Backtracker (95 page)

As the Camaro whipped around a tight bend, fishtailing across both lanes in the process, Dave saw the gray
tree line
of Cross Creek State Park. The woods began about two miles away, at the end of a long, gradual grade; from the top of the grade, a great sweep of road and land was visible, a clear panorama...but no Cadillac could be seen in that open space, no Larry Smith.

"
Shit,
"
muttered Billy as he shot the Camaro down the grade.
"
I hope that bastard didn
'
t make it the whole way to 316 already. If he beats us to 316, we
'
ll lose him. We
'
ll have no way of knowing which way he went from there.
"

Dave
didn
'
t
say a word. He was too busy praying that Larry had indeed made it to Route 316 already. Billy was right: if Larry beat them to the intersection of Park Road and 316, he could shoot off in one of two directions, leaving the partners without a clue to which way he went. Even if they did guess the correct direction, Larry could easily elude them on the many roads branching off 316.

In a flash, the Camaro finished the grade and charged into the
tree line
, into the park. Almost immediately, the force of the rain diminished; though the trees were leafless, their limbs tangled thickly enough overhead to obstruct some of the fierce downpour.

The road flexed and twisted more dramatically within the park, but Billy
wouldn
'
t
cut back on the Camaro
'
s speed. Rocketing along at seventy to eighty miles per hour, the car peeled around loops and hairpins so wildly that it often seemed ready to swing out of control. With no thought of possible oncoming traffic, Billy carelessly used both lanes, thrust the Camaro back and forth to negotiate curves without losing momentum; if a vehicle would have happened to pass through from the opposite direction, the Camaro would certainly have sailed right into it.

Somehow, the car clung to the wet pavement,
didn
'
t
hydroplane and spin off the road into a tree. The partners plunged deeper into the park, peering around each new turn for a glimpse of Larry...seeing nothing but more trees and dead brush.

Billy told Dave to watch the woods and side roads in case Larry had pulled off somewhere, tucked the Cadillac into a cove or trailhead or even one of the fire roads which were usually blocked to traffic. Though he pretended to comply, Dave paid little attention to any of the nooks or diverging routes; he was content to stare blankly at the beads and streams of rain as they wriggled on the side window.

Before long, the Camaro had crossed most of the park. The trees began to thin out, and the road was interrupted by two short bridges straddling creeks. Dave remembered that the bridges
weren
'
t
far from the end of the park; the creeks fed into the lake, and the lake sat only a mile or two back from the park
'
s main entrance.

On the left side of the road, the woods opened up, and the amber fringes of the lake were visible. After a few more curves, the road drew near the water
'
s edge, ran along the crest of a bank which sloped down to the shore. Rusted trash barrels and gray picnic tables squatted in the mud at the base of the bank.

"
Shit,
"
huffed Billy.
"
We
'
re almost out, aren
'
t we?
"

"
Yeah,
"
said Dave, gazing at the water.
"
Just a little further now.
"

"
Damnit,
"
hissed Billy, whacking the wheel with the palm of his hand.
"
He
'
s gone, man. That son of a bitch is gone.
"

Dave nodded. He
wasn
'
t
thinking of Larry; the proximity of the familiar lake had momentarily distracted him. He was struck by how strange the place looked, how different it seemed from the way that he remembered it.
He'd
never seen it at this time of year, before the summer season; dark and vacant and shrouded with rain and mist, it looked desolate and unearthly, like a frigid, lifeless pool in some gray netherworld.

"
Y
'
know, we should
'
ve caught up with him,
"
grumbled Billy.
"
I
'
ll be damned if I know how he could
'
ve lost us in that old Caddy.
"

"
I don
'
t know, either,
"
sighed Dave. He continued to watch the water; it faded from view as the trees along the bank thickened and the road veered from the shore.

"
He must
'
ve given us the slip somehow,
"
Billy muttered bitterly.
"
He must
'
ve doubled back.
"

"
Maybe,
"
said Dave.

Though Billy had practically conceded defeat, admitted that Larry had outfoxed him and escaped, he continued to press the Camaro at top speed. He drove as wildly as ever, as if to expend his frustration.

Grateful that the day would conclude without the tragedy which
he'd
feared, Dave settled back as best he could without releasing his grip on the dash. He watched the trees swoop past and he tried not to think about all that had transpired that chaotic afternoon; with some effort, he managed to dull his visions of the corpses, weaken them just a little.

The Camaro raced past the turn
-
off for the lake
'
s marina, then barreled around a sharp curve. A maintenance shed flicked by, then the low log building which served as a ranger
'
s station. There were no vehicles around the station; Dave idly wondered if the facility was manned during the off
-
season, if the rangers had gone home for the day or
hadn
'
t
been there that day at all.

When the Camaro flew by the parking lot for the beach area, Dave knew that the frantic ride was almost at an end. In a mile or so, Park Road would terminate; Dave
didn
'
t
think that Billy would continue the fruitless run at that point.

Over; it was almost over. With a sigh, Dave pulled his hand from the dash, allowed genuine relief to swirl through him.

Then, Billy mashed the brake to the floor.

Wheels locking, the car suddenly jolted. Dave was thrown forward, tossed to the floor; his shoulder struck the dash on which
he'd
been bracing himself until a mere moment ago.

The Camaro slid and shimmied, coasted a long way on the wet road before it finally swung to a stop. Without saying a word, Billy spun the steering wheel and stamped the accelerator.

As Dave pitched against the door, the car slung around in a U
-
turn and charged back up Park Road.

"
What the
hell
?
"
howled Dave, wincing and gripping his shoulder.

Billy
didn
'
t
answer. He was bent over the wheel, glaring ahead.

"
What the hell
'
re you
doing
?
"
screamed Dave.

"
I found him,
"
growled Billy.

"
What
?
"
wailed Dave.

"
I found him,
"
said Billy. He spun the wheel and the Camaro bolted in a sharp right turn.

*****

Chapter
57

Awkwardly scrambling back into his seat, Dave gaped through the windshield. Immediately, he recognized the place through which the Camaro was now racing.

Billy had taken the turn
-
off for the beach, flung the car into the parking lot there. The partners were hurtling over the paved flat toward the beach area, speeding between rows of slanted yellow stripes demarcating parking spaces.

For an instant, Dave
couldn
'
t
understand why Billy had made the turn, what had inspired him to go back to the lot. Then, suddenly, all was clear; Dave
'
s darting eyes fixed on the thing which had drawn Billy
'
s attention.

The parking lot ran up to a muddy hill; there were three small buildings atop the hill, and beyond those, Dave knew, lay the beach. At the base of the hill, at the rim of the parking lot, a vehicle rested, the only car in the whole lot except for the Camaro.

It was the silver Cadillac.

Dave felt a fresh hysteria surge into him. The fragile calm which
he'd
so recently constructed abruptly collapsed, fell apart like a toothpick tower in a gust of wind.

It
wasn
'
t
over. Just moments ago, Dave had foolishly believed that the storm had passed, that Larry was long gone and the madness had burned itself out...but now he realized that it
wasn
'
t
over.

It
wasn
'
t
over.

Larry had surprised him again.

Anxiously, Dave leaned forward and looked around for the killer himself. As the Camaro shot ahead, Dave could see that no one was seated in the Cadillac; there was no one near the car, either, no one in the lot or on the muddy slop beyond it. If Larry was near the buildings on the crest of the hill, he was hidden from view.

The fact that he
couldn
'
t
see Larry worried Dave all the more. Without a doubt, the monster was in the vicinity; knowing that he was there but not being able to see him escalated Dave
'
s terror.

"
We almost missed the son of a bitch,
"
Billy muttered tightly.
"
I just spotted that Caddy out of the corner of my eye. We almost missed it.
"

Feverish, horrified, trembling, Dave fervently wished that they
had
missed the Cadillac. They had been close, so
close
to freedom...and now, they were plunging back into danger and darkness. They had been hooked like fish and drawn back to the killer, reeled in by fate.

Recklessly, Billy punched the Camaro toward Larry Smith
'
s car. He played the wheel and slammed on the brakes; the Camaro slid to a stop at the lot
'
s edge, its body perpendicular to the nose of the Cadillac.

Billy switched off the engine, then scooped his revolver from the floor.
"
Okay,
"
he said tersely.
"
I
'
ve got no idea why Larry stopped here, but he
'
s gotta
'
be somewhere close by. I
'
m sure I don
'
t have to tell you we
'
ve gotta
'
be careful.
"

Staring at the gun, Dave knew what was coming next: Billy planned to leave the car and hunt the killer on foot.

Dave
didn
'
t
want to leave the car,
didn
'
t
want Billy to abandon the sanctuary, either. He considered again trying to knock his partner unconscious; if not for the gun, the chance that a scuffle could lead to an accidental shooting, Dave
wouldn
'
t
have hesitated to lunge at his friend at that very instant.

"
He might be trying to trap us,
"
said Billy, looking through the windshield at the slope which rose in front of the Camaro.
"
Maybe he wants to lure us in so he can get rid of us.
"

"
Maybe we oughtta
'
just get out of here,
"
stammered Dave.

"
Can
'
t,
"
said Billy, opening the door and swinging a foot out onto the pavement.
"
We
'
re the only ones who can stop this guy. It
'
s too late to turn around now, man.
"

Dave tensed. For a heartbeat, he was ready to attack his friend, forget about the gun and just go berserk. He thought that he would do anything to prevent Billy from leaving the car...to prevent himself from getting out, too.

For a split
-
second, Billy
'
s back was turned. Realizing that it was his last opportunity to pull Billy and himself out of jeopardy, Dave prepared to strike.

Shifting in his seat, he unclasped his hands.

He thought that he would do it, truly thought that he would do it. He leaned toward his friend.

Then, he lost his nerve, and the decisive moment passed.

Billy got out of the car.
"
Let
'
s go,
"
he said, and then he shut the door.

Dave slumped back in his seat. For a moment, he considered staying behind, letting his partner face Larry alone.

As soon as the idea occurred to him, he knew that he
couldn
'
t
go through with it. He was terrified, but
he had
to go with Billy.
He'd
gotten Billy into this; he would be responsible if Billy was killed.

Nerves jangling, stomach spasming, Dave opened the door and boosted himself out of the Camaro, back into the cold rain. Billy was already proceeding up the slope; Dave had to jog a few yards through the mud to catch up with him.

Slowly, the partners ascended the hill, slogging through the slop toward the crest. Two paved walkways ran up the hill, one on either side of the cluster of buildings, but Billy
didn
'
t
change course to utilize them; he climbed in a straight line from the cars, up the middle of the slope.

Dave stayed close to his partner. Anxiously, he glanced in every direction, looking for Larry; though he
didn
'
t
see him anywhere on the hill, he continued to scan every sliver of the perimeter, half expecting the psychopath to burst from the earth or impossibly pop out of nowhere.

Crouching slightly, toting the gun at his midriff, Billy silently led the way toward the middle building atop the rise. His head turned slowly as he watched the hill
'
s summit; his gaze
didn
'
t
flit nervously about like Dave
'
s. He seemed remarkably calm though he was searching for a man who was responsible for three grisly murders in a single day.

As the partners neared the crest, Dave
'
s terror ballooned, exceeded its already considerable proportions. Among the three buildings on top of the hill, there were too many places in which Larry could be hiding; Dave could easily foresee the killer leaping out from around a corner, or out of a doorway, savagely dispatching the partners before they could realize what was happening.

Cautiously, Billy moved to the rear of the middle building, the concession stand. As Dave drew up behind him, he leaned around the corner, surveyed the area for a moment; finally, he stepped away from the wall, walked out into the open space between the concession stand and the men
'
s wash
-
house.

Dave was reluctant to follow. The paved space between the buildings was about twenty feet wide, and Billy was moving right down the middle of it. It
didn
'
t
look like a safe route; if Larry sprang from around the far corners of either of the buildings, he could be upon the partners in the blink of an eye.

Deciding that it would be safer to stick to the wall of the concession stand, Dave
didn
'
t
join his partner. Timorously, he edged along the wall, keeping his back to the dark, rough siding.

Billy stopped a few feet back from the mouth of the gap, the corners of the two buildings. He hovered there, his head cocked to one side, as if
he'd
heard something.

Still edging along the wall, Dave listened intently, tried to pick up whatever had gotten Billy
'
s attention. At first, he heard nothing but the rush of the rain, the drumming of droplets on the roof of the concession stand; then, like a radio station tuning in, a new sound resolved itself, came into focus.

It was some kind of wailing or keening, faint but shrill. Intermittently, the high
-
pitched cry would break, but only for a fraction of a second before rising again.

Dave
wasn
'
t
sure what could be producing the sound. He guessed that it could have been coming from an animal, maybe a bird...or it could have been coming from a person...maybe, a person in a great deal of pain.

Mesmerized by the eerie screeching, Dave flattened himself against the wall. He
didn
'
t
want to move from the spot; when Billy again started creeping ahead, Dave remained fixed in place.

Stealthily, Billy slipped to the edge of the gap between the buildings. He paused for an instant on the brink, the threshold of the open space beyond; then, he tipped his head forward, stole a quick look around the corners of both the concession stand and the wash
-
house.

Dave held his breath, expecting Larry to attack his friend at that instant...but there was no ambush. Billy stepped out of the gap, away from the buildings.

Billy only took three more steps before he stopped. For a long moment, he
didn
'
t
move; his head was turned to the right, and he seemed to be looking at something.

When at last he turned and waved for Dave to join him, his eyes were wide as baseballs.