Night Hunter (28 page)

The sound of her laughter echoed throughout the large, humid room. Sitting on the bench in front of her locker, she paused in putting on her shoe. She laughed again, louder this time so she could hear the echo better. She threw back her head and laughed, forcing it out, filling the room with a baying, yet not unpleasant sound.

She wriggled her bare foot into a red pump.

The laughter rolled through the room.

She chuckled at the strangeness of it. The other pump gave her more difficulty, but she worked it on.

Now the laughter was discordant, eerie. Tammy looked up, startled.

“
Hello?” she said.

The word hung in the air.

“
Brad? Is that you?”

Sounds of water dripping. The ping-pinging din that seemed always to accompany an abundance of water pipes and pumps punctuated the silence.

Out in the other room, where the pool and Jacuzzi were, she heard a door close.

“
Brad? Answer me.” She pulled the T-shirt over her head, stood and stepped into the denim miniskirt. Tugging it over her hips, she lost her balance, fell back on the bench, crying out when the corner jabbed into her thigh. She felt dizzy again. “Shit!”

Footsteps.

“
Brad?”

She moved into the other room, her heels clicking, wobbling on the wet tiles.

“
Brad, I’m going. My husband’s coming for me.”

No answer. He was ignoring her.

She saw the door to the utility room close slowly.

Tammy felt confused. Something about Brad. She and Brad had been having an affair. Why had she been seeing him anyway? Then it came back to her in hazy bits and pieces. The separation. Her dating Brad. And with that recollection came a surge of anger. He thought he was so frigging great. He leeched off her for over a month, eating her food, drinking her booze, and screwing her whenever he got horny. Did he ever consider her? Did he take her out, or buy her one shitty present, or ask her what she liked in bed? Hell no. He just took. Took. Took. Took. Now that Gary was coming for her, what did she need with this sonofabitch?

Tammy stepped unsteadily to the door and pushed it open. The light was off, but light from behind her cut abstract forms out of the darkness. She made out the familiar shapes of mats, weights, and stereo speakers. And standing in front of the shelf of pool cleaning supplies, with his back to her, was that damned brawny brainless bastard.

“
I hope you overdose on steroids, you shithead,” she said, stepping into the room. “You can’t use me anymore, cause I’m--”

The dark figure turned, a unit of black from head to toe. Not a fraction of color relieved the blackness. A phantom. Her mind reeled. A nightmare phantom. And through her numbed senses, terror, as she had never felt it before, turned her body to stone. She saw it coming and was powerless to stop it.

A split second before the blinding liquid hit her eyes, Tammy become completely clearheaded. Completely sane.

Panic paralyzed her vocal cords. She whirled around, one hand flew to her face, groping desperately at her eyes, her long glittery nails gouging at skin. Her other hand lashed about in the air, searching for something tangible to give her direction. It smashed into the door frame. So great was the agony in her eyes that she barely felt the pain from the fingernail that was ripped off well below the quick.

She waved a hand in front of her until she found the door frame again, and then she lunged straight through, knowing exactly where she wanted to go. Her pumps teetered precariously, but stayed on her feet.

She moaned, emptying the air from her lungs, and just when she thought that she had somehow missed it, her feet left solid ground and she free-floated for an instant before plunging into the warm water of the swimming pool.

She felt herself going down, down, with blackness all around. Pinging, echoing underwater sounds mingled with the pounding of her heart and the rush of bubbles escaping from her nose and mouth.

She forced her eyes to open. More blackness. Red flashes exploded everywhere. The skin around her eyes stung.

Gary, help me
.

Oh God, oh no, she thought with a hopelessness. She was going to be deformed. Ugly. Hideous. Gary couldn’t possibly love her now. All she’d ever had was her beauty. And now it was gone. Gone with her sight. Blind and hideous.

She felt her body settle in a sitting position on the bottom of the pool. Her chest ached. There was no air in her lungs. She needed to go to the top for more. But she couldn’t move. Would dying be painful, she wondered? Death would be better than being tossed aside like an old shoe. Death. The thought of it calmed her. Without her looks she would never have Gary, and without Gary she had nothing.

She had to breathe. Had to ... had to ... had ...

She opened her mouth, inhaled, and struggled with the choking panic.

Moments before she lost consciousness, her eyes rolled upward to see light. A blurry dark figure stood in the light—a phantom waiting for her. She would not let him hurt her again.

A sense of peace came over her.

“
We’ll take another call,” Regina said, pressing a flashing button on the phone. “Hello, you’re on the air.”

“
Hi, Regina. Mine is a voice from the past. Jamie Sue Larson. I was a contestant in the Miss Classic Pageant with you and the others. I saw the clip of the show last
week ...
the day Donna was injured. I was one of those ill-fated statistics you spoke of.”

Regina frowned. “Jamie Sue?”

“
It was rumored I’d overdosed on drugs. That wasn’t true. Everyone in the pageant knew I was acutely allergic to alcohol, yet someone spiked my soda. There were other incidents.”

Regina looked at Pandora disconcertingly. What to do now, she wondered? There were dozens of callers holding to talk to the psychic and time was running out. Yet, this call was something Regina, for personal reasons, couldn’t ignore.

Stork signaled for a break, taking the decision out of her hands. She instructed Jamie Sue to stay on the line. To the viewers Regina said, “We’ll resume taking calls for Pandora when we return.”

During the break, Regina took Jamie Sue’s phone number. She felt compelled to continue their conversation. Then they were back on the air.

“
We have time for one more call.” Regina pressed another button. “Good afternoon, you’re on the air.” Silence. “Hello? Are you there? I guess we lost that—”

“
Van Raven ...” A voice, low and quiet, come over the airwaves.

“
Yes? You’re on the air.”

Regina glanced over at Pandora. The woman was sitting stiff in her chair, her eyes closed, her arms tight to her sides, hands gripping her thighs.

Regina’s mind became stunned with apprehension. She leaned over, placed a hand on the woman’s knee, and asked softly, “What is it?”

“
Dark. Danger.” In a hoarse whisper she went on, “I see water and ... and a tall, dark figure. Not of flesh, but of iron. Atlas—no, no ... Neptune.” Her eyes remained closed. “Yes, Neptune, god of the sea. Black. Black. There is someone waiting—Regina ...” Pandora clutched Regina’s
hand. “...
be careful.”

The dial tone came on.

Pandora’s eyes flew open.

Regina stared at Pandora, dazed.

Without warning Regina, Stork gave instructions to break away for a commercial.

Donna’s wandering mind returned to the TV show. She gazed at the two women on the screen. From the tense expressions on both faces she knew something was wrong. Donna quickly focused on their words. “Black. Black ...Someone is waiting—Regina...” Pandora
said, “... be
careful.”

Commercial.

Her mind reeled. What did it mean? Oh Lord, not another one.

In her mind’s eye Donna reenacted the events of her last, fateful show. She saw the lights go out on the set. She heard the scream and felt the terror. The light exploded in her eyes again and Donna saw herself standing on the sideline, staring helplessly at the person who was screaming in agony. Only this time, instead of herself, it was Regina whose face was melting behind her fingers. And Donna felt a rush of gratification.

“
Oh, God, no!” she cried out, burying her face in her hands. Don’t let anything happen to Reg. “Please, dear God, don’t punish her for my evil, horrid thoughts.”

“
What does it mean?” Regina asked Pandora.

The two women sat in Maxwell Conner’s office after the close of the program.

“
I don’t know for sure. The person on the phone was linked to you in some way, Regina. I felt you were in grave danger.
Are
in grave danger. But there’s something else. Something I can’t seem to make sense of. Someone else.”

Max stood at the window, looking out at the traffic on Van Ness. “That was one helluva show.” He turned to look at the women who gaped at him in astonishment. “That was for real, right? You didn’t make it up?”

Their reply was a cold glare.

Without knocking, Tom swung open the door, and in an excited voice said, “Quick, put on Channel Eight!”

Max flipped on the TV and changed channels. Sam Quinn stood on the steps of the Fitness Center winding up his “on the spot” report while behind him a black body bag was being lifted into an ambulance. “…drowning. More at eleven. Sam Quinn, Channel Eight.”

“
What is it?” Max said.

Tom turned to another channel. Sibyl Glayborn sat in the news studio at Channel Four. “Just moments ago the fully clothed body of physical fitness instructor Tamara Kowalski was found by her husband floating in the pool of The Fitness Center on California Street. Details are not available at this time.

“
Mrs. Kowalski was a runner-up in the 1970 Miss Classic Pageant, and just last week she was on the same broadcast in which Donna Lake, the hostess of ‘City Gallery,’ was assaulted with an acid-like substance by an unknown assailant. We hope to have an update on this at eleven.”

“
Oh god.” Regina put a hand to her mouth. “Tammy was staying with me. I just saw her this morning.”

Pandora turned to Regina: “Is there a statue of Neptune at the center?”

Regina shook her head dully. “I don’t know.”

“
There is,” Tom said. “I’ve been there dozens of times. It’s at the north end of the pool.”

“
It was Tammy you saw,” Regina said to Pandora. “She was the other person.”

“
Yes. And I saw what she saw. My vision was underwater looking up at the statue. What triggered the image was the phone call in the studio. That person on the line has a strong bearing on what happened.”

Max paced. “Can you see
him ...
or her?”

Pandora closed her eyes. After a few seconds she opened them again, shaking her head vigorously. “All I see is black. The color black. No images.”

The phone rang. Max snatched it up and answered impatiently. He listened a moment, then hung up. “The switchboard is getting calls from astute viewers who are asking if there’s a connection between the Kowalski drowning and Pandora’s vision. Pandora, would you allow us to interview you for a special broadcast?”

“
Yes. Of course.”