John Saul - In the Dark of the Night

He edged up the property, staying out of the light, keeping to the shadows of the trees.

Making sure he was invisible.

Soon he was close enough to the house to see people inside, and the sight of them drew him on.

His heart began to pound, and his head throbbed. He tried to turn back, tried to go no closer than he already was, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted — he had —to see what they were doing inside.

And who they were.

There was a boy inside, he knew that.

But who else?

As he edged yet closer to the house, he glanced over toward the carriage house that seemed almost like it was trying to hide behind the larger building. But it looked all right — dark and safe, although even from here he could feel the pull.

But it was all right.

He could resist, at least for now.

For now, he was safe.

But he couldn’t resist the family inside the big house.

He crossed the lawn to the steps, slipped silently up onto the terrace, and peered in through the big living room windows.

A fire burned in the fireplace.

He remembered another fire burning in that fireplace.

There was a woman reading in Dr. Darby’s leather chair in front of that fireplace.

He remembered Dr. Darby reading in that chair.

As Logan watched, a little girl appeared, carrying a bowl of popcorn.

No! No little girls! No boys, no little girls!

Danger…so much danger.

It was happening again. It was all going to start again! Soon!

Logan put his hands to his head, pressing hard. There was something he was supposed to do — something in case this very thing happened.

But what?

He couldn’t remember!

A little white dog started to bark and jump at the window a few feet from where he was standing.

Panicked, Logan backed away from the window, then turned and ran back into the woods, making his way as quickly as he could down to the water.

Down to the water, and his boat.

His heart still pounding and his head still throbbing, Logan untied the line from the tree, got into the boat, and shoved off.

Careful to keep the big wooden cross on his prow between himself and the house, he backed slowly and silently away, until he was completely out of sight of the evil.

But out of its sight, he knew, didn’t mean he was away from its influence.

Away from its force.

“Mercy,” he whispered once more.

Praying silently, he began to row home.

“ WHAT’S THE MATTER with Moxie?” Merrill asked, looking up from her book.

“Something’s out there,” Marci said, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the blackness beyond the window.

“Nothing’s out there,” Eric said, coming in from the dining room with a piece of pie, which he was piling on top of the s’more he’d already eaten. The dog was still scratching at the window and whining to get out, and though he’d just said there was nothing out there, Eric wondered if maybe Adam Mosler had decided to come back and do what he’d heard him suggesting to Cherie earlier. Except Adam Mosler hadn’t had time to get all the way to town and back, and Eric was pretty sure that whatever Adam had in mind, Cherie wouldn’t be willing to go along with it.

“Go take a look, okay?” his father asked, emerging from the den at the far end of the living room, which could be closed off with a set of sliding doors. “Set your mom and sister’s minds at rest.”

“Probably a raccoon or something,” Eric said. “I better put his leash on him, or he’ll get himself in trouble.”

“Moxie could beat up a raccoon,” Marci insisted.

“Yeah, right,” Eric said, snapping the leash onto the dog’s collar. “And Tippy could bring down a deer.”

“I didn’t say that,” Marci shot back, injecting as much scorn into her voice as she could summon. “But I bet she could,” she whispered as her brother opened the door and stepped out onto the terrace.

“Bet she couldn’t,” Eric tossed back. Glancing around and seeing no glowing eyes, he bent down and released the dog from the leash. “Sic ’em, Mox.”

The dog ran barking down the lawn toward the lake.

Eric stood on the patio, gazing out into the night. The moon was just rising, and the light on the horizon threw the pine trees into silhouette and reflected in a faint silver tinge on the water’s surface. The whole world seemed to be turning black and silver.

Then, from off in the distance, Eric heard the creak of an oarlock, and he saw a glittering splash of water. As his eyes adjusted from the brightness of the house, he thought he could see the faint form of a boat disappearing into the darkness. But almost as soon as it was there, it was gone.

Moxie continued to bark for another moment or two, then fell silent, and Eric could barely make him out, squatting at the edge of the lake. Finished with his business, the dog gave one more bark, then ran back up to Eric.

“Got that out of your system?” Eric asked, and picking the little dog up, carried him back inside the house. “Whatever it was, Mighty Moxie chased it off,” he announced.

But later, as he was going to bed, Eric found himself gazing out the window at the lake, searching once more for the boat he thought he’d seen.

Where had it come from? It hadn’t been there earlier, when he was talking to Cherie just before he came in for a piece of pie.

Or maybe he hadn’t seen it at all.

Except he had.

He knew he had.

THE MEMORY OF Eric Brewster was as vivid in Cherie Stevens’s mind as she turned the corner onto Spruce Street and started up the last block toward her house as it had been when she’d walked away from the Moslers’ boat, leaving Adam to tie it up himself.

Adam Mosler! How could she ever have thought that he might actually qualify as a boyfriend? Although to be absolutely fair, until tonight she hadn’t realized just how much of a jerk he could be.

But Eric Brewster — now, he was something else. Even in the fading light of dusk she’d seen how cute he was, and though she hadn’t been quite able to tell for sure, she was still certain his eyes were blue. And not just any old blue, either, but the exact shade of turquoise that was her favorite color. All during the walk home from the marina — all eight blocks of it — she’d replayed the short conversation she’d had with Eric. He was so different from the boys at Phantom Lake, and the way he’d refused to rise to Adam’s bait — or sink to his level — was so perfect. And she could just imagine how Adam and whoever had been with him must have treated Eric. But who had it been? Probably Chris McIvens, who could be just as much of a creep as Adam.

Cherie glanced at her watch as she came to her house, and quickened her step as she realized how late it had gotten. Seeing her father sprawled out on the couch with a beer in his hand, she braced herself for whatever mood he might be in.

Or whatever mood the beer had put him in.

“’Bout time you got yourself home,” Al Stevens growled as she opened the screen door and stepped into the living room. “Where you been?”

“Out with Adam Mosler. I called. Didn’t Mom tell you?”

“Your mother’s gone to work — it’s late.” He glared balefully at her. “Too late for you to be out with a boy.”

“It’s not that late, Dad,” Cherie began. “It’s summer—”

“Don’t matter,” he cut in, his eyes shifting back to the TV. “Get yourself to bed.”

Cherie opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “Okay. I’m sorry.” Going to her room, she took off her blue and white striped uniform, checked the closet to make sure she had a fresh one for tomorrow, then tossed the one she’d just taken off into the hamper. She dropped a thin nightie over her head, went down the hall to the bathroom to wash and cream her face and brush her teeth, then flopped onto her bed and called Kayla Banks, intending to tell her every detail of her encounter with Eric Brewster.