Bill Pronzini - The Lighthouse

“What could you have done without proof of who was responsible? What can you do now?”

“Talk to Mr. Novotny, for one thing. Surely you could see the value in at least filing a report.”

“I suppose so.”

“I think we might have done that today,” Alix said quickly. “Even if this terrible new thing hadn’t happened.”

“Mandy Bamett’s murder, you mean?”

“My finding her body. Yes.”

“But that is why you told me about the incidents?”

“Well, we didn’t want to hold anything back,” she said, “anything that might be important. Mandy’s death could be related to what Mitch Novotny has been doing to us, couldn’t it?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. But her father is a friend of Novotny’s. It’s possible he was involved in those malicious acts against us.”

Sinclair made a note but said nothing.

Alix went on. “And the girl was on her way to see me last night. She said on the phone she needed to talk to me. I don’t see what else she could have wanted to talk about except the harassment; there was no other connection between us.”

“You think she wanted to tell you who was responsible? Or something else?”

“I just don’t know.”

Sinclair stroked his lopsided mustache. “You can be sure we’ll look into that possibility, Mrs. Ryerson. Among others. Meanwhile, I think it would be a good idea if you and your husband filed a report on the incidents as soon as possible.”

“Yes. Whatever you say.”

“Mr. Ryerson? Do you agree?”

Jan nodded. “Yes, all right.”

More questions. On and on, until the sound of his voice began to grate on Alix’s nerves. She continued to watch Jan closely, to see if he was starting to weaken under the constant barrage of questions. But he seemed the same as he had at the beginning, with his fear still masked beneath his calm exterior, just as Sinclair’s bulldog tenacity was masked beneath his calm exterior.

It was another half hour before Sinclair finally seemed satisfied. He rose then, thanked them for their cooperation, and issued the standard warning not to leave the area without first notifying his office. His departure left them in an echoing silence that Alix broke by saying, “Thank God that’s over!”

“Is it?” Jan said. He gave her a bleak look. “I’d guess it’s just starting.”

He was right, of course. There would be other interrogations, other questions. Sinclair was no fool; he could sense that something was wrong here. But that was not her immediate worry. Jan was.

She refused to believe he was a murderer; if she even admitted the possibility, after the horrifying, elemental experience of finding Mandy’s body, she would be risking her sanity. And it wasn’t just blind faith in his innocence, either. There was physical evidence: she’d examined the front of the car at the rest area, found no scrapes or dents, no streaks of electric blue, as there would have been if he were the one who’d run Mandy down on her bicycle. No, the man she knew, loved, lived with was the same decent, harmless man he’d always been. It was something else, something profound, that had made him afraid, made him need her so much. Something to do with those headaches. She would find out what it was, and they would deal with it together.

But not here. She couldn’t reach him here; he couldn’t seem to talk to her. They had to get away from Cape Despair first. If she knew nothing else, she knew that that was imperative for both their sakes.

She was about to speak, to put her thoughts into words, when Jan raised his head-he had been staring at his hands-and looked at her. His eyes seemed to have lost their thin film, as if it had melted under some sudden heat-the heat of decision, of resolve.

He said, “Alix, I think you should leave here. Right away.”

It was almost an echo of her thoughts, and the last thing she had expected him to say. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it. Go to Bandon, take a motel room for a day or two.”

“Both of us?”

“No. Just you.”

She stared at him. “What about you?”

“I’ll stay here.”

“Jan, I don’t understand…”

“We need some time apart. I need it… some time alone.”

“But why?”

“I can’t explain now.” He got to his feet, came over to stand in front of her. His eyes were almost pleading, now. “Please don’t argue with me, or ask me any more questions. Just pack a bag and leave. In a day or two… then you’ll understand. I promise you that.”

Would she understand? She didn’t now; she felt again that they were on the brink of losing each other, of becoming strangers. The bond between them was so fragile. If she left him at this crisis point, it might snap.

And what would he do out here alone? What if he had another bad headache? Or what if Novotny came back, retaliated further? She wanted to ask him, demand reassurances, but she couldn’t. He’d said, “Please don’t argue with me, or ask me any more questions.” It would be a breach of faith, another strain on the bond, if she ignored that plea. Might make the crisis even worse.

His eyes were still pleading with her, filled with his need. She felt a sudden wrench of pain. Jan had seldom needed her at all, and now his need had become a negative one. Nonetheless, it was one she couldn’t ignore.

“All right,” she said. “All right, I’ll go.”

Adam kept saying, “Poor Mandy. Jesus, that poor little girl.”

Mitch kept saying, “It was Ryerson. Nothing like this ever happened around here until that goddamn psycho showed up. It was Ryerson, I tell you.”

Hod didn’t know what to say, what to think. He felt numb.

He felt as if somebody had scooped a big piece out of him somewhere inside. The place where it had been didn’t hurt yet. It would pretty soon, he knew that, but right now it didn’t. It was just numb, like the left side of his face had been numb that time he’d had the impacted wisdom tooth and the dentist in Bandon had shot him full of novocaine.

Della wasn’t numb, though; better for her if she was. She’d screamed when they told her, and then collapsed, and Mitch’s wife and his mother-in-law had come over and calmed her down and put her to bed. They’d got a doctor to come from Bandon and give her something, a shot of something-Mitch said don’t worry, he’d pay for it-and now she was resting in their trailer, with Marie Novotny and her mother right there to keep anybody from bothering her. They were taking care of Tad and Jason, too. The boys didn’t understand what it was all about, they were too young, but they knew something bad had happened to their sister and they’d both been bawling their heads off when Hod had left with Mitch and Adam.

And now here he was, sitting in Mitch’s living room-just the three of them, no more troopers, no more sheriff’s men, no more questions, and for the time being no more neighbors standing around gawking. Just him and his two best friends, drinking beer he couldn’t taste, listening to words that didn’t mean anything to him because of that big numb place inside that wouldn’t let him feel anything.

“Poor Mandy,” Adam was saying, “that poor little girl.”

“Troopers better arrest Ryerson damned quick, that’s all I got to say,” Mitch said. “Before anything else happens.”

“Mad dog like that,” Adam said, “he ought to be shot. No trial, none of that crap where a smart shyster can get him off. Just take him out and shoot him.”

“Shoot him or lock him up,” Mitch said, “just so he can’t hurt no other young girls.”

“Jesus, poor Mandy. That poor kid.”

“He’s a psycho, that’s what he is. Gets his kicks killing people, animals-just killing them.”