Ed Gorman - Nightmare Child

"No, but-"

"I think you see what I'm talking about, Diane."

"But we know that something's going on over there."

"No, I'm afraid we don't know anything. What you're really saying is that we suspect, and as yet we don't have any hard evidence for even intelligent speculation. Just fears."

The timer went off, announcing that the chocolate cake she'd baked was ready for frosting.

Once they got off the subject of the McCays, they had a fine time.

Two hours later, snug in Robert's arms on the couch, White Christmas with Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly on television, she said, "Do you really think everything's all right over there?"

He smiled. "No, I don't. But right now there's nothing I can do about it except wait until you call me and tell me they're gone. Then we'll pay their house a quick, unofficial visit and make sure Jenny's all right."

"Jenny." Diane sighed. "It'd really be nice to see her again."

Twenty minutes later, Robert raised her face to his and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"Is that going too fast?" he asked.

"No, that's just going the legal speed limit." She smiled.

He kissed her again.

Terry, the one they'd gotten to replace Ringo, the dog they'd said had run away.

At first, the sounds startled her, loud and sharp as gunshots on the silence. But then the sounds only reminded her of how much she disliked the little dog. Not his fault that he was so aggravating-always drooling all over your hand if you tried to pet him, always tearing your nylons, jumping at you in the street — but she would never feel any affection for him no matter what.

Not quite knowing why, she first rang the bell. She supposed it was her good middle-class training. Even when you're breaking into a place, always be polite.

It was one of those afternoons when she really enjoyed domestic work. In the morning she dusted and straightened up the living room and in the afternoon she worked in the warm, sunny kitchen rearranging shelves. Occasionally, memories of last Saturday night came to mind. Hard to believe four days had passed already. Certain things Robert had said and done remained so vivid.

Working on the shelf with all the spices, she sneezed when she held up the paprika, and climbed down from the stool to get some Kleenex from the counter.

Blowing her nose, she looked out over the startling brilliance of white snow. The sun wasn't hot enough to melt it; it just gave it an almost blinding surface.

Watching the way the wind whipped the snowflakes around in a dazzling, diamond-like display, she saw on the edge of her vision something that seemed wrong.

Leaving from the front door of their home, bundled up so heavily that Diane could not see their faces, were Mindy and Jeff McCay.

Expecting them to walk around to the side to get their second car, a blue Volvo station wagon, she was surprised when they kept going down the walk and then into the street and then straight across the snowy field Jeff had crossed the other night to reach the brook.

Where could they be going? And both of them at the same time? And why didn't they take the car?

Only then did Diane realize the opportunity she had. Robert had asked her to tell him if Mindy and Jeff ever left the house together, leaving Jenny alone.

Dashing to the yellow wall phone, Diane dialed the number of the police department, a number she knew by heart already.

"May I speak with the Chief, please?"

"One moment."

As she waited, she felt like a child, so excited she could scarcely stop herself from jumping up and down. She stood on the lowest rung of the stool to see if she could catch sight of Mindy and Jeff. Just now, their heads were disappearing on the other side of the hill, dark shapes against the brilliant white day.

"Hello," a male voice said.

"Hello?"

"You're holding for the Chief?"

"Yes."

"Afraid he's tied up right now. There was a fire on the edge of the business district. Pretty bad one. Damage is probably going to run at least half a million."

"But isn't the fire department-"

He'd anticipated her objection. "Right now, the fire department needs all the official help it can get, including the Chief. Sorry. Is there something I can help you with?"

Diane thought about it but decided no. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to let one of Robert's co-workers know that he was at least contemplating "visiting" a place without a search warrant.

"No, thanks. I appreciate your time, though."

After hanging up and stepping down to the floor, Diane leaned against the counter for long moments in the sunshine. Her heart still pounding at the prospect of possibly seeing Jenny, she knew she would have to make a decision quickly.

What if they came back while she was in there? What if she found that Jenny had been abused in some horrible way that Diane could never forget?

Shaking her head at herself, knowing that she owed her young friend all the help she could give, Diane ran to the hall closet, took down her coat, tugged on her snow boots, and went out the back door.

Outside, the sun was even more blinding. It was one of those freezing days when you could scarcely breathe.

She paused a moment as she struggled through the knee-deep snow. She looked up at the McCay house. While it was one of the more expensive homes in Stone-ridge, there was still something sinister about it. She'd never been able to figure out what. In the dazzling sun-light and beautiful snow, it should have looked like an ordinary, friendly house. But there was a shut-away aspect to it, the windows too dark with drawn curtains, as if it were a place in which sick people were kept.

Shuddering, knowing she was being silly, Diane went the rest of the way to the McCays' front door, determined to go in there, find out Jenny's condition, and take whatever action was appropriate.

Reaching the front steps, she heard the yipping of the tiny golden toy poodle, try the bell first. Terry went crazy, even managing to sound fierce despite his diminutive size.

She rang the bell one more time. Its chimes sounded too full, almost corny on the clear afternoon.

Anxious again, her chest feeling tight, she put her right hand down to the knob and twisted gently. The door was open. She pushed it inward a bit farther. Terry flew at her like a heat-seeking missile.

Bending down to grab him, his pink tongue found her face and began inflicting big wet slurps.

Despite herself, she giggled. Terry's breath might be bad, but his tongue tickled.

Holding him to her side, she crossed over the threshold and took two steps inside the McCay's house.

Her first impression was that the place was badly in need of a straightening-up and dusting. Magazines, newspapers, pizza boxes, and beer cans were strewn everywhere, and the dust was thick enough to write your name in clearly. In all, the downstairs, with a chair overturned here and a shirt thrown over the couch there, resembled the world's most expensive dormitory for boys. A mess, but, in some strange way, a friendly mess.

The biggest mystery was how Mindy could live there. Mindy's house had always been her pride. Generally, she'd invited Diane over once or twice a month to view whatever gadget Jeff had brought home that time. The house was always immaculate, due, no doubt, to the full crew of cleaning women Mindy had in once a week.

What had happened to the cleaning women? Had they gone on strike? Had they been deported for being illegal aliens?

"Jenny."

In the silence, Diane's voice sounded strained, unnatural.

"Jenny."

No hint of a response came as Diane started through the house. On the dining room table were piled stacks of paper plates smeared with the residue of countless dinners. Ants crawled on the plates. Diane shuddered. What was going on there?