The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks - lanyon Josh - Страница 33

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Nick stilled. “Who?”

“I didn’t see. I couldn’t tell. He shone his flashlight in my face and then shoved me down the stairs.”

Nick was processing fast, preparing for assault even as he said, “Jesus. Are you hurt?” He ran quick hands over Perry’s trembling body.

Perry shook his head. “I dropped my flashlight. And my handkerchief.”

“Your --” Nick let that go. Perry was walking and conscious, so he was probably okay. Just shaken up. Nick was shaken too -- and furious. The thought of that murdering bastard coming after Perry made him want to kill.

He said crisply, “If you’re not injured, then pull yourself together.” But briefly he gave into temptation and rested his cheek against the soft, spiky hair, before letting Perry go, moving away, drawing his gun. “Stay behind me.”

“He could be waiting for us,” Perry objected.

“Good,” Nick said grimly. “Because I’m sure as hell coming after him.” He’d had it with this slippery rat bastard sneaking away through the woodwork every time they got close to him.

He headed for the stairway, moving quietly, keeping well to the side. His night vision was very good, but it was like a cavern down here and all his senses were working to guide him safely.

Once there would have been lanterns hanging from the posts -- there were still a few of them, but they had not been touched in years.

His focus was on his quarry, but he was conscious of Perry tagging close on his heels. The kid’s breathing had that rushed, strained sound, and Nick knew even before they reached the staircase and found it empty that he needed to abandon mission and get Perry back to warmth and safety.

“Stay here.” He took Perry by the arm, moving him safely to the side before turning on his flashlight. He shone the beam around.

Perry’s flashlight lay at the bottom of the staircase. The shaft of Nick’s flashlight played over the steps. Perry’s white hanky lay at the top. There was no sign of anyone.

Whoever their enemy was, he had to be concerned with discovery in a way that they did not. He’d probably already blustered back to his rooms and was setting about making sure everyone in the house knew he was not running around secret passages shoving people down stairwells.

Or he could be lying in wait for them a few yards ahead.

If Nick had been on his own there was no question of what he’d do, but he couldn’t risk Perry’s safety.

He retrieved Perry’s flashlight. “Come on,” he whispered and directed the younger man back the way they’d come.

“What is it?” Perry asked, and Nick was obscurely pleased that the kid sounded calm. Tense, but calm. A lot of that was trust in himself, but a lot of it was Perry. He wasn’t cut out for this, but he wasn’t falling apart, either.

Nick told him, “I think there’s a way out down here. I was trying to find the catch when I heard you.”

They started back the other way until they came to the spot where Nick had been working before. He shone his flashlight along the wall.

“Feel that draught?” he muttered. “There’s a breeze coming through here.”

Perry murmured assent.

Nick felt along the top of the panel, but there was no latch.

“There it is,” Perry said suddenly, pointing.

Sure enough there was a much more primitive-looking latch close to the bottom of the panel.

“You notice these things have all been cleaned and oiled,” he said over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Perry said. “Someone is using these tunnels on a regular basis.”

Nick wiggled the latch, pressed, and the door swung out.

They were looking onto a pond inside what appeared to be a tumbling-down barn. There were broken slats in the roof above them. Cold gray daylight left pale rectangles on the still black water. Several large boulders jutted out of the water. Frost powdered the earth ringing the still water.

“We’re in the old ice house,” Perry said. And then his breath caught raggedly.

Nick shot him a glance, then followed the direction of his stricken gaze. It took an instant for his eyes to make out that long, pale form glimmering in the water.

A man lay facedown in the shallow. His hair was soaked and muddy, he wore a filthy sports coat of yellow and brown plaid checks. Without shoes, his wet feet bobbed gently in their garish yellow socks.

Chapter Eleven

Perry said very calmly, “Maybe now someone will believe me.”

“This ought to do it,” Nick agreed. He fastened a hand on Perry’s shoulder, guiding him to one of the boulders at the edge of the water. “You stay put; I’m going to call the cops.”

Perry, who had started to sit, jumped back up. “I’m not staying here!”

Nick summoned patience. “Someone’s got to stay. You want to take the chance of running into your friend from the tunnel?”

Perry wrapped his arms around himself, his expression defiant. “He could show up while you’re calling the sheriff.”

Nick handed his weapon to Perry. “Here’s the safety. You point it and squeeze till the guy stops moving. Aim for the center of him.”

Perry took the pistol without looking at it. “Why does anyone have to stay?”

“Because this body disappeared once.”

“Let him disappear. I don’t care anymore!” Perry’s voice wavered. Nick kept his own level.

“Foster, knock it off. Someone’s got to stay. I don’t have time to argue with you.”

That chill tone was like a slap. Perry stared at Nick, then nodded once, tightly.

Nick turned, striding toward the wide wooden door of the icehouse entrance, and pushed on it. It gave a few inches, but then bounced back. Nick swore.

“It’ll be locked,” Perry informed him tersely. He sat down on the boulder and stared bleakly at the body in the water.

Nick nodded, coming back. He studied Perry and said, “I won’t be long.”

Perry gave him a long, unfriendly look.

Nick turned and went through the open panel of the secret passage.

It was very quiet after the whisper of his footsteps faded away.

Perry hugged himself against the bitter cold. His breath hung in the dim light. He should have worn a jacket, of course, or at least a sweatshirt, but he hadn’t planned on anything like this.

Minutes went by. He tried to look anywhere but at the corpse in the water, but his eyes kept being drawn back to it. He had never seen a dead body before he moved to the Alston Estate. Now he’d seen two in one week.

And less than an hour ago someone had tried to kill him.

Of course, a fall down the stairs wouldn’t necessarily kill him, but the intent to do grievous bodily harm had been there -- he had felt it.

Now his chest was too tight, and he could feel a cough welling up. He took out his inhaler and puffed, taking a couple of shaky breaths. He was okay, really, just angry with Nick for leaving him here; he was pretty sure the man who had attacked him in the passageway was long gone.

He tried to think if there had been anything to clue him into his attacker. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember those terrifying moments. The light in his eyes had blinded him, but when the man had grabbed him…Perry had an impression of someone taller, certainly broader than he. There had been softness there, though. When he had snatched at the other, trying to prevent himself from falling, he had clutched softness, flab -- very different than if he’d grabbed Nick who was all lean, hard muscle. Center was tall and thin -- and this person had definitely not been thin.

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