In Dark Places

Chapter Twenty-three

When Robin was sure Gray had left the office, she pushed herself into a sitting position, then rose upright. Two unsteady steps brought her to the phone on her desk. She assumed she would dial 911 and was surprised when her fingers speed-dialed the first number in the phone's memory.

Meg, she realized. She was calling Meg.

There had to be a good reason, but none occurred to her until Meg picked up on the third ring.

"Cameron residence."

"Meg, I want you out of the house right now."

"It's a condo. Mom, not a house, and why would I be out of it when I just got into it? Jamie's mom dropped me off, like, thirty seconds ago"

"Meg!" The shout of anger surprised them both. "Shut up and listen to me. I want you to leave the house and go to Mrs. Grandy's and then call me from there. Call me at the office. Understand?"

The jollity was gone from Meg's voice. "What's happening?"

"Just do it."

"What if Mrs. Grandy's not home?"

"She's always home. If not, try Mr. Haver."

"The guy who works at home all day in his bathrobe? The guy who's always hitting on you"

"That guy. Now leave the house. Right now. Don't stop to get changed and don't take another call. Just go. Have you got that?"

"Yes, Mom."

"I love you," Robin said, ending the call before her daughter could reply.

Now it was time to call 911, except first she had to put down the phone and bend over the wastebasket by the desk and throw up, voiding her stomach of lunch.

Lifting her head, she caught sight of the rectangle of waiting room carpet visible in the doorway, and on the carpet, an outstretched hand.

She forgot 911. Slowly she walked through her office to the doorway and looked down at the deputy on the floor, his face upturned to her. His throat had been opened to release a lake of arterial blood. His cap and pants were gone. Gray hadn't taken the shirt and jacket; they were ruined, splashed by red spray.

The man's expressionless face was hard to take, but somehow worse was the casual obscenity of his Jockey shorts and hairy legs.

She stared at the corpse for a long moment before remembering that he had a partner waiting in the prison van in the parking lot, only steps away.

The trip through the waiting room seemed endless, and then there was the longer trek down the hall to the rear door with the exit sign glowing overhead. All the while she was thinking of Gray on the loose with a gunGray, who had met Meg and never stopped speaking about her, and who now had Robin's wallet, containing her driver's license, which listed her home addressthe place where Meg was now, unless she had already left.

Gray wouldn't go after her. Of course not. It would be too risky. It would be crazy.

And a man who killed teenage girls for sport would never do anything crazy, would he?

Robin reached the exit and flung open the door and then she was standing at the top of the steps, waving with both arms at the deputy in the van, like a castaway signaling a distant, vanishing plane.