there was a spinal or severe internal injury, until we got help and some equipment.

“I can't see my watch,” said Sally. To read her watch and take Melissa's pulse, she had to have both arms down into the small space that contained the victim. It was too dark in that crack to see the hands. “Tell me to 'go' and 'stop' when fifteen seconds are up.”

I looked at my watch. When the second hand reached the numeral six, I said “Go!” I watched it sweep through fifteen seconds. “Stop!”

“Okay, when the fifty-two goes ten-eight,” said Sally, “tell Comm to relay we have rapid, shallow breathing, weak pulse of ninety-five.”

I did. “Comm, Three, when the ambulance starts to roll, tell 'em victim has rapid, shallow breathing, weak pulse of ninety-five.” They had me repeat it, and I complied.

I didn't want to leave Melissa, but we didn't know what else we had going on. I checked her bathroom, found nobody, and came back into the bedroom. I took a second to study the scene more closely, and tapped Sally on the shoulder.

She looked up from Melissa. “Yeah?”

“Looks like the door was kicked in fast. While she was sleeping. Looks like she tried to escape out the window and he got in too fast. See?”

Sally looked around. “Yeah.”

“And he slammed her head into the wall,” I said, indicating the dents. “Twice, at least.” I didn't say it, but it looked as if he'd shoved the back of her head into the wall the first time, and the face into it the second, as there didn't seem to have been much blood on the back of her head. “How's she doing?”

“No heavy bleeding I can see,” Sally said. “You might take a look out in the hall. Just past this door. I noticed it while I was waiting. A heck of a dent in the wall, across the hall,” she said. She bent back over the small space containing Melissa.

I went to the door and looked. The dent was very similar to the head impressions on Melissa's wall. I stepped back into the bedroom.

“That doesn't add up,” I said.

“How are you doing?” said Sally to Melissa. I heard a response, but couldn't make it out. Sally looked up, and said, “She says fine.” She mouthed the word “shock.”

I nodded. “Ask her where Huck is, if you can… ” and pulled my walkie-talkie out again. “Comm, Three?”

“Three?”

“Yeah, how we comin' with the ten-fifty-two?”

“Ambulance is ten-eight, ten-seventy-six your location. ETA less than five.”

“Ten-four.” At least, when the ambulance got to us, we could move Melissa. I was about to ask if we had anybody close to escort them, when I heard a squeak of tires outside. I looked out the window, and saw the Freiberg PD car in the drive. Byng. He'd be able to help the ambulance crew.

It took the ambulance another three minutes to make it up the drive, but it seemed like an hour. I contacted them on my walkie-talkie, and told them we were in the house, and not to come in unescorted. As I looked out the window, I could see two white sheriff's cars, and a black state patrol car around the drive.

I tapped Sally on the shoulder again.

“Yeah?”

“I'm gonna look for the rest of 'em. Our boy has to be here somewhere. He's probably high on meth or ecstasy, or both. Draw your weapon. If Peale comes into the room, if you think you have time, tell him to stop.”

She nodded.

“If you don't think you have time, shoot the fucker. Shoot until your gun is empty. You understand?”

“Yeah, but… ”

“Just do it. You gotta protect her, too,” I said, mo tioning toward Melissa.

My trip down the hall was a little tense. I entered each room in turn, and found nobody home. No evidence of a struggle. Nothing. That left the third floor.

I hustled back down the hall to Sally.

“Sally? It's me!” I said that very deliberately before I stuck my head in the door.

“Okay,” she said. As I looked in, I saw that she had both hands on her pistol. Good.

“I'm going upstairs. Nothing on this floor but us folks.”

She nodded. “Melissa says that Huck tried to help her. She doesn't know where she is.”

I hate going up a stair when I believe there's somebody at the top who wants to kill me. I really, really hate that. But if Huck was alive, odds were that she was up there, too.

I figured I might as well go up in a hurry. I had my gun in my right hand, and tried the door with my left. It opened easily. A bad sign. It should have been locked, I thought, unless Dan Peale had gone up with a key.

I took two deep breaths, and then just ran up the damned stair.

The upper floor turned out to be just as empty as it was the day we searched it. I double checked, even under the bed and in the little slot between the refrigerator and the wall. Empty. So was the back stair leading down to the kitchen. And that door turned out to be locked.

I went back to check Sally and Melissa, and found a real crowd.

An ambulance crew of two women and one man were there, just getting started. We moved the bed away from Melissa while the smaller of the women EMTs wedged herself into the widening space, and began taking vitals. The only sound in the room was the puffing of the blood pressure collar.

“Nobody on three,” I said to Sally. “Back door's locked.”

“Where…?”

“I don't know,” I said.

“Okay,” said an EMT, “cervical collar.”

She was handed one, and she pushed the bed away from the wall another foot. In a few seconds, she looked up, and said, “Backboard.”

We shoved the bed back about five feet; they slipped a backboard against Melissa, tightened the straps, and gently rolled her over onto her back.

She looked like hell, with her left eye swollen out almost as far as her nose, and her left ear had a vertical tear in it that split the upper portion in half. That could have been from her head hitting the wall. That hard, she had to have at least a concussion. There was a lot of blood clotted on her face, her nose looked broken, and her lower lip was split. She opened her right eye, and said something. Sally leaned in, to try to hear over the rasp of opening Velcro and the tearing of bandage packs.

“What?”

Melissa said something again. Sally answered her with, “We will, don't worry, we will.” Melissa spoke again, and I heard the words “Huck,” and “stop.”

Sally stood, and turned to me. “She says that we gotta help Huck. She thinks he took her with him.”

“Did she say Dan or Dan Peale?”

“Just a sec,” said Sally, and leaned over Melissa once more. They were just putting an O 2 mask on her, and just the glimpses of her split lip moving as she tried to talk made me wince. They had a small problem with moving the blood matted hair from her cheeks and mouth on the left, finally using alcohol wipes to get it loose before securing the transparent mask over her face.

Sally straightened up. “Yep. Dan. It's him, for sure.”

“I'll bet he thinks he killed her,” I said. “And I'll bet he gave Huck the same treatment, outside in the hall.”

“I agree,” said Sally.

We were both moving into the hallway as we talked.

In the hall, we met up with Borman, Byng, and the state trooper, who were just getting to the top of the stairs.

“He's hurt one of the girls pretty damned bad,” I said, “and he went after another one. We think”-and I pointed to the dent in the wall-“that's from her head. He kicked in this door. I already checked up on third. Empty.”

“You guys need help?” croaked a voice coming up the stairs.

Lamar. He sounded like he had strep throat.

“What're you doing here?” I asked. “You're sick.”

“Right,” he scratched. “Don't worry about me. Maybe you should see this first,” he said. “They told me to stop at the office for this.” It was almost painful to hear him. He handed me a piece of the ubiquitous dispatch notepaper; used computer sheets with the perfs still attached.

I read the note. Hester had phoned our office, about 12:20 A.M. Told I was busy, she left a brief message. “Hester says to tell you that subject Tat tells her subj DP is mad +++. He thinks subjs at Mansion have been making up lies re him and telling them to her and you. Hester says subj Tat tells that subj Huck has been snitched off. You should call her ASAP in am.”

Written in at the bottom was Hester's cell phone number. I put it in my pocket.

“Okay. Watch out for him,” I said. “I don't know if he's armed this time, but he's sure as hell violent. Hester says he's mad at the people here in the house, and we know he snorts and probably mainlines crystal meth and ecstasy, and he thinks he's immortal. Really,” I added, seeing the look on some of the faces.

“You got anybody but one victim?” said Lamar, scratchy but loud, from the bottom of the stair behind us.

“Not yet, but let's go over it again, just to be sure,” I said.

Where the hell was Huck? The basement?

No. The basement had been checked by the time we got back to the main floor.

“God, Houseman,” said Sally, “Huck's as good as dead.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “He could have killed her right here, but he didn't. Why take her somewhere else? To keep her alive awhile.” I didn't want to think of why.

As far as I could see, the only other route off the cliff, other than stomping down through the woods and the ravine, would be to go down that old elevator shaft we'd found out about.

I explained to Lamar and the rest about the possibility of an elevator shaft down into the mine. I also explained that we didn't know exactly where the shaft was. As I did so, I remembered a conversation I'd had.

“But I know who does,” I said, with a smile. “Our man, Toby.”

As we exited the Mansion, I was surprised to see it was much lighter. Sunrise on a rainy day can sneak up on you.

Toby and Hanna were still in the back of Borman's car, being guarded by a state trooper. Excellent.

As I opened the back door of the idling squad, and motioned him out, Toby said, “Are you gonna beat me again?”

Coming from somebody with a little dried blood on his face, and a clot in one nostril, it sounded worse than it was.

“Probably not,” I said. I shrugged at the trooper. “He hit me first.” Lame. I knew that when I said it. The trooper didn't say a word.

I helped Toby out of the backseat, and stood him up. “Two things. Was Peale in the house when you came out, or had he been there and gone? And I gotta know where that damned elevator shaft is, and I gotta know now.”

“What elev-”

I really got in his face. Well, to within three or four inches, I think. It probably looked like I was going to bite him.

“Dan Peale wants to kill you,” I said, “as soon as he's done with Huck. Got that?”

He blinked, but didn't say anything.

“I think the only way he ain't gonna kill you is if we find him first. Think I'm right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Wonderful. Now, was he in the house, or did you hide and just get up the guts to run when you knew he was gone?”

He kind of hung his head.

“That's what I thought. Do you know how long it was that you hid, before you knew he had left?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“Don't fuck with me, Toby!”

“Half an hour!” he said instantly. “Half an hour. For sure.”

“Did he have Huck with him?”

“It sounded like it,” he said softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Something bumped on the stairs. He was dragging something, I think.”

I took a deep breath. Hell, he probably couldn't have stopped Peale anyway. But Huck had tried to help Melissa. He should have tried. I was sick of him, but I needed him. “Let's go to the elevator shaft. Now.”

We did. A whole bunch of us, in fact. Toby, Sally, Lamar, Byng, two troopers, and me. We walked right past the tree that Sally and I had gone to when we tried to close in on Chester, and a little way into the woods, ending up less than a hundred feet from the head of the ravine we'd negotiated only a couple of hours ago. We stopped, and Toby pointed to an old foundation that was cluttered with dead leaves and some decaying branches.

“There. That's it.”

“That?”

“Yeah. The door's in the wall on this side.”

I moved around the foundation. Sure enough, standing on the bluff side of the rock-lined excavation, I could make out an old, wooden door frame, with a half dozen vertical slats and an angled crosspiece forming a door. The wood had faded to gray, and the edges were rotting, but it was a functional door, nonetheless.

I looked at Sally. She and I had just missed it last night.

“How do you get in?” I asked, as I gingerly lowered myself into the wet leaves on the floor.

“Move the rock at the bottom of the door,” he said, from above me.

I looked. There was a scraped path discernible in the leaves. There was a large, limestone block that looked as if it made that track, but it was several feet from the door.

“You mean this one?” I asked, as I bent over and pointed to it.

Toby took two or three steps forward, toward the edge of the foundation, so he could see me and where I was pointing. He stared for a moment. “Oooh, man… ” he said, drawing it out. “Oh boy. It's been opened… He's down in the crypt, sure as hell.” He spun around and would have left then and there, but one of the troopers just reached out one arm and stopped him in his tracks.

I pulled my gun, and with my other hand gingerly reached out and opened the door.

What it revealed was pretty damned unimpressive, at least at first glance. A dark recess, about seven or eight feet into the hillside, one that would be high enough for me to stand in, if I bent a bit. Maybe six feet, or just a bit less. Just an old, wooden floor, with a hole in the middle that was about six feet square. That was it, as far as I could see, and it was quite a disappointment.

“There's nothing here,” I said.

“It's at the bottom,” said Toby.

“What's at the bottom of what?”

“The car. The car's at the bottom of the shaft, just look down the shaft… ”

I looked up at the assembled faces. “Anybody happen to have a flashlight?”

The second trooper handed one down. I stooped a bit, leaned over the black square, and shined the light downward.

Instant vertigo. The shaft descended what had to be at least eighty or ninety feet. As I lurched back I caught a glimpse of two things. A vertical, rusty track with shiny edges; and a big, rusty wheel with what looked to be a very large bicycle chain running in a channel.

“What you got?” croaked Lamar.

“Just a second,” I said. “I hate heights.”

“In a hole?” asked Sally.

“It's a high damned hole,” I replied, irritated. “Just give me a minute.” I took a deep breath, and got down on my stomach, and crawled forward, toward the edge of the shaft. As I did, I heard Sally wondering aloud how you could have a high hole.

Being so solidly supported, I could look down. Sure enough. The wheel, chain, and rails were part of the elevating mechanism. As I looked all the way down, I thought I could see something at the bottom. Probably the car Toby referred to. I also noted that the chain seemed to be oiled. I backed out.

“It goes way down, there's rails and a chain, and I think I can see some sort of car or box thing at the bottom.”

“That's it,” said Toby.

“Can we climb down there?” asked Lamar.

“No,” I said emphatically. “No way.” I simply wasn't about to try a climbing descent to the bottom of that shaft. Not at any price.

“Use the box,” suggested Toby.

“What box?”

“Inside the door, to the left.”

I looked in again. Sure enough, in the corner was a dark gray electrical box, labeled “Square D,” with a lever on its right.

“How does it work?”

“Just pull the lever up or down… whatever way it ain't now,” advised Toby. “It'll bring the car up for you.”

The problem with simple solutions is that they sometimes hide complex problems just under the surface. That was the case here. First, I wasn't sure that I wanted to alert Dan Peale that we were coming after him. If he heard the elevator, and if Huck was still alive, that could easily cause him to kill her. Second, I had no idea what we would find at the bottom, so I didn't know how many of us should be going.

We stationed Borman and Byng at the top of the shaft, as the rest of us backed off and questioned Toby.

We were in a hurry, but we really needed the basic layout of what Toby called “the crypt.”

He said the elevator shaft went to a section of the sand mine that had been closed off for years. There were five big chambers, and Dan had appropriated two of them.

“They're both on your right as you get off,” said Toby.

“Dan got any guns down there?” asked Lamar.

“Guns? No way. He doesn't need guns. You'll see.”

“Knives, though?” I asked.

“Yeah. He's got knives.”

I wanted to ask why the knives if he didn't need guns, but didn't. Time was short.

“How do you see down there?” I asked.

“Turn on the lights,” he said.

“What?”

“Yeah. I mean, nobody uses the mine, but it still has power. For inspections, I guess. We just tapped into the wires in the main part of the mine. That's all.”

Well, sure. “And that's what powers the elevator?”

“Yeah.”

“How loud is it?” asked Lamar.

Toby looked bewildered. “I don't know… compared to what?”

“Can Dan hear it coming down, Toby?” I asked, as patiently as I could.

“Oh! Oh, I think so. Yeah, unless he's in the far chamber, and then if he has the music on, probably not… ”

“Music?”

“Yeah. Dan plays the music really loud when he gets into a mood. Hey,” he said. “He's got all the comforts of home. You're gonna be surprised at what's all down there. It's beautiful!”

“I expect I will,” I said. Then I tossed him a tough one. “Is that where Edie was killed? Is it the crypt?”

He went pale. I think he'd been getting into the whole pursuit thing, and had lost his sense of the real situation.

“Is it?” asked Lamar.

Toby nodded, but didn't speak. That was probably just as well.

“Well,” I said, “let's get going.”

Lamar called one of the troopers back at the house, and had him collect flashlights from the assembled cop cars, and bring as many as he could. They were all rechargeable, and good for at least three hours each.

Lamar took me aside. “You sure he's down there?”

“Nope. But Huck's gone, and didn't have to be if he wanted to off her on the spot. Okay… and she's not anywhere in the house. So that would either leave here, or he's got her to some transportation, and they took off.

They didn't go by us last night at the gate. Nobody did. So the egress point to the house is here. The elevator's at the bottom, but that doesn't mean much. They seem to be able to get out the main entrance, too.”

“Okay.” He really sounded horrible.

“I think he got into the mine last night, or at least yesterday sometime. We were trying to track his progress with stolen car reports, but they could have lagged a couple of hours or more.”

Lamar nodded. “Two hours, easy.” It was almost funny, the way he tried not to talk, and lost.

“Last night, Mr. William Chester made an appearance. Up in here.” I pointed to the general area, and then to the ravine. “Came up that ravine where we spotted him Monday. His car was parked down at the bottom. We followed him, not too far from this place, and Sally and I went down the ravine, and we sent Borman around the bottom. We lost him.”

Lamar looked surprised.

“Yeah. Well, anyway, while we were chasing the goddamned vampire hunter, the vampire was paying a visit to the house. Far as I can tell.”

Lamar shook his head. “Too bad,” he managed to get out.

“No shit. I dunno, though. The silver lining might be that I don't think Dan Peale knew we were up here last night. I think he might think he's gotten away with something. That he has some time to play with.” I looked at him squarely. “But, no. No, I don't know if he's down there. But I think he is.”

We decided that Byng, Borman, Sally, and I would go down, two at a time, via the shaft. Another group headed by Lamar would try to enter at the main mine entrance, about a mile south of the shaft, at the bottom of the bluff. We'd have two troopers at the house, and two troopers at the upper end of the elevator shaft to the mine.

“Hey, Lamar?”

“Yeah?” He barely got it out. He really should have been home in bed.

“If you run across that idiot William Chester, super vampire hunter, see if you can arrest his ass for something, will ya?” I meant it. “Anything. Just keep him the hell out of our way.”

“Sure, Carl.”

“And, if somebody can get ahold of Hester or Harry, get 'em headed back here, too. If we get our boy, they're both gonna want to talk to him ASAP.”

As we waited for the night scope, I thought about what we'd been told earlier about Dan wanting to “experience” Edie's death secondhand. The more I thought about that, the more I thought I knew why he'd taken Huck out of the house. He needed the time to “experience” her terror, by ingesting her blood while he… Jesus. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The briefing at the top of the shaft was short and sweet.

“Okay, listen up,” I said. “We won't have any radio contact down there. Don't even try. There also might be blasting caps and stuff in the mine, and radio transmissions can set them off. Got that?”

Sally, Byng, and Borman nodded.

“We're in a real hurry, here. I think she's being kept alive for a little while, but I can't say for sure. If we find her, don't move her unless you have to. She might have an IV stick in her neck, or something, and she could bleed to death if it pulls out. Understood?”

It was.

“This son of a bitch is about as delusional as you can get, and might really believe he's a vampire, and that he's immortal. He's very likely high on meth, or ecstasy or some sort of combination of the stuff. That means fast and strong. Don't count on stopping him just by sticking a gun in his face. Be prepared to shoot.” I took a breath. “Ready?”

Byng and I went first. The next pair was to be Sally and Borman.