p&c.thunderhead-第51章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　She　began　to　walk　away；　but　Nora　put　a　restraining　hand　on　her　arm。　〃Don't　be　too　hard　on　him。　That　caution　was　as　much　to　me　as　it　was　to　you。　He　trusts　you；　Sloane。　And　so　do　I。〃　
　Sloane　looked　at　her　for　a　moment。　Then　the　darkness　passed　and　she　broke　into　her　lazy　smile。　
　〃Thanks；　Nora；〃　she　said。　
　
　
28
　
　SKIP　STOPPED　AT　THE　TOP　OF　THE　RISE；　THE　SUDDEN　dust　cloud　rolling　over　the　car　and　drifting　off　into　the　hot　afternoon　sky。　It　was　a　parched　June　day；　the　kind　that　only　occurred　before　the　onset　of　the　summer　rains。　A　single　cumulus　cloud　struggled　pathetically　over　the　Jemez　Mountains。　
　For　a　moment　he　decided　the　best　thing　would　be　to　simply　turn　around　and　go　back　into　town。　He'd　sat　up　in　bed　the　night　before　with　a　sudden　inspiration。　Thurber　was　still　missing；　and　Skip　still　felt　responsible；　in　some　formless　way；　for　the　disappearance。　So；　to　make　up；　he'd　take　Teresa's　dog；　Teddy　Bear；　under　his　wing。　After　all；　Teresa　had　been　killed　in　their　home。　And　who　better　to　take　care　of　her　dog　than　her　old　neighbor　and　friend；　Nora？　
　But　what　seemed　like　such　a　good　idea　last　night　didn't　seem　so　great　now。　Martinez　had　made　it　clear　that　the　investigation　was　still　active　and　that　he　wasn't　to　go　to　the　house。　Well；　he　wasn't　going　to　the　house：　he　was　going　to　Teresa's　place。　Still；　Skip　knew　he　could　get　in　a　lot　of　trouble　just　for　being　here。　
　He　put　the　old　car　into　gear；　eased　off　the　brakes；　and　coasted　down　the　hill。　He　drove　past　their　old　ranch　house　and　up　the　rise　to　Teresa's　place。　The　long；　low　structure　was　dark　and　silent；　the　livestock　all　taken　away。　This　was　stupid；　Skip　thought。　Whoever　took　the　animals　probably　took　Teddy　Bear；　as　well。　Still；　he'd　e　all　this　way。　
　Leaving　the　car　running　and　the　door　open；　he　got　out；　walked　around　to　the　front；　and　called　out。　There　was　no　answering　bark。　
　He　walked　up　to　the　front　of　the　house。　The　old　screen　door；　taped　in　countless　places　with　black　electrical　tape；　was　shut　tight。　His　hand　raised　automatically　to　knock；　then　he　stopped　himself。　
　〃Teddy　Bear！〃　he　called　out；　turning。　
　Silence。　
　He　found　himself　looking　down　in　the　direction　of　Las　Cabrillas。　Maybe　the　dog　had　wandered　down　toward　their　old　house。　He　started　forward　for　the　old　path；　then　stopped。　His　hand　slid　down　to　his　belt　and　rested　briefly　on　the　handle　of　his　father's　old　。357。　It　was　big　and　clumsy；　it　fired　like　a　cannon；　but　it　stopped　whatever　it　hit。　He'd　only　fired　it　once；　damn　near　fracturing　his　wrists　and　making　his　ears　ring　for　two　days。　Reassured；　he　continued　down　the　dirt　path；　then　circled　around　to　the　back　of　the　ranch　house。　〃Yo；　Teddy；　you　old　mutt！〃　he　called　in　a　softer　voice。　
　He　stepped　up　onto　the　portal；　through　the　doorless　frame　and　into　the　house。　The　kitchen　was　a　whirlwind　of　ruin；　the　floor　torn　apart；　holes　like　ragged　eye　sockets　staring　at　him　from　every　wall。　At　the　far　end　of　the　room；　he　could　see　a　yellow　band　of　crime…scene　tape　barring　entry　into　the　living　room。　Several　small　lines　of　small；　purplish…black　pawprints　ran　from　the　living　room　to　the　kitchen　door。　Avoiding　the　prints；　he　stepped　gingerly　forward。　
　The　smell　assailed　him　first；　followed　almost　instantly　by　the　roar　of　flies。　He　took　an　instinctive　step　backward；　gagging。　Then；　with　a　deep　breath；　he　moved　cautiously　up　to　the　tape　and　peered　into　the　living　room。　
　A　huge　pool　of　blood　had　congealed　in　the　center　of　the　room；　punctuated　here　and　there　by　the　blacker　holes　of　missing　floorboards。　Involuntarily；　Skip　gasped　with　revulsion。　Jesus；　I　didn't　know　a　human　body　held　that　much　blood。　It　seemed　to　spread　in　twisted；　eccentric　rivulets　almost　to　the　far　walls。　At　its　periphery；　countless　little　pawprints　could　be　seen。　He　could　make　out　blowfly　maggots　wriggling　in　the　places　where　the　blood　had　pooled　deeper。　
　Skip　swayed　slightly；　and　he　reached　for　the　doorframe　to　steady　himself。　The　flies；　disturbed；　rose　in　an　angry　curtain。　A　camera　tripod　stood　folded　in　one　corner；　SANTA　FE　P。D。　stenciled　in　white　along　one　leg。　
　〃Oh；　no；　no；〃　Skip　murmured。　〃Teresa；　I'm　so　sorry。〃　
　He　stared　hard　at　the　room　for　a　minute；　then　two。　Then　he　turned　and　walked　on　wooden　legs　back　through　the　kitchen。　
　Outside；　the　air　seemed　almost　cool　after　the　dark　oppressive　heat　of　the　house。　Skip　stood　on　the　portal；　breathing　slowly；　looking　around。　He　cupped　his　hands。　〃Teddy　Bear！〃　he　called　out　one　last　time。　
　He　knew　he　should　leave。　Some　cop；　maybe　even　Martinez；　could　e　by　at　any　time。　But　he　remained　another　minute；　looking　out　over　the　backyard　of　his　childhood。　Although　what　had　happened　to　Teresa　remained　a　mystery；　the　house　itself　felt　somehow　tired　and　empty　to　him。　It　was　almost　as　if　whatever　evil　might　have　lurked　here　had　dissipated。　Or；　perhaps；　gone　elsewhere。　
　Teddy　Bear　had　clearly　been　taken　away　with　the　livestock。　With　a　sigh；　he　stepped　down　into　the　dirt　and　walked　back　up　the　hill　toward　his　car。　It　was　an　old　'71　Plymouth　Fury；　his　mother's；　faded　olive　green　and　pocked　with　rust；　yet　it　was　one　of　his　most　treasured　possessions。　The　front　grille；　with　its　heavy　chrome　fangs；　listed　slightly　to　the　left；　giving　it　a　shambling；　menacing　appearance。　There　were　just　enough　dents　here　and　there　around　the　body　to　let　other　drivers　know　that　one　more　wouldn't　make　any　difference。　
　There；　sitting　in　the　driver's　seat；　was　Teddy　Bear。　His　monstrous　tongue　hung　out　in　the　heat　and　was　dripping　saliva　all　over　the　seat；　but　he　looked　fine。　
　〃Teddy　Bear；　you　old　rascal！〃　cried　Skip。　
　The　dog　whined；　slobbering　over　his　hand。　
　〃Move　over；　for　chrissakes。　I'm　the　one　with　a　driver's　license。〃　He　shoved　the　hundred…pound　dog　into　the　passenger　seat　and　got　behind　the　wheel。　
　Placing　the　gun　in　the　glove　partment；　Skip　put　the　car　in　gear　and　maneuvered　back　onto　the　dirt　road。　He　realized　that　he　felt　better　than　he　had　all　day；　somehow；　despite　the　grimness　and　tragedy　of　the　scene；　it　was　a　relief　to　put　this　particular　pilgrimage　behind　him。　Mentally；　he　began　sorting　out　his　evening。　First　he'd　have　to　load　up　on　dog　food；　it　would　bust　his　slim　budget；　but　what　the　hell。　Then　he'd　swing　by　the　Noodle　Emporium　for　some　curried　Singapore　mei　fun；　and　study　the　book　on　Anasazi　pottery　styles　that　Sonya　Rowling　had　given　him　two　days　before。　It　was　a　fascinating　text；　and　he'd　found　himself　staying　up　late；　underlining　passages；　scribbling　notes　in　the　margin。　He'd　even　forgotten　to　crack　open　the　new　bottle　of　mescal　that　stood　on　his　living　room　table。　
　The　car　rattled　over　the　cattle　guard　and　Skip　lurched　onto　the　main　road；　pointing　the　Fury　toward　town　and　gunning　the　engine；　eager　to　put　the　ranch　house　far　behind。　The　dog　hung　his　head　out　the　window；　the　low　whining　now　replaced　by　an　eager　snuffling　and　slobbering。　Strings　of　saliva　curled　away　into　the　breeze。　
　Skip　descended　the　hill　toward　Fox　Run；　fitting　pot　pieces　together　in　his　mind；　as　the　desert　dirt　road　fell　away　and　macadam　and　manicured　golf　links　took　its　place。　Some　half　a　mile　ahead；　at　the　base　of　the　long　downhill；　the　road　curved　sharply　before　passing　the　clubhouse。　As　a　boy；　Skip　had　ridden　his　father's　dirt　bike　right　through　where　the　clubhouse　now　stood。　That　was　ten　years　ago；　he　mused。　There　hadn't　been　a　house　within　three　miles。　Now　it　was　home　to　seventy…two　holes　of　golf　and　six　hundred　condominiums。　
　The　big　car　had　picked　up　speed　and　the　curve　was　ing　up　fast。　Mentally　returning　to　his　potsherds；　Skip　put　his　foot　on　the　brake。　
　And　felt　it　sink；　without　resistance；　to　the　metal　floorboards。　
　Instantly　he　sat　forward；　adrenaline　burning　through　his　limbs。　He　pressed　the　pedal　again；　then　stamped　on　it。　Nothing。　He　looked　ahead　through　wide　eyes。　Just　a　quarter　mile　ahead　now；　the　road　veered　to　the　left；　avoiding　a　huge　ledge　of　basalt　that　thrust　out　of　the　desert。　With　horrible　clarity；　Skip　could　see　a　metal　plaque　screwed　into　the　ledge。　
　FOX　RUN　COUNTRY　CLUB
　CAUTION：　GOLFERS　CROSSING　
　He　glanced　at　the　speedometer：　sixty…two。　He'd　never　make　the　turn；　he'd　wipe　out；　turn　over。　He　could　throw　it　into　reverse；　or　even　park；　but　that　might　pitch　the　car　out　of　control　and　wrap　him