Chapter 28

Meredith could not move for what seemed like minutes or hours. Forms in the house shifted, and the paint faded, changing to a light sheen of gray. The force seemed to gather, ominous and brooding. At the same time it did not seem threatening, at least not to her. That gave her confidence.

When she did move, walking hesitantly through the living room and toward the kitchen, it was with the nearly serene knowledge that even the house itself was protecting her. She told herself that she was safe and that she had planned this. She told herself that Arthur and Gus were probably outside the front door right now.

Everything she told herself made no difference, at least momentarily. Huge and slightly weaving his way in through the door, Ed Johnson stood. He was always a big man, and now he seemed enormous. His fleshy face radiated animal delight, like a dog given a new bone. He was at ease, and that was the most frightening thing. His huge hands rested on his hips, as he surveyed the dining room, then looked at Meredith. He hitched his belt over a belly going to fat, and he tapped his belt buckle as he winked.

Meredith’s scream matched those rising living room.

“You got yourself a problem, little darlin’,” he told her. “But I expect your neighbor Ed can fix it.”

He was big and drunk and strong and he would hurt her. Meredith backed away as screams rose like a dying voice from the living room. Ed came forward slowly, and he either did not hear the screams or did not care. She had not expected him to be so obvious, and she moved around the dining room table. It made a poor object to hide behind, but the reaction was automatic.

“You can’t get away with this,” she said. “You’ve got to be crazy. You’re not even trying to hide who you are.”

“You won’t say anything, “ he told her. “You won’t say anything because you don’t want your old man to know about Art Watson. If you’ll screw around with one guy, you’ll screw around with two.”

Then Ed’s voice lowered and he stopped. He was taking pleasure from the game, taking his time, prolonging her fear. He stood trying to wipe a grin from his face, trying to make his voice sound gentle. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’ll like it.” He could not help chuckling. “In fact, if you think a wimp like Art is good, you’ll love this.” He moved again, his movements slow and deliberate. He seemed to be taking satisfaction from the knowledge of his power. He seemed to be telling her that no matter what she did, he was in control and she was helpless.

“Elsa isn’t going to love it,” she said grimly. After the initial shock, and confident that Arthur and Gus were near, her courage was returning. Behind Ed’s back she saw the gray walls darkening, and she felt the cold chill of grayness and ice. The house was saturated with cold as the walls went from dark gray to black.

“Elsa is gonna love it,” he said. “You don’t know my old sweetie like I do. Call her up. She’ll come sell tickets. “

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” Meredith said. “I ought to let you go ahead and hang yourself, but I’ll give you a fair warning. We are not alone. If you keep this up you’ll be caught.”

“If you’re going to fool around with guys,” he said, “you’re going to have to lie better than that.” Now his voice deepened with intent. He flexed his hands, watching her, waiting for her to run. “It’s more fun for you if you cooperate. For myself, I like it either way.”

No one was coming to help her. At least not yet. Meredith was confused. She had told Arthur to come in the front door. He had the key in case Ed had locked it. Yet the only presences in the living room were coldness and ice.

She fought terror. If Ed grabbed her she would shrivel from the very filth of his touch. What was keeping Arthur? Had he driven too fast and had an accident? A hundred possibilities for delay shot through her mind. She had made an awful mistake. Maybe Arthur was not coming.

Ed slowly moved around the table, but he stayed between her and the door to the kitchen. His body seemed massive, and an amused leer cut creases into his face. “You could make a break for the living room,” he chuckled. “See if you can get to the front door. I’ll show you all about an open field tackle. “

He would not only harm her. He would make her lose the baby. He would maul her; make her body into something detestable. Arthur was not coming. Meredith felt chill from the house as icy wind spread outward from frozen walls.

“I got time,” Ed told her. “We can chase around this table half the night. I kind of get a kick out of it.” He reached across the table, and Meredith nearly fell as she stumbled backward.

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that.” Ed held a huge hand before him, and it seemed to her like the head of a snake about to strike.

Something had gone wrong. There was going to be no help. She had been a fool to set up this plan. Meredith gauged the distance to the kitchen, then edged around the table. If she could just get him to move a foot farther to the left she might have a chance to get through the back doorway.

“Give it up, little darlin’. You’re cornered.” Ed would not move far enough to the left. He moved only a little. He was trying to make her believe that she had enough room to flee. Meredith looked toward the kitchen, wondering if she should take a chance.

A confusion of shadows lay across the kitchen floor. There seemed to be some kind of silent struggle going on in the kitchen. There was more than one person there. Not a sound, but someone was in her house, just out of the line of vision. Meredith was confused. She had told Arthur to come in the front door.

Whoever was there could be anyone. It could be a prowler. On the other hand, whoever was there could be no worse than Ed Johnson.

“You have no right to break into my house,” she told Ed. “If you so much as touch me you’ve committed a bigger crime. Go away.”

She had to keep him talking. “You tried to rape that schoolgirl at the grocery store,” she said. “You raped the woman of this house. You’ve done it to other women.”

“Sweet little Patty,” Ed said, and now he started moving quickly. “She was tough. You wouldn’t think a bitch that little could fight that hard.” He reached across the table and brushed Meredith’s arm. She jumped back. “Give it up,” Ed told her. “I don’t want to have to wreck furniture before I stick the nail to you.”

His features settled into a self-satisfied leer, pleased with his own cleverness, certain he had her. Easing his stance confidently, he tilted slightly back on his heels, and with the movement Meredith saw an opening.

She feinted left toward the living room, then quickly spun around. Her fingers caught the table’s edge, a quick balancing touch to propel her weight the opposite way, toward the opening into the kitchen. Beyond that lay the back door and escape outside, where neighbors could hear a scream.

Meredith made one step toward that hope before her arm was yanked backward. He had lunged, his chest tilting over the table’s surface, and a viselike grip clamped her wrist.

Meredith felt her body slung backward toward the table’s edge. The impact shot pain into her hip, but she braced her feet and threw her weight backward before the iron grip circling her wrist could pull her fully onto the table.

As her head jerked upward, she caught Ed’s gaze. His eyes gleamed at first, in mute surprise that he had actually caught her, then their look turned icy as he gave a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Right this way, girl.” He gave a tug toward the end of the table. “Come to Ed.”

Meredith yanked and twisted, but his hand was locked shut over her flesh. She braced herself against the pressure that wanted to draw her along the side of the table until their bodies would meet at the opposite end. Ed tried levering her arm downward, but her other hand found a grip on the far table edge. He shifted to get a knee up onto the clothed surface, to reach her by crossing it, but a flicker of doubt dimmed his face. If he climbed across after her, she could easily throw him off balance.

Her wrist burned where his grip had rasped it and icy heat radiated up her arm. It was a chill as cold as if some foul, icy fluid were being injected where his fingers touched her. She spun and threw her whole weight into yanking against that grip, but it would not break. His glittering stare watched her, and she knew at once that he was only waiting.

She would tire, he knew that. Already her arm was growing numb. It shot spears of pain up her neck, draining her strength into freezing depths of terror. It was cold, cold, and getting colder. Meredith stood, feeling a sudden draft around her ankles as night air swirled through the coldness of the house. The walls seemed covered with the slick sheen of ice.

Meredith fought against the chill that wanted to penetrate her skin. Determined not to let it inside, she struck back, jamming her hand toward Ed’s belly, then twisting away, her shoulder throbbing with pain as she flung her wrist sideways against the angle of his elbow. Her hand suddenly sprang free.

Ed gave a roar and lunged again, but she had two steps on him already and headed for the door to the kitchen. Cold still swirled through her veins, and a chill draft rose from the floor. Ed had caught his balance now and his next long stride would enable him to meet her at the doorway. Meredith darted back toward the wall again.

Then a sound came from behind Ed, in a place where Ed should not be, and in the instant she heard it, Meredith recognized that click, the front door latch, followed by a solid thud. Warm relief rushed over her. It was the front door, the familiar sound of its latch closing. Gus. Gus had to be out there.

“Where are you, Meredith?” Gus’s voice seemed like a calm pool, a voice of reason and good sense. It was not urgent. Gus was in control. “Go to the kitchen,” Gus said to Arthur. “I’ll check upstairs.”

Meredith heard steps moving toward the kitchen, but then Gus spoke again. “This place is colder than a tomb.” Someone else’s voice murmured.

“I’m here, Gus.” Her voice quavered, and she felt too weak to push free of the wall and stand on her own. She sank onto a dining room chair, staring up into the eyes and toward the outstretched hands of Ed Johnson.

“I told you so,” she whispered. “I told you to leave.”

“It’s my word against yours,” Ed whispered back. “You can’t prove shit.” He sat down in a chair across from her like an old friend, or like a neighbor who had dropped by to chat. He still did not seem to see the black walls or feel the cold. When Arthur and Gus entered the room he actually grinned at them.

Then he stopped grinning. The shadow moved in the kitchen. “You’re under arrest,” a voice said. “We’ve heard enough.”

“Not if I get to the bastard first.” It was Richard. Richard’s face, beautiful and filled with fury, appeared behind the two uniformed men. He shouldered them aside and tried to spring toward Ed, but fell sideways as a policeman grabbed his arm. “Hold it, bud,” the policeman said, “or so help me, I’ll cuff you.” He looked almost serenely at Gus. “Good thing you sent him through the back way with us. We had hell’s own time keeping this guy quiet.”

Meredith rose unsteadily to go to Richard. She did not know how he had come here. He looked nearly ready to fight the police in order to get at Ed. Meredith walked toward him, and she felt nearly in a trance.

“I tried calling,” he said to her, his tone softening but his eyes still bright with fury. “The line was busy, then you didn’t answer. That was yesterday. But you’re all right, thank God. I left a message with Sally. Didn’t she leave you a note?”

“When Arthur called,” Gus said, moving farther into the room, “I took the liberty of phoning for help.” He stood easily as the two policemen moved toward Ed, then stopped. When Richard tried to move forward, one of the policemen shoved him back. “Take care of your wife,” the policeman said. “Let us take care of this.”

She stood holding Richard, and he held her. She felt him tremble with anger, even as he reassured her again that he had tried to call. He had wanted to let her know the meeting had ended early and he was coming home.

Meredith half-listened, but concentrated on holding him close, letting the warmth of his body flow into her own. She told herself that no matter what else happened, she must not let go of Richard. He would kill Ed. He would surely do it. Meredith tried to speak, tried to hold back tears, and it was her tears that kept Richard away from Ed. He held her closely and watched as forces in the house began to shape into a final expression of darkness and ice.

One of the policemen was very young, obviously not long on the force. The other was in his mid-thirties, an experienced man. As the forces in the house changed, rapidly gathered, and came together in fury, the policemen stood helpless. This should have been a routine arrest for them. Their puzzled faces showed fear and indignation. Then the younger policeman’s face showed terror.

“And so this does not end it,” Gus said sadly. He shivered and reached to touch Meredith’s cold hand. “This unhappy affair is not yet over.”