Ghost Road Blues

Even so, Crow had no intention of taking Val there when they were released in the morning.

“I have a plan,” he said.

“Oh?”

“The cops say we can’t go back to the farm yet,” he lied. “So instead I’ve booked a room at the Harvestman for Mark and Connie. It’s where the cops are staying, so they’ll be safe, and it’ll be easier for them to come back here for treatment and, um…therapy.”

Val just nodded. Saul Weinstock had explained to her the kind of treatment Connie would need. Mark, too, in all probability.

“What about us?”

“We’ll be moving into the Pine Manor Inn for the next night or two.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Wow!”

“A little elegance won’t hurt us, baby. Sunken tub, Jacuzzi to massage away our aches and pains. Great food. A nice bottle of wine for you and an equally nice bottle of Pepsi for me.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against him. “God, it sounds wonderful, but—”

“No buts, sweetie. I ran it by Saul and he approved, so this is on the level of doctor’s orders.”

“But the Pine Manor costs an arm and a leg! That’s too much to—”

“Not at all, not at all,” he said smoothly. “Nothing’s too good for my fiancée.”

He felt her stiffen against his chest as she processed the words. Then she opened her eyes and raised her head, staring with puzzled uncertainly into his eyes. “What did you…?”

Then she saw what he had taken out of his bathrobe pocket while her eyes were closed. He held it flat in the palm of his hand. A square blue-​velvet box.

Val’s eyes were as wide and huge as any painting by Keene, and her mouth formed a perfect O.

Since she had only one arm free, Crow opened the box for her and showed her the diamond ring.

“I wanted to do this over dinner at some fancy restaurant in New Hope, but things got a little crazy and…well…I want this whole thing to end on a happy note. For me it would be the happiest note of my life, Val, if you would agree to be my wife. I love you more than anything in the world and if you say yes I’ll be the happiest man who ever walked the planet.”

“Oh my God!” she said…and she said it several times.

“Can I take that as a yes?” He cleared his throat. “I…hope?”

Val’s eyes filled with tears and with her one good arm she clung to him with incredible strength, showering his battered faces with kisses by the dozen, saying, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again.

He steered through the deluge of kisses until he found her lips with his and then kissed her as deeply and as sweetly as he could, feeling his own tears flow and mingle with hers. He came up for air only long enough to slip the ring on her finger, and then pulled her close again.

“I love you!” they both said at the same time, speaking the words into each other’s panting mouth.

And at that moment all of the lights went out.

Chapter 26

1

“Crow! What’s happening?”

He pulled away from her, turning toward the open doorway, but all he could see through the darkness were vague forms hurrying about, sometimes colliding with one another.

“I don’t know,” he said, rising. “Power failure, maybe.” He moved to the window and parted the heavy curtains. “Lights are on in the parking lot.” He pulled the curtains back and faint light spilled into the room. “Must be a generator. The emergency lights should come on any second.”

A full minute passed and the backup lights did not so much as flicker.

“That’s weird,” Crow said. He was standing by the doorway looking at the confusion in the hall. He saw the police officer assigned to guard him standing by the nurses’ station and called out, “Norris! What’s happening?”

Norris Shanks turned around and shone a flashlight beam full in his eyes. “Crow? Go back into your room. We have a power outtage.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.” He went out into the hall.

“Hey, Shanks,” he said, batting the flashlight gently to one side. “You sure that’s all it is? I mean…aren’t the back-​up lights on a different generator or something?”

He couldn’t read the cop’s face in the dark, but he saw Shanks stiffen for a second and then snatch the microphone from its clip on his shoulder.

“Base, this is Officer Shanks at Pinelands Hospital on guard duty with Crow and Val Guthrie.”

“What is it, Norris?” Ginny’s bored voice answered.

“We have a total lights-​out here at the hospital. Mains and backup generator. Requesting backup.”

“All the lights?”

“Yes,” he snapped, and Crow could hear that Shanks was actually afraid. “This may not be a technical issue. Please roll all available units. Now.”

His tone was such that for once Ginny didn’t argue. “All units, this is Base. Officer needs assistance at Pinelands College Teaching Hospital. Hospital lights are out, repeat hospital lights—main and backup—are out. All units respond.”

There was a flurry of voices calling in to report their whereabouts and say they were on their way.

“That ought to do it,” Shanks said, sounding relieved.

“Yeah,” agreed Crow, but he didn’t relax. Patients were coming out of their rooms and demanding answers, nurses and orderlies were still colliding into one another, a few doctors were calling out orders that apparently no one was paying attention to.

Crow turned and called to Val’s room, “I’ll be right in, baby. We’re calling for backup.”

He started to turn back to Shanks and then paused, having not heard a reply. He took a step toward her room. “Val?”

Nothing.

Crow hurried over to the open door and peered into the gloom. Val was in bed, the sheets pulled up, turned away. Just a series of lumps in the darkness.

“Baby, you okay?” he asked as he entered the room.

She didn’t stir and he reached over to touch her shoulder and then he froze. Val was lying on her left side, turned away from him toward the window.

Her left side.

The injured side.

With a cry of terror bubbling on his lips he grabbed the sheet and pulled it down.

She turned toward him, her face and body edged with silver from the pale light from outside, and as she turned Crow felt his heart freeze in his chest and his guts turn to icy slush.

It was not Val at all.

The figure in the bed that grinned up at him with a jagged smile of broken teeth was Karl Ruger!

2

Detective Sergeant Frank Ferro had just finished brushing his teeth, had changed into pajama bottoms, and was about to sit down on the edge of his hotel bed when his cell phone rang. When you’re a cop, a call at midnight is never going to be good news. He picked his trousers off the bedside chair and pulled the cell from the belt clip.

“Ferro.”

“Frank?” It was his partner, Vince LaMastra, sounding tired but stressed. “Something’s happening at the hospital.”

“What?”

LaMastra told him.

“Shit,” Ferro said. “Lobby. Two minutes.”

He snapped the cover of his cell phone shut and reached for his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

3

Crow’s mind was frozen in a black hell of panic. Ruger lay there in Val’s bed—Val was nowhere to be seen—and none of it was possible.

“Surprise, surprise,” Ruger said, and then without a flicker of warning cocked his foot and kicked Crow in the chest with shocking force. Crow flew backward against the wall of the bathroom cubicle, striking the back of his head with a heavy thud. Fireworks exploded everywhere and he felt his knees starting to go.

In a flash Ruger leaped out of the bed and caught him before he could fall, taking two bunched fistfulls of Crow’s robe and hauling him back to his feet. He pulled him close and Crow’s nose was assaulted by the smell of Ruger’s breath—like rot and sewage. It was just the same as it was in the dream he’d had earlier.

“Bet you’re wondering where your little bitch is, aren’t you, boy?” Ruger banged him back against the wall again and again. Crow was more than half dazed and his mind was spinning with a nauseous vertigo.

“Val…” he gasped.

Ruger stopped banging him off the wall long enough to lean close to his ear and whisper, “The bitch is mine, asshole. I’m going to enjoy splitting her right up the middle.” He slammed him back again and held him there. “But you…I just wanted to introduce myself again before I ripped your fucking heart out.” He let go of Crow for a second but before Crow could fall, Ruger closed one hand around his throat and pinned him once again to the bathroom wall. He raised the other hand, holding it flat, and simply slapped Crow across the face.

It was the hardest blow he had ever felt. It was like getting hit by a piece of board or a slab of stone. Ruger’s hands were icy cold and immensely powerful. Crow’s head shot to one side and his face felt mashed. Ruger backhanded him, catching the corner of his mouth this time, and the blow ground lip against tooth so sharply that blood splashed from Crow’s face onto Ruger’s.

Ruger stopped hitting him as he opened his mouth and his tongue—gray and dry—quested out like a hungry worm and found the droplets. He licked each one into his mouth, his eyes fluttering half closed for a moment as he savored the taste.

“Oh my God…” he breathed and he looked like a man in the throes of an orgasm. “Oh my God…”

Crow struggled to make his senses work and he shook his head like a drunkard. Ruger’s eyes snapped open again and the look in them—the appearance of them—nearly stopped Crow’s heart in his chest. Ruger’s eyes had changed. They were no longer a brown so dark that they looked black—now they were as red as the blood he’d just licked off his own lips. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">