magician on TV, The Amazing Randier, who offers to pay a hundred
thousand bucks to anyone who proves they have psychic power. This
Pollard clan would bankrupt his ass. But that doesn’t mean there’s
anything SUPERNATURAL about them. They’re demons, or possessed, or the
children of the devil-nothing like that.”
“It’s just some extra bit of genetic material,” Bobby said
“Exactly. If Candy acts like a vampire, biting people in the throat,
that’s just a manifestation of psychological illness, Julie said.
“It doesn’t mean he’s one of the living dead.” Bobby vividly remembered
the blond giant charging him and Frank on the rain swept black beach at
Punaluu. The ground was as formidable as a locomotive. If Bobby had a
choice going up against either Candy Pollard or Dracula, he’d choose the
undead Count. Nothing as simple as a clove of garlic, a crucifix, or a
well-placed wooden stake would effectively deter Frank’s brother.
Lee said,
“Another similarity. In those instances where victims didn’t leave
doors or windows unlocked, there was no indication of how the killer
gained entrance. And in man instances police found doors dead-bolted
from the inside, windows locked from the inside, as if the murderer had
gone down the chimney when he was done,” Seventy-eight,” Julie said, and
shivered.
Lee dropped the paper onto the desk.
“They figure there’re more, maybe a lot more, because sometimes this guy
has a tempted to cover his trail-the bite marks-by further mutilating or
even burning the bodies. Though the cops weren’t fooled in these cases,
you can figure they were fooled in others. So the count’s higher than
seventy-eight, and that’s just the last nine years.” e,” Julie said,
and Bobby seconded that.
“Good job, Lee “I’m not done yet,” Lee said.
“I’m going to order in a pizza, do some more digging.”
“You’ve been here more than ten hours today,” Bobby said.
“That’s already above and beyond the call. Got to have down time, Lee.”
“If you believe, as I do, that time is subjective, then you’ve got an
infinite supply. Later, at home, I’ll stretch a few hours into a couple
of weeks and return tomorrow quite rested.” Hal Yamataka shook his head
and sighed.
“Hate to admit it, Lee, but you’re damned good at this mysterious
oriental crap.” Lee smiled enigmatically.
“Thank you.”
After BOBBY and Julie went home to pack an OVERNIGHT bag for the trip to
Santa Barbara, and after Lee returned to the computer room, Hal settled
on the sofa in the bosses’ office, slipped off his shoes, and put his
feet up on the coffee table. He still had the paperback of The Last One
Left, which he’d read twice before, and which he had started to reread
last night in the hospital. If Bobby was right when he said they might
never see Frank again, Hal was in for an uneventful evening and would
probably get half the book read.
Maybe his happiness at Dakota & Dakota had nothing to do with the
prospect of excitement, avoiding a stereotypical job as a gardener, and
having the admittedly slim chance to be a hero. Maybe the thing that
most affected his career decision was the realization that he simply
could not ow a lawn or trim a hedge or plant fifty flats of flowers and
read a book at the same time.
DEREK SAT in his chair. Pointed the raygun at the TV and made it be on.
He said,
“You don’t want to watch news?”
“No,” Thomas said. He was on his bed, propped up with pillows, looking
at the night being dark outside the window
“Good. Me neither.” Derek pushed buttons on the raygun A new picture
came on the screen.
“You don’t want to wat a game show?”
“No.” All Thomas wanted to do WaS snoop on the Bad Thing.
“Good.” Derek pushed buttons, and the invisible rays from the screen
show a new picture.
“You don’t want to watch Three Stooges pretending to be funny?”
“No.”
“What you want to watch?”
“Don’t matter. Whatever you want to watch.”
“Really?”
“Whatever you want to watch,” Thomas repeated.
“Gee, that’s nice.” He made lots of pictures on the screen until he