The Spite House(76)

He needed to call Eunice, tell her what he’d found so far and pin down exactly how much more he needed to do to get his money. That was what his grandfather would do. Eric’s father, God bless him, was more mild-mannered, and Eric still had more of that in him than he cared for. Frederick wouldn’t have been half as patient. The first time Eunice admitted to withholding information she should have shared in their first meeting, he would have told her, “It’ll cost you more to keep anything else from me.” He’d have told her that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his family. He would crawl out of Hell and send an old woman back in his place, if he had to. Frederick would have understood then what Eric was just realizing, that he could have used his dire straits to gain some leverage. Eunice knew he was in a desperate situation, but desperate men could be dangerous. If there was one thing Eric had on Eunice, it was that she feared for her life almost as much as he feared losing Stacy again. He had missed earlier chances to let her know what he was willing to do. Next time he talked to her, he’d make sure she understood. And, hell, why wait for the next crazy thing to happen before he reached out to her? He hadn’t checked on the girls yet today, anyway. He’d give her a call now, let her know they needed to talk.

Eric kept one hand on the wheel and took his phone from his pocket with the other. It was dead. Of course it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d plugged it in. A simple thing that he’d been disciplined about since going on the road, and it slipped his mind like it was something he forgot to grab at the grocery store. He wondered if Dess had called while his phone was off. If so, she was likely worried enough to come back to the house to check on him. That was the last place he wanted her to be. He hated to think of her worrying about him. Daughters weren’t supposed to worry about their dads.

The drive back to the spite house felt shorter than it should have. He was off the paved street and following the winding dirt road toward the house before he was ready to be. When he pulled into the clear, near the house, he would have enough room to make a U-turn, and he told himself that’s what he would do. Go back to town and get some food, walk around some, maybe find a coffee shop where he could get in someone’s ear and see if they might give him some more information. Something about Masson’s niece and nephew that could help.

That plan evaporated when he saw three cars parked near the house. He recognized everyone who stood outside the cars, staring up at the Masson House. There was Eunice, Lafonda, Emily Steen, and Dess.

Stacy wasn’t with them.

Was she somewhere else with Dana? Why wouldn’t she be with Lafonda instead? Why were any of them here? What in the hell was going on?

He pulled to a fast stop and jumped out of the car. His first instinct was to shout at all of them. Where the hell was Stacy? Had they left her somewhere? Had they lost her? His heart was pounding. For the love of God, he’d left her in Eunice’s care for one night and already something was wrong. He might as well have kept her with him in the spite house. The primary thing keeping him from screaming at Eunice was suppressing his urge to throw up. Because as pissed off as he was, he was even more anxious. A sickening nervousness filled him from his gut to his throat.

When he got close enough, he saw that Dess had her most resilient face on, which meant she’d been crying recently. The roiling fear in his stomach turned painful. Fire and fangs tore through every emotion but despair. Eric braced himself to hear the worst news he could hear about Stacy, and to relive the worst moment of his life.



* * *



After they explained everything—Max’s arrival, Stacy’s abduction—Eric was fully possessed by such fury that it seemed to have come from a primordial time. A wrath that was the grandmother of survival. That long ago forced the Earth to give rise to animals so that it would have something it could inhabit. It was accompanied by the precursor to human fear—the raw, preservative utility of necessity.

Much of what Eunice and Dess imparted glanced off him. The man’s name and the fact that he’d been here before didn’t matter. Eric didn’t care that Dess had revealed Stacy’s big secret, and he wasn’t upset right now about Eunice’s lie of omission. Nothing mattered beyond the simple fact that some bastard stole his baby girl and brought her here. That man was holding her at gunpoint inside the house. Eric could only think of two things, PROTECT and KILL. Not merely the words, but the actions. Gradually, more cogent thoughts regained purchase in his mind, but still worked in service of the two primary drivers.

PROTECT.

KILL.

“I need to go in,” Eric said.

“Hold on,” Eunice said. “You don’t want to do anything to make things worse.”

“Sorry, I should have been clearer,” Eric said. “I’m going in.”

“Dad, we don’t know where he is in there,” Dess said.

“I’ll find him,” Eric said.

“He has a gun.”

“And Stacy. That’s why I’m going.”

“Then I am, too.”

“No.”

“Dad—”

“We’ve got a better chance if just one of us goes. He might panic if he’s outnumbered. We can’t risk that. And of the two of us, you know I’m not letting you go.”

Dess looked at him like she wanted to hit him, and that brought him an ounce of peace. It told him that if he failed at this then his older girl would go in and save her sister.