The Narrows(106)

“Your dad’s dead, isn’t he?”

He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“It was the way you said it.”

He handed her the lighter. “Flip it open. Here. Like this.”

He showed her. It took her a few times to get it down, but she eventually did. She handed it back to him and he dropped it in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. Then he stood up, grunting as his back creaked. Across the room, Shirley said his name in a small voice that was just barely audible over Wendy’s light snores.

“It’s time for me to go,” he told her. “You stay here with Brandy’s mother.”

“And the girl?” Shirley asked.

“I’m going with him,” Brandy said.

Ben put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She’s coming with me,” he said.



2



Outside, freezing rain drummed against the roof of the front porch. Across the road and in the direction of town, there was nothing but black space where streetlights and house lights should have been. Looking into that emptiness caused Ben’s resolve to weaken. It was as if Stillwater had been erased from the face of the planet in the middle of the night. Pervaded by a series of queasy tremors, Ben wondered just how prophetic that thought was.

Brandy appeared beside him, zipping up a nylon jacket with her name embroidered at the breast.

“Is that a school jacket?” he asked her.

“Yes. I used to be on the track team.”

“Good. Because if anything happens, I want you to run.”

They made a dash for Ben’s squad car, which was parked at an angle in front of the house, their footfalls splashing through icy puddles while the rain pelted them. Ben secured the shotgun in the trunk while Brandy climbed into the passenger seat. In the car, Ben set the GPS on the dashboard, keyed the ignition, then spun out into the street and headed in the direction of the town square.

“Seat belt,” Brandy said, pulling hers over her chest and clicking it home.

Ben nodded and buckled up. Ahead, the squad car’s headlights chased away a chasm of darkness. The faintest ripple of pinkish light stood off to the right now, just beginning to crest the mountain range. The streets were flooded and driving was treacherous. When they reached the intersection of Hamilton and Cemetery Road, Ben had to detour around the main drag and opted for one of the higher, unnamed service roads that ran behind the cemetery.

“There’s no one on the roads,” Brandy said, her voice small.

“It’s the storm,” Ben assured her…although he did not think his voice sounded all that confident.

“Do you know the Talbots?” Brandy asked out of nowhere. “They live out on Drury.”

“I think so.”

“I was supposed to go to the school Halloween dance this Friday with Jim Talbot.”

Ben said nothing, not sure why she was bringing this up now.

“He’s got a younger sister,” she went on, “and we were making fun of her a couple of weeks ago, teasing her because she said there was a troll living under the Highland Street Bridge. You know, like in that story about the three goats?”

“I know the one.”

“She said she saw a troll living under the bridge when she drove past the Narrows with Mr. Talbot. She’s only seven, so she could have seen anything down there, I guess.” But the tone of her voice informed Ben that she suddenly believed Jim Talbot’s seven-year-old sister, and that there had been a troll hiding beneath the Highland Street Bridge after all.

He cut the wheel and detoured along Schoolhouse Road even though the service road had not yet flooded. Brandy asked him where they were going.

“I think it would be smart to round up some backup,” he told her. “Do you agree?”

Brandy said nothing but continued to look out the passenger window at the encroaching darkness. Here, the trees blotted out the mountains and any hint of daylight that was working its way up over them. It could have been the middle of the night.

Ben slowed the car as they passed a series of small brick houses that flanked the right side of the road. All the lights in the houses were off, making it appear as though the entire block had been evacuated.

Or worse, Ben thought.

He pulled up in front of Mike Keller’s house, which was the last house at the end of the road before the road dead-ended into dense woods. The place was as dark as an underground mine. Mike’s police car was still in the driveway. Moonlight limned the shape of what appeared to be a pair of boots pointing up out of the overgrown grass of the front lawn.

Christ…

He popped open his door and Brandy did the same. “No,” he told her. “Wait her for a sec.” Then he snatched his cell phone out of the console and tossed it into her lap. “See if you can get a signal. If you do, call 911.”

The girl glanced at the cell phone. “There’s no bars.”

Ben climbed out of the car and hustled across the front lawn in the rain. At the side of the house, Mike’s live-in girlfriend, Judy Janus, had parked her Chevy Blazer. One of the Blazer’s doors stood open but no interior light was on in the cab.

The figure on the lawn was Mike Keller, still in uniform. He lay with his face down on the lawn. Someone had unzipped the back of his head, leaving behind a ragged split in his skull which was already overflowing with rainwater.