Page 16 of Sharp Force (Kay Scarpetta #29)

“I don’t know. It’s like something’s watching us.” Marino nervously glances around as we crunch away from the gate. “It’s the same thing I felt when Fruge and I were searching Dana’s property. I sensed something was there, a presence we couldn’t see.”

“That’s to be expected since the Slasher’s hologram had just invaded her house,” I remind him.

“Yeah, you’re right.” His eyes are on the mirrors. “It was probably my imagination. But then again, he uses the fake ghost to spy. Although I don’t see how the hell that would work. I still don’t get it. How can an optical illusion record sound and video?”

“Lucy says the Slasher has a terahertz holographic projector that uses extremely fast pulsing infrared and radio waves to pass through windows, walls.” I tell him the same thing I have before.

“The electromagnetic energy electrifies the air, basically turning it into pixels. That’s how the images are painted. ”

“Lucy never says anything that normal people can freakin’ understand,” Marino complains.

“These electromagnetic waves enable the Slasher to record the images and sounds. That’s how he spies.” I’m uneasy looking out at the dark woods as we follow the driveway.

“Meaning he could have been watching everything while Fruge and I were poking around her property. Just like he’s been watching Dana Diletti. It must be someone who knows what the hell he’s doing. Like a scientist gone haywire.”

As he’s saying this, a dead branch lands in front of us, a puff of snow drifting down. A great horned owl flaps from a tree with loud shrieks and hoots. I can see its feathery earlike tufts and huge wingspan as it swoops low over the truck, vanishing in the dark.

“Fucking hell,” Marino says. “Could things get any creepier?”

“We have a nest on the property,” I reply. “At the back of it high up in a tree with a view of the river. I call them our protect owls.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be very protective of Merlin,” Marino says. “And I bet you don’t have much of a rabbit population.”

“I’ve told Lucy how dangerous it is for Merlin to go out at night,” I reply while looking around for him.

The security cameras can pick up the cat when he’s on the driveway. But not when he’s in the woods because he’s too low to the ground. I rarely know where Merlin is unless he’s in front of me.

“I don’t mind hanging out for a little bit.” Marino doesn’t want to go home.

He’s afraid to deal with my sister. When she takes umbrage at some perceived infraction, she doesn’t get over it easily or without penalty.

Especially when she’s drinking. And considering the season, Dorothy will be spoiling for a fight.

When she gets the vapors, as she describes it, nothing clears them out like a knockdown drag-out.

“Nice of you but not necessary,” I tell Marino. “I hope Dorothy’s doing all right,” I add pointedly, because that’s who he should be most concerned about.

“I’ve not heard from her for a while. She’s not answering.

Probably busy talking to Janet,” he adds with resentment.

“I already know what to expect when I get home. Dorothy will be throwing back wine in front of the TV, griping to Janet about me. Implying something bogus and unfair about my relationship with you.”

“Staying here with me until Benton comes home won’t make things any better, Marino.”

“No kidding,” he says, chewing gum, his face unhappy. “I’m sorry about the spa package, Doc.”

We’ve reached the guest cottage where Lucy lives, indistinct in deep shadows. Blackout shades block any light inside, and I can’t tell when she’s home. But she isn’t now and won’t be tonight. I can’t believe we’re not spending Christmas Eve together.

“I didn’t mean to cause a stink. Especially when you’re about to skip town,” Marino adds as I notice animal tracks just ahead.

Then there are more of them pockmarking the snow in a decided direction that trails off into dense trees swallowed by darkness. Possibly a fox. Maybe a coyote. Our fence doesn’t keep out all animals. I’ve seen a fox climb it more than once, and I know that bears can. Raccoons dig under it.

“I was thinking about you flying across the pond and having jet lag, and that the spa might be just the ticket,” Marino goes on. “I thought you should be pampered.”

“Best you don’t put it like that to my sister.” I’m blunt about it. “In her mind, the only person you should be pampering is her.”

Around a bend in the driveway, floodlights shine on the white brick carriage house that’s now a garage. The double wooden doors open manually the same way they did more than a century ago. As we drive past, I notice eyes reflecting yellow in our headlights up ahead.

“What the hell?” Marino slows down.

A raccoon quickly waddles off the driveway, something not quite right with one of his legs. Before I can get a better look, he’s gone in the fog.

“Let’s hope he’s not rabid.” Marino drives on.

“He didn’t look rabid. He looked injured.” My heart sinks as I think about the likelihood of getting Mount Vernon Animal Rescue or anyone else out here during Christmas.

“And what does rabid look like?” Marino asks. “We can’t tell at a glance if he’s rabid.”

“Whatever he is, I hope Merlin is inside Lucy’s cottage or the main house.” I’m keeping my eye out for him. “I hate that he wanders about, especially after dark.”

Merlin was feral when Lucy rescued him as a kitten. Accustomed to living in the wild, he goes ballistic if kept inside against his will. She installed small doors that allow him to come and go as he pleases. It’s not safe on a property teeming with wildlife, some of it nocturnal.

We stop in front of the house, two-story white brick with dusky blue shutters, the slate roof piled in snow. Candles in the windows and other lights on timers glow warmly, a fresh holly wreath on the front door like a greeting card.

“Thank you for going with me to the O’Learys’. And for driving.” I unbuckle my shoulder harness.

“You sure you don’t want me to come in for a while, Doc? I really don’t mind.” Fishing the gum out of his mouth, he flicks it into the trash bag.

“As soon as I’m inside, I’ll set the alarm. No need to worry,” I reply. “If my sister is still awake, alert and in the mood, tell her to call. I’m sorry the two of you can’t be with us tonight.”

“Yeah, me too, Doc.” He sounds frustrated. “But now that you know what’s going on with Dorothy, it might be for the best.”

“Benton and I will stop by to see you on our way to the airport tomorrow afternoon. We have a little something for you two that we think you’ll like.”

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting the hell out of here for a while.” Marino can’t disguise how he feels about it.

He hasn’t said as much but I know he doesn’t want me leaving the country for two weeks. He doesn’t like me going anywhere at all. I sense him watching as I push open my door, stepping down into snow that buries my suede ankle boots, cold seeping inside them.

“Merry Christmas, Marino.” I shut the door, and his window lowers.

“You too, Doc.” His face looks reluctant. “I really don’t like leaving you here alone,” he again says, and I think of the irony.

He doesn’t mind leaving Dorothy alone. Janet’s comments about his feelings toward me aren’t baseless, and my sister knows it.

“Good night,” I tell him.

I’m tentative on the front steps, taking one at a time, the wind louder, wailing and whistling. Snow blows off trees in clouds. Thunder cracks like a gun going off, lightning flashing, and I’m startled by a loud crashing in the woods that sounds close.

“What the fuck was that?” Marino has his head out the window, looking around in alarm.

He unholsters his pistol from the steering column as I pause on the porch, staring out at swirling grayness. Snowflakes coldly touch my face, and I’m on high alert.

“A decent-sized animal, it sounded like.” I peer into the overcast.

“Maybe that raccoon we saw.”

“It didn’t sound like a raccoon, sounded bigger than that. Hopefully friendly, whatever it is,” I decide, looking in the direction of the noise. “I guess the thunder spooked it.”

“A deer, I’m betting.” Marino’s attention is everywhere.

“They can’t get in unless the gate is open,” I reply.

“One could have come in behind us and we didn’t see it,” he says as more thunder explodes like a war going on.

Sticks snap in the dark, followed by snorts and screams that turn my blood cold.

“Geezus effing Kris Kringle!” Marino’s eyes are wide. “Maybe I should get out and poke around?”

“And if it’s a bobcat or a bear?” I have my keys out. “Then what are you going to do?”

“Tell it to eat more chicken?”

“Go home, Marino.” I can’t help but laugh even as my nerves spark like electrical static.

“Told you this place is Jurassic Park,” he says, rolling up his window.

He begins turning his truck around in small maneuvers, the engine gunning as I halfway expect something hideous to emerge from the gloom. Unlocking the front door, I step inside the house, entering my code to silence the beeping security system.

Pausing in the doorway, I wave good night as Marino drives off in a swirl of exhaust. Then I hear crashing through the brush near the greenhouse in the garden.

I can barely make out the lavender glow of the ultraviolet light inside.

Dorothy insisted on installing it over her cannabis plants, four of them, the legal limit in Virginia.

Something grunts and shrieks. I hear a guttural hooting that doesn’t sound like an owl.

If Marino were here, I can imagine him freaking out, certain it’s a Bigfoot or a Yeti.

I don’t know what the hell it is, and now I hear loud growling close to the porch.

Shutting the door, I throw on the deadbolt, my heart flying out of my chest.

I reset the alarm, the light on the display turning red. I check the security monitor, the video images murky. White lights along the driveway are blurry on the live feed. The vague shapes of trees near the house move in the wind, headlights shining on the front gate.

It begins opening as Marino waits in his truck. I gasp when something touches my leg.

“Jesus, Merlin!”

Lucy’s cat rubs against me, frantic, not purring. Spotted, with full moon eyes, he stares up at me. I pet him, checking to make sure he has no injuries. My first thought was he might have tangled with a raccoon or some other animal. He’s fine.

“Now’s not a good time to sneak up on me, please. But thank God you’re inside the house,” I say to Merlin, and his back arches.

He hisses at the front door, thunder clapping, and I look again at the security monitor. I don’t see anything except snow and fog, the front gate lurching shut as Marino drives off, the engine loud over the security monitor, the truck’s taillights vanishing.

Except they don’t.

What I’m seeing aren’t taillights, I realize with a start, staring at the video display in disbelief. Two red orbs float over the closing front gate.

A thrill of fear races up to the roots of my hair as the glowing red lights move along the driveway, coming closer in overcast thick like a cloud. Merlin glares at the front door, a low growl in his throat, the fur standing up on his back.

“It’s okay. We’re safe in here,” I say to him. “This is why you stay inside now, please? I don’t want you even thinking about going anywhere when we don’t know what’s lurking about.”

Bending down, I remove his plastic collar that Lucy 3-D prints. An embedded electronic chip automatically opens the cat doors when Merlin decides to venture inside or out.

“Don’t be angry.” I hope he doesn’t make a terrible fuss.

Merlin has been known to caterwaul loud enough to wake the dead. He’s destroyed blinds and curtains when feeling trapped.

“It’s for your own good.” I pet him again. “I saw that very large owl a few minutes ago, the one I’ve warned you about. And an injured raccoon that might have been growling. Which is why you shouldn’t go out at night. And the weather’s awful.”

Merlin is glued to me as I watch the monitor in the foyer.

The two red orbs float blearily and in tandem over the foggy driveway like something supernatural.

I’m transfixed, curious and horrified as the small red lights travel closer to the house, and I think of the video Dana Diletti took with her phone.

I envision the bright red eyes of the phantomlike specter repeatedly seen around the time of the Slasher murders. I remember police statements about the victims telling their friends and colleagues about seeing and hearing eerie red lights and sounds not long before their murders.

I’m tempted to call Marino. But if I do, he’ll come barreling back. That wouldn’t be fair to my sister, and it’s not necessary. I try Benton instead, and he answers on the first ring.

“They’ve just cleared the tractor-trailer off the highway,” he says right away.

“How’s the battery charge holding up?”

“Around twenty-eight percent.” He sounds tired, his patience beginning to fray, and that’s saying a lot as stoic as he is. “Traffic should start moving any minute.”

“Benton, there’s something strange going on.”

I’m looking at the monitor inside the entryway, and the red orbs are near the porch. I’m worried that any moment they’re going to enter the house, and the figure in black will be in front of me, grinning and waving his knife.

“These two red lights on the property,” I explain to Benton.

Parting the drape next to the front door, I peer out the window, the red orbs moving closer.

“I’m looking at them out the window. They’re floating in front of the house…”

I’ve no sooner said this than they vanish before my eyes.

“That’s weird,” I mutter, letting go of the drape.

I see nothing on the monitor but the hulking shapes of trees and shrubs in grayness. And my footprints in the snow leading up the steps to the front door. I tell Benton what I saw and heard after Marino dropped me off a few minutes ago.

“The red lights reminded me of the phantom hologram. But I don’t know what was in the woods. I heard howling and screaming,” I explain. “I know this sounds kooky.”

“One thing you never sound is kooky,” Benton replies as I hang my coat in the entryway closet. “I wish like hell I could get to you quicker. Where’s your Glock?”

“Upstairs as usual.”

“You should be carrying it.”

“Let’s don’t start on that,” I reply.

“Please go get it.”

“I will, but I’m not seeing the red lights anymore, and maybe it was a big deer as Marino suggested.” But I don’t believe it.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Benton says. “Keep the alarm on, and don’t go outside again for any reason whatsoever.”

“No fear of that.”

“I’ll be home soon, God willing,” he promises, and we end the call.