Donald Harstad: Code 61

With my night scope, I could see the car Borman meant, along with Borman and his car about fifty yards up the road, off on the shoulder. There was no sign of our intrepid Mr. Chester. I looked back up the ravine, and over the parts of the bluff below the trees. Nothing.

“Tell Borman to come on over,” I said. I was disgusted with myself, and with the way things had turned out.

We checked on the car. A rental out of Jollietville, Wisconsin. No wants, no reports of any activity concerning it. Just a bland car.

We looked into the car from the outside, but there was nothing in the interior except a receipt on the passenger seat. I could see the header of the rental company on the pink paper. No name. The doors were locked. Lack of clutter was to be expected from a rental. None of us could read the information on the sheet through the rain-spattered window because the drops reflected our flashlight beams. In a moment of inspiration, I lifted the night scope to my eye, and hit the zoom button. No reflections, and the paper became twice as big. “William Chester,” I said. “Rented yesterday, at one-fifteen P.M.”

When such a simple thing as thinking to use the night scope makes you feel better, you know you're having a bad night. The fact that it was a rental though, and not stolen, confirmed in my mind that Chester definitely was not our vampire.

“Where the hell'd he get to?” asked Sally.

A very good question. My first thought was that he'd just climbed out of the ravine when I dropped the night scope, and had gone deep into the trees. Either that, or he knew about that private cable car arrangement.

In my experience, the most exotic explanation is just about invariably wrong. “Probably back over into the trees,” I said. Even with a night scope, there was no way that one or two of us would be able to track him down in the trees, the underbrush and the rain.

I looked at Borman. “Not one of our better nights,” I said. “How about giving Sally and me a ride back up to the Mansion? That's probably where he's headed.”

“Sure. You think he's really Peale?”

It was somehow reassuring that it had occurred to Borman, too. “Not now. This car isn't something snatched off the lot, it's a rental.”

“Oh.”

“But be damned careful. Somebody else could be doing some hunting tonight, too.”

“Right.” He sounded just a little unsure. Good. At least he'd keep his doors locked.

“Okay,” I said, “after you drop us off this time, come back down around here, and set up someplace where you can watch this car. If he sees us leave, I think he might try to leave.”

“Could he try to get back to the Mansion on us?” I liked that. It was the first time Borman had used “us,” and it made me think he might be coming around.

“I dunno,” I said. “He's a persistent bastard, but he's gotta give up sometime.”

We piled in Borman's car, and off we went. We'd find out.

When we got to the top of the drive, and we were getting out of the car, I turned on the night scope to check the front of the house. The thing flickered, and went dead.

“Shit,” I said. I tapped it a few times. Nothing. I tapped it a bit harder with the heel of my hand. Nothing. I removed the battery, wiped it with my hand, and reinserted it, making sure it wasn't shorting out due to the rain. No luck.

“What's wrong with it?” asked Sally.

“Battery seems dead. Nothing works.”

“Great.”

“Well,” I said, “that just means we stay here near the front. I don't want to go making a lot of noise stomping through the brush.”

Borman rolled his car quietly back down the hill, and Sally and I trudged the last few yards to the edge of the gate and the wall. We found a relatively dry spot where a pine branch hung over the wall, and hunkered down there.

“Did you bring the case for the night scope?” Damn. Of course I hadn't. I'd left it at our first surveillance point.

“We'll find it at first light,” I said. “Ought to be about six-thirty or so, up here on the bluffs.” I looked at my watch. It was 01:19. “About five hours from now.”

We watched the front of the house in turns, after about 01:45. One of us would doze a bit under the trees, in a crouch with our back against the tree trunk, while the other watched. We agreed on thirty-minute shifts. Sally stood first watch.

Sally was the one watching at about 04:40 when we heard the noise. I wasn't dozing at the time, and joined her at the wall before she even tried to get me.

We both listened. Nothing. Just the patter of raindrops, and the heavier dripping from the eaves of the house, striking the porch roof.

“What was it?”

“It sounded to me,” said Sally, “like somebody hitting something. Thumping sound, like wood on wood. Two, maybe three times.”

“I only heard one,” I said. “Loud, but soft, you know?”

“Yep.”

“Loud footsteps, maybe?”

“I don't think so,” she said. “Maybe like somebody throwing a snowball at the side of the house.”

Obviously there was no snow. But she'd described the sound perfectly.

We waited. Any more dozing was out of the question. I really missed that night scope.

About ten minutes later, I could have sworn I heard a muffled male voice, angry. It sounded like it came from inside the Mansion.

“You hear that?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Shhh.”

It was quiet again, but not for as long.

Even in the dark, we could see the front door fly open as a figure ran down the porch steps, slipped, fell flat in the driveway, rolled, got up, and came running toward us as fast as it could go. The sound of bare feet slapping onto the drive was audible even at our distance, and got louder as the figure approached.

Sally and I didn't utter a word. We just both started moving quickly to our left, to intercept whoever it was.

We beat whoever it was to the gate by about two seconds.

“Stop!” I said it loud enough to be clearly heard. The figure didn't even slow down.

I didn't have time to think, I just stepped out, lowered my right shoulder, and got bowled over by the impact. But I hung on, and rolled on top.

Sally shined her flashlight on us, just in time for me to see Toby's mouth open as he took a deep breath and screamed right in my face.

I was startled, but clamped a hand over his mouth, and said, loudly, “It's just cops!”

He went silent, but I kept my hand in place. His eyes were darting, and I could feel his chest heaving under me. I shifted, to let him breathe, and he started to try to get up.

“Stay put!”

He was looking right at me, but I don't think he had the slightest idea who I was.

“Get ten-seventy-eight,” I said to Sally. If we ever needed help, it was going to be now. Whatever had scared Toby out of that house…

His first words, at least those that were understandable, were “Oh, fuck, oh shit.”

“Toby, what are you doing here?”

I got a frightened, blank look. Sally stopped talking on her portable long enough to say, “He signed himself out.”

Of course. Voluntary commitment meant that he could sign out of the treatment center whenever he wanted to.

“Listen up!” I said to him. “Get a grip!”

“He's here!”

“Who?”

“Dan, you dumb fuck! He's here, I gotta go… ” And with that he began to struggle to get away from me.

“Settle down, damn it!” I needed him to at least stop struggling.

It was then that he brought his fist up and smacked me on the left side of my head. I think it was a reaction, nothing more, but I responded by hitting him squarely in the face. I felt his head thud back down into the drive, and saw his eyes cross. But he stopped struggling.