One Summer (47 page)

“How can you talk so calmly of God?” It was a cry from the heart, and as soon as it left her lips, Rachel wanted to recall it. The confusion vanished from Kay’s eyes to be replaced by the same icy intent that had dwelled there since that moment in the car.

“This is all part of a divine plan,” Kay said almost primly, and took hold of the hoop-shaped handle. The hinges must have been oiled sometime in the not-too-recent past, because the door swung open easily and without a sound.

59

“G
o!”

Jeremy burst shrieking from that nightmare cave, his arms held out before him to shove the thing with all his strength if need be. She was there all right, huge and hideous, with her face in shadow and her black cloak billowing on the wind, but his screaming advent took her so by surprise that she fell back a pace. Jeremy, with his mom shouting encouragement in his ear, exploded past her into the blinding light of a world he hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever. The fresh smell of the earth, the vitality of the wind, the life-giving shower of rain on his face all assaulted his senses at the same time as the light. He could barely see, but he didn’t need to see. He only needed to fly, fly, fly into the light.

60

R
achel screamed, too, as Jeremy erupted from the cave. Her heart cheered to know that he was still alive, still able to flee, but then she had no more time to think. Kay stumbled back as Jeremy bolted past her and almost dropped the gun. Rachel, acting solely on instinct now, dived for the branch and came up swinging like Ted Williams at his best. The branch caught Kay full in the chest and knocked her down, back into the crypt.

Quick as a flash, Rachel slammed the door. Kay had the key. Kay was bellowing, and Rachel knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the door closed for long against the other woman’s greater strength. Still acting on instinct, she wedged one end of the branch into the door and the other into the soft earth.

It wouldn’t hold for long, but it might give Rachel and Jeremy time to get away.

Kay was on her feet now. Rachel could hear the solid slam of her body against the door as she tried to force it open. Rachel kicked off her shoes and, feeling as if her feet had grown wings, fled toward the car. If she wasn’t mistaken, Kay had left the car keys in the trunk.

“Jeremy!” She tried to call him, but he was already far ahead of her, flying down the dirt road toward the paved one, his arms outstretched in front of him, screams so
high-pitched as to sound almost unworldly tearing from his throat.

Rachel had time only to glance after him before she was at the car. She dragged the keys from the lock—thank God they were there!—then jumped into the driver’s seat and thrust them, with nary a fumble, into the ignition. Even as the engine turned over, the door to the crypt flew open and Kay stumbled out.

Rachel saw her with horror as she shifted into drive. Pressing the accelerator to the floor, she sprayed mud and grass in every direction as she made a wild, bucking semicircle and shot down the dirt road toward the highway.

In the rearview mirror, she could see Kay running after her, her face contorted, the black cloak flapping behind her in the wind so that she looked like Zorro, or an enormous crow.

Jeremy had almost reached the highway. Rachel swerved in front of him, blocking his escape, and leaned across the seat to throw open the passenger door.

“Get in!” she shrieked. For a moment she thought he meant to swerve and keep on running, but then he dove for the open car door and somersaulted headfirst into the seat.

Rachel glanced behind her in the rearview mirror, saw neither hide nor hair of Kay, and stomped on the accelerator for all she was worth. The passenger door flapped in the breeze.

“Jeremy. Jeremy, shut the door!”

At first she thought he was too overwrought to understand. But after no more than an instant, he reached out to slam the door shut. Rachel jammed the automatic lock button down, and the locks clicked shut.

They were at the junction of the dirt road and the highway when Kay exploded from the copse of trees to the left like an oncoming army. Rachel screamed, Jeremy screamed, and the car slithered as Rachel floored it. To Rachel’s horror, it did a doughnut in the rain-slick mud
and grass—and suddenly Kay was no more than five feet away, planted squarely between the car and the highway.

She was smiling that wicked smile. Her eyes glowed like twin pits of hell. Her arms came up, and she pointed the pistol right at Rachel’s face.

Jeremy shrieked, cowering. Rachel shrieked too—and hit the gas.

Kay flew straight up in the air like the enormous crow she resembled as the Escort plowed into her and she landed on the hood with her face pressed to the glass of the windshield. Keening with horror, Rachel glimpsed the glazed-over eyes and the blood that trickled from Kay’s nose and mouth before instinct kicked in again. She jerked the steering wheel sharply, sending the car careening to the left, and the body flew off the hood to land facedown on the road.

61

A
s nervous as she was, as fast as she was going, it was only moments before Rachel skidded off the rain-slick pavement. The Escort slid into a ditch, and she and Jeremy were flung violently forward. Jeremy landed in a heap in the passenger side footwell, while Rachel, slamming into the steering wheel, had the breath knocked out of her. For a moment she could only lie motionless, draped over the steering wheel like a rag doll. Then, slowly, painfully, she eased back from the steering wheel to look down at Jeremy. But first she glanced fearfully into the rearview mirror. She knew the road behind them would be clear. Still, she had to look, just to be sure. It was clear.

The car was almost on its side, tilted into the ditch at a crazy angle. It was indubitably stuck.

“Jeremy, are you all right?”

“Mom?”

“No, dear. It’s Rachel. Rachel Grant.”

“Oh.” He was silent for a moment, and then he lifted his head and looked at her. “Is she dead?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

He started to cry soundlessly. “My head hurts. And I want my mom.”

Rachel wanted to cry with him, for him and for herself, but first she wanted to be in a place that she knew beyond
a shadow of a doubt was safe, surrounded by lots and lots of people.

“Jeremy, we’re stuck, and I think we need to get out of here. Just—just in case. My house is just a little way up the road. Do you think you can walk that far?”

He stopped crying and wiped his eyes on his forearm. “Yeah. If I have to.”

“Come on.”

Rachel forced her door open with some difficulty and climbed out. It was really raining now, hard enough to plaster her hair to her skull in just a few seconds. Jeremy, slithering out behind her, shivered as the rain struck him. He was wearing incredibly filthy shorts and a T-shirt, and blood was caked in a gaping wound perhaps three inches long just above his left temple. No wonder his head hurt!

“Let’s go,” Rachel said, looking fearfully back the way they had come. The downpour limited visibility, but she saw nothing to fear. Still, she clutched Jeremy’s hand as they started off down the road.

It was less than a quarter mile to Walnut Grove’s driveway. As they reached it, Jeremy, drenched like herself, his pale face awash in rain, glanced up at her.

“Is this your house?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s run.”

They did, arriving at the front door just as a clap of thunder shook the sky and the heavens opened.

It was locked. Rachel pounded, put a finger to the bell and left it there, but no one came.

There was no one home.

That was odd, but Rachel wasn’t about to stand out on the porch and try to figure it out. She was going to go inside and lock the doors and phone for help.

Luckily, they kept a spare key under the flower pot beside the steps.

“Is anything wrong?” Jeremy looked around nervously as Rachel opened the door. He had been a small boy before,
but now he was wraithlike, nothing but skin and bone and huge sunken eyes. His ordeal had been much worse than hers. Rachel put an arm around his shoulders.

“No, nothing at all,” she lied, and walked him into the house. With great care, she locked the door behind them, then reached for the switch to illuminate the front hall.

It worked. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She had not realized how much she had dreaded the dark or how frightened she still was.

“Come on, Jeremy. Let’s go into the kitchen and call the police. Then we can get warm and dry and eat something, and—”

“You got any hot dogs?” he asked with faint interest.

Rachel laughed, hugged him, and sat him in a kitchen chair. “I’m sure we do,” she said. “You can check for yourself while I make this one call.”

He availed himself of her invitation, opening the refrigerator door and rummaging inside while she picked up the phone. Her fingers were shaking as she dialed the police. When the woman answered, she said, “This is Rachel Grant. I need to speak to Chief Wheatley immediately, please.”

“He’s out on a call and—did you say you were Miss Grant?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my land, the whole police department is out looking for you! We thought you’d been kidnapped! Where are you?”

“I’m at my home now. I
was
kidnapped. I have Jeremy Watkins with me, and we just ran over Kay Nelson with a car, and—”

Rachel broke off as she saw a shadow darken the glass window in the back door. Her eyes widening with horror, she recognized the wild-eyed, blood-streaked face with its hideous grin as it peered inside. With the overhead fixture turned on, there was no chance of them escaping Kay’s detection.

“Send someone out here as quickly as you can! She’s at the door!” she hissed into the phone. She dropped the receiver without bothering to hang up.

Kay rattled the doorknob. Thank God the door was locked! If they could only keep her out until the police arrived.…

Jeremy looked around, saw Kay at the door, and shrieked. Kay started laughing, wiggling her fingers at the boy in a taunting wave. Rachel flew to his side.

“Come on,” she said urgently, pausing only to pull a butcher knife from the block on the counter before fleeing with Jeremy up the stairs. “The police are coming. She can’t get in. We’re safe. We’re safe.”

“Please don’t let her get me again! Mom! Mom, where are you? I need my mom!”

“Come on, Jeremy!”

As they reached the second-floor landing, Rachel was horrified to hear the crash of breaking glass.

“She’s coming!” Jeremy sounded near hysteria. Rachel felt the same way herself. But this time help was on the way, and she knew where there was a gun.

It was her father’s, and to Rachel’s knowledge it had been fired exactly once in the last ten years, to make sure it worked. It was on top of the tape storage cabinet in the third-floor ballroom. The bullets were kept beside it.

There was another crash of glass, and then a high-pitched, triumphant giggle made Rachel’s blood run cold.

“Miss Grant—”

“Hush!” she said fiercely to the boy. For an instant, just an instant, she thought about running into one of the upstairs bathrooms and locking the door. But the locks were flimsy, and if Kay broke through them, she and Jeremy would be trapped. No, it was better to go all the way up to the top of the house and get the gun. Kay would have to search for them.