All the Pretty Dead Girls Part 44

Joyce jumped back, terrified.

Mr. Barlow cowered behind his hands.

I NEED NO GUN TO PROTECT MYSELF FROM THE LIKES OF YOU, came the voice of the creature. It sounded like nothing Ginny had ever heard before. A hollow sound, neither female nor male. It seemed to vibrate off the walls.

I WILL GO WITH YOU, BUT REMEMBER WHO I AM BUT REMEMBER WHO I AM.

I WILL NOT BE TOLD WHAT TO DO.

I WILL GIVE THE INSTRUCTIONS, AND YOU MISERABLE Sc.u.m WILL FOLLOW THEM AND YOU MISERABLE Sc.u.m WILL FOLLOW THEM.

IS THAT CLEAR?.

"Yes," Joyce said, her voice trembling.

And then Sue was back. Looking none worse for the wear.

"Sue!" Ginny called. "You mustn't give in!"

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Can't we just kill her and get it over with?"

Sue turned her face to look over at Ginny. Their eyes held for a second. Ginny thought she looked different. Hard. Cruel. As if she'd given in to the dark part of herself.

"No," Sue said. "I don't want to kill her."

She reached out her hand, and in that one simple gesture, Ginny crumpled to the floor.

"But when she wakes up, she'll have forgotten that any of us ever came here."

Joyce looked down at Ginny's fallen body. "Are you sure you don't want me to kill her?" Joyce asked. "Think of the trouble it would stir up...all those accusations flying..."

"No!" Sue shouted. "She is to be left alive. And make sure that the driver's body is removed and properly disposed of. Clean up all the blood. I don't want any trace left."

Joyce made a face. "But who's going to clean it up?"

"You are. Get scrubbing."

She turned to her grandfather.

"And when she's done, you will drive me back to Wilbourne." She looked out the window into the bright light of day. "I have final exams to take."

66.

Billy sighed and exhaled. Even in the darkness, he could see his frosty breath in front of his face. He s.h.i.+vered, cursing himself for the tenth time in as many minutes. I should have said no, I should have said no, he thought as he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. he thought as he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. It's f.u.c.king freezing out here. It's f.u.c.king freezing out here.

"Why should I do what you're asking?" He'd thrown the question at Bernadette like a fastball, hoping she'd miss, hoping she'd be unable to answer, and the whole thing could be dropped.

But Bernie was ready. She hit the ball out of the park. "You should do it," she told him, "because you love her."

Standing there s.h.i.+vering in the cemetery just outside the walls of Wilbourne College, Billy remembered Bernadette's words. Because you love her. Because you love her.

"Do I?" he asked out loud, his voice sounding odd in the cold night air.

How could I love what I saw in her eyes?

"She's...not human," Billy had managed to say to Bernadette. What he'd seen in her eyes-red eyes, eyes filled with fire-was death. He couldn't explain it more than that. He saw death, and destruction, and d.a.m.nation. He knew that sounded weird, but that's what he saw when he looked in Sue's eyes. d.a.m.nation d.a.m.nation.

His mother had seen the look of terror on his face when he'd run home from the diner after seeing Sue. She'd made him tell her what he saw. "She had the face of..." Billy struggled with the words. "The face of a devil!"

His mother had seemed fascinated, pumping him for all the details, but she also warned Billy to stay away from Sue. Then she was on the phone to someone, whispering furiously-spreading gossip about Sue, Billy presumed. She'd never liked her.

But when he told Bernadette the same story he told his mother, she had a far different reaction.

Bernie had come by, bundled in a down coat, red scarf, and pink mittens, and asked Billy why he'd run out of the Yellow Bird after seeing Sue.

He told her that Sue Barlow was not human.

"Oh, Billy, of course she is," Bernadette said. "She's as human as you or I. But she's in trouble. I know that. Bad trouble."

And so here he was, freezing his a.s.s off in a cemetery, looking over the Wilbourne wall at the back windows of the dean's house.

Because I love her.

He didn't know if that was true. They'd known each for such a short time. They'd never had s.e.x, never even made out all that much. But he had had liked being with her more than any other girl he'd ever known. She had captured his heart in a way he'd never experienced before. liked being with her more than any other girl he'd ever known. She had captured his heart in a way he'd never experienced before.

But now he was afraid of her.

Billy couldn't deny it. He now believed Sue had caused Mike and Heidi to collapse and get sick. Maybe it wasn't deliberate. But she had some kind of power. Some kind of diabolical power. He'd seen it that day in her eyes.

But if she could be helped...then he wanted to try.

Bernadette had insisted she could be helped. Saved Saved, she'd said. "Sue can be saved, and you can save her, Billy."

What the f.u.c.k am I doing listening to a little kid like Bernie? Billy thought once again about just chucking the whole plan, beating a path out of the cemetery, and heading home, where it was warm and safe. Billy thought once again about just chucking the whole plan, beating a path out of the cemetery, and heading home, where it was warm and safe.

But Bernie had some kind of power, too. Billy couldn't deny how she'd changed. Something very strange was happening in this town, and Bernie and Sue were just part of it.

He pulled his woolen cap down further over his ears. His nose was cold. He looked over the wall at the top two floors of the dean's house, an imposing gray granite building. Townsfolk said the ghost of Sarah Wilbourne still walked the house. Billy remembered being a kid and being dared to go up and look in one of the windows on Halloween night. It had taken all of his nerve-and the taunting of his friends-to go up there and look in the window, but he'd seen no sign of Sarah Wilbourne-or, for that matter, of Dean Gregory and his mousy wife either. Still, having proved his coolness to his friends, he climbed back over the wall and strutted through the cemetery like the c.o.c.k of the walk.

But now, standing here among the graves as the wind whipped through the trees, Billy felt surrounded by ghosts. The house itself was in good repair, but its crenellated roof and dark windows certainly made it feel like a place of evil.

And Sue was inside.

Bernadette had told him that Sue was returning to Wilbourne after trying to escape. "Escape from what?" he'd asked her, but Bernie was vague. She simply said that Sue was being brought back to Wilbourne and that terrible things would happen if Billy didn't stop them. He mustn't tell his mother or the police or anyone else. "If you do," Bernie said, "Sue will die. At least Sue as we know her will die."

"You keep saying not to tell my mother," Billy said. "You make it seem as if she's part of the conspiracy, whatever it is."

"Trust no one, Billy."

"Even you?"

Bernie had just smiled. "But you do do trust me." trust me."

He just shook his head. "I don't know why. You're just my best friend's kid sister. But yeah, I do trust you, Bernie."

He knelt down behind a tree, trying to take shelter from the wind. There was a light covering of snow on the ground, and more was predicted for tonight. I hope this is all over with before it starts to snow, I hope this is all over with before it starts to snow, Billy thought as he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time again. Two minutes since he'd last looked. He shoved the phone back into his coat pocket and looked back up at the house again. All the downstairs lights were on, and from what he could make out, there were several people moving around behind the windows. A campus Christmas party maybe. Somewhere among them, Bernie had a.s.sured him, was Sue. Billy thought as he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time again. Two minutes since he'd last looked. He shoved the phone back into his coat pocket and looked back up at the house again. All the downstairs lights were on, and from what he could make out, there were several people moving around behind the windows. A campus Christmas party maybe. Somewhere among them, Bernie had a.s.sured him, was Sue.

He needed a better look. In a sudden move, he began climbing the bare branches of the tree, confident his black coat and the moonless night would obscure him from the windows of the house. The limbs of the tree gave him a closer view of the dean's house than he could have obtained on the ground, and would also allow him to drop down on the other side of the wall if need be. Now he was able to make out faces in the lighted windows. Most of them Billy didn't recognize. But he picked out Dean Gregory-and wasn't that the state cop who'd been asking lots of questions around town about Bonnie Warner? He was drinking a gla.s.s of wine, laughing with the dean. And over there-G.o.dd.a.m.n!-wasn't that Joyce Davenport, the political commentator he'd seen on TV?

The sound of tires on gravel distracted his attention. Billy peered through the branches to see a car pulling into the long circular driveway around the dean's house.

It was his mother's Toyota.

He watched, too stunned to move, as his mother got out of the car and sauntered up the front door. She was let inside.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

In moments, he could see her through the window, being handed a gla.s.s of wine by Joyce Davenport.

She's part of this-whatever this is.

He swallowed hard as another car pulled into the driveway. He reached for his cell phone and dialed. "Bernie," he whispered. "They're arriving."

67.

Deputy Perry Holland peered out from between his blinds. These days, he did this eight or nine times a night-jumping at every sound, certain someone was out there, trying to break in. The wind was blowing hard and the night sky was covered in gray clouds. That blizzard is going to break at any minute, That blizzard is going to break at any minute, he thought. The weather forecast was predicting another snowstorm. he thought. The weather forecast was predicting another snowstorm. Two already-and it's not even Christmas Two already-and it's not even Christmas.

Christmas. He dreaded the holiday. If he felt alone and paranoid now, he could only imagine how he'd feel on Christmas Eve. He dreaded the holiday. If he felt alone and paranoid now, he could only imagine how he'd feel on Christmas Eve.

Jennifer had been calling him. She'd heard he was having "a hard time of it," as she put it, since his father's death. Perry imagined Marjorie had spoken with her. Jennifer asked in her last message if she might come see him. Was it just pity-or did she really want another chance with him? Perry didn't intend to find out. He was in no frame of mind to see the woman he'd once loved. She'd run screaming from me anyway, She'd run screaming from me anyway, Perry thought. Perry thought.

He glanced in a mirror. I look a wreck I look a wreck. His hair was matted down, greasy and unwashed. His eyes were shadowed with dark circles.

Since he wasn't going into the sheriff's office these days, he didn't need to be cleaned up. All he had to do was stay in this apartment with the doors locked and the blinds drawn. There were things things out there-and he was terrified of them. out there-and he was terrified of them.

Bernadette deSalis told me I was right in my suspicions. And she's seen the Virgin Mary. She knows. She knows the truth.

Another sound. Perry jumped. His gun was strapped to his waist, but he knew guns wouldn't protect him against the forces that had killed his father. Still, his hand went automatically to the gun's handle.

The rapping continued.

Someone at the door.

Every nerve in Perry's body tingled. They've come for me. They're here! They've come for me. They're here!

He peered through the blinds on the door.

It was a priest. He wore a heavy black coat, but his white collar was visible.

"Might I have a moment of your time, Deputy?" the priest was asking-shouting, really, over the wind.

"Who are you?" Perry called through the door.

"My name is Father Fernando Ortiz. I come seeking your help."

Why should I trust him? Perry didn't budge. Perry didn't budge.

"Bernadette deSalis sent me," the priest said.

Perry opened the door a crack. Bitter cold air came rus.h.i.+ng into the house.

"What has Bernadette told you?"

"That you understand. That you know what's happening here. The evil that threatens us all."

Perry opened the door, nodding for Father Ortiz to enter.

"We need your help," the priest said as Perry shut the door and turned to face him. "Tonight. We cannot delay any longer."

"What's happening tonight?"

"A girl will be killed."

Perry studied the man's deeply creased face. "Why not go to the police with your story?"

"You are the police," Ortiz told him.

Perry laughed. "Not exactly. I've been put on leave. They think I've gone a little nutso. And they're investigating me for removing official doc.u.ments from the archives."

"Who knows this? Is it general knowledge?"

He shook his head. "Out of respect to my father's memory, all that's been officially said is that I'm taking some time off." He made a sound in his throat. "To grieve."

"Then they won't know at the college that you're not officially authorized. Dean Gregory, for example-he'll think you're there in your official capacity."

Perry's mind was clearing. "That's where you think this girl is going to be killed? At Wilbourne? Again?"