The Meridians(86)

"Kevin," he repeated. "What are we doing here?"

"Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird," sang the boy.

"Do you know what that's about?" Scott asked Lynette.

She shrugged. "No idea," she admitted. "But the last few times he's acted like this, it's been to save someone's life, so I'm inclined to go with it, you know?"

Scott looked at the house in front of them. It was dark and, to all appearances, completely deserted. It was two stories, with a basement door to one side proclaiming the presence of a third level below ground. Like many houses in Idaho, it was modest and clean, though there was something about it, something below the surface of it, that made Scott feel somewhat ill. As though he was looking at a cancer on a friend's X-ray, not knowing really what he was looking at, but knowing that there was something wrong about it.

Scott looked at Lynette. "Stay here," he said finally.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Scott nodded at the house. "To check it out."

"What?" she asked. "And you want us to just stay here? No way, buster."

"Come on, Lynette," he pleaded. "We don't know what's inside there. It could be anything. But we do know that the last few times have involved danger to the people around you and Kevin. So assuming that this is no exception, I'd like you both well out of harm's way."

"I'm sorry," said Lynette. "But I'm going with you."

There was a scream and a bump from behind them. Kevin was on his side in the backseat, thrashing around mightily, groaning as though he had some kind of internal infection.

"What's going on, Kevin?" asked Scott. He reached back to touch the boy, to see if he could calm him. But before he could, Kevin reached forward and grabbed his laptop from Lynette, who had managed to keep a hold of the computer throughout their flight from the gray man.

He opened it, and after the machine had spun up he opened a new document and began typing. Then, without looking at Lynette or at Scott, he showed the computer to them.

"Only Scott goes in," he had written.

Scott looked at Lynette and resisted the urge to smirk at her. The only things that kept him from doing so were the twin facts that the gray man was still somewhere out there, searching for them; and that he had no idea what lay inside the house before them, but he suspected it was going to be something difficult at best, downright hazardous at worst.

He looked at Lynette for a long moment, as though drinking in her image, then without another word got out of the car. He walked up to the house, which now seemed to loom over-large in the night, a hulking giant that stood, dark and silent, in the light of the moon overhead.

Scott stepped up to the door, and reached out a hand to knock. Something stopped him from doing it, however. He didn't knock, but rather stood to the side and tried to peer into the house through the window that was near to the front door.

Only darkness greeted his questing eyes, darkness and an ever-increasing sense of fear that had come into his heart like a snake coiling about his innards, restless and flickering. He could feel his heart pounding, and wondered if he was going to be able to do whatever it was that was required of him in this dark house in the night.

Then he cocked his head to one side as he saw something. It was just a moment, but he was sure he saw it: someone laying on the sofa near to the window. The person was a nearly-shapeless lump on the couch, but he could make out something - or thought he could - in the night: the person was a child, too small to be a man or woman, and the child was tied up hand and foot.

Someone had a hostage inside the house.





***





40.

***

Scott had only seen a handful of murders that made him angry in his time as a homicide cop. He had seen plenty that were upsetting, sure, and all of them were sad in one way or another, but only the handful that he had seen involving children made him actively angry. Children were too young to be involved in such evil, he thought, too innocent to be a part of the hatred that made people turn against one another in anger. So the sight of the child on the bed, bound and gagged and clearly frightened, made Scott see red for a moment.

He didn't have his gun. And chances were that the person inside who was responsible for this heinous crime was at least armed with a kitchen knife, if not with something even more lethal. Still, Scott would have gone in at that point no matter what, because of the child.

The question was, what was the best way to go in? Through the front door? The side? Try a window? Scott knew that he had to get to a phone to call the police, but also worried more than a little bit about taking that avenue of action. After all, surely the destroyed car had been discovered by now, and an all points bulletin put out for its owner. If this had been Los Angeles, the discovery of a wrecked car might have been relegated to a back burner in favor of the more pressing crimes that were a part of everyday life there. But in Meridian the car would be hot news. And Scott had no intention of ending up in a holding cell - not until he had figured out how to stop Mr. Gray, at any rate. He had the suspicion that if he allowed himself to be admitted into a prison before doing that, Mr. Gray would appear in the cell with him - or with Kevin or Lynette - and cut them to ribbons before anyone could be summoned to aid them.

After a moment, he decided that going through the front door would be the best way to proceed. It was direct and obvious, but at least afforded him instant access to the child, and for all he knew the kidnapper - or kidnappers, he reminded himself; it could be several people behind this crime - was waiting at the back door for someone to come snooping around. The front door was as good as any.