Dead End Street Page 10

  Through Paul’s words, David watched as a husky man emerged through the green front door. The man, Paul’s father, Elvin, had coarse blond hair and a kind face. His cheeks were reddened by the sun and when he laughed, the delightful sound carried all the way down the hillside. He held a rake in one hand and a plastic garbage bag in the other, and after taking in a lungful of the crisp autumn air, set to work raking the yard. He whistled “Red River Valley” as he pulled the leaves into neat piles around the yard.

  David saw Paul’s mother come out of the front door, the baby, Stacey, trailing her. She was a tall, thin woman, with unruly dark hair. She had attempted to pull it back, but strands kept coming free and falling into her face. With one hand carrying a plate with a sandwich on it, and the other occupied with a can of Dr. Pepper for Elvin, she could do nothing more about her hair than to purse her lips and puff her breath upward to try to get it away from her deep brown eyes.

  Stacy’s mass of curly blonde hair fell in ringlets just below her shoulders. She wore pajamas with red, yellow, and blue balloons printed on them. She was holding a rag doll under her arm.

  “I was a quiet kid, David. The whole family would be outside, and I’d be upstairs in my room, reading a book. Something like Lord of the Rings or Watership Down. Back then, I couldn’t get enough fantasy.”

  Paul stopped talking for a while. When he looked up again, his eyes were bright with tears. “You’d think I’d be the same now, wanting to hide away in some mysterious fantastic world. But the truth of the matter is, I could never pick up any books like that again after the…after what happened.

  “It was a fall night, much like this one. It had gotten cold. Dad had talked about the first frost of the season coming that night, and we’d had chili for supper.

  “You know how it feels when your whole family’s together, and it’s cold outside? You get kind of a warm feeling. Safe, y’know?”

  Paul seemed to wait for David to respond. When David gave him no reaction, he went on.

  “To this day, I don’t know what time it was when I woke up. And I really don’t know what it was that made me wake up. I could have been asleep for an hour or three hours, I just don’t know. I probably heard some kind of sound in my sleep, but I have no idea what it was. All I know is that I was wide awake all at once.

  “I had no real reason to think it, but I knew with complete certainty that there was someone in the house.” Paul sucked in some breath and stared at David. It almost seemed as though he waited for David to challenge him, to say something like, “All right, dude, I know where this is going and you can stop right there because I’m not buying.”

  David thought of Phyllis Hartfield in the story he had told, and suddenly the old woman’s fear of a stranger in her house became more than just a story. David could feel her dread. Then he imagined Paul as a boy about his age, lying alone in his bed at night, alert, scared. Paul would have raised up on one elbow in his bed, a shaft of moonlight bisecting his body as it came in through a gap in the window blind. He knew something was wrong.

  “My heart was pounding, y’understand. I don’t think I’d ever been so frightened. I couldn’t move for the longest time. It was like I was frozen, or tied down to my bed. Every muscle in my body was as tight as wire; my teeth were clenched. The fear at the time seemed almost unreasoning. After all, I didn’t know what it was that had awakened me. It was like a sixth sense.

  “And then I heard it, soft but distinct. A footstep downstairs. In the living room there’s one floorboard that always creaks, and that creak was as familiar to me as my own mother’s voice. Reason told me it could just be Dad downstairs, raiding the refrigerator for a snack, but something about the darkness of the house and the still of the night made me think that wasn’t so.

  “But it wasn’t just a footstep I heard. There was another noise: a giggle. And that made all the spit in my mouth disappear right then, so I couldn’t swallow. But I had to do something. I don’t know how I did it, but I forced myself to move. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, grabbed my robe from the foot of the bed, and shrugged myself into it. I’m telling you all this because I had to do things one movement at a time. Otherwise, I would have stayed in my bed, frozen, for the rest of the night.”

  Paul stopped again. In the dark, his face was alive with his memories, alive with fear. “If I had done that, I probably wouldn’t be here today, telling you what happened.

  “I got to my bedroom door and opened it quickly so it wouldn’t squeak. Then I stood at the top of the stairs and listened. There was definitely someone walking around downstairs. I could hear the footsteps, uncertain, as someone moved in the darkness.

  “The next thing I knew, those heavy footsteps were coming up the stairs! I scurried back in my room, my heart pounding, and slid under my bed. It was just in the nick of time, too, because no sooner had I gotten under the bed than I saw a pair of black biker’s boots enter the room. I watched those boots most of the time without even breathing as they made a tour of my bedroom.

  “I was so sure that whoever was wearing them would stop, pull up the covers of my bed, and stoop down to see who was stupid enough to hide in such an obvious place. But that didn’t happen.

  “I lay under my bed. Trembling. I couldn’t stop. And I listened, listened to the boots move around the upstairs of our house. I knew the geography of the floor so well, I could tell which room the guy was in just by the sound of the boards.

  “When he got to Stacey’s room, I almost rushed out from under the bed. I loved that little girl like my own daughter. She was more than a sister to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen.”

  Paul stopped to press the palms of his hands against his eyes. He sniffed and went on.

  “But the next thing I knew, he had left Stacey and was heading for Mom and Dad’s room. I knew if Dad woke up, it would be all over for this character because Dad didn’t mess around with anyone, especially someone who had obviously broken into our house. But the same thing that happened in Stacey’s room, happened again. The guy was in my parents’ room for a couple of minutes and then he was out of there.

  “I heard no sound of him going through drawers or closets or anything like that, and I began to wonder what the intruder had come for. I also began to wonder who the intruder was. Summitville isn’t all that big, y’know, and those biker boots were something a teenager would wear…someone I might know.

  “Once the footsteps began descending the stairs, I managed to slide out from under the bed. I was still scared, but not as bad as I had been. I figured if this guy was here to do us some harm, he would have done it by now.

  “And I was dying to know who it was! I waited until I heard him on the last step, then I crept on tiptoes over to the top of the stairway.

  “I was halfway down when I felt the hand on my shoulder.”

  David felt his spine stiffen, as if someone had grabbed his shoulder, here in the darkness of the abandoned house. He imagined Paul’s terror, the sick feeling of horror as the hand gripped.

  “Yeah, David, I was really, really scared.” Paul grinned. “I think if I could have flopped down and played dead, like an opossum, I would have. But the thing was, I couldn’t move. The hand on my shoulder felt big, powerful. It felt like something I couldn’t contend with, even if I hadn’t been so scared I was almost peeing my pants.”

  “Well, who was it?” David managed to croak out.

  Paul smiled at him in the darkness. A cloud of sour-smelling breath rolled toward David. “It was my dad. When I saw him, it was like all the air rushed out of me for just a second, then everything started to go back to normal, I was so relieved. Dad had his shotgun in one hand. He’d heard the intruder, too. He put a finger up to his lips to quiet me when he saw I was about to say something. Then he gestured toward my room and I knew he meant for me to go back. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with him. But Dad was a man you didn’t argue with, y’understand?”

  David sai
d he did.

  “So I crept back up to my room, avoiding the steps that creaked. I sat on the edge of my bed and waited. For what, I’m not sure…maybe the sound of raised voices or even gunfire.

  “But I didn’t hear anything for a long time. It was probably only five minutes or so, but it seemed like hours. My muscles began to get tense, sitting there, waiting and waiting.

  “Anyway, I decided I’d disobey my dad for once in my life. After all, I could always claim that I was concerned about him, and I was. When I got to the first floor, it was still dark. And there was nothing…no movement, no voices, no whispers. It was almost as if the intruder had disappeared and had taken my father with him. I guess that’s what started the old heart pounding again.

  “I tiptoed into the kitchen. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator. As you know, there are a lot of windows in the kitchen, so the room was filled with silvery light from the moon. There was no one in there.

  “But it wasn’t to remain empty for long. I heard someone in the dining room, and I looked around for a place to hide. I didn’t think, David, I just did. Before I knew it, I was in the pantry closet, my back against shelves of cereal, canned vegetables and fruit, with the accordion door open just a hair so I could still see.

  “My father rushed into the room, alone. Even with the shadows and the dark, I could see he was scared, almost like he was being pursued.

  “The worst thing, though, the thing that turned my knees to water and made me sink to the floor was the fact that my father was missing something very important.”

  “He didn’t have the gun?” David whispered.

  Paul nodded. “Before I had a chance to think what might have happened, before I even had a chance to get any more scared, the intruder was in the kitchen behind my father.”

  “Who was it?” David asked.

  “I’ll never know. He was dressed all in black, and he wore a ski mask.”

  David lowered his eyes to the floor. The feeling of revulsion rising up within him made him uncertain he wanted to hear any more. But he knew he’d have to see this out to the end.

  Paul didn’t say anything for a while. He stood stock still, staring into the gloom, and David wondered if he was re-living these horrible moments. At last, he rubbed his hands over his face over and over again, almost as if he were rubbing away the skin.

  Finally, he spoke. “I couldn’t do anything. I really couldn’t. If I had tried, he would have killed me, too.”

  David put up his hand to stop Paul from speaking. “You don’t have to say anymore if you don’t want to.”

  “I have to go on. I’ve come this far.” Paul took a few breaths. “The guy pushed my father to his knees. Just as Dad was about to get up, the guy brought down the shotgun full-force, on the top of his head. Dad sprawled out on the floor, groaning and trying to reach for the back of his head. Then he rolled over, and all I can remember are his hands in the air, trying to grab the gun as it came down on him again and again, until my father didn’t move anymore.”

  The silence of the old house rose to meet them. David could picture everything clearly in his mind and wondered what it would take to erase those horrific images. He didn’t want to carry them around with him for the rest of his life, but he was afraid he would.

  “You probably know the rest of the story from the papers. I guess the guy felt he couldn’t leave any witnesses. He did the same to Mom and Stacey.” Paul closed his eyes and whispered, “Through the years I’ve hoped they didn’t wake up when it happened.”

  David shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell the police all this?”

  Paul seemed to think for a long time before answering. “I was going to, y’understand. I was going to. But that night, I got so scared the guy would get me, too, that I ran off into the woods behind the house. I know, I know, I was a real coward, but when something like that happens, you just don’t think logically. You’re like an animal, operating on survival instincts. Ever hear of fight or flee? I just ran and ran and hid in the woods until the morning light.

  “I was so shook up, I couldn’t come out, couldn’t even find my voice to speak for several days. By the time I did come out, I found out pretty quick that I was the one they were blaming for the killings. I’d been gone for days, and I had no proof there’d been a stranger in the house. I was afraid they’d send me to jail. So I went into hiding. I’ve been hiding ever since. Mostly in the woods at first and lately, since no one’s used the house, I’ve been staying here. Then you guys came and kind of blew my cover.”

  Paul grinned at David, and a chill swept through the boy. How could Tuttle grin after what he had just told him? David started to get scared once more.

  “What’s the matter, David? You’ve got this kind of dumb look on your face. What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.” David’s voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

  “Are you keeping your promise?”

  “Huh?”

  “You promised me you’d believe.”

  David didn’t say anything for a second, then rushed to proclaim, “Oh sure, sure I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because you’re a bright boy. And because you might wonder how an intruder who seemed to be unarmed managed to get a shotgun away from my father and beat him with it.”

  David gasped.

  “And maybe you’re just too bright for your own good, boy. Too bright by far.” Paul took about three steps back and without ever removing his stare from David, groped behind him under the sink.

  David felt a tingle rush through him, like an electric wave. When Paul stood again, he was holding an aluminum baseball bat in front of him.

  “This is what I really used, David.”

  And then Paul started to laugh.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Hunt for David

  Outside the Tuttle house, a harvest moon dully lit the cold night. The place was ghostly, foreboding, rising up out of the ground like some phantom, waiting to lure the unwary inside. The windows looked even blacker than they had earlier in the day, like pits one could fall into.

  Erin whispered, voice quivering with fear, “He’s inside there.” Even in the chilly gloom, the terror written across her features was plain as she gazed up at the old Tuttle home. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and the moon’s amber glow did little to warm the pale of her face. She pulled her arms closer around herself.

  “We don’t know that.” Marlene moved behind Erin and laid her hand on her friend’s shoulder, squeezing it for reassurance. Reassurance she wasn’t certain was hers to give. “I said it before. David could be anywhere.”

  “He’s in there.” Roy’s voice, for once, didn’t crack. It sounded resigned; there was a deadness of tone.

  They all stood under a large maple tree across the road from the Tuttle place. The darkness, for once, could be looked upon as a friend as well as a source of fear. On the plus side, it shielded them, hid them from whatever was “out there,” waiting to…what?…devour them, trap them. Kill them?

  They had been huddling under the tree for about ten minutes, having hurried toward the property as soon as David’s father had informed Marlene he didn’t know where his son was. Full of good intentions and strong with heroism, they had arrived at the Tuttle place only to feel their bravery rush out of them. It was almost as if someone had poked a hole and their courage, like blood, poured out in an unceasing flow.

  “Look you guys, we’ve got to get inside. If David is in there, God only know what’s happened to him by now,” Peter said.

  “We should call the police,” Erin spoke up. “We have to call the police.”

  “Oh, right.” Marlene said. “And have them asking all kinds of questions about what we were doing up here in the first place? What if, just by some small chance, he isn’t in there? The police could arrest us all for trespassing. That house is still private property, as far as I know.”

  “We should call the police,” Erin r
epeated. Her gaze met Marlene’s and locked.

  “Erin’s right. I—”

  “Oh, Roy! Leave it to you to agree with everything Erin says, no matter how stupid.” Marlene shook her head. “We can’t involve the police. Not yet, anyway. We could be asking for even more trouble.”

  “I don’t know who’s right.” Peter scratched his neck. “But we better do something. Time is something we don’t have a lot of.”

  Everyone got quiet for a moment. They all knew that what Peter had said was right. And they all knew, but didn’t say, that time may have already run out on them.

  The wind rose, smelling of cold, kicking a fine layer of cinder dust from the road in front of them and shaking the last of the dried maple leaves from the trees. Everything got dark as a bank of blue-gray clouds moved across the surface of the moon.

  “Let’s go,” Marlene said, moving toward the road, closer to the Tuttle property. Peter followed.

  They were halfway across the road when Marlene glanced behind them, thinking that the group needed to be cohesive when it entered the Tuttle home. But all she found behind them was the gloom. The hill dipping to reveal the lights of Summitville below them was empty. Erin and Roy were gone.

  She turned and looked at Peter.

  “Chickens,” he said.

  “Traitors,” Marlene said.

  “What do we do now?”

  She shrugged, then brought her hands up to her mouth. “What can we do? We have to go in there and get David out.” She looked nervously toward the house. “If he’s in there.”

  “He’s in there,” Peter said.

  CHAPTER 12

  Time Runs Out

  David watched Paul Tuttle.