The Coffin (Nightmare Hall) (10 page)

Tanner, Charlie thought intently as he hurried up the street,
be
there. Be asleep. Be okay. Please, Tanner.

He was so lost in his intense prayer to Tanner that he never heard the motorcycle approaching, didn’t notice that the distant, muted sound had become louder. Charlie didn’t even turn his head until its raucous roar grew so close, the heavy machine seemed to be on the sidewalk right behind him instead of on the road where it belonged.

Too late, Charlie realized with a lurch of his heart that
on the sidewalk
was exactly where the motorcycle was. It was bearing down upon him at top speed, its engine roaring so loudly, Charlie thought his eardrums would burst.

And too late, he shouted and threw himself sideways, his tall, wiry body toppling like an axed tree into the thick bushes fronting the Leos’ picket fence.

With a loud, angry roar, the machine raced straight at Charlie, catching him in midflight. The bike sideswiped the fence and Charlie at the same time, splintering half a dozen pickets, and snapping the bone in Charlie’s right arm like a twig.

A semiconscious Charlie landed with a sickening thud on the Leos’ front lawn, his arm flopping uselessly.

The motorcycle roared away.

T
HE MINUTE TANNER CAME
to, she knew exactly where she was by the utter and complete silence. Back in the music room. She was lying on the couch, and she was alone. She knew this even before she groggily lifted her head to glance around. She sensed it.

She was right. There was no one else in the room.
He
was gone again.

Tanner sank back against the pillow, releasing a grateful sigh. He was gone. She was safe for now.

Immediately following that thought came another: what was she doing lying on the couch? The last thing she remembered was standing in the kitchen, her feet cold on the tile, her hand gripping the edge of the kitchen table. When had she moved from there back to the music room?

She thought the music room door was locked again, but just to make sure, Tanner got up slowly and walked over to test the doorknob. It didn’t budge when she tried to turn it. No big surprise.

How long had she been back in this room? What time had he taken her to the kitchen? Around nine?

Her eyes went to the cuckoo clock over the fireplace. Ten-thirty! Had she been asleep that long? Or had they been in the kitchen longer than she’d thought? Why couldn’t she remember? What was wrong with her? Her brain felt as if it were wrapped in soft, thick, black velvet. Had he hit her over the head again?

She stood with her back to the door, shaking her head gently, glancing around the room again. The red tool kit was gone. She had hoped he would forget and leave it. There might have been something in there she could use to jimmy the door open. Of course, he’d never be that careless. Too much to hope for.

She was turning away from the door when she noticed movement on the screen of the surveillance camera sweeping the front yard. Looking more intently, she saw a scene of chaos outside.

An ambulance, its doors open, was backed up to the curb. A police car, its blue light whirling on the roof, was parked beside the emergency vehicle. A crowd of people edged the picket fence. A section of it was missing, Tanner noticed as, keeping her eyes on the screen, she backed up until her legs bumped into the couch. Automatically taking a seat, she kept watching the scene unfolding on the tiny screen.

Someone had been hurt. That was clear. An accident … had someone been hit by a car on Faculty Row? Hard to believe. Everyone drove very slowly up and down the street, aware that there might be children playing in the area.

But something
had
happened. Something bad.

Tanner jumped to her feet. What was
wrong
with her? Why was she still sitting here, doing nothing? It was awful that an accident had happened, but she would be insane not to take advantage of it. There were
people
out there, a whole crowd of them, people who could help her, could save her, if she could somehow get their attention. They were busy, rushing around, pulling a stretcher from the ambulance, but there had to be some way to signal them that she was imprisoned inside this house.

She might not get another chance like this.

Tanner surveyed the room frantically. There had to be a way to let them know she was in here. In any other room in the house, where the windows were placed at a normal height in the walls, she would simply have run to the glass and pounded until someone heard or saw her. But here, that wouldn’t work.

And if it were night, she could have switched a lamp on and off repeatedly until someone noticed. Even with the windows so high up, the constant flickering of light would have been discernible. But while the skylight revealed a gray gloomy day, it still wasn’t dark enough outside for anyone to notice a lamp going on and off inside the house.

Tanner shook her head. The dim light from small table lamps wouldn’t be reflected in those windows, anyway. They were too high up on the wall.

But … the lamps were small enough to
throw.

Yanking the cord out of its socket, Tanner grabbed the small but heavy brass lamp from one end table and heaved it at one of two front windows up near the ceiling. Her aim was accurate. But the lamp slammed into the window without breaking the glass, bounced off, and fell back to the floor. When it hit the carpet, the white shade crumpled and the bulb exploded, embedding small fragments of fine, thin glass in the turquoise carpet.

Now I won’t be able to walk over there by that wall, Tanner thought dispiritedly, since I don’t have any shoes.

Of course her father had installed shatterproof glass. Couldn’t be too careful these days, Tanner thought bitterly. You just never knew when a band of ruffians might begin roaming the streets, tossing rocks at Doctor Leo’s music room windows.

There was a heavy crystal candy dish on her father’s desk. Tanner hoisted it, testing its weight, and since it felt hefty enough, she threw that, too.

With the same results. Although there was a sharp, cracking sound upon impact, the window remained intact. The dish bounced away harmlessly, landing on the grand piano with a second sharp crack. This impact split the candy dish into four even chunks, as if it had been sectioned like a piece of fruit. The four pieces tumbled from the piano to the floor, joining the light bulb fragments imbedded in the carpet.

All I’m doing, Tanner thought numbly, is tossing glass into the carpet, as if I were planting seeds.

Dispirited, her eyes returned to the screen above her.

Any other time, someone passing by might have noticed a lamp and a candy dish striking the window from inside, in spite of the height of the windows facing front. But the scene outside was so chaotic, Tanner realized, that it would take far more than a mere table lamp or a candy dish to catch anyone’s attention just now.

What
was
going on out there? She’d been so preoccupied with her own need to catch someone’s attention, she hadn’t tried to figure out what had happened. Obviously, an accident. What kind?

She moved closer to the camera. The picture wasn’t very good to begin with, and the rain didn’t help. It was like looking at a miniature picture through gauze. Still, she studied the screen carefully.

Suddenly she realized it wasn’t just a crowd of strangers outside.

Wasn’t that Jodie, in a yellow raincoat, standing there, her hands over her mouth? And there was Vince, and behind him, Sandy, Philip, and Sloane.

Where was Charlie? Why wasn’t he with them?

Seeing her friends so close and yet so unreachable drove Tanner wild. She began jumping up and down, waving her arms and screaming, “I’m here, you guys, I’m right here, in the house! Come and get me, please, please, come and get me!”

Unaware, they continued to stand in a small group in the rain, next to the ambulance, staring down at something on the ground out of camera range.

Tanner stopped jumping and fell silent. They were all there, Philip and Jodie, Sandy and Vince and Sloane. Why wasn’t Charlie? Something bad had happened, and they had all heard about it and come running. Why hadn’t Charlie come running with them?

Where was he?

She watched, her mouth slightly open, her hands clenched together, as Sandy looked up at Philip and said something. Philip shook his head, and then a policeman came along and ordered them out of the way. It was like watching a silent movie … the figures moved and mouthed things and Tanner couldn’t hear anything they said, but she could tell what was going on.

Peering more closely, she realized that Sandy and Jodie were crying.

Jodie never cried. Not at sad movies, not over a bad grade, not when she was homesick, never.

Why was Jodie crying now?

A shoe Tanner saw a shoe, in the lower lefthand corner of the screen. A sneaker, wet and muddy and very large.

And suddenly, she wanted to scream.

It wasn’t as if she could say she recognized the shoe. Not that shoe particularly. There had to be hundreds of sneakers exactly like that one, right down to the size, on the campus of Salem University.

But the fact that made her want to scream was, four of her friends were standing out in the street in front of her house looking at something that upset them very much. And the fifth person, who should have been standing right there with them, wasn’t. The fifth person, someone she loved a lot, someone who had very large feet, and wore very large sneakers, just like the ones lying on the ground on the screen, was not out there watching as the ambulance attendants rushed forward with a stretcher.

Was Charlie not watching with the others because Charlie was the person lying on the ground needing a stretcher?

Something bad had happened to Charlie?

Then she saw the figure being lifted onto the stretcher, one bloody arm in the leather bomber jacket extended, and knew for an absolute fact that something terrible
had
happened to Charlie Cochran in her front yard.

And then she screamed.

Although she screamed and screamed, and shouted Charlie’s name through her tears, and ran in a frenzy to the front wall to pound on it with both fists, not even noticing that along the way she had stepped on glass and sliced open the soles of both feet, although she pounded and screamed and shouted until her hands were swollen and her voice was hoarse, no one outside the house heard her.

When, exhausted, she returned to the middle of the room, her lacerated feet weaving a pattern of narrow and wide stripes of thick, wet scarlet across the turquoise carpet, and she looked up at the camera with red, swollen eyes, there was nothing on the screen but a gray sheet of rain.

The ambulance had gone, its shrill siren unheard in the music room.

The police car was gone.

Her friends were gone.

Charlie-on-the-stretcher was gone.

No one had heard her.

Crying out softly, Tanner sank to the floor.

B
ECAUSE CHARLIE’S INJURIES WEREN’T
life-threatening, he was taken to the campus infirmary instead of the Medical Center in Twin Falls. His friends were relieved to learn from the doctor on duty that other than a clean, simple fracture of his arm and some cuts and bruises, Charlie was in good shape. And yes, they could see him. But he would be kept in the infirmary until the following day and watched for any sign of concussion or other injuries.

When his friends were encircling Charlie’s bed, Jodie commented gently, “Your face is the same color as your pillowcase. You must have been scared to death. I don’t blame you.” Then, more soberly, she added, “What happened, Charlie? Why did you go back to Tanner’s? And why were you walking in the road instead of on the sidewalk? Did you see the car that hit you?”

Charlie was groggy from the medication, but fighting sleep. There was something he needed to tell them. Everyone had been so busy getting him into the ambulance, rushing him off to the infirmary … what was it he needed to tell them? “But I
was
on the sidewalk,” he murmured. “Motorcycle. …”

His head lolled to one side, he whispered, “Tanner,” and then Charlie was asleep, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, his breathing deep and even.

“What did he say?” Jodie asked, turning to Sandy.

Sandy frowned. “I thought he said ‘motorcycle.’”

“And he said he was on the sidewalk,” Philip added. “He got hit by a motorcycle while he was on the sidewalk?” Philip shook his head. “Must be the shot they gave him.”

Not according to the campus policeman who came to question them. He told them the skid marks showed that Charlie had been hit not by a car, but a motorcycle. “Big one, from the looks of it,” he said. “Weird thing was, the marks were on the sidewalk, not the road. Looks to us like that bike came right up on the street after your friend.”

When he had gone, Jodie put her hands on her hips and faced her friends. “So, how much more proof do you need?” she said. “Charlie was right about something awful happening to Tanner. That bike came right up on the sidewalk after him. So isn’t it obvious that Charlie was deliberately run down on his way to her house because he was going to snoop around, see what he could find out?”

“You don’t know that,” Sandy said, her face very pale. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Maybe some guy on a bike got drunk and couldn’t tell where the road ended and the sidewalk began. It happens, Jodie.”

Vince agreed with Sandy. “I think you’re reaching, Jodie. What are the chances that this has anything to do with Tanner? Pretty remote, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jodie said sarcastically. “Let’s see, Tanner is missing, and Charlie was run down in her front yard. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

“You don’t even know that Tanner
is
missing,” Sandy argued. “I mean, not really
missing.
We’re just … just not sure exactly where she is, that’s all. She could be with her dad in Hawaii or with her mother wherever, we don’t know.”

Jodie knew that Sandy was so nervous and high-strung she couldn’t bear to think about anything bad happening. Sandy sometimes had to take medication for anxiety, so she could concentrate on her studies, and occasionally had bad nightmares that awakened both of them in the middle of the night. To keep herself calm, Sandy worked hard at avoiding unpleasant realities, pushing them away like annoying insects.