"Did you ever go to one of the séances?"
"Yes, I took your mother once. Everyone in Coventry went to at least one of them. Some people go back again and again." The witchboard group was an old one, but hardly exclusive. He drained his glass and rattled the ice cubes. "Any other town in America would've formed a bowling league."
The parade of vehicles had almost cleared the pygmy forest of scrub pines. He lifted his wife's binoculars and trained the lenses on one straggler. "You see that jeep following them from a distance? That's the sheriff. Evelyn's place is the only cabin on that fire road. If she catches Cable, he's toast. Legally, he shouldn't be within a half-mile of that séance." Addison 's grin spread wide. "I smell a lawsuit."
The jeep disappeared under a canopy of tall trees as it climbed the mountain into denser foliage. The show was over, and Isabelle abandoned the telescope to lean back against the railing. "How did Mrs. Straub get involved with séances? She doesn't seem the type."
"She's not. However, the lady does have an eye for opportunity, and her pet psychic is worth a fortune."
"How much does she charge?"
"Not one dime," said Addison. "The séances have always been free."
The Coventry Pub was a quiet place. A television set was bolted to the wall over the bar and always tuned to a local news station. By custom of long standing, the bartender never turned on the volume until the sports coverage was nearing airtime. So five steady patrons, sports fans all, were watching an anchorman moving his mouth in silence. They liked their news delivered this way-so restful.
And now they were startled by the image on the screen.
"That looks just like our library," said the bartender, stepping up to the set for a closer look. "Can't be."
A customer squinted and then donned his spectacles. "Sure it is. Hey, Fred, turn on the sound."
The bartender turned the volume up high, and an anchorman's voice boomed out of the box to tell them that this was indeed film coverage of the local library. It was also the scene of a standoff with a fugitive from justice. Unconfirmed was the rumor that the escapee was armed.
One of the men stepped outside for a look at the library two doors down and across the street. He called back to his fellow patrons, "Just a van parked out front and a couple of guys standing around the phone booth, smoking cigarettes." He walked back inside, looked up at the screen and scratched his head.
The picture of the library was replaced with coverage of a California race for the senate, and the volume was turned off again. Fresh beers were served up and down the bar, and reality was restored to the Coventry Pub.
"I'd never take my own car up here." The sheriff steered the jeep through a turnout to avoid a large cavity in the dirt road. He gave his passenger a wary glance. "I understand how you feel, son. If I'd known that Hannah and the judge were sucked in, I would've kept tabs on the séances. But I still say Alice Fridays harmless."
"Psychics are never harmless." Oren Hobbs had already made it clear that psychics were the precursors to blowflies lighting on a fresh corpse, and their favorite prey was the parent of a murdered child.
"This one's different. I learned a lot about the psychic trade when your brother disappeared. All the pros turned out. I must've talked to twenty con artists. Alice was the only one with a Ouija board. Now that's one way to separate hustlers from amateurs. Pros won't use 'em. There's no money in a board game that anybody can play at home."
"What about Evelyn Straub's connection?"
"When Alice Friday moved into the Straub Hotel, the other guests really liked the nightly Ouija board sessions on the verandah. So Evelyn cut a deal with the woman-free room and board and some walking-around money." The closer Cable got to the cabin, the thicker the trees and ferns- almost there. "It's just a gimmick to fill the hotel off-season. Now some people got hooked on the séances, but there was no charge. As long as nobody got fleeced, I never saw the harm." He had never foreseen a day when rock-solid people like Hannah and the judge would go looking for Josh in a witchboard.
As the jeep approached the cabin, Cable began a preamble to his worst fears. "It's been quite a while since I was up here," he lied. "The land changes as years go by. You think you know a place, and then you find out you don't. I wouldn't want to be up here when it gets dark. There'll be a full moon, but you can't count on it-not tonight." He leaned forward to look up through the windshield. "The clouds are already rolling in."
Searching the woods for a teenage Oren Hobbs had once been the pastime of an entire town. After a while, they had ceased to hunt for Josh, giving him up for dead, but young Oren had spent all his days in the forest, hunting for his brother. No matter how many times the boy lost his way, townsfolk would stop what they were doing, shops would close, and people would walk into the deep woods to find Judge Hobbs's only surviving child and bring him home again-and again. They never failed that good old man or the boy. Too often, Oren was found dehydrated and disoriented. So many times the boy could have died, but Coventry would not allow it.
Oren Hobbs nodded his understanding that he should not get lost one more time. "Why did Evelyn Straub move her psychic from the hotel to the woods?"
"That was actually pretty smart. Evelyn gets a tax write-off by using the cabin for business purposes." The sheriff turned onto a private road of hard-packed dirt, slowing to a roll when the roof of the log house came into view. While he still had trees for partial cover, he stopped his vehicle, cut the lights and let the engine idle. "I'm not supposed to be here. Evelyn's got an injunction to keep me off her property. She says police harassment ruins the ambiance. So I've got to get this jeep out of here real fast."
Yet his passenger remained in his seat, patiently waiting for more, and of course more was owed to him.
"Swahn was right," said Cable. "Evelyn's the one who gave you that alibi. She told me you spent the day in the cabin with her. She said Josh went deeper into the woods by himself."
"Who was the other one? Swahn said two women came forward."
"Well, what does it matter now? And son?-just how many women were you sleeping with? You weren't too talkative as a teenager."
Silent then, and silent now, Oren opened the passenger door and stepped out.
"Hold on." The sheriff rummaged through his glove compartment and pulled out a flashlight. "Can't remember the last time I changed the batteries. Use it sparingly. If you're smart, you'll start out for home while it's still light."
Oren reached through the open window and took the proffered flashlight. "Thanks."
"If you get caught spying on these people, don't tell Evelyn I was here. That's all I ask."
"I won't get caught."
"One more thing, Oren. On your way out, stay clear of traffic on the road. Evelyn drives the hotel's shuttle van." Cable leaned toward the passenger window. His voice was in the low warning notes. "Son? I know you found your way home from this place more than once, but don't go taking any shortcuts through the woods."
He was talking to the air. Oren Hobbs was gone.
The sedatives had worn off, and Sarah Winston reached for the whiskey bottle held just beyond her outstretched hand.
"Dinner's ready." Using the liquor as bait, Addison coaxed her out of bed and down the tower's narrow flight of steps. As they walked along the second-floor landing to descend the grand staircase, he placed one arm around her shoulders, forgetting for the moment that his wife was merely tired, no longer drunk and in danger of falling.