Читать книгу Dean Koontz 2-Book Thriller Collection: Innocence, The City - Dean Koontz, Dean Koontz - Страница 39

ONE THING WRONG WITH THE DARKNESS IN THE bedroom was the smell of it, which had been fresh and clean before. Now a spice cologne faintly seasoned the air. The Goth girl had not used or needed fragrances, and this was the very scent that I had first smelled the previous night at the library.

Another thing wrong was the intensity of the quiet, no clink or clatter of dinner preparations from the kitchen, no footsteps, no word of greeting though I had arrived precisely on the hour. Even the city had gone strangely mute, with no traffic noise or distant music or voices admitted by the open window.

I stood perfectly still, letting the darkness wind its silence around me, as breathless as if mummified in strips of gravecloth, waiting for a sound from her or from the man who had invaded her apartment. I felt alone. As an expert on solitude, I didn’t doubt my perception.

Afraid that my flashlight might reveal her body slashed and broken, I hesitated to switch it on, but then of course I did. The mattress had been pulled off the box springs, as if he thought that something might have been hidden between them. The nightstand drawer hung open, as did the door to the walk-in closet. The closet had been searched. The clothes and shoes had been thrown to the floor.

If I had met her only to lose her, this might be the equivalent of the death by fire that I had long expected. Loss can be an incandescent terror equal to any flames.

I hurried to her office across the hall. The drawers of the desk had been turned out, the contents scattered. Her computer was on, and I imagined that he might have tried to search hers as she had searched his.

In the living room, books had been swept from the shelves and tumbled in a pile as if for burning.

Shattered plates and glassware carpeted the kitchen. I startled when the wall phone rang, and then I clattered through the brittle debris to pluck the handset from the cradle.

Because I had never answered a phone before in all my twenty-six years, I didn’t think to say hello.

Gwyneth said, “Addison?”

“Yes. Me. It’s me. I’m glad it’s you, you’re okay.”

“I knew you’d be there. You wouldn’t stand me up.”

“He’s wrecked the apartment.”

“At five o’clock, I was at the window, waiting for the storm. I always like to see the first of it.”

“What storm?”

“Snow. It was supposed to be snowing by five, but it still isn’t. I saw him park at the curb and get out of his car. He didn’t know about that address or any of the other seven. Someone ratted me out.”

Remembering the name of the one man whom her father trusted to be her guardian, I said, “Teague Hanlon?”

“If it’s him, I’m finished sooner than later. But it isn’t him. There’s another possibility. Anyway, when I saw Telford get out of that car, I knew if he had the address he also had a key. So I went out the bedroom window, down the fire escape. Addison, will you help me?”

“Yes. Of course. What can I do? Anything you need.”

“Let’s be careful,” she said. “In case someone’s listening. I’m gonna ask a couple questions. Just answer yes or no. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Remember the fish?”

“No.”

“Last night. The fish that weren’t there.”

“No. Yes! All right,” I said, remembering the pond in Riverside Commons, where the koi had been moved inside for the winter.

“Can you meet me there in an hour?”

“Yes. Or sooner.”

“An hour. Look for a Land Rover.”

“What’s a Land Rover?”

“Like a truck. An SUV.”

“You drive?”

“I won’t be pushing it. Just don’t be frightened off by it.”

“Don’t you be frightened, either. I’m wearing a ski mask now.” Belatedly explaining why I hadn’t spoken when I’d picked up the receiver, I added, “This is the first time I’ve ever used a phone.”

“It can’t be.”

“But it is. I don’t know anyone to call.”

“How do you like it?”

“The phone? It’s okay. But I’d rather we were in the same room.”

“Fifty-eight minutes now.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised.

She hung up, and after maybe half a minute, so did I.