Face Off (26 page)

Clark grabbed the keys, then twisted Jessie's arm as he reached around in back of her, toward a black toolbox. Jessie's eyes widened as his hand came back with a meat cleaver. Even in the dark, Jessie could see the steel blade glisten. She shrank back against the side of the van, pulling against Clark's hold on her.

Lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the two people struggling in the van, as Clark swung the blade high in the air as though ready for a blow. Jessie screamed and shut her eyes.

At the last second, Clark realized there was traffic coming up on him. He glanced around and saw the lights of several cars almost ready to pass. He pushed Jessie to the floor with his body and lay still.

When the last of the succession of cars had gone by, Clark pulled himself off the girl. “Get up and go back to your seat!” His voice offered no room for discussion on the matter.

“Yes, sir.” Jessie's voice was meek.

*   *   *

Twenty miles in back of the van, the police car carrying Jim and Suzanne was in full pursuit, with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Jessie's scream had ripped through Suzanne's soul like a knife. She had heard it as plain as if the girl were sitting beside her. “Oh, God, Jim. Jessie is looking at some sort of meat cleaver—you know, like a butcher uses.” Even as she said the words, their double meaning sent a chill through her. She concentrated hard and watched as Jessie returned to the front seat of the van. “It's okay. He didn't use it. She's sitting back down.”

“I thought you had to touch the person to get any type of reading on them,” Jim said.

“I know. It's weird,” she answered him. “Since the beginning, Jessie and I have been able to tune in to each other. She can read my mind at will, and according to her, that is something new. She has never been able to do that before with anyone. I suppose because we are both psychic it just enhances our abilities.”

“Can she read your mind over a long distance? If so, why don't you try sending her a message? Let her know we are coming, but we need to know what route they are taking.”

Suzanne nodded. “I have been trying to reach her ever since we left, but she must have been too preoccupied with Clark to get a reception. I'll try again.” Suzanne shut her eyes and forced everything but Jessie from her mind. She pictured the words, “we're coming” floating in the air, then she sent them shooting on down the road. It was one device used by psychics. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not.

Jim reached over and picked up the microphone on the car radio as it crackled to life. “Stahl here.”

Harry's voice came on. “Jim, anything yet?”

“Nothing so far. Suzanne heard a ten-sixty-seven in her … uh … special way. We are still traveling on I-Twenty-nine. What have you learned?”

“Not much. The computer told us that the slogan Let Freedom Ring was used by a group about twenty years ago who wanted to establish their own little country. It sort of sounded like maybe they were a precursor to our modern-day militia groups. They had purchased various farms around the area, but it was so long ago that the properties have changed hands several times since. I have someone at the courthouse checking on it. She was there anyway, checking on Cole's aliases. Between the two, maybe she will come up with something.”

“Ten-four. I remember that now. They were active about the time I first moved to K.C. As I recall, they kept to themselves and the big flap was about their stockpiling weapons, right?”

“Ten-four. I should have something for you before long.”

As Jim replaced the microphone, Suzanne had to ask. “All right. I take it you didn't want to go over the air with this psychic business, so what is this ten-sixty-seven that I supposedly heard?”

“A person calling for help,” Jim answered. “I thought it damned clever of me!”

*   *   *

Harry had no more than gotten off the radio with Jim, than Jena Karnitz came running up. “You have a phone call in Caswell's office,” she said.

Harry worked his way down the hall and entered the quiet sanctuary of his superior's quarters. He picked up the phone, punching the blinking light. “McDermott here. Oh, hi, Bruce. What did you find?” He listened in astonishment to his detective's report. “You're sure? No mistake?”

Harry replaced the phone and sat staring at it in dismay. So he was right! The thought did not give him any pleasure.

Chapter Twenty-five

As the water reached up past her breasts, Amy started toying with the idea of unscrewing the light bulb, dropping the lamp in the water, and having it over. She was cold, her arms were weak from holding the lamp out of the water, and she was near exhaustion.

As she looked at the bulging ceiling, she knew what she
should
do. She should turn off the light to reduce her risk of shock, and wait in the dark, hoping the ceiling collapsed, giving her a way out.

At the rapid rate the water was rising, it wouldn't be long until it was over her head. Water was pouring in from a dozen places now. Her only hope was that the ceiling would collapse without killing her, and that she had enough strength to fight her way to the top and crawl out if that miracle occurred. A slim hope. A stupid hope. Why wouldn't she be better off to get it over in one big zap? Besides, if she turned off the light, she would be totally nuts in no time.

Oh, God, she argued with herself, she
had
to turn off the light. Her arms were so tired. One little slump and the light would be in the water. She looked at the opening through which the cord entered her room. Obviously, he had run the wiring in, then wired it to the lamp. There was no way for her to unplug the light. Her only choice was to shut it off.

“You can do it, Amy, you can do it!” She could almost hear her younger sister prodding her on to try some new adventure. At her sister's insistence, she had learned to swing down from the loft in the barn, ride a horse, and roller blade. She had learned to swim in the irrigation ditch, and paint a canvas with her eyes shut, all because the little tornado known as Jessie, convinced her life was more than books and music. The six-year gap in their ages had never kept them from being close.

“You can do it, Amy, you can do it!” A picture emerged in Amy's mind of Jessie, her long red hair billowing in the wind as she jumped her horse over the corral fence, yelling back at Amy to follow.

Tears spilled down Amy's face, as a trembling hand reached over to turn off the lamp. She had to keep fighting. If she shut off the lamp, there was a chance she might make it. If she dropped the lamp while there was electricity running through it, there was no chance at all. She turned the switch, plunging her watery tomb into darkness.

“Oh, dear God!” Her voice trembled as total blackness engulfed her.

*   *   *

Jessie had ceased speaking to Randal Clark, concentrating instead on watching for any signs she could see along the roadside. With the increasing rain, it was difficult to make out anything. She at least knew they were still on I-29. She also knew Suzanne was in back of them somewhere. She had received her message several minutes before.

Clark took the exit so rapidly, Jessie hardly had time to read the sign.
Vivion Road, Suzanne! Vivion Road!
Jessie rubbed her hand over the moisture forming on the inside of the window in order to get a better look. It was no use. There was nothing to indicate where they were. It was raining much too hard to read the small street signs as they passed. Jessie looked around in frustration. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Almost home, little one!”

“What street are we on?”

Clark looked over at his passenger. “Oh, do you think maybe your psychic friend can follow us if I tell you that? No, no. She has to touch a person before she does any good. If you're counting on her, you might just as well give it up.”

“You're not so smart! How do you know she isn't right behind us?”

Clark reached down and picked the meat cleaver up from the console. He held it up toward Jessie. “I told you to watch your mouth.” He turned the blade toward her. “Do you know how this would feel? This little jewel is made from the best tempered steel money can buy. It's all one solid piece, the blade and the handle. And it will split a hair, I'm here to tell you.”

“Or a head!” Jessie snapped.

Clark reached over, slapping the blade against Jessie's jeans. “Or a head.” He chuckled. “Or a head!”

*   *   *

“I've lost her!” Suzanne cried. “They've turned off of Vivion Road but I don't know where!”

Jim's voice was calm. “Whoa now, take it easy. I'll talk to Harry and see what he's come up with.” He reached for the radio, brushing against Suzanne. Once again Suzanne felt frightened, as she had been in the police station when she took Jim's arm. This time she had to act.

“Jim, before we go on, I have to tell you that I see extreme danger for you if you continue. Something bad will happen to you if you aren't careful.”

Jim reached over, patting her knee. “Darlin', something bad happens to most people if they aren't careful, doesn't it, now?”

Suzanne shook her head. “No. I mean it, Jim. Maybe you should get out and let me go on alone. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“And neither do I. In two months I'm going to retire with full pension. You surely don't think I'd go getting careless at this late date, do you?”

“No. But it isn't a matter of—”

“Darlin', you don't need to go on. I know what it's a matter of—it's a matter of keeping a cute little redhead alive. Anything else is beside the point.”

Suzanne placed her hand over Jim's arm. “You're a good man. Do you know that?”

“Just don't go spreading it around, dear.”

*   *   *

They had been driving in a rural area for several minutes. Jessie could see nothing through the rain. The van tilted and swayed as Clark left the paved roadway, taking a narrow gravel path which seemed to lead into nothing but rows of trees. The rain had washed over the road, making it almost impassable. Several times Clark put the van into low gear, forcing it across roads which were gutted with deep ruts and potholes. Finally, the narrow, flat road began to rise. Jessie realized they were now steadily climbing on a gravel road. All at once it hit her. The gravel road from her vision. The road lined with sunflowers and flowing with blood!

“Where are we?” she screamed as she placed both hands against the window. “Amy! Amy! Are you here?”

Clark grabbed on to her hair, forcing her head back against the seat. “Settle down. What's the matter with you, anyway? Do you think your sister can hear you clear out here?”

Jessie jerked around in the seat. “Let go of me!” She hit against Clark's arm as she struggled to be released.

Clark let go of her hair and grabbed up the meat cleaver. “Sit still and shut up!”

Jessie nodded. “All right! All right!” She could see better now out of the window, as the van slowed, wending its way up the hill. There were sunflowers on both sides of the road, just like in her vision. They were drooping now, their golden heads staring at the ground, but there they were, leading to Amy.

*   *   *

“Turn here, Jim.” Suzanne pointed to a side road that led out of the neighborhood where they had been driving for the last several minutes. “I think they were here, and left by this road.”

“So you've picked up Jessie again?”

Suzanne looked puzzled. “Not exactly. I seem to be getting a feeling, a hunch if you will, about which road to take. This is how most psychics work. I've just never been able to accomplish it, and I'm not at all sure of what I'm feeling. It isn't anything like what I feel when I can actually touch a person.”

“Why do you suppose you aren't receiving any clues from Jessie? Do you at least know if she is still all right?”

At that moment, Suzanne saw through Jessie's eyes the winding gravel path from the first vision she had received from Clark at the jail. The same one Jessie had seen earlier from his cell. There was no question in her mind, but that now Jessie was seeing it for real. It was a pathway leading to horrible evil. Suzanne watched in dread as those same long, black fingers of darkness emerged from the night, wrapping themselves around the van, trying to get at Jessie. “They've reached Clark's place. Oh, God, Jim, I don't know where it is! We have to hurry!” Panic set in as Suzanne realized they would be too late if she couldn't locate that path now.

Up ahead, Jim could see that the gravel road they were on intersected with asphalt paving again. He wasn't positive, but he thought if he took that road it would place him on Highway 169. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, with residential streets to the east and south, and pasture lands to the west. To Jim the only logical direction to go was north to Highway 169.

“Darlin', I don't think this road goes anywhere. I'd say our best bet is to go on up to the highway. I doubt that Clark could even get down these roads—they're practically washed away with the rain.”

“No, Jim. Stop the car here and let me do a reading. I've got to get a better feel for this. Jessie and I have been so tuned in to one another, I can't believe that I would lose her now.”

Jim stopped the police car in the middle of the road. It wasn't likely anyone would run into them. He reached over and shut off the siren.

The flashing lights of the police car made a thousand points of light in the rain that washed over the car. Suzanne stared at the lights for several seconds, clearing her mind, preparing herself for the other dimension. Slowly, she held her arms out, palms up, then took several deep breaths. With each breath she pictured her arms reaching out to Jessie to touch her, to bring her close, to feel the essence of her.
Where are you, Jessie? I need to know. Do you see it, Jessie? There is a lifeline between you and me. From my arm to your arm. Put your arm out, Jessie. I want you to show me the way.