Richard Laymon - The Lake

“Oh no, oh NO!!!” Leigh sobbed out frightened little cries, her hands crushed to her chest. Her knees folded and hit the carpet with a sickening jolt.

She scrabbled over to the TV.

Grabbed at the photographs fanned out on the floor.

Horrified at what she saw…

Terrified.

DEANA!!! Oh NO!!…

A dozen or so black-and-white shots.

Deana, her face all bruised, lips cut and swollen. Eyes puffy, almost closed. Hair arranged neatly across her naked shoulders… curling around her breasts.

Oh my God… Deana!

Leigh snatched up a print, pressed it to her mouth, sobbing, her tears making smudges, carving lines down the bromide. She stopped. Looked at the others.

Picking them up, slowly, one by one. Her stomach twisting, her tormented eyes seeing the damage Mace had done…

Oh my God…

Must tell Mattie. There may be some sort of clue hidden in the photographs. Somehow. Some where .

Mattie would find something .

She knew Mace like no one else did.

Leigh stumbled to her feet, clasping the photos to her breast. Something else caught her eye.

Another photograph. One she knew well. Deana at Point Reyes Beach. In her new white bikini. Laughing at the camera.

Fuckin’ bastard Mace.

He’d had it all along.

Deana hadn’t given it to Warren…

Oh, shit! The goddamn fuckin’ evil beast! What a fool I’ve been—harboring a psycho like that!

Guilt welled up.

If she hadn’t fought with Nelson.

If she hadn’t taken up with Mace.

If she hadn’t gone to Aunt Jenny’s in the first place.

Grow up, Leigh. This isn’t your fault.

But maybe you should have listened to Deana. She’d never liked Mace anyway.

Now Deana was held captive by Mace.

And her dork of a mother never even guessed that he…

Leigh hurried into the hallway. To rouse her bodyguards. Tell them that Mace had sneaked in…

Could still be here…

Her blood ran cold.

The house was eerily quiet.

Huh!

Some bodyguards… Allowing an intruder to sneak past them… Come to that, they should be around; they must’ve heard me walking about?

Leigh quickly discovered why the two cops were silent. They lay sprawled in pools of blood, congealing loops of it sliding from gaping slits in their throats.

“Mattie. Mattie!!!” Leigh cried into the phone, willing her to pick up. She didn’t. Hurriedly, Leigh yelled at the answering machine. “Mattie. Please come over as soon as you can. Something’s happened here. Something serious. I want you here. NOW!”

Christ! No, Mattie. Just a conversation with her answering machine… A great start to the day—all alone in the house with those awful images of Deana playing on her mind—not to mention two stiffs for company.

Warren! He’ll know what to do…

Letting the prints drift to the floor, Leigh went through her little black book with trembling fingers.

She found Warren’s number. Dialed it.

Knees shaky, heart in her mouth, she prayed for Warren to speak to her.

“The Hastings residence.” A woman’s voice.

Sheena.

“This is Leigh West. I must speak with Warren.”

“You got it, sister.” Sheena’s response was instant. Like she was waiting for Leigh’s call.

A moment’s silence then.

“Leigh. Warren here. What is it?” His voice rose. “Deana?”

“Warren, please come over. Someone’s been here. An intruder. It has to be Mace. And… the two officers…”

“Yes?”

“They’re dead, Warren. They’ve been murdered.”

“Christ.” Warren’s voice was terse. “I’m coming over, Leigh. You called the cops?”

“I phoned Mattie. She’s not in. Left a message for her.”

“Mill Valley PD?”

“No. I’ll do it now…”

“Stay right there, Leigh. I’ll phone the cops from here, and I’ll be over in a coupla minutes. Don’t touch a thing.”

“He left photographs, Warren,” Leigh went on, sobbing.

“The bastard!… I’ll be right over, Leigh…”

Sheena turned to Warren. “I’m coming too. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Best stay put, Sheena. Might just complicate matters, you being over at Leigh’s house.”

Leigh gave a heavy sigh and shivered. She felt chilled to the bone.

Pulling her robe around her, she found the belt and tied it tight. Thank God for Warren, she thought. Deana was right. He’s such a sensible, capable guy…

She glanced toward the front door, wanting, willing him to be there. To tell her everything was going to be okay. He’d find Deana… Bring her home…

She looked at the prints scattered at her feet. She bent to pick them up.

A hand slipped around her waist.

She gasped, jumped.

Froze.

The hand tightened.

Another clasped her arm.

They brought her up.

Pulled her around.

Lips closed on hers. Gently…

Mace.

“Why, hello, sweet thing,” he said softly. “How ya been?”

“YOU! You BASTARD! What’re you doing here…? And where’s Deana? Tell me where you’ve hidden her. TELL ME!” Shaking off his hands, she grabbed his biker jacket, jerking him close. “Just tell me what you’ve done with my daughter. You’ll never get away with it. TELL ME—WHERE IS SHE?”

“Hey, steady on, there. And let go a’ me. Can’t tell you where li’l Deana is , but I do know she’s alive and well…” He thought about it, blew out breath slowly, and shook his head. “Y’could say she’s several country miles from bein’ all right . But she’s okay. At the moment,” he added with a grin.

“Where? Just tell me where she is, Mace!”

He backed off, into the shadows, his eyes glittering in the half-light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he had a knife in his hand.

His eyes narrowed.

Pointing the blade at her, he whispered, “That’s for me to know—and our little friend Warren to find out.”

“Warren? Why Warren? All of Mill Valley PD is looking for Deana… never mind Mattie…” She looked at him uncertainly… Where is Mattie? she wondered.

Her heart froze.

She must’ve picked up my message by now…

“Really?” Raising his eyebrows, he sent her a chilling smile. “Wouldn’t count on that if I were you!”

He turned. Disappeared into the kitchen.

She heard the back door open, then snap shut.

Stunned, she wondered what Mace had meant.

I wouldn’t count on that if I were you…

Surely he hadn’t…

The doorbell rang. She leapt. Her stomach clenched…

Who…?

She looked around, half expecting Mace to appear…

“Leigh, Leigh! It’s Warren. Open up!”

Sobbing with relief, she ran to the door, slipped the chain from the catch, and opened it.

She stood there, swaying, tears making silver trails down her cheeks. For the second time in the last half hour, she felt her knees fold under her.

Warren lunged forward. Grabbed her waist. Kicking the door shut behind him, he guided her to the living room and helped her onto the sofa.

It was almost daylight, but not yet light enough to see clearly. Flashing a brief smile at Leigh, murmuring, “A little illumination wouldn’t go amiss,” he turned on the TV lamp. Its warm yellow glow lit their part of the room.

He asked gently, “Feeling better now?”

“Warren,” Leigh said in a small voice. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you. Did you call the cops?”