The Hiding Place

Chapter Forty-two

Janet called Detective Stynes from her car. She drove with one hand and held the phone with the other. When Stynes came on, she didn’t know exactly what to tell him, so she tried to make it as simple as possible.

“Detective, I need you to get to Ray Bower’s house.”

“Janet?”

“Ray Bower’s house. Can you get there?”

“I can. What’s wrong?”

“It’s too much to explain right now.”

“I’m on my way to the door and getting my keys. Can you at least give me a sense of what I’m walking into?”

She stumbled a few times trying to find the right words. Finally, she said, “It’s about Justin’s murder. I think Ray Bower killed him. And I think Michael is going over there to kill Ray.”

Janet parked in the driveway behind Michael’s car. She went straight into the house without bothering to knock. She hadn’t been in there for years, not since high school. The Bowers’ house had been so familiar to her as a child, almost a second home. Growing up, she attributed the tailing off of the friendship between the families to the sudden shock of Justin’s death, to the slow descent of her mother into illness and death. But it was so much more-more than she ever could have imagined.

The living room sat empty. Janet knew the Bowers had a family room at the back of the house, which used to be filled with two large recliners and an overstuffed couch. They watched TV there. As Janet moved in that direction, she heard a rustling and something thumping against the floor.

“Michael?”

An angry voice came from the rear of the house, something like a shout.

Janet stopped, considered turning and waiting outside until the police showed up. But she knew the state of mind Michael was in when he’d left Rose’s house. She feared what he might do.

“Michael?” she said again, her voice a little louder.

The rustling again. Quick movements. Janet stepped to the doorway that led into the back room and came face-to-face with Michael.

He reached out with both hands and took hold of Janet’s shoulders, his grip so tight she yelped.

He didn’t let go. And she stared into his eyes. They were wide and full of tears, as much red as white in the sclera. He looked different. Crazed with some combination of grief and anger.

“Michael,” she said. “It’s me. It’s okay.”

“Janet.”

He said her name. It sounded like a plea.

“The police are coming. I called them.”

“Janet,” he said again.

“Michael, let go. You’re hurting me.”

Her knees started to buckle from the pressure he was exerting on her arms. She felt the pain shoot through her body.

He let go and stepped back.

“Just wait,” Janet said. “The police are on their way. They’ll take care of it.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes turning more hurt than angry.

“They can’t help, Janet.”

He dashed away, toward the front of the house. Janet wanted to go after him, but she heard another voice from the back room. A moaning, keening sound.

Janet rubbed her arms as she went into the room.

Ray Bower lay in the middle of the floor. A glass tumbler, liquid spilling out of it and soaking into the carpet, sat on the floor next to him. Janet took two quick steps toward him.

One side of his face was bruised and bloodied, the eye swollen shut already.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Janet dropped to her knees next to him. She leaned in close, listening for breathing. It came, raspy and short.

She started to reach out, to provide a comforting touch on his arm. Then she remembered who this man was. And what he had done.

She recoiled, pulling her hand back. He had killed Justin. This was the man who had killed her brother and buried him in the woods.

Ray’s lips moved. They struggled to form words, twitching like swollen pieces of meat. Janet couldn’t make out what he said. She didn’t want to know. But she had to know.

She leaned forward, listening.

“Michael…”

“He’s gone,” Janet said. “And the police are coming. Did you hear me? The police are on their way here. Right now.”

“Michael…tell Michael I’m sorry.”

Janet heard the door open, Detective Stynes’s voice filling the house, calling her name.

Janet watched Ray as his head fell back against the carpet.

“Back here,” she called. “The damage is done.”