His instincts said run, but his feet wouldn't move. "Meredith?" he called out. His voice sounded hollow even to him. There was no reply. He tried again, louder. "Meredith Borge?"
Dex came quickly from the other side of the garage, his voice filled with urgency. "Electricity's been cut! Call nine-one-one!"
The door flew open as Gus reached for his cell phone. It was an explosion without explosives, like horses out of the gate. The door and whoever was behind it sent him tumbling backward down the stairs. He was suddenly wrestling on the lawn with a man in a sleek black body suit.
"Freeze!" shouted Dex, his gun drawn.
A gunshot pierced the night. Dex went down. Falling, he fired off several return rounds. The attacker fired back as he raced across the yard and leaped over the fence.
Gus hurried to Dex, who had been hit in the shoulder and was writhing in pain.
"Did I hit him?" asked Dex.
"I don't think so."
"Damn! Who the hell was that?"
"Sure wasn't Meredith. Are you going to be okay?"
"I will be," he answered, groaning. "But my shoulder's DOA. Call nine-one-one already."
The phone had landed just a few feet away in the scuffle.
Gus grabbed it and dialed. "Yes, operator, there's been a shooting at the Borge residence on Rural Route sixty-seven."
"Is there a better address?"
"That's the best I can do."
"Someone was shot with a gun, you say?"
"Yes, a man."
"Is he alive?"
"Yes. It's a shoulder wound."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
He glanced at the house, thinking of Meredith. "Quite possibly."
"Exactly how many people have been injured, sir?"
"I don't know. One for sure. For God's sakes, are you coming or not?"
"I'll dispatch police and paramedics right away." "Thank you. Hurry." He hung up and dialed home. His sister answered.
"Carla, is everything okay there?"
"Yeah, everything's fine."
"Something terrible has happened."
"What?"
"Just--that's not important. I want you to grab Morgan right now. Both of you get in the car and drive to the police station as fast as you can."
"Gus, what's going on?"
"Just do it!"
"All right, all right."
"I'll meet you there as soon as the paramedics arrive." "Paramedics! Gus--"
"Get going, Carla!"
"Okay. I'm leaving right this second."
I hope that's soon enough, he thought, but he didn't dare say it.
Across the lawn, Dex lay languidly across the sidewalk, his shoulder bathed in blood. Gus went to him and draped his coat over his body to keep the chill off and prevent shock.
"One more call," Dex said weakly.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's time you told the FBI about that note on your windshield."
The warning in Beth's handwriting suddenly blazed in his mind: Stay away from Meredith Borge. Or I end up like her daughter. That it had been signed "Flora," however, still complicated matters.
Dex grabbed him with newfound strength. "You have to call them. Even if it does make it look like Beth might really be part of that cult."
Gus grabbed Dex's gun. "First I have to check on Meredith."
"You're not going in that house."
"I have to check on her. It could take ten minutes for the cops to get out here in the sticks. If she's hanging by her neck, another minute could make all the difference."
"And if there's another guy with a gun in there, you're both dead. Don't risk your life to save that woman."
"That woman might know where my wife is!"
"Face it, man. Your wife joined a cult."
"Shut the hell up! Or I'll shoot you in the other shoulder."
"Fine, be a hero. I just hope to hell she's alone." "And alive," said Gus as he started toward the house.
Chapter Sixty-Two.
Andie hadn't moved from the bed. In her mind she was sorting through the talk with Tom, trying to reconcile the cult's philosophy with the physical evidence in the serial killings. Two dead men. Both resembled Tom. Three dead women. All resembled Beth. A cult premised on the notion that all worldly experience was like an echo and that transformation to the next level came about only during that window of opportunity between life and death--a window that was wide open while hanging by the neck.
If it was all that simple, then why wasn't Beth Wheatley on the farm? Or if she was there, why was she nowhere to be seen?
Andie tried to sleep but couldn't close her eyes, too many questions pounding inside her head.
Beth's room was black when the music started. She had no control over it, no more than she controlled the room temperature or anything else in her environment. Over the past two weeks various classical pieces had played over two large speakers in the ceiling, coming and going at different times of the day for no apparent reason. At first she had thought it was a reward of some kind. Lately, it seemed more like a way to keep her from hearing what was going on outside her room.