“Toby, where are you?”
“Down here! My leg's all broken!”
Sure enough, about ten yards out, off a bit to the left, if you looked really close between two trees, you could see sort of a lumpy area when the flashlight beams moved over that way.
We reached him in just a few seconds. He was lying on his side, in a limestone foundation, on a bed of about a half billion leaves and twigs. He was holding his right leg, bent at the knee, with both hands. Both Sally and I clambered in with him.
“Which leg?” asked Sally. It's training: You're taught not to assume anything if possible, but sometimes it just sounds dumb. I'm sure she thought so, too.
“This one. Aw shit!” He indicated his right leg. It looked fine to me.
“Let me see,” said Sally. She had just finished her EMT training, and sounded suspiciously happy. She began to feel his leg.
“Ouch!”
“Hurt?” Sally has a way.
“Oh, shit, yeah, it hurts! Jesus Christ, lady!”
“Toby,” I said, as much to distract him as anything else. “What the hell'd you run for?”
“ 'Cause you're gonna find out, that's why!” He was pretty near tears.
“Find out what?”
“Just find out,” he said. “Ouch!”
“Your leg looks just fine to me,” said Sally. “It's not broken.”
“Fuck of a lot you know!”
“You might have a sprained knee,” she said. “Don't be such a baby.”
“Toby!” I barked out. His head jerked around to face me. “Toby,” I said, very slowly, “tell me what we're going to find out.” I lowered my voice deliberately, to give it the contrast that would make him listen. “I mean it, Toby.”
“He did it,” said Toby. “He killed her. He finally fuckin' killed her.”
“Who killed her? Kevin?” He hadn't been at the top of my list of suspects.
“No.” He was very quiet. “Oh, fuck, you'll find out anyway. And he'll know all about it… ”
“Who?”
I waited. Finally, he said, “Daniel. It was Daniel. He did it. And now he'll get us, too.”
“No, he won't,” I said, just about automatically. Always reassure the victim.
“Don't fuckin' count on it,” said Toby, his voice shaking from both pain and fear. “He ain't just anybody, you know… ”
“Well,” I said, “I'm not, either.” I smiled reassuringly.
He reached up, almost as if he was going to try to grab my collar. I was at least a foot too far away.
“You're a nice guy,” he said, “but you just don't know who you're dealing with.”
“Try me.”
“Daniel's… Daniel's… ”
“Come on,” I said encouragingly, and trying not to sound exasperated.
“He's a vampire.” He looked about as startled as I suspect Sally and I did. “Oh, fuck, I can't believe I said that.”
“Vampire? Who's Daniel? What do you mean, he's a vampire?”
“Daniel Peel,” he said. “And I call him a vampire because he fuckin' is one. A real fuckin' vampire, man, who drinks blood, and never ever dies.” He moaned. “Fuck, Toby's dead. Toby's dead and fuckin' gone now. Just plonk, plonk, plonk.” He started to shake.
“Oh, come on, Toby, cut the bullshit. Who in the hell ever heard of a vampire called Dan?” I snorted.
Toby said, in a startlingly cold voice, “I have. And you will, too. Don't you fuckin' laugh, he's probably coming for me right now.”
The memory of whatever had made those sounds a few moments ago, on the opposite side of the trail from Toby, suddenly gave me a spooky feeling in the middle of my back.
I heard Sally rustle around, and then heard her working the slide on her department-issue. 40-caliber Smith amp; Wesson. Snick, clack. Bothered her, too, I guess.
“You sure he's out here?”
He paused, then said, “No.”
“Do you know where this Daniel is right now?”
“No.”
“Where is he usually?” He was clamming up on me.
“Could be anywhere,” he muttered. “Anywhere.”
Well, vampire or not, whoever this Daniel Peel was, Toby was certainly convinced that he'd killed Edie. We had our first suspect. We also had our first murder witness.
“Can you get to your feet?” I asked.
“What for?”
“For we don't have to carry your ass all the way back,” I said, in a friendly way. “Try to put some weight on that knee.”
I reached my hand down, and helped him up. He stood on his good leg.
“Go ahead, put the other one down, Toby.”
He gave me a dirty look, but did. Gingerly. Then with more weight. “Ow.” Sort of an obligatory complaint. Now that it appeared it really wasn't broken, I think he was beginning to realize that he'd scared himself into calling for help when he really hadn't needed it. Excellent. He was in good enough shape to go to the office, and be thoroughly interviewed. Very thoroughly.
“Sally, you go up first.” I leaned toward her, and whispered, “Safe and holster your weapon.” She did, with a snap as she lowered the hammer drop. But she did it reluctantly. If you're spooked, though, the place for your gun isn't in your hand. “When you get to the top, tell everybody that we've got him and he's okay.” She had a walkie-talkie, but with the combination of limestone foundation and beaucoup trees, there was little chance of her contacting anybody from where we were.
Toby said, “Be careful, lady.”
Sally climbed up a pile of soft dirt that had washed out of one of the limestone block walls, stuck one foot into a large horizontal crack, and simply stepped out of the foundation and back onto firm ground. I could see her removing her walkie-talkie from her utility belt, and heard her calling “81.” That was the number assigned to Knockle.
“Hokay, Toby. Look, we'll have Sally grab your hand, and I'll give you an assist from down here. See how she got to the top using that dirt pile?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sure.” His head was moving around like he was going to see something. Fat chance of that in the dark.
“Just don't step in her tracks, or you'll sink down too far.” I shined my flashlight on Sally's path out of the foundation, just to let him know exactly what I meant. I looked up, and Sally indicated she was ready. She held out a hand, and helped Toby up as I pushed.
I went up the same way that Sally had, but sank appreciably farther into the dirt. I had to put my flashlight down, and use both hands to get to the top of the wall, and as I pushed myself upright, one of the blocks I was kneeling on came loose and went thudding back into the foundation.
“You okay?” asked Sally.
“Yeah, just fine.”
“You sure make a racket,” she said.
I assumed the lead, with Toby close behind me, and Sally bringing up the rear. “Just where can I find this Dan the vampire?” I asked.
“I don't know. Hell, anywhere. He could be down in the woods back there,” said Toby, his voice tense. “I don't know.”
Almost as if by magic, Sally was in the lead.
“What's he do?” I asked. “Drink blood?”
“Sometimes.” He sounded out of breath.
“You want to stop for a few seconds?” Even though Sally had said he was all right, I didn't want him fainting from the pain of a possible sprained knee or ankle. It was still too far to carry him.
“No!” he whispered, but with considerable emphasis.
As we got closer to the house, and the trees thinned, the headlights of the cars we'd positioned to help began to interfere with our vision.
“Tell Eighty-one to turn off the car lights, just parking lights will do,” I said. Sally complied.
They went out about five seconds later. Much better. I realized that Toby hadn't really complained about any pain since we got out of the foundation. “You okay, Toby?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Just fine. Dead man walkin', that's me.” I thought the sarcasm was appropriate this time.
It was a strange situation, really. I was in possession of a name, purportedly that of a suspect. That was good. The fact that I didn't have the foggiest idea who this Daniel Peel was didn't bother me much, seeing as it was fairly easy to find people in the information age. I was about to set Toby down and have a nice, heart-to-heart chat. Whether or not this Peel was actually a suspect didn't really bother me. Just the additional name would enable us to open more avenues of inquiry, as it were. Sure didn't hurt to have Peel's name, though. Not a bit. The problem, in a nutshell, was Toby's announcement that Peel was a vampire. I mean, it's always better to have your only witness not be delusional. Sanity really does enhance credibility, no matter what they say.