The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [92]
“I have a special relationship with Danielle,” he went on. “When she was in first grade, she fell off the jungle gym on the playground and broke her arm. I was at work, and felt this sudden jolt of anxiety. I called Muriel, who called the school, and was told Danny had gotten hurt.”
“You’re on the same wavelength,” I said.
“That’s it. Is it that way with your daughter?”
“Sometimes.”
“After Danny disappeared, I had a hard time adjusting. Even though she was gone, something in my psyche told me that she was still alive. I know this sounds crazy, but I could still feel her emotions, like that day on the playground.”
“Is that why you keep the journal?”
“Yes. I write down all the things that I think Danny would want to know about. Like friends from high school who’ve gotten married, and relatives who’ve passed away. I want to make it easier for her when she comes back.”
Over the years, the parents of missing children had told me the special things they’d done for their kids in their absence. I’d always assumed it was a way of coping.
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m flogging myself,” he said.
“You have to follow your heart.”
“Not your conscience?”
“No, your heart. It will always tell you the right thing to do.”
“Is that what guides you?”
“Yes.”
I heard a scratching sound on the door. Linderman heard it, too.
“I wonder who that is,” he said.
I rolled out of bed. Out of habit, I grabbed my Colt off the dresser, then threw open the door. Buster lay on the stoop, his tail thumping the ground. I glanced at the manager’s office. The light was off, and I let Buster in.
CHAPTER 46
awoke at dawn to the sound of rolling thunder.
I threw off the covers and went outside. The clouds had darkened and it was raining hard. My car’s windows were down, and I climbed in, and rolled them up. Then I dried the seats. My Legend had been good to me, and I was going to return the favor.
Back inside the motel room, I found Linderman clothed and brushing his teeth. He was the model of efficiency; his bed was already made, his dirty clothes put away. The only thing that looked out of place was the salt-and-pepper stubble dotting his chin.
“Since we’re telling everybody this is a fishing trip, I figured I shouldn’t shave,” Linderman said. “How’s the weather?”
“Crummy. It’s pouring rain.”
“You’re going to have to educate me. Do guys go fishing in the rain?”
“Guys go fishing if the beer is cold,” I replied.
“Is that a hint?”
“Only if you’re still buying.”
We soon hit the road. My first stop was a convenience store a few miles down the highway from our motel. I bought two coffees and a twelve-pack of cold Budweiser. The clerk gave me a harsh look as he rang up my items.
“You new around here?” the clerk asked.
“Visiting from Fort Lauderdale,” I said. “My buddy and I are looking to do a little fishing. Any places you’d recommend?”
“Best fishing is in the next county,” the clerk said.
Another born salesman. I thanked him and left with my items. Outside it was coming down hard. I got into my Legend, and gave Linderman the coffee, then put the twelve-pack on the backseat. Firing up my engine, I aimed my car toward town.
“What’s next?” Linderman asked.
“We need to buy some bait,” I said. “Shiners or minnows would be best.”
“Where do we go?”
“Normally, we’d go to a feed store, but I’m going to play stupid and visit a couple of different stores in town,” I said. “I’ve got a nasty feeling about this place.”
“Besides the sheriff being corrupt?”
We came to a four-way stop. Mine was the only vehicle on the road, and I threw my car into park and pulled the lid off my coffee. “So far, I’ve spoken to two residents, and both have tried to persuade me to leave.”
Linderman sipped his coffee and grimaced. “That could be a coincidence.”
I blew the steam off my drink and took a sip. It tasted like engine oil. I rolled down my window, and poured it out.
“I don’t believe in those,” I said.
Chatham was nothing to write home about. Main Street was a row of flat-roofed buildings with