He entered her in one swift, driving motion and for a long moment, he didn't move. She even hoped that was all he wanted to do and now he would withdraw and go, but suddenly she felt herself being drawn to her own sex, being pulled down as if she were going to be absorbed into his penis and be gone. It was a terrifying, unexpected, and unnatural feeling, not anything like she had ever been able to envision, nor anything like she had read. All of the pains and feelings common to mankind were registered somewhere in her brain. She knew what it was like to be stuck with a pin, cut, bruised, punched, kicked, scraped, chaffed, all of it, but this came from a place beyond human experience. That was her only thought, because soon after, she felt herself falling and spiraling downward into a darkness that was again unlike any she had known. She made a small, ineffective effort to extricate herself, and then she surrendered quietly to her own inevitable death.
On the way out, he paused at the old lady's bedside. She groaned and turned with discomfort. When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing there, but he was like a vague, gray shadow. It confused her and she scrubbed her cheeks with her hands for a few moments. He hadn't moved.
"What is it?" she cried.
"Something is wrong with your pillow," he said. "It's alive. There's something inside it, some creature or creatures inside it."
She couldn't move.
This dirty pillow?
He reached down and pulled it slowly out from under her head. She started to call for Erna when he flipped the pillow in his hands and put it over her face. Unlike the Martin lady, she didn't struggle as much as she flailed about and he didn't toy with her as he had with the tourist house owner. He had no reason to and no patience for it. This old lady died quickly, and then he threw the pillow aside and walked out, closing the unit door behind him.
He felt okay, but not as perfect as he was accustomed to feeling after a feed. It bothered him and it angered him. This wasn't going right. Something was wrong. It wasn't fair. He walked back to the motel office and paced for a while. He wasn't even hungry and he knew he should be that. His juices should be flowing.
I'm dying, he suddenly thought. I need something more. I need it now. I'm out of control.
And for the first time that he could ever remember, he was in as much panic as all of his victims had been.
The crowd at the Old Hasbrouck Inn usually began to build by late afternoon as it was. Paula Gilbert's horrible death stirred far more interest in the tavern than usual, however, so by the time Terri and Dr. Garret Stanley turned into the lot for the restaurant, the bar was full and there were a half dozen tables already occupied. Darlene was working as hard as she did on a weekend night and she was very annoyed about it.
When he saw the number of cars there, Garret Stanley drove around the building and parked in the rear.
"You'd better go in there and bring her out here," he told Terri.
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
He reached into his pocket and peeled seven one-hundred dollar bills off his fold.
"Offer her this. I'm sure it's more than she's making weekly in there. Tell her I'm a private detective. Tell her anything," he said sternly, "but get her out here." Terri hesitated a moment. His penchant for rage rang an alarm bell in her mind. He saw it and softened his expression.
"Look," he said. "Be logical, Doctor. This is why I've bothered with you in the first place. If I walk in there, people who might have seen that picture in the paper will think it's me and create a scene even before I get to speak with the bartender. Naturally, she's going to wonder why I don't come in with you. This just helps alleviate those concerns," he said waving the bills. "Money is and always will be the great convincer."
Slowly, she took the bills from him.
"I don't want to frighten her," she said.
"After she's out here, just leave it all to me," he added. "I don't want to frighten her either. If I do, she won't be of any value to us, now will she? We're running out of time," he added, directing himself to her hesitation. She looked at him, opened the door, and got out. He reached over to keep her from closing it and looked out at her.
"Remember, Doctor, there are innocent lives at stake, deaths we can prevent," he warned.
She nodded and turned to the rear door of the tavern. As she walked toward it, she debated. She could call Will Dennis. She could have policemen around this place in minutes, but what would that accomplish? Even Will said he would have little or no chance of convicting the man of anything more serious than impersonating a policeman, while, if this story were true, the real killer would be out there raging on, each death her responsibility.
On the other hand, she still had this instinctive feeling that Garret Stanley wasn't exactly all he claimed to be. This was the man who had attacked Curt, after all, and had incapacitated a policeman. How far would he go?
The conversations in the tavern were so loud and spirited that the music of the jukebox was nearly inaudible. Seconds after she had entered, however, many people stopped talking, looked her way, and then began again with even more energy and interest. Griffy, who recognized her first, left the two men he was talking with and approached her quickly.
"Dr. Barnard, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, what brings you here? I hope it wasn't someone complaining about our food," he added smiling.
"No," she said. "I need to talk to your bartender, Darlene."
"Oh. Well, sure," he said after a moment. "C'mon." He escorted her to the bar where Darlene waited, curious, leaning back against the corner, her arms folded under her breasts.
"You know Dr. Barnard?" Griffy asked her.
She shook her head.
"No, but I've heard of her," Darlene replied, her eyes still on Terri.
"She wants to talk to you. Go on. I'll cover for you," he said and went around to serve the customers.
Terri looked at the two men sitting on her right, both watching and waiting. Darlene noticed her concern and moved through the opening.
"What do you want?" she asked immediately.
"Can we go out through the back?"
"Why?"
"I need you to speak with someone," Terri told her.
"Who? A cop?"
"Not exactly."
"What is this?" Darlene asked, obviously nervous and disturbed with the request.
"There's a man outside who is investigating not only what happened to Paula Gilbert, but others. He is not with the police, but he represents people who are so interested, I was told to give you this if you will speak with him," she added, turned so her body would block it and showed Darlene the bills. Darlene's eyes widened as she counted.
"Seven hundred dollars? Just to talk to him?"
Terri nodded.
"Why didn't he come in?"
"You'll understand when you see him," Terri said. She hated to add it, but she did, "Trust me."
Darlene glanced at the men trying to hear and to see what was happening and then shrugged.
"If you can't trust a doctor, who the hell can you trust?" Darlene asked, took the money quickly, and started for the rear of the tavern. Conversations stopped again and heads turned in their direction until they went in through the kitchen doors.