Barbara Michaels - The Walker in Shadows

"Okay." Mark took a book in one hand and Kathy's wrist in the other. "We're going in the next room to work. Don't worry, we'll leave the door open."

This shaft of irony was directed at Josef, who responded with a raised eyebrow, but made no verbal comment. When the two had disappeared into the adjoining room, he spoke to Pat in a low voice.

"What is he driving at?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Maybe I'm unfair," Josef said. "But I swear that kid would make Machiavelli look like an amateur… Well, I'll see if I can find out what he wants to know; maybe then he'll condescend to explain why he wants to know it."

He applied himself to the book he had chosen. Pat tried to read too, but the low voices and occasional bursts of laughter from the next room distracted her. Thank God, she thought, for the resilience of youth. Kathy must be a lot tougher than she looked to have survived the arid childhood Josef had described. If her mother's warped views had scarred the girl, the scars were well hidden; certainly she didn't seem to find the male sex repellent.

As time passed, it became harder for them to concen trate. Josef's eyes began to stray from his book to his wristwatch. Pat had put hers in her purse in order to resist the temptation of watching it. Mark and Kathy appeared to have forgotten the time, but when Josef said suddenly, "It's twelve fifty," Mark emerged from the next room as if he had been propelled by a spring.

"Twelve forty-five," he said. "Your watch is fast."

"Turn on the TV," Pat said.

Josef rose to do so, giving her a sour smile. She shared his feelings; trying to clock a ghost by means of anything as mundane and modern as television…

But the prosaic nature of the apparatus gave her an unreasonable sense of security. Surely no evil spirit would invade a motel room while Perry Mason outfoxed another lawyer.

Abandoning all pretense at indifference, they sat watching Perry mouth dumb protests until Pat said suddenly, "Poor Jud. I feel guilty, leaving him."

"I wanted to bring him," Mark said. "But you-"

"He's too big," Pat said. She didn't want to explain her real objections to bringing the dog. His abject terror had increased her own. "Anyhow, he's shut in the kitchen, away from… I wish we could have located Albert before we left."

"Cats are reputed to be quite comfortable in the presence of evil spirits," Josef remarked.

"That's a vile canard," Pat said. "However, I think cats are more capable of avoiding unpleasant situations. Albert has not been around much the last few days. Maybe he doesn't like what has been going on."

The exchange was their last pretense at conversation. They sat in silence for the succeeding minutes, watching the figures on the TV screen gesticulate. Perry's triumph was followed by six commercials, a late news bulletin, and the "Star-Spangled Banner," as the station signed off. Finally, when the screen had been blank for several long minutes, Josef let out a long sigh and wiped his damp forehead.

"That's that."

"Thank God," Pat said sincerely. "Let's go to bed."

"I don't suppose…" Mark began.

"That we want to go back to the house and see what, if anything, your apparatus has recorded? No," said Josef.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Mark muttered. "Good night, all."

By the time Pat had finished her ablutions Kathy was sound asleep. The girl had been stoically silent through the last vigil, but as Pat bent over her, studying her pale face, she wondered how long Kathy could stand it. Even if Josef carried out his threat of selling the house and moving away, the problem would still be unresolved in the area that counted most-in Kathy's mind. She might go on seeing apparitions even after they had ceased to pursue her; and surely her mother's hell-fire religious notions must have left unpleasant seeds of guilt and doubt in her young conscience.

Pat brushed a lock of hair away from Kathy's cheek. The girl's tight lips relaxed into a faint smile, and Pat resolved then and there that if no other solution presented itself, she would suggest to Mark that they manufacture a final, satisfying denouement, something that would settle Kathy's fears. Maybe, she thought grimly, we can burn that damned house down to the ground. Josef wouldn't wittingly cheat an insurance company, but Mark would… And I'm beginning to think it might be the lesser of two evils.

Josef's room was dark and silent. He had left the door a few inches ajar. Pat got into bed, groaning as her taut muscles relaxed. The warm, sweet tide of sleep began to envelop her.

She came bolt upright, all her joints protesting, as someone knocked on the door.

"Mom? Hey, Mom, are you asleep? It's me."

She heard a muffled curse and a creak of springs from the next room. Josef hadn't been asleep either. With a curse of her own she got up and ran to the door.

"Shut up," she said through her teeth. "If you waken Kathy I'll kill you. What do you want?"

Mark, still fully dressed and wide awake, looked hurt.

"I can't find my pen. I must have left it on the table next door."

"You don't need your pen."

"I do, though, Mom. It won't take a minute. Just let me-"

He was past her before she could protest again. Kathy had not stirred. Mark tiptoed to the door between the rooms.

"I'll just slip in," he whispered. "I won't wake him up."

"I'm awake," said a grim voice from the darkness. "If I had been asleep, I'd be awake now."

"Gee, Mr. Friedrichs, I'm sorry. I just-"

"Shut up and get on with it."

"Yes, sir."

Pat heard objects rustle and rattle and jingle as Mark fumbled. There was no further comment from Josef, not even a creak of bedsprings. Mark finally reappeared.

"Thanks," he said "I just wanted-"

"Get out of here," Pat said.

Mark gave her a wide smile full of teeth and ingratia-tion. Before he slipped out the door he glanced at the bed where Kathy was sleeping, and his mother's rude comment died on her lips. He cared so much it hurt her to see him.

She felt less kindly toward Mark when the incident was repeated at what seemed to her an incredibly early hour the following morning.

"Go away," she shouted-and then, remembering

Kathy, she rolled over, clapping her hand to her mouth.

Kathy was sitting up in bed. With her hair tumbling over her bare shoulders and the thin fabric of her batiste nightgown showing all the fresh young curves beneath, she looked good enough to eat. Her eyes were shining as she slid out of bed and headed for the door, where Mark's insistent tapping could still be heard.

Pat fell back against the pillow, wondering whether she was tough enough to become the mother of a nubile young maiden.

"Put a robe on," she croaked.

Kathy came to a stop and turned red from the top of her nightgown to the roots of her hair. Remembering a number of things she ought to have recalled earlier, Pat added quickly, "Mark is always in a weakened state before breakfast; you don't want him to pass out in the hall, do you?"

Kathy's flush subsided. "You're funny," she said, giggling.

"That's me," Pat agreed. "Keep 'em laughing." Mark's attack on the door increased in volume. Pat yelled, "Wait a minute."

"I'll let him in," Josef said. He stood in the doorway between the two rooms, buttoning his shirt; and as Pat rolled a weary, wary eye in his direction he grinned dis-armingly. "Hi," he said.

"Uh," Pat said. Her nightgown was heavy cotton and she knew there were bags under her eyes; there always were when she had not had enough sleep. Josef glanced at his daughter.

"Get your jeans on, honey," he said casually. "The lady is correct, as always; if a passing bellboy gets a look at you, we'll have to beat him off with a club."