Bobby nodded. “Del and Judy Stuart’s twins.” Del Stuart has an office at
Ashdon College, is for the record an employee of the Department of
Education but is rumored to work for an obscure arm of the Department of
Defense or the Environmental Protection Agency, or the Federal Office of
Doughnut Management, and he probably spreads the rumors himself to
deflect speculation from possibilities closer to the truth.
He refers to himself as a grant facilitator, a term that feels as
deceptive as calling a hit man an organic waste disposal specialist.
Officially, his job is to keep outgoing paperwork and incoming funds
flowing for those professors who are engaged in federally financed
research. There is reason to believe that most such research at Ashdon
involves the development of unconventional weapons, that the college has
become the summer home of Mars, the god of war, and that Del is the
liaison between the discreet funding sources of black-budget weapons
projects and the academics who thrive on their dole. Like Mom.
I had no doubt that Del and Judy Stuart were devastated by the
disappearance of their twins, but unlike poor Lilly Wing, who was an
innocent and unaware of the dark side of Moonlight Bay, the Stuarts were
selfcommitted residents of Satan’s pocket and understood that the
bargain they had made required them to suffer even this terror in
silence.
Consequently, I was amazed that Charlie had learned of these abductions.
“Charlie and Nora Dai live next door to them, ” Bobby explained, “though
I don’t think they barbecue a lot together. The twins are six years old.
Around nine o’clock last night, Judy is tucking the weeds in for the
night, she hears a noise, and when she turns around, there’s a stranger
right behind her.”
“Stocky, close-cropped black hair, yellow eyes, thick lips, seed-corn
teeth, ” I said, describing the kidnapper I’d encountered under the
warehouse.
“Tall, athletic, blond, green eyes, puckered scar on his left cheek.”
“New guy, ” Sasha said.
“Totally new guy. He’s got a chloroform-soaked rag in one hand, and
before Judy realizes what’s happening, the dude is all over her like fat
on cheese.”
“Fat on cheese? ” I asked.
“That was Charlie’s expression.” Charlie Dai, God love him, writes
excellent newspaper copy, but though English has been his first language
for twenty-five years, he has not fully gotten a grip on conversational
usage to the degree that he has mastered formal prose.
Idiom and metaphor often defeat him. He once told me that an August
evening was “as hot as three toads in a Cuisinart, ” a comparison that
left me blinking two days later.
Bobby peered through the stained-glass window once more, gave the day
world a longer look than he had before, then returned his attention to
us, “When Judy recovers from the chloroform, Aaron and Anson the twinsare
gone.”
“Two abbs suddenly start snatching kids on the same night? ” I said
skeptically.
“There’s no coincidence in Moonlight Bay, ” Sasha said.
“Bad for us, worse for Jimmy, ” I said. “If we’re not dealing with
typical pervs, then these geeks are acting out twisted needs that might
have nothing to do with any abnormal psychology on the books, because
they’re way beyond abnormal. They’re becoming, and whatever it is
they’re becoming is driving them to commit the same atrocities.”
“Or, ” Bobby said, “it’s even stranger than two dudes regressing to
swamp monsters. The abb left a drawing on the twins’ bed.”
“A crow? ” Sasha guessed.
“Charlie called it a raven. Same difference. A raven sitting on a stone,
spreading its wings as if to take flight. Not the same pose as in the
first drawing. But the message was pretty much the same. Del Stuart will
be my servant in Hell.”
“Does Del have any idea what it means? ” I asked.
“Charlie Dai says no. But he thinks that Del recognized Judy’s
description of the kidnapper. Maybe that’s why the guy let her get a
look at him. He wanted Del to know.”
“But if Del knows, ” I said, “he’ll tell the cops, and the abb is
finished.”
“Charlie says he didn’t tell them.” Sasha’s voice was laden with equal