Flesh

Sam shook her head. She handed the photo back to Jake.

  “I have to find him right away. It’s urgent.”

  “Was he in on the killings?”

  “I doubt it. But Roland was…carrying a disease. I need to get to this guy before he infects someone.”

  “If I had a school yearbook…”

  “You don’t have one?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Will you be here for a while?”

  “I’ll stick around.”

  “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  Professor Teal didn’t come to the door, so Jake hurried around the side of the house and climbed the stairs. He broke the Crime Scene ribbon, used his lock picks, and let himself inside.

  Any of the three girls, he thought, might have school yearbooks. But he remembered, from his quick inspection of the house last night, that an entire wall of the attic room was lined with bookshelves. It must be Alison’s room, he thought; she had mentioned running downstairs to warn Helen.

  At the top of the attic stairs, Jake stared at the mussed bed. This is where it happened, where she woke up and struggled with Roland, where her mauled body would’ve been found if…oh, she nailed the bastard good. Hard to imagine that the same girl he found curled at the foot of his bed this morning could be savage enough to inflict such damage on someone.

  Her purse was on the floor beside Jake’s feet. I should get it for her, he thought. And maybe some clothes.

  There were clothes scattered on the carpet near the purse: white running shoes half covered by knee socks, a rumpled blue blouse, a bra with wispy transparent cups, white shorts with panties still inside them as if she had pulled both down at the same time.

  Jake picked up the purse and stood there, staring at the clothes. Less than ten minutes ago, he’d been with Sam. Astonishing Sam in her bandannas and patch. But she hadn’t affected Jake a fraction as much as the sight of Alison’s discarded clothing on the floor.

  For godsake, he told himself, this is no time to get turned on.

  Reluctantly, he looked away. He went to the bed, set the purse down, and searched the shelves. In seconds, he found three yearbooks—slim volumes that stood inches taller than most of the other books. He pulled them down. The cover of each was embossed with the title, Summit, and the year. The most recent had last year’s date. Jake scowled. He wanted the current edition. Then he realized that the Summit covering this year probably hadn’t been issued yet.

  The guy better have been enrolled last year, he thought.

  He tossed the books onto the bed.

  On his knees, he reached under the bed. He found a suitcase and pulled it out.

  You shouldn’t do this, he told himself. You should get the books over to Sam.

  It’ll just take a minute. If I don’t, I’ll have to make a special trip.

  You just want to go through her things, whispered a small voice he didn’t like very much.

  He carried the suitcase to Alison’s dresser, set it on the floor, and opened it.

  In the top drawer of the dresser were nightgowns, panties and bras. He grabbed a handful of panties, trying not to think about them, and put them quickly into the suitcase. He was tempted not to get any bras for her, felt guilty about that, and took out two. In the next drawer, he found socks, pantyhose, slips. He took only socks. There were sweatshirts, T-shirts, gym shorts, and a jumpsuit in the next drawer. He took a T-shirt, a pair of red shorts, and the jumpsuit. The bottom drawer held sweaters. He didn’t bother with them.

  From her closet, he selected a sleeveless sundress, two blouses, and a pair of faded blue jeans. Then he went to the pile of clothing on the floor. He wanted to see her in the white shorts. He picked them up and shook them until the panties dropped through a leg hole. He watched the panties flutter to the floor. He was proud of himself for not touching them. With the shorts in one hand, he gathered up her shoes and returned to the suitcase.

  Anything else she might need? he wondered, and scanned the room.

  He saw the bulletin board on the wall beyond her desk Snapshots were tacked to it.

  She won’t need those, Jake told himself. Get going.

  But he wanted to look at them, wanted to look at Alison.

  He walked over to the desk. Most of the photos showed Alison, but she was with a guy. The same guy. In one, he was pushing her on a swing. In another, they were sitting on a blanket in the shade of a tree. Another showed them kissing.

  Jake’s stomach hurt.

  The guy was handsome, in spite of his glasses, and he looked in good shape.

  This is what I get for snooping, Jake thought.

  He felt better, however, when he remembered Alison saying she had broken up with her boyfriend last night.

  This guy had been dumped.

  Good riddance.

  Jake hefted the suitcase, picked up Alison’s purse and yearbooks, and rushed downstairs.

  After soaking in the bath for nearly an hour, Alison felt a little better. The hot water had soothed her tight muscles. It had done nothing, however, to take away the deeper tightness, the cold sick feeling that seemed to grip her insides.

  If there was only a way to turn off her mind.

  Or change channels. Get rid of the bad shows starring Roland and Helen and Celia and the dead policeman and Evan. Turn to the Jake channel. The Jake show was comforting, sometimes exciting. All the others hurt.

  Alison stepped out of the tub, dripping, and began to dry herself with a soft towel.

  Everything would be much better if she could just avoid seeing Evan.

  You have to go. You have to finish it.

  I don’t have any clothes.

  Alison wanted that for an excuse, but she’d had plenty of time to consider the problem and find a solution.

  She hung the moist towel over a bar, and left the bathroom. The air in the hallway felt cool. In Jake’s room, the windows were open. A nice breeze came in.

  She went to the closet, took out a plaid shirt and put it on. Buttoned, it resembled a dress. A short, loose dress to be sure, but it would have to suffice. She rolled the sleeves up her forearms. Then, she found a belt and fastened it around her waist.

  On the inside of Jake’s closet door was a full-length mirror.

  The shirt didn’t look that much like a dress. It looked like a man’s shirt. She pulled at it, rearranging the tucks to make it hang more smoothly.

  Returning to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth using a finger smeared with Jake’s toothpaste.

  Finally, she went into the kitchen. On the wall beside the telephone was a notepad and pen. She tore off a sheet and took it to the table.

  “That’s him,” Sam said.

  Jake’s heart slammed in his chest. “Are you positive?”

  “I got a good look at them both. There’s no doubt about it. He’s the one who was helping Roland into the car.” She slid a finger across the page of photographs and stopped it beneath the name. “Evan Forbes.”

  Alison’s dumped boyfriend. The man in those snapshots on her bulletin board.

  No need to worry, Jake told himself. They’d split up.

  But she’d said she should call him, let him know she’s okay.

  What if she tells him where she’s staying?

  “I need to use your phone.”

  “Help yourself.”

  Jake dialed his home. He listened to the ringing.

  Come on, pick it up. Come on, Alison. Answer the damn phone!

  It rang fifteen times before he hung up.

  “Do you have a directory?”

  Sam rushed from the room. She ran back, clutching a telephone book, and thrust it at Jake.

  He flipped through the pages. Forbes was listed. Jake recognized the address: the apartment building in front of which he’d found Roland’s car parked last night. He’d already been there, knocking on doors.

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  He ran.

  He kicked the door. With a splintering crash, it f
lew open.

  The carpet at his feet was crusted with dried blood.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Alison walked the L-shaped parking lot of Wally’s, looking for Evan’s car. It wasn’t there. Nor was it parked along the street.

  She had left the house at one o’clock, giving herself half an hour to reach the bar. Though she didn’t have a wristwatch, she guessed that the walk must have taken no more than fifteen or twenty minutes and that she was early.

  To make herself as inconspicuous as possible, she wandered out of the parking lot and headed for one of the elms that lined the street. The grass felt soft and cool under her bare feet. The shade felt good. Leaning back against the tree trunk, she took a deep, shaky breath. She was trembling badly.

  She could see her legs trembling. They were out in front of her, knees locked to brace her against the tree, thighs pressed together. From the bottom of the shirt to her kneecaps, her skin shimmied over the fluttering muscles. As she watched the shaking, a corner of her shirttail was lifted by a puff of breeze. She swept it down and held the shirt front flat against her thighs. Her open hands felt tremors through the fabric.

  Just calm down, she told herself. There’s no reason to be so jumpy. I’m just going to have a talk with Evan. It’s not like I’m about to get my teeth pulled without benefit of anesthetic.

  Maybe Evan’s already inside. He might have walked over. I could stay here fretting for an hour while he’s inside drinking and thinking I stood him up.

  Well, I’m not going in. Bad enough I had to walk over here dressed this way—undressed this way. At least I didn’t run into anyone I know.

  But even at this hour, Wally’s was bound to be loaded with students and Alison was bound to know many of them.

  As if to prove her theory, a station wagon slowed in front of the parking lot entrance and started to turn. She spotted Terri Weathers through the passenger window. Luckily, Terri was looking the other way. Alison quickly sidestepped, circling to the other side of the tree.

  I should have stayed home is what I should have done.

  She heard the car crunch over gravel and stop. The doors bumped shut. She heard footsteps heading away, then the windy sound of another approaching car. Her head snapped to the left. Coming up the street was Evan’s blue Granada.

  It swung to the curb in front of her, and stopped. Leaning across the seat, Evan opened the passenger door. “You’re early,” he said.

  Both hands holding the shirttails down, she climbed into the car. The seat upholstery was hot against her bare rump. Raising herself, she swept the shirt down beneath her. She kept her eyes away from Evan.

  “What are you wearing?”

  “All I could find.”

  “What is that, a guy’s shirt?”

  She faced Evan. His hair was neatly combed and he was dressed for the heat in a glossy Hawaiian shirt, white shorts, and sandals. He looked good except for his sallow skin and bloodshot eyes. The eyes had a feverish glaze. Alison didn’t like the way they stared down through his glasses, studying her.

  “Take a picture, why don’t you.”

  “I could use a drink,” he muttered.

  “Let’s stay here. I really don’t feel like going inside. It’ll be noisy, and—”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “People will ask questions. About last night. You said it was on the radio.”

  “Terrible,” he said. “Last night.” He peered at her face. “You got beat up pretty good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You look great, though.”

  “Sure.”

  “You do. A bruise hath no power to diminish the beauty of so sweet a flower.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s at least get something to eat, okay? We can go someplace that has a drive-up window, so you won’t have to worry about meeting anyone.”

  “Couldn’t we just talk here?”

  “I’m famished, Al. Really. I haven’t eaten all day.” He made a grim smile. “I didn’t have any appetite. But I’m feeling a lot better, now. You being here. I feel like I’ve been brought back from the dead.”

  “I guess it’s all right if we pick up something,” Alison told him.

  “Great.” He started to drive.

  The front door of Jake’s house wasn’t chained. He stepped inside, sensing that Alison was gone.

  He called her name as he hurried through the rooms. In the bathroom, he found his bathrobe and Alison’s nightgown hanging from a hook. In the kitchen, he found a note. It was on the table, folded in half to stand upright:

  Dear Jake,

  I had to go out for a little while to see my old boyfriend. I know I was supposed to stay here, but he needs to see me. I’m sure it will be okay, since I’m meeting him at Wally’s. There will be plenty of other people around, so please don’t worry.

  I’ll probably be back before you see this, but thought I’d leave a note anyway just in case you dropped by early and wondered what happened to me.

  Please don’t worry.

  I’ll be back as soon as possible. Believe me, the sooner the better.

  This was just something I had to do.

  Alison

  Cold and numb inside, Jake lurched to the kitchen phone and dialed directory assistance. He got the number for Wally’s, called, and asked for Alison Sanders to be paged.

  “She doesn’t seem to be here,” he was told after a long wait.

  He hung up and raced for his car.

  The note didn’t say what time she had left for Wally’s. Maybe only a few minutes ago. Maybe hours ago. If she’d walked, she might still be on the way over there. Jake tried to take her most likely route. He scanned the sidewalks for pedestrians.

  Evan might have picked her up, he thought. No, the note said she was meeting him at Wally’s. So she walked. Unless she got a friend to pick her up.

  That could be it. She called a girlfriend, asked the girl to bring over some spare clothes and give her a lift to the bar. Maybe the friend will stay with her.

  Alison’s not at Wally’s.

  So maybe she’s still on the way over.

  Please.

  She might’ve been there and left. By now, she might be on her way home.

  Stupid, wishful thinking. Evan has that fucker up his back and he isn’t going to let Alison get away.

  Maybe Evan’s not the guy she went to see.

  He is. But maybe he doesn’t have the thing in him.

  Then what was that blood on his apartment floor? Roland, half dead, must’ve staggered up to Evan’s door. When Evan opened up, the thing burst out of Roland’s belly and nailed him. It took control, got Evan to haul the dead or dying Roland down to the VW. Sam saw them, just thought Roland was plastered.

  Why no blood on the sidewalk?

  The thing’s clever. Maybe it got Evan to bandage the wounds before carrying Roland out. The fire took care of the bandages.

  Evan’s got it, all right.

  And Evan’s got Alison.

  Evan handed Alison the bags containing their soft drinks, cheeseburgers and french fries. She held them on her lap, glad to have more than her shirttails for covering.

  In spite of his frequent glances in that direction, he’d acted all right during the drive over. Alison’s jitters had subsided, though she still dreaded telling him that she wouldn’t go with him after today.

  She would postpone that moment for as long as possible.

  Evan pulled away from the drive-up window. Instead of turning in front of the restaurant to circle around to its parking area, he continued ahead and swung onto the road.

  “Aren’t we going to eat in the lot?” Alison asked.

  “That’d be kind of dreary. Let’s drive someplace nice. We can have a picnic.”

  “Evan.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” He smiled at her. A corner of his mouth trembled. “No more touchy-feely, not unless you start it. I’m a slow learner, but I finally got t
he message. I’ve put our relationship in too much jeopardy already. Here you are, convinced I’m some kind of a sex fiend. Well, I’m not. You’ll see. From now on, it’s hands off. Consider me a eunuch.”

  Too late for that, Alison thought.

  “I came so close to losing you, last night. My boorish behavior, then…the attack on you. I had to face how much you mean to me, what it would be like if I never saw you again. I love you so much, Alison. I’ll never again do anything to make you doubt me.”

  “We’ll see how it goes today,” she said.

  “A test. I’ve always passed my tests with flying colors.”

  Alison settled back against the seat. She believed him. The lunch would go smoothly. He would make the sacrifice today, knowing this was his last chance. Be a good boy, and there would be plenty of future opportunities to make up for it. So he thought.

  He’s no mind reader. He doesn’t know that, regardless of how wonderfully he behaves, this is it.

  By the time he finds out, it’ll be over.

  He steered onto Latham Road.

  “Where are we going?” Alison asked.

  “Just out of town a little way. We’ll have a picnic, all right? Just like old times. Except no fooling around.”

  “What’ll it be?” asked the bartender.

  “I called earlier about Alison Sanders,” Jake said.

  “Right. She wasn’t here.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “Not the name. Maybe if I saw her…”

  Shaking his head, Jake started to turn away.

  “You said Alison Sanders?”

  Jake faced a slim young man who was seated on the bar stool beside him, nursing a martini. He looked rather old to be a student. “Do you know her?”

  “I met her a few nights ago. Are you a friend?”

  Jake showed the man his badge. “I’m also a friend. I need to find her fast. She said she was coming over here today.”

  “Well, she was here. Around one thirty or a quarter till two. I was just arriving. In fact, I’d come here in hopes of seeing her.” He shrugged. “She was with someone else. I just caught a glimpse of her getting into his car.”

  “Did you see who she was with?”

  “I wasn’t looking at the driver.”