Dawn's Light (4 page)

Rain burned her eyes; fear seared her lungs. She thought of going somewhere else to throw him off. Where? Her mind raced, frantic. She couldn't lead him to other innocent victims. And if she just stopped, he might decide to kill her now. She wanted to be in her house, with her big brother to guard her. Maybe she could get there before the killer caught up to her.

Her heart raced as she turned into Oak Hollow subdivision and sailed up the street to her house, fifth on the right. The garage wasn't open. She'd have to use her key to go in the front door, which would take longer. No, too risky. She turned into the driveway and rode through the mushy yard around the house, to the patio. She jumped off her bike, letting it clatter to the concrete. Bolting to the back door, she banged on the glass as she dug for the key in her wet jeans pocket.

Her ten-year-old brother came to the door and made a face through the glass.

“Open it!” she cried.

Logan saw the terror on her face and opened the door. She lunged inside.

“What's wrong with you?” he said.

Beth locked the bolt and ran to a front window. She saw no one.

“You're dripping on the floor. Mom's gonna have a meltdown if you don't get a towel. Hey, you're bleeding.”

She was shivering—her teeth vibrating. She glanced at her leg. She must have skinned it when she fell over the bike.

“Did something happen?” Logan asked.

“No,” she said, turning around. She crossed her arms, trying to stop shivering, and pushed past him.

Jeff, her sixteen-year-old brother, was coming down the stairs, Zach behind him. “Did you finish your deliveries?”

“No.” She started up the stairs.

“Then where were you?”

“Just … out.”

Jeff looked insulted. “You went to the bank, didn't you?” he yelled after her. “You had to go see all the hoopla.”

His voice was distant, hollow, little competition for the pulse hammering in her ears. She dripped across Deni's carpet and looked out the window, up and down the street.

She still couldn't see him.

Numb, she went to her room and got some dry clothes. She changed in the bathroom, leaving her wet, muddy clothes on the floor. Wrapping herself in a blanket so she'd stop shivering, she went back to Deni's room and sat in the dormer window, watching the street and waiting for the killer to come for her.

five

A
N HOUR AND A HALF AFTER SHE SWAPPED PLACES WITH
Amber, Kay found herself back at the front of the line. It had rained the entire time, and her clothes were soaked through. But losing her spot in line had been worth it. Amber had gotten her cash, then had given her husband a hundred dollars to appease him. Doug had finally let him go with a warning to stop harassing Amber. He'd gone—with a threat to hire a lawyer and get the account put in his name. Doug hoped it
would
wind up in court, he'd said. Any sane judge would see the situation and rule in favor of Amber.

“I'm up!” Kay said as she reached the door. “I can't believe it.”

Doug grinned as he gave his rifle to Mark and came to join her. Thankfully, the couple behind her didn't protest this time. “Sure you don't want to give up your spot to someone else?” Doug teased.

“I had to do it! That horrible man was going to clean her out. Those poor babies. What kind of parent would put himself and his girlfriend before his children?”

He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “That's why I love you.”

“Really?” she asked. “
That
's the reason?”

“That and the fact that you make a mean corn mush.”

The warmth of their laughter was welcome after such a long, wet day.

The guard opened the door and called for the next twelve in line. Kay and Doug stepped into the building, out of the rain, trying not to slip on the wet marble floor. Her heart pounded as the tellers counted out the cash to the ones in line ahead of them.

“Get the papers ready,” Doug said.

Kay pulled her backpack off and unzipped it. She'd wrapped the papers in a plastic zipper bag she'd had in one of her suitcases, so they wouldn't get wet. Their latest bank statement from a year ago, their checkbook, an envelope full of deposit slips, their Social Security cards, and both of their driver's licenses.

When their turn came, she wiped her wet hair out of her face and stepped up to the teller's window. She felt like Elaine on
Seinfeld
, confronting the Soup Nazi. What if she misspoke or misstepped and was turned away?

But the frazzled teller studied their documents, then said, “How do you want it?”

Kay handed her an index card with the amounts on it. “Five hundreds, fifteen twenties, fifteen tens, and ten fives.”

The teller counted it out like it was no big deal. But Kay wanted to do cartwheels. As Doug took the stack of money and stuffed it in his vest pocket, she threw her arms around him. He lifted her off the floor and kissed her neck. “We're back, baby,” he said, laughing. “We're back!”

“Hey, outta the way,” the man behind them complained.

The man's sharp tone didn't bother Kay, but she let Doug go, and they moved out of the way. “You hold on to the money,” she told Doug. “I'm scared to carry it home.”

“Okay.” He stuffed the stack of bills into a shirt pocket under his bulletproof vest. “I'll take a few minutes to escort you home.”

A horn blew, long and urgent, as they stepped out of the bank. The mob turned to see the sheriff driving up, the mayor as his passenger. Sheriff Wheaton, grinning like a teenager with a new car, kept pushing on the horn, even though there seemed to be no emergency.

The mayor got out and stood on the running board. With a megaphone to her mouth, she yelled, “Ladies and gentlemen, I just got word—the Pulses have stopped!”

A Super Bowl yell went up from the crowd, and Kay turned to Doug. “Did she say what I thought she said?”

“I think she said the Pulses are over.”

They stared at each other, dumbfounded. “Do you think it could be true?”

Part of the crowd rushed to the van, surrounding them as the sheriff high-fived people through the window.

“How do you know?” someone yelled.

The mayor put the megaphone back to her mouth. “First, I got word from the conversion plant that the Pulses were getting weaker. A little while later, I got a telegram from Washington! The White House confirms it. SN—1999 has burned itself out! The Pulses are finally over!”

Screams of joy erupted again, and the wet mob that had been angry and impatient only moments before was now jubilant.

Doug grabbed Kay's face and kissed her, like a GI the day World War II ended. Giggling like teenagers, they worked their way through the crowd, hugging their friends and neighbors, celebrating the beginning of the end.

six

B
ETH'S HAIR WAS DRY BY THE TIME SHE SAW HER PARENTS
, along with her sister, Deni, and Amber Rowe, as they turned into the neighborhood on their bikes. From her perch at her sister's upstairs bedroom window seat, she saw the grins on their faces, and knew they had gotten their money. Still, her father wore two guns to keep them safe—his rifle hanging from a sling, and his department-issued gun holstered on his hip.

She hugged her knees as they turned into the driveway. Then her eyes gravitated back to the entrance of Oak Hollow. Had anyone followed them? Was the killer just biding his time? Waiting until her parents got the money before he killed them all? The first murder she'd witnessed had been for money, after all.

She heard her parents come into the house, and a roar erupted from downstairs. Her throat closed. Had he come?

Then she realized that it wasn't the sound of fear that she heard. Her family was cheering. She went to the stairs, and moved down one step at a time. “No way! No WAY!”

K
AY HAD NEVER SEEN
J
EFF SO EXCITED
. H
E WAS LITER
ally air-boxing on tiptoes, his face red with excitement.

“Zach was here a little while ago, and he
told
me the Pulses were getting weaker. I almost didn't believe him! Are you kidding me?”

Logan ran to turn the light switch on. When the bulbs didn't light up, his grin faded. “You're right, no way. Where are the stupid lights?”

“It's too soon,” Doug said. “Our power grid is still down. They have to rebuild some things before we get power again.” He messed up Logan's hair. “But it's coming, kiddo. It's coming.”

Kay saw Beth coming from the staircase, her face filled with trepidation. “Did you hear, Beth? The Pulses are over!”

Beth's eyebrows lifted. “Really? It's not a hoax?”

“Really. We heard it from the mayor who heard it from the White House.”

Kay would have expected Beth to squeal with excitement, but her reaction was somber. “That's great. Can we get the security system working again?”

What a thing to ask! Kay just looked at her. “Of course, eventually. And we got our money! Nine hundred dollars. We're rich again, guys.” Kay almost sang the words, dancing as she did.

Beth's smile faded. She walked into the foyer and looked out the glass door.

Kay followed. “What's the matter, honey? Aren't you excited?”

Beth didn't look at her. “Yeah, I am. Were there a lot of muggings?”

“A few,” Kay said. “But your dad gave us plenty of protection on the way home. And his uniform didn't hurt.” She looked out the window, following Beth's gaze to the neighborhood entrance. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Like who?” Beth asked in a dull voice.

“Like maybe Jimmy?”

Jimmy was the former sheriff's son. He'd been coming over a lot for the last three months, and Kay was sure Beth had a crush on him. But today his name didn't bring a smile to Beth's face.

“No, I'm not waiting for Jimmy.” She turned and went back toward the stairs.

“Honey? Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Beth said. “I just don't feel good.” She headed back upstairs.

Kay went back into the living room and looked at Jeff and Logan. “Anybody know what's going on with Beth?”

“I don't know,” Jeff said. “But she went out to deliver her papers and was gone a long time.”

Logan piped in. “And she didn't deliver them”

Deni swung around. “What? We needed those delivered.”

“I think she went to see all the drama at the bank,” Jeff said. “But she's in a real bad mood, so she's not talking.”

Kay shot Jeff a look. “You should have delivered the papers together today.”

“Logan and I did. But she wanted to go on her own.”

“You should ground her, Mom,” Logan said. “If I did that, you'd ground me.”

Doug met Kay's eyes, trying not to smirk. “Thank you for that advice, son.”

“Seriously,” the ten-year-old said. “What are you gonna do to her?”

“Don't worry about it,” Kay said, starting up the stairs.

She found Beth sitting at the window in Deni's room, hugging herself and staring out the window. “So where did you go?” Kay asked.

Beth looked back at her. “To the bank,” she said. “I know I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. You can ground me. Make me stay inside for a month.” Tears filled her eyes, and she crushed her lips together. “I should have done what you said. I'm sorry, Mom.”

Kay sat beside her and pulled her into a hug. Beth was trembling. Was she that afraid of her punishment? “Well, at least you're all right. Did the weather scare you?”

Beth nodded and buried her face in Kay's wet shirt, but she didn't speak. Kay just held her. “It's okay, honey. We're home now.”

Beth dropped the blanket she was wrapped in, and Kay saw the scrapes on her legs. “What happened?”

“I fell.” The words seemed to upset her more, and her face twisted.

“Well, we need to clean it.” She pulled Beth up and led her into the bathroom, where her wet clothes lay in a muddy heap on the floor. She found the hydrogen peroxide and got a washcloth out of the cabinet. “Sit down.”

“Mom, you're all wet.”

“Yeah, it was awful out there. Some day for the banks to open, huh?” She dabbed hydrogen peroxide on the scrapes. “Did anyone stop and help you when you fell?”

“Yes … no.” She took the cloth out of her mother's hand. “I don't want to talk about it. Let me do it.”

Kay surrendered the cloth and looked into her daughter's face. Something else had happened. Something Beth wasn't telling. “Honey, why are you crying?”

Beth met her eyes, and for a moment, Kay thought Beth would tell her. But then she pulled back into herself. “I don't know. I just was embarrassed, I guess. And I didn't get the papers delivered to my newspaper boxes. I didn't even pick them up.”

Kay frowned. It made sense. Falling in front of others would be humiliating to a thirteen-year-old girl. Maybe she'd done it in front of some of her peers. And Beth took her job delivering newspapers to the boxes around town very seriously.

“Well, it's too late now,” Kay said. “People will live without their papers. It's a day to celebrate. We're not dirt poor anymore, and the Pulses have stopped.”

She got a towel out of the cabinet and wrapped it around her wet shoulders. She couldn't wait to get out of these clothes. “It'll take a while for things to be up and running again. But now the restoration can begin. I can't even imagine having electricity again. Television, computers, a car! Think of it, Beth. When the grid is repaired, they can reopen the schools. The buses will run again. We won't have to work like slaves all day just to eat. The stock market will reopen and Dad can go back to work. Planes will fly.” She threw her head back and laughed, giddy. “I can color my hair and grow it out again! I can get my nails done! We can go to McDonald's!”

For a moment Kay thought that might evoke a smile, but Beth only looked sadder. “Beth, how can you not be excited?”

“I am excited, Mom. But it's not going to help us today.”

Kay's joy faded. When had her thirteen-year-old become the stoic voice of reason? The Beth Kay knew would have been asking a million questions, running around trying things out, rushing out to tell all her friends. Had all the things Beth had seen in the last few months begun to hurt her? Was she more traumatized by the violence around them than Kay had realized?