Ike Hamill - The Hunting Tree Trilogy

“Huh,” she said. “Okay, fine, call me in fifteen.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hunter,” he said and hung up.

WHEN HE HAD HER on the phone again, he got right to the point—“Ms. Hunter, I’m afraid your son might be in danger.”

“What? Shit, did you find something? Why didn’t Dr. Stuart say anything. He just said he thought everything was okay.”

“He’s not immediately sick,” Mike said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think that. Is your son paranoid, by any chance? Does he think someone is after him? A really big man, by any chance?”

Mike heard nothing but a stretch of silence as Melanie considered the question. He almost interjected, but decided to wait to see how she would react.

“Who is this again?” she asked, all business.

“Dr. Markey. I’m a geneticist,” he said. “It’s really important that I talk to you about your son. I’m really afraid that something might…”

Melanie cut him off - “And what exactly are you doing, calling me and asking if my son is paranoid?” she asked, raising her voice.

“It’s part of his condition,” Mike said, attempting to sound calm and reassuring. “It’s part of what’s wrong with him. Your son, that is.”

“I’m going to call Dr. Stuart, thank you,” she hung up the phone.

Fuck, Mike thought, that couldn’t have gone much worse.

He returned to his car and sat behind the wheel.

MELANIE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY to the family room for a second before calling his name. After the uneasy phone call with Mike, she was glad to see him safe and unharmed, sitting in front of the television and eating his dessert.

“Hey Davey, can you mute for a second?” she asked, sitting down in the chair next to the couch.

“Sure Mom,” he said. He continued to stare at the silent TV while she talked.

“Have you told anyone about your dreams?”

His eyes bounced off of hers for a second and then closed slightly as they returned to the TV. “Yeah,” he said.

“Oh? Who?” she asked.

“John,” he said.

“John? Is that someone at camp, or at the Center?” she asked, trying to remain casual.

“No,” he said. She recognized the tone. “He’s my psychiatrist,” he said slowly. Melanie wondered for a second if Davey would turn into a sarcasm-machine like his sister.

“Okay,” she said. “So you’ve told me and Dr. John. Anyone else?”

“Nope,” he said, spooning more ice cream into his mouth.

“And are you still having the same one? About the big man that’s chasing you?”

“Nope,” he said again. This time he squinted a little as the word left his mouth, as if forming it hurt him a little.

“Great,” she said, patting him on the shoulder as she stood. “Thank you.”

At the phone, dialing Dr. Stuart’s cell phone, Melanie felt her annoyance rising to replace her earlier fear.

“Melanie?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“I thought so. I don’t have your number recorded, but I thought I remembered it from…”

She cut him off—“Who’s this Dr. Markey?”

“I’m sorry?” he asked. She heard the phone shift and the ambient noise from his end of the call died away.

“Dr. Markey? Who is he?” she repeated.

“Damn, did he reach out to you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, trying to channel her annoyance into the handset. “He called saying crazy stuff.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” said Ken. “He’s a doctor that I had consult on your case. He’s been having a hard time recently with his personal life and I’m afraid he’s developed some really strange ideas.”

“Well he’s got strange ideas about my son,” she said. “And did you put him in touch with Tooley?”

“Pardon? Dr. Tooley? The psychiatrist?” asked Ken, dismayed.

“That’s the one. How come this crazy guy is talking to my son’s psychiatrist?” she demanded.

“He’s not, as far as I know. He couldn’t possibly know who Davey is seeing. All those records are confidential, I never showed anything like that to anyone who consulted on your son’s case,” said Ken.

“Then would you mind telling me how Markey happens to know my son’s dreams?” asked Melanie.

Ken was silent for several seconds, trying to process this new information. “He can’t,” he said finally. “Maybe it was some weird guess? I certainly didn’t say anything, and I can’t imagine Dr. Tooley would ever betray that trust. It’s got to be coincidence.”

Melanie considered this while squeezing her temples. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes, completely,” he said. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “Look, I’m actually glad you called,” he lied. “I need to draw one more sample from Davey.”

She sighed into the phone. “Why?” she asked.

“It’s nothing, I promise. We’re still on the home stretch with this stuff, I just wanted that one last test, and I need a fresh sample for this one.”

“Okay. When?”

“As soon as you can?” he asked.

“You’re open early, right? How about before work tomorrow?”

“We’ll be there. Name the time,” he said.

KEN STUART LISTENED TO MELANIE hang up and then closed his phone while he walked back to his living room. He sat down in the chair next to the couch, the same one he had used when talking to Mike the day before.

“Who was it?” his girlfriend, Sharon, asked.

Ken looked up with squinted eyes and a furrowed brow. “I need to do some tests tomorrow. Can I come by around nine?”

Sharon laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Have you started seeing four-legged patients now?”

“No, no,” he said, not returning her smile. “I’ve got to look at some blood and it’s not something I can send it out for. I don’t have any scopes or centrifuges or anything like that at my office. I truck all that stuff out.”

“For a human patient?” asked Sharon. “What are you looking for exactly?”

“I can’t say,” said Ken, shaking his head. “I really don’t know. Hopefully nothing, but I’ll know if I can look under a scope.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Sharon. “Just give me a little notice so I can clear my techs out of there. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re using veterinary equipment for people stuff. That’s frowned upon, you know?”

“Sure,” he said. “That makes sense. I’ll call you before I swing by.”

AROUND TWO IN THE MORNING, Mike realized he couldn’t stay up all night. Coffee cups littered the passenger well of his car, but the caffeine boost didn’t last. Staking out Melanie’s house would be easier, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself after the phone call earlier that evening. Coupled with his trouble with the police over the murders, Mike knew that one more encounter with law enforcement might earn him some serious scrutiny.

He settled for moving his car between various parking lots and cruising slowly by Melanie’s house every hour. As he rolled down the street each time he wondered what he would see in the cool June night that might alert him to the monster’s presence. Between trips he had plotted several courses from Sebago Lake to Lisbon Falls, trying to gauge which night the monster would arrive. He had too many variables and not enough information to make a reasonable guess.

At three in the morning, he made one more pass by the house. His car had just cleared Melanie’s driveway when he saw a light come on upstairs. Two of the four windows lit up, one brighter than the other. He saw some ambient light through the small glass inset in the front door and guessed that the light upstairs originated from a hallway. The street rose slightly uphill, so Mike simply let his car roll to a stop while he watched the windows for any movement. A shadow dimmed the brightest of the center windows and then passed. After a minute, the light shut off and Mike nudged his car down the street.