Cage Of Night Part 25

Then he nodded for Cindy to follow him.

She seemed just a bit reluctant but then walked past him, into the interior.

No lights ever showed.

No sounds were ever heard.

For the next half hour, the house sat as dark and quiet as it had been previously.

There was just the prairie and the snow and the silence, not even any wind now.

The few times I put my gla.s.ses on Poker, he was as unmoving as ever.

They came out of the house quickly.

Garrett carried a bulging paper sack.

Cindy's face was what held me.

Something was smeared all over it.

All I could think of was the war paint Indians used to wear for battles.

Why would she have something smeared all over her face?

I took a closer look at Garrett and saw that his face, too, was smeared with something dark and streaky.

What was it?

When they reached Poker, Garrett laughed.

His foot lashed out and caught Poker in the belly.

The dog didn't move.

Garrett laughed again.

They started walking to the car.

Cindy looked scared.

She said something to Garrett.

He walked over to her, lowered the bag so she could see inside.

And then he laughed again.

Cindy smiled but she still looked scared.

When they reached the car, Cindy got inside right away. Garrett walked to the road and looked up and down.

He didn't want anybody to see him pulling out.

Apparently satisfied that n.o.body was around, he walked back to the car, opened the trunk, and set the grocery sack inside.

Then he walked to the driver's door, and got in.

He kissed her immediately, and before long I had to look away again.

This time it was worse.

Garrett had slid over on the pa.s.senger side of the front seat so Cindy could mount him.

There on the lonely prairie, the car rocked, springs laboring, and Cindy's tiny screams of pa.s.sion rang in my ears.

At least it was over with quickly.

Garrett backed out with no lights, pointed the car westa"away from my cara"and took off fast.

Still no lights.

I stood there for a long time listening to the silence. I just kept thinking about those smears and streaks on their faces.

There was only one way I could know for sure if my worst suspicions were right. I'd have to go inside Mae Swenson's house myself.

CHAPTER TEN.

Just inside the front door, I paused. In the Army I'd been around a number of serious accidents, and as a result there was a harsh, iron smell I'd come to know. Blood.

That smell filled this house.

I took a deep breath and walked deeper inside.

There were a lot of antiques in the living room and parlora"pewter mugs and Victorian gas-style lamps and a Charleston Battery Bench among them. There was also a 36" TV screen and a very modern couch. Apparently the widow Swenson wasn't long on consistency.

I saw all this in the faint silver moonlight that touched the frosty window panes. The darkening clouds had pa.s.sed.

I walked over to a staircase and put my hand on the banister and looked upward to the darkness on the second floor.

My hand felt sticky.

I took it from the banister and held it up to the moonlight. I felt the texture, held my hand to my nose. The smell. That smell.

I started walking up the steps. I wanted to run back and call the police but I was afraid of getting Cindy in trouble.

I always think of Psycho whenever I'm ascending a staircase like this. You know, the scene where private investigator Martin Balsam is going up the stairs to look for Norman's mother. And suddenly there she is, butcher knife and all.

But Norman's mother wasn't here tonight.

I climbed all the way to the second floor without anybody running out of any of the bedrooms.

The second floor was so deep in gloom, I could see only a few feet ahead of me.

The smell was awful up here.

Blood was now mixed with feces. That's another helpful thing I learned in the Army, how at the last your bowels frequently betray you.

The first door I came to, I pushed inward, and then held my breath, afraid of what I was about to see.

Moonlight revealed a kind of informal den. There was a wall of bookcases and a small fireplace and a 21" portable TV on wheels. There was also a desk and a daybed. Neither was an antique but both looked pretty old.

But the most interesting part of the room was the wall safe. It stood open, a virgin violated.

I walked across two s.h.a.ggy throwrugs and stood in front of the safe.

I peered inside.

I couldn't see anything. Too dark.

I walked over to the desk and started going through the drawers. I'd remembered to pull my gloves on before entering the house. No fingerprints.

In the bottom left drawer, I found a two-battery flashlight. The batteries were dying. The light cast was yellow and muzzy but it was better than nothing.

I went back to the open safe and shone the light inside.

All I found were stocks and bonds, ITT and IBM and other blue chips. There was no money of any kind.

I could make a pretty good guess of where it had all gone.

I walked back down the hall. The flashlight beam was now flickering on and off.

The next door stood ajar.

The stench was overpowering.

I used the toe of my boot to open the door further.

She was completely naked. She lay atop white, blood-soaked sheets. Her hands and b.r.e.a.s.t.s had been hacked away. And her eyes cut out.

Her white hair made the scene not only terrible but pathetic. n.o.body should treat an old person like that. The blood was even spattered over her white hair. Like decoration.

I walked very close to the bed and then slipped in a pool of blood. I was thrown forward so that my face ended up only inches from her empty gaze of blood. I heard myself scream and quickly pulled myself erect.

Blood splotched and gooped and glopped the wall behind her bra.s.s double-bed. My sputtering flashlight also revealed pieces of human meat that had adhered to the wallpaper.

I found the bathroom, two doors down, just in time.

After I was finished, tears stung my eyes, vomit burned my throat.

I went back into Mae Swenson's room and took a final look.

She couldn't have done this, I thought.

Or so I hoped. Not Cindy.

Maybe all she did was watch.

I tried not to think of some of the things David Myles had said on his ca.s.settesa"things about Cindy.

I turned around, to get out of the room fast, and as I did, I stepped on something.

I didn't want to shine my sputtering flashlight to the floor but some grim impulse made me.

One of Mae's hands.

The simple gold wedding ring looked sad sitting on the hand that had been ripped away from its arm.

Downstairs, the front door slammed shut.

I immediately pictured police.

I'd be up here, trapped, and they'd never believe my explanation.

I ran out of the room and down the stairs.

The living room and parlor seemed much darker than before.

I shone the flickering light around both rooms.

No cops.

The wind had blown the door shut.

I felt drained, then, totally exhausted.

But I had to move and move quickly now.

I forced myself out of the death house, and into the night.