The Door to December by Dean Koontz

The wind changed direction. Icy rain blew under the overhang. Haldane drew Laura back into the corner, as far as they could go.

She wondered why he didn’t take her inside. There must be something that he didn’t want her to see. Something too horrible for her to see? What in the name of God had happened in there?

‘How did he die?’ she asked.

‘Murdered.’

‘Who did it?’

‘We don’t know.’

‘Shot?’

‘No. He was… beaten to death.’

‘My God.’ She felt sick. She leaned against the wall because her legs were suddenly weak.

‘Doctor McCaffrey?’ Concerned, he took her by the arm, ready to provide support if she needed it.

‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘But I expected Dylan and Melanie to be together. Dylan took her away from me.’

‘I know.’

‘Six years ago. He closed out our bank accounts, quit his job, and ran off. Because I wanted a divorce. And he wasn’t willing to share custody of Melanie.’

‘When we put his name in the computer, it gave us you, the whole file,’ Haldane said. ‘I haven’t had time to learn the particulars, but I read the highlights on the mobile VDT in the car, so I’m sort of familiar with the case.’

‘He ruined his life, threw away his career and everything to be able to keep Melanie. Surely she must still be with him,’ Laura said exasperatedly.

‘She was. She was living here with him—’

‘Living here? Here? Only ten or fifteen minutes from me?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But I hired private detectives, several of them, and nobody could get a lead—’

‘Sometimes,’ Haldane said, ‘the purloined-letter trick is the best trick of all.’

‘I thought maybe they’d even left the country, gone to Mexico or somewhere — and all the time they were right here.’

The wind subsided, and the rain came straight down, even heavier than before. The lawn would soon be a lake.

‘There are some clothes here for a little girl,’ Haldane said, ‘several books suitable for a kid her age. There’s a box of Count Chocula cereal in the cupboard, and I’m sure none of the adults were eating that.’

‘None of them? There were more people here than just Dylan and Melanie?’

‘We’re not sure. We’ve got… other bodies. We think one of them was living here, because there were men’s clothes in two sizes, some of which would fit your husband, but some that might fit one of the other men.’

‘How many bodies?’

‘Two others. Three altogether.’

‘Beaten to death?’

He nodded.

‘And you don’t know where Melanie is?’

‘Not yet.’

‘So maybe… whoever killed Dylan and the others took her away with him.’

‘It’s a possibility,’ he said.

Even if Melanie wasn’t already dead, she was the hostage of a killer. Maybe not just a killer but a rapist.

No. She was only nine years old. What would a rapist want with her? She was hardly more than a baby.

Of course, these days, that didn’t make any difference. There were strange animals out there, monsters who preyed on children, who had a special appetite for little girls.

She was far colder than the incessant winter rain.

‘We’ve got to find her,’ Laura said, and her voice was a thin croak that she didn’t even recognize.

‘We’re trying,’ Haldane said.

She saw sympathy and compassion in his blue eyes now, but she could take no comfort from him.

‘I’d like you to come inside with me,’ he said, ‘but I have to warn you it’s not a pretty scene.’

‘I’m a doctor, Lieutenant.’

‘Yeah, but a psychiatrist.’

‘And a medical doctor. All psychiatrists are medical doctors.’

‘Oh, that’s right. I didn’t think.’

‘I assume you want me to identify Dylan’s body.’

‘No. I’m not going to ask you to look at it. Wouldn’t do any good. The condition… no visual identification is really possible. There’s something else I want you to see, something I hope you might be able to explain to me.

‘What’s that?’

‘Something weird,’ he said. ‘Something damned weird.’

3

Every lamp and ceiling light in the house was blazing. Laura blinked against the glare as she looked around. The living room was furnished neatly but without style. The sectional sofa, covered in a bold geometric pattern, clashed with the floral drapes. The carpet was one shade of green, the walls another. Only the bookcases and the few hundred volumes in them appeared to have been collected with genuine interest and to a particular taste. The rest of the room might have been a stage set hastily assembled by a theater company with a small budget.

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