“You can’t mean we’re still going after her.”
“Yes. Huckley has convinced me it’s essential for the project.”
“It’s too dangerous. There are already too many loose ends. Jack Tremont saw Huckley. The girl from his car is still missing. And you’ll never guess who just showed up at Tremont’s house tonight.”
“Joseph Lonetree, I expect.”
Son-of-a-bitch. How did he know? Maybe Sorenson is sneaking around behind my back. “Yes, Lonetree. So going after Sarah Tremont is out of the question.”
“Out-of-the-question?” the Boss said. The words were mouthed in ice-cold syllables that hit Janney like hailstones. “I will decide what is and is not out of the question.”
“Yes. I just meant—”
“Sarah Tremont is a requirement, not an option. She may very well be what we’ve been waiting for. But Huckley and I will take care of her. You need to control the situation with the father and the accident. Now, if you can’t make it happen,” the Boss sucked back another lungful of smoke, held it and then exhaled slowly. Janney wondered which the Boss savored more, the drag on the cigarette or the waves of fear streaming toward him. “You just let me know and I’ll have someone else do it.”
“I didn’t mean that. Of course I’ll—”
But the Boss’s car was already moving forward. The meeting was over. Janney let his head fall to his chest and took several deep breaths. He recognized the ultimatum the Boss had given him and understood all too well the consequences of another failure.
The relief that his reprimand with the Boss was over and the stress of the problems he faced was fast overridden by his all-consuming hatred of Nate Huckley. This whole situation was that freak’s fault to begin with and now he was the one taking the fall for it. He pulled up various fantasy killings that he had concocted over the years, all the painful ways to get rid of Nate Huckley forever, and let the best replay in his mind as he put the car into gear and looped around to exit the parking lot.
He would do as the Boss asked, there was no question about that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that opportunity was not only knocking on his door, but beating on the damn thing. He felt like a foot soldier with a grudge against an officer, suddenly in a battlefield, armed, and with no one else looking. All he needed was the guts to act.
Had he stopped to think clearly for a second, he might have wondered if this was exactly what the Boss had meant to achieve by the meeting. Might of wondered if his sudden urge to stand up to Huckley wasn’t just another form of manipulation. But he didn’t stop to think. He felt it was time to act. And that was enough for him.
TWENTY-NINE
The world glowed under the three quarters moon. Frozen air arrived without the fanfare of wind or storm, only a continual sigh as if in satisfaction for completing its long migration from the far northern reaches of Canada, content to settle into the shallow Appalachian valleys before continuing the journey on to the wide expanse of the Atlantic. The trees, attuned to the faded morning and evening light and aware that the Change was coming, communally bowed to the cold night with lowered branches and directed more of their life saving resources away from their leaves. The night’s chill signaled the end of a season and the beginning of the next. The season of survival had begun.
The occupants at the end of Forest Glen Drive were finally asleep, warm under thick blankets and blissfully unaware of the dropping temperatures in the world outside. The house was quiet but not silent. No house is ever silent. Sharp creaks as wood adjusted to new temperature and pressure. The hum of the refrigerator and the clunky tumble of newly made ice. The click of the thermostat sparking the heater, beating back the stealthy outside air, the seeping icy intruder. A house comes alive at night with its own pace and rhythm; its own breath.
Listening to the inhale and exhale of the dark structure was the one member of the Tremont family not able to sleep. Buddy remained by the front door as he had promised his master. He was not certain what was going on, but he had sensed fear in the people he wanted to protect from harm. The floor was not as comfortable as his usual cushioned bed in the corner of the room upstairs, but the discomfort helped him stay alert. Whatever threat was out there, whatever danger, he wanted to be ready to warn his master.
The clock in the living room struck three muted tones, simultaneously marking the depth of the night and assuring that morning was close by. Buddy lifted his head at the sound. He was used to this noise and most nights it didn’t bother him. But this night was different. He didn’t understand why, but something was bothering the family, something that came from outside. So tonight the sound snapped him to full attention. He sniffed the air, testing for any unknown scent that might give away a potential threat in the dark. Nothing.
Buddy turned to the front door and peered out of the windows. Even this late at night he could see the forest in great detail. The keen eyesight of his pedigree and the bright cast of moonlight brought the images of dark trees into sharp relief. Fingers of dark shadow extended from the tree line, across the driveway toward the front porch. The gentle wind rocked the smaller limbs back and forth, turning the shadows into flexing hands, creeping closer to the house as the moon descended.
A small whine escaped from the dog’s throat. He felt the hackles rise on his neck. His nails clicked on the hardwood floor as he shifted weight from one paw to the other. He whined again, each breath ending with a low growl.
Buddy looked over his shoulder up the stairs and considered barking. He stared back out of the window. There was nothing out there. Nothing he could see anyway. But his instincts told him a different story. His instincts told him something was there. Something dangerous. Something bad. And it was heading his way.
THIRTY
Sleep came in pitiful increments. It plagued Jack with short bursts of dark dreams before stealing away back into the night, leaving him to stare at the ceiling above his bed and wonder what the hell was going on with his family.
Lauren twisted in the sheets next to him, fighting her own demons as she tried to get some rest. Jack reached out and placed his hand in the middle of her back, taking comfort in the gentle rise and fall of her body with each breath. Counting each inhalation, he closed his eyes and lured sleep back from its hiding place, welcoming the smooth comfort of drifting away from the world, away from his problems.
He was back in the dark hallway; a place he recognized. It wasn’t a real place, just something from his dreams. And, like always, he held no misconceptions about the false reality. He knew he was asleep.
It was dark, always dark. He thought of it as a hallway but it could have been anything. A tunnel. An open field. There were no walls that he could see, just a blurred edge of darkness, like a thousand layers of black veils, each one so shear that it would no more than tint the world grey on its own. But together, in so many layers, they created a shifting black barrier, impenetrable but with enough depth that one believed that intense concentration was all that was needed to see beyond the screen and view the truth. But that kind of focus required curiosity about what lay in the periphery and Jack lacked any such desire; the object in front of him, as always, consumed every bit of his attention.
The thing at the end of the hallway was the only light in this nighttime world. It glowed and this luminescence filled out an evolving, indecipherable shape, like a human, but not. Like an animal, but not. It’s very indistinguishable nature was what made it impossible for Jack to tear his eyes away, as if fearing the second he did, the thing would reveal its true nature and he would miss it. Without anything to provide perspective, Jack could not tell if it were massive in size and a great distance away, or a thing in such miniature that a single step would put him in danger of crashing into it, perhaps making it spin out into the darkness to be lost forever. Not knowing filled him with trepidation and, like in every dream for the last two years, he stood paralyzed with fear.