Backtracker (94 page)

The corpse
'
s limbs had been butchered, as well; through shredded bluejeans, Dave could see gleaming strips of meat, pale streaks of bone. The arms had been hacked and broken in several places.

There was more. It seemed that no bit of the corpse had been spared.

There was much, much more...more than Dave could stand.

Too much.

Red and red and red and red and red.

Choking, he clamped his eyes shut. Thrusting his hands over his face, he spun away from the atrocity.

He still saw it; the horrific sight lingered on his lids like the afterimage of a brilliant flash. The vision was deeply imprinted, perhaps so deeply that it would never fade.

It was too terrible to forget, too terrible to comprehend. It was too terrible to accept, too obscene to be real.

And it was real.

And Larry had made it so.

As he teetered sickly, Dave heard Billy
'
s voice. It seemed to come from far away, from a world away.

"
I don
'
t know,
"
said Billy.

It was real.

"
How could someone...,
"
said Billy, and he stopped.

It was real. It was so real that Dave
couldn
'
t
make it go away.

"
How could anyone...,
"
said Billy.

Red and red and red.

"
How could he do it
?
"
said Billy.

He'd
done it. Larry had done it.

"
Shit,
"
Billy said quietly.
"
I wonder how many more there are in the house.
"

Dave heard his partner walk away from the corpse, step up behind him; he felt Billy
'
s hand on his shoulder.

"
Why don
'
t you go out to the car,
"
suggested Billy.
"
I
'
ll call the cops.
"

Dave
didn
'
t
respond. He kept his face buried in his hands; the image of the corpse was suffocating him, pressing all around and from within him.

"
All that running around was for nothing,
"
sighed Billy.
"
We still missed that son of a bitch.
"

Dave saw red and red and red.

"
It
'
s probably just as well,
"
said Billy.

Dave slowly shook his head...and then, he heard something.

Startled, he jerked his hands from his face and listened. Billy had heard, too; he fell silent, and his grip tightened on Dave
'
s shoulder.

The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere inside the house. It was a low, steady rumbling; it continued for a moment, then stopped.

Eyes widening with sudden terror, Dave tensed.
He'd
recognized the sound, and he knew what it must mean.

The garage door had opened.

Someone had opened the garage door.

Larry was still there.

He'd
been there all along. Even as the partners had stolen into the place, even as they had examined the mutilated bodies, Larry had been lurking nearby.

"
Shit, man,
"
muttered Billy.
"
That
'
s him,
"
he said, and then he moved, releasing Dave
'
s shoulder and darting through the kitchen doorway.

Dave hesitated, then followed his friend into the living room. He
didn
'
t
hurry; he
wasn
'
t
eager to see Larry...especially with the image of the latest corpse still so vivid. If not for the flickering vestiges of his resolve to protect Billy, Dave would surely have stayed in the kitchen.

As Dave shuffled into the room, Billy sprinted for the front door. Just as he got to the door, there was the sound of a car starting up outside.

With his gun held high, Billy burst through the door and onto the front stoop. The car
'
s engine revved; Dave heard it shift into gear, and then he heard the tires rolling over the driveway.

Billy paused on the stoop for just a second, then rushed down the steps toward the driveway. Worried about what he might do next, or what might happen to him, Dave picked up his pace, jogged through the front door.

As he emerged from the house, Dave saw the silver Cadillac backing out onto the road; the car bucked from the driveway like a stone from a slingshot, then jolted to a stop. Hovering on the stoop, Dave briefly had a clear view of the man behind the wheel.

The
crew
-
cut
and goatee were unmistakable. It was indeed Larry Smith.

Billy sprinted through the muddy yard, but he
couldn
'
t
catch up with the Cadillac. Before he could get close to it, the car lurched out of reverse gear and bolted down the road with tires squealing.

As the Cadillac burst away, Billy leaped out onto the pavement and leveled his gun. Legs spread, both hands gripping the weapon, he sighted the rear
-
end of the retreating vehicle.

For a second, it looked as if he would shoot...but then he lowered the .38. The Cadillac flashed out of sight in the direction of Cross Creek State Park.

Turning toward the house, Billy chopped an arm through the air, summoning his partner.
"
Come
on
!
"
he shouted, starting for the Camaro.
"
Let
'
s
go
!
"

Quaking on the stoop, Dave held back. The last thing that he wanted to do at that moment was chase Larry Smith;
he'd
had enough of Larry Smith to last him a lifetime, and then some. Thanks to Larry Smith,
he'd
been drawn into a nightmare circus of blood and confusion, deceit and illusion; thanks to Larry Smith,
he'd
seen more death in one day than
he'd
seen in his whole life.

If he went after Larry Smith, Dave might see even more death...might see the death of himself and his best friend. If they managed to overtake and confront Larry, the partners might very well be subjected to the same horrific torture inflicted on the corpses in the trench and in the house.

Dave knew that it would be foolish beyond belief to pursue the killer. He
didn
'
t
want
to go after Larry, not at all; whatever had driven him toward the monster, it had completely evaporated.

His reasons for seeking Larry no longer applied. He
didn
'
t
care about Larry
'
s secrets or the truth behind his lies.
He'd
failed to stop Larry from killing again, so there was no need to try to talk him into a change of heart.

It would be
stupid
to chase the killer. It would be
crazy
, the height of
lunacy
.
There was no good
reason
to do it.

There was no good reason...except for the fact that Billy Bristol would probably do it alone if Dave
didn
'
t
accompany him. There was little doubt in Dave
'
s mind that Billy would go ahead with the chase with or without Dave at his side. Even as Dave wrestled with the question of whether or not to go, Billy was starting the Camaro and pulling it onto the road.

Reluctantly, Dave abandoned the stoop, hurried down the steps and into the yard. He
couldn
'
t
let Billy go alone; even if it would cost him his own life, he would have to try to protect his friend.

Billy blasted the horn. Leaning across the Camaro
'
s front seat, he hurled open the passenger
'
s
-
side door.

"
Come on
!
"
he bellowed.
"
Hurry up
!
"

Dave leaped into the car and pulled the door shut. He hoped that Larry was far enough away that the Camaro
wouldn
'
t
be able to catch up with him.

As soon as the door clapped shut, Billy floored the accelerator. Tires screamed as the car shot away from 41 Park Road.

"
Shit
!
"
erupted Billy, his voice ringing with rage.
"
That son of a bitch!
He was in the house all
along
!
"

Gazing ahead apprehensively, Dave said nothing. He kept searching for some sign of the silver Cadillac, hoping that he would never again catch a glimpse of it.

"
Damnit
!
"
lashed Billy.
"
He
'
s headed for Cross Creek! He
'
s probably gonna
'
pick up 316 on the other side of the park and take off for God
knows
where!
"

The Camaro dove ahead at high speed, boring through the driving rain like a jet hurtling toward takeoff. Houses blurred past, and then the neighborhood was gone; the car barreled into the farmlands between Kline and Cross Creek State Park.

Though the road wound and rippled, Billy never let up on the accelerator. The Camaro whipped around bends so fast that Dave was tossed from side to side, had to hold onto the dashboard to keep from being flung across the compartment.

Clearing a series of curves, the car burst onto a straight stretch which provided an unobstructed view of about a half
-
mile ahead. The Cadillac was nowhere to be seen; Larry
'
s head start had served him well.

Hunched over the wheel, Billy glared at the road as if it had personally insulted him.
"
That son of a bitch,
"
he said, vehemently spitting each syllable.
"
He really got the jump on us.
"

A farm swept past, and Billy flicked his head to the left for a quick glance at the rear
-
view mirror.
"
Hey
!
"
he barked abruptly.
"
Keep an eye out, man! Maybe he ducked into one of these dirt roads, and he
'
s waiting till we go by and then he
'
ll go back toward Kline!
"

"
Okay,
"
Dave said quietly. He realized that it was just the sort of trick that the wily killer would pull; he also knew that it would suit him fine if Larry did use such a strategy and managed to escape.

"
He
'
s probably going for 316,
"
declared Billy,
"
but maybe he
'
ll double back. Keep an eye out just in case, man.
"

Dave nodded. He
wasn
'
t
going to make much of an effort to scan the area through which they were flying; if he could have gotten away with it, he would have just closed his eyes and let all the farms and dirt roads zip by unseen.

The Camaro continued to punch onward, slashing down the straightaways, swinging precariously around the curves. The car swooped up hills and bowled through dips at breakneck speed; when the vehicle surged into and out of the deeper troughs, Dave
'
s stomach jumped and dropped the same way that it would have on a wild roller coaster.

The dark, drenched countryside kicked past, the same fields and farms which the partners had seen on their way to 41 Park Road. Though he
wasn
'
t
really watching for Larry, Dave kept his face turned to the side window so that Billy would think he was carefully examining the landscape. Occasionally, he shifted his gaze to the windshield and actually looked for the Cadillac on the road ahead...but the result was always the same. Wherever he was, Larry was out of sight; perhaps, he was hiding behind a barn, or he was racing back to Kline after giving the partners the slip, or he was just too far ahead...but he might as well have vanished in a puff of smoke for all that Dave could see.