He watched her now as her hand flew across the sketch pad on her desk. Head bowed, her forehead wrinkled in concentration, she was oblivious to his vigil, oblivious to the way her life would soon be changed forever.
Leaning forward, he tapped on the glass.
Sarah’s head shot up, and when she saw him, her eyes widened and she seemed a little frightened at first. She rose and crossed the room quietly, checked the hallway, then closed and locked her door.
She hurried over to the window and slid it up.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in an excited whisper.
Ashe smiled at the sound. “I want you to come with me. I have something to show you.”
“Really? What is it?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
Her eyes lit. “You mean like a present? I have one for you, too. I know it’s after Christmas and all, but...do you want to come in and see it?”
Ashe hesitated. Breaking two of the rules might be asking for trouble, but Sarah looked so excited and eager. He glanced around. The cottage windows were all dark, and the moon was still covered by clouds. No one would see him, surely.
“Turn off the light first,” he said. “Bright lights hurt my eyes.”
“But...you won’t be able to see your present in the dark,” she protested.
“You can leave on the lamp.”
She turned off the overhead light and switched on the lamp beside her bed. Once the room was dim, Ashe climbed through the window and sniffed the air, letting Sarah’s scent wash over him.
The forbidden familiarity of her room excited him because he knew so many of her secrets. And it was almost time to share with her the darkest secret of all, but he had to prepare her first.
Tonight, it would begin.
Absently, he picked up a yellow porcelain bird from her desk and cradled it in his palm. He’d always wondered about that bird. Normally, she kept it in a glass case on her nightstand.
She saw his interest and smiled. “My grandmother gave that to me when I was little. She collected porcelain birds. She kept them in a locked case in her parlor and I found the key. I took one out and accidentally broke off a wing. I hid it so I wouldn’t get in trouble. But when Grandma found it, all she did was make me help her glue the wing back on. And then she gave it to me to keep because she said a wounded bird needed someone special to care for it.”
“That’s true,” he said. “Does your grandmother live around here?”
“Nah, she died a long time ago. Just a few weeks after she gave me that bird. Sometimes I wonder if she knew she was going to go and that’s why she gave it to me. She wanted me to have something of hers. I used to pretend that her soul lived inside it. That’s why I kept it beside my bed. So it was the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning.” Gently she took the bird from his hand and returned it to the glass case.
When she turned, her smile was unexpectedly shy. “This is kind of weird, isn’t it? You being in my room and all.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No. I haven’t given you your present yet.” She walked over to her desk and picked up her drawing pad. “It’s not finished yet, but...ta-dah!”
She handed him the sketch pad with a flourish, and Ashe turned it toward the lamp, taking care, as always, to keep his face shadowed. As he stared down at Sarah’s drawing, a slow tremor crawled through him. For a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
For the first time, he saw himself...the way Sarah saw him. It was as if she’d gazed straight down into his soul. And what she’d found when she peeled back the outer layers was something dark and beautiful and terrifying.
“You don’t like it,” she said after a moment.
“No, I do...” He was so overcome with emotion, he could hardly speak.
“Some people don’t like the way I draw them,” she said quietly. “But it’s like...I don’t know...like I can peer inside them somehow. What I draw isn’t always what they want to see.”
“You have a gift,” he said. “Your grandmother was right, Sarah. You are special.”
“Yeah, sure. Try telling that to my old man.” She laughed, but for a moment, he swore he saw the glint of tears in her eyes before she turned away.
“He already knows you’re special,” Ashe said. “And it threatens him.”
“Why would that threaten him?”
“You’ll figure it out one of these days. Maybe what I have to show you tonight will help you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
She followed him out the window and they climbed down the tree together. The night was dark, but they stayed among the shadows anyway until they were safely away from the house. Up the path to the cottage, through the orchard, across the cotton field. To their special place.
For the longest time, they didn’t talk, and as they neared the farmhouse, Ashe could hear the bells in the cottonwood trees.
Tolling for what was to come, he thought.
“Ashe?”
“Yeah?”
“Where do you live?”
“Around.”
“Around where?”
He shrugged. “What difference does it make?”
“I’m just curious. Do you live in a house?”
“Sure. But not like yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mine’s not big and fancy.”
“I hate my house,” she said passionately. “I can’t wait to get out of there. And when I leave, I’m never coming back.” She pulled her jacket tightly around her as the breeze picked up. “Can I ask you something else?”
“I guess.”
“You heard those girls calling me names the other day, didn’t you? Amber and the others. That’s why you stole their stuff. You did it for me.”
“What’s the girl’s name who was laughing so hard?”
“You mean Holly Jessup?”
“Holly Jessup. Holly...Jessup,” he said slowly, committing her name to memory.
He stared straight ahead, into the night. He’d wanted to do more than steal from them, but he couldn’t without giving himself away. One of these days, though, when it was safe, he’d come back.
“Why did you do it?” Sarah persisted. “Why do you care what they call me?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“But why do you want to be my friend? We’re not even the same age. We don’t go to the same school. You won’t even tell me where you live.”
“None of that stuff matters, Sarah. We’re friends because we’re the same. I knew it the moment I first saw you. It’s like our souls are mirror images.”
She thought about that for a moment and nodded. “I think you’re right. I think we are the same.”
They were approaching the farmhouse now. A place of shadow and legend. A place of death.
But I am the real demon, he thought.
It would be his footprints they would find in the blood. His mark that would be left upon the body. And after he was done, after he was gone, the town would live in terror for another seventy years.
Chapter 15
On Friday afternoon, Lukas Clay got off work early so he could be at the house for a delivery of flooring he’d ordered. While he waited for the truck, he set to work stripping the wood molding in the parlor and kept at it until well after dark.
Then, tired but still a bit restless, he popped the top off a Turbodog and sat out on the front porch in the cold night air, listening to the freight trains in the distance and watching moonlight drift down through the trees and sprinkle across the surface of the pond.
As content as he was with the way things had worked out for him, Lukas was still sometimes amazed by how easily he’d settled into rural life. He’d left Union County after high school and had never considered returning until after his father died.
Even then, the only reason he’d come back was to settle the old man’s affairs and sell off the property and the house where he’d grown up. He’d hoped for a quick turnaround so he could get back to the business of figuring out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. But real estate could sometimes sit on the market for months or even years in the South Arkansas economy, and while Lukas impatiently waited for a bite, he’d been offered the position of chief of police in Adamant.
The offer had been extended, he was told, on the basis of his impressive service record and his prior experience on a midsize police force, but Lukas suspected his last name, more than anything else, had been the real catalyst.
Whatever the prompt, the proposition had intrigued him. Opportunities hadn’t exactly come pouring in since his discharge, so after only a day of mulling over his options, he’d accepted the position and had immediately set about finding himself a little place in town that would be convenient to the station.
In the ensuing months, he’d sold off parcels of the old man’s land, which had given him some start-up cash. But the old homestead had generated nary a nibble, and Lukas had started driving out to the country on weekends to try to spruce up the place.
At first, he concentrated on minor, cosmetic repairs, but when he discovered how much he enjoyed working with his hands, he tackled the bigger plumbing, wiring and roofing projects. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of a hard-core renovation.
The satisfaction he got from bringing the old place back to life surprised him, considering that his childhood home didn’t hold happy memories. His father had seen to that. But it was a good house on a nice piece of ground that was far enough from the road to provide a little peace and quiet on weekends. All the privacy a man could want.
And the work agreed with him. Lukas had found a strange kind of nirvana in a place he’d once thought of as hell. He relished the prickle of the sun beating down on his shoulders and the ache from a long, hard day settling deep into his muscles. He liked dropping into bed at night, so tired that he was dead to the world until the sun woke him up the next morning.
After a while, he’d gone inside, showered and hit the sack. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when the cell phone on the nightstand rang. No one from the station ever bothered him out here unless it was an emergency, so he didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Yeah?”
“Sheriff Clay?”
“No, this is Lukas Clay.” He put a slight emphasis on his first name.
“Sorry, my bad. Your daddy was the sheriff, right?”
Lukas rolled onto his back. “Who is this?”
“Somebody you been looking for, Luk-ass.” The male voice drawled the name, mocking Lukas’s pronunciation. “I hear you been asking around town about me.”
Lukas sat up in bed. “Fears?”
“You still want to talk?”
“Yes, but I’d rather have this conversation in my office instead of over the phone.”
“That’s a problem, see, because then I’d have to check my book and my people would have to get back to your people...turn into a real hassle. Let’s just do this now and get it over with.”
“Where are you?”
“Look out your window.”
Lukas got up and parted the curtain. An old blue-and-white pickup was parked in the drive and he could see someone sitting behind the wheel. He was surprised and a little unsettled that he hadn’t heard the engine. He must have been sleeping pretty damn hard. Some nights it was like that.
“That you up there, Luk-ass?” An arm gave a wave out the window of the truck.
“Yeah.”
“You alone? I hope I’m not interrupting something.” Fears chuckled.
“I’ll be right down.”
“Hey, grab us a beer on your way out. I got a little parched on the drive over.”
Lukas quickly dressed, then slipped his .38 into the back of his jeans. Shrugging into his jacket, he headed out the front door.
Derrick Fears had gotten out of the truck and stood leaning against the front fender with his arms folded and his feet crossed at the ankles. As Lukas crossed the yard, Fears spread his arms and grinned. “You wanted to talk, here I am.”
Lukas could see his face clearly in the moonlight. It was thin and creased, the visage of a man who had aged quickly and not well. But beneath the jeans and insulated hunting vest, his body was still powerful and sinewy.
“Hey, where’s my beer?”
“Sorry, fresh out,” Lukas said with a shrug.
Fears’s hair was clipped so short, his scalp gleamed in the moonlight. His head was lowered and the way he looked up through his lashes was both cagey and deliberate. “You never answered my question. You out here all alone?”
Lukas gave him a hard appraisal. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Oh, I got my ways, don’t you worry about that.”
He appeared sober, but his eyes were moving about ten times faster than normal, and Lukas detected a slight quiver in his voice that made him wonder what Fears had recently shot up or ingested. Crystal meth was the drug of choice in most rural areas because of the cost and the ease of procurement. But amping could produce some erratic and violent behavior, the prospect of which made Lukas grateful for the feel of his gun against his back. The house was miles from the highway.
“Who told you where I’d be?” he pressed.
“A little birdie I know says you’ve been spending a lot of time out here.” Fears glanced around. “You’ve got the place looking pretty spiffy. Much better than the last time I was out here.”
“When was that?”
“Long time ago. Back when your old man was alive. He gave me the scenic tour once.” Fears nodded over Lukas’s shoulder. “There’s an old storm cellar back in those woods. Used to be a house out there, too, but it burned down. You ever go out there?”
“Not recently.”