There was a strangled wailing sound that made me jump a second time. Obviously, it was some kind of animal. I couldn’t see what it was because a cinder block pier cut short my line of sight. A nest of rats? A raccoon? Maybe the beast was caught in a second Havahart trap, though I had no idea why Ned would need two. There was a moment of quiet and then the frenzied scuffling started up again. The animal had to be staked to something because its panic was palpable. There was a sudden piercing smell of urine and feces where the creature had lost control of its bowels trying to free itself. Even a sleepy-eyed opossum could turn vicious if cornered. I didn’t want to get anywhere near wildlife that frantic, but I needed to understand what was going on. As far as I knew, there were no beasties living under my office, so whatever it was, Ned had brought it in with him. But why?
Ned was a man who liked to do things for effect. Witness his savage beating of Phyllis Joplin in a time frame that guaranteed my finding her. He’d camped under my office for the shock value. He must have enjoyed thinking about my reaction when I realized where he’d been this past week. He might even have intended to alert me to the fact that he was five feet below me every time I sat down at my desk. No point in being clever without an audience.
So what was his intention? Having set the stage, what additional form of savagery did he have in mind? The low howl started up again. The animal was clearly agitated. I hesitated. Really, it wasn’t my problem. My job was to get to a clean phone line and notify law enforcement. What bothered me was the idea of leaving any creature at the mercy of such a man.
Was I going to have to go in there and have a look?
I didn’t see a way around it. I considered circling the bungalow and trying the vent opening on the far side of the building, which would have given me a clear line of sight, but I knew the remaining vent covers were nailed shut. The last thing I wanted to do was set up a banging, hammering announcement that I was on Ned’s case.
I shrugged out of my jacket and laid it down on the dirt just inside the hole. I took off my holster, removed the H&K, and tucked it in the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back. Awkwardly, I eased in through the vent opening, first extending my left leg, and then the rest of me, bent double, and hoping like hell I wouldn’t knock myself in the head again. Once in, I hunkered in a space that was barely sufficient to allow me to duck-waddle my way toward the cinder block pier that blocked the animal from view. I told myself all I had to do was get close enough to see what I was dealing with. If I couldn’t free the creature myself, I’d call Animal Control and have them send someone over to save the poor thing. I hated the idea of tipping my hand, but in the greater scheme of things, it was better to keep Ned’s sick nature in mind and do what I could to prevent any further brutality.
I decided I could make better progress if I lowered myself to my hands and knees and either crawled or hunched my way across the dirt, using my elbows and toes to propel myself. The soil smelled metallic. I didn’t dare look up at the subfloor just above me because it might have been a hotbed of spiders and centipedes, either of which would have had me levitating. At the very notion, my heart gave one big thump and then a series of little ones, like an internal jolt with aftershocks following. I put my head down, trying to still my panic. Was the goal worth the risk? I was assuming Ned arrived and departed after dark. But what if he showed up now? I wasn’t certain what frightened me more—coming face-to-face with a frantic animal or finding myself fifteen feet from freedom with Ned Lowe putting in an unexpected appearance and blocking my escape.
It didn’t bear thinking about. It did occur to me that once I exited the crawl space and returned to my office, I’d have to make sure Ned hadn’t let himself into the bungalow while I was under it. I didn’t want a replay of the choking incident and I wasn’t quite ready to test my martial arts skills, as I was only coming up on week five. I crawled forward a few feet and looked back at the vent opening, which seemed smaller. The distance between me and the outside world was lengthening and I still couldn’t identify the animal except for the occasional gyration as the creature flung itself this way and that in its attempt to flee whatever restraints were binding it. I would have abandoned the attempt altogether but I knew how Ned’s mind worked. The thing about psychopaths is that from the time they’re little children, they’re incredibly cruel. Even before their pathology is fully developed, they are cold and clinical, completely without empathy.
I groped my way by inches, reassured by the bulky gun I’d shoved into my waistband at the small of my back. I had my flashlight at the ready and three more feet to go. No point in worrying about the risk since I’d committed myself. It might be folly, but I’d gone so far now that it was easier to proceed than to retreat. I dragged myself another foot and a half, bracing myself on my elbows while I pushed down on the toes of my shoes for thrust. I leaned forward and peered into the dark. I turned on the flashlight again and swept the beam into the area behind the cinder block pier.
When I understood what I was looking at, I uttered a low cry of surprise and disbelief. It was Ed; limp with exhaustion, eyes closed, fur matted. Ned had buckled him into a body harness that hung from one of the floor joists. I’d seen similar harnesses at pet stores: a lightweight nylon vest for use if you thought your cat would enjoy being walked like a dog. Most cats don’t care for this idea at all. The vest wasn’t causing Ed any pain. The problem was that the O-ring in the back center of the harness was attached to a metal eye Ned had screwed into one of the joists. He’d made sure the chain connected to the harness was so short, the cat’s feet barely touched the ground. How long had the cat been dangling like that? Ed’s struggle must have been amusing to Ned because there was no possibility of escape.
I gathered Ed in my arms like a baby, supporting him with a hand under his belly in hopes he’d feel secure. He fought me at first, already conditioned to do battle. Sweet Ed, with his one green eye and one blue, with his little stub of a tail. His heart was rat-a-tat-tatting hard and I knew the fight or flight reaction had thrown his whole system into hyperdrive. I sat down, hunched over, my head canted to one side to avoid contact with the floor joists. I kept my left arm lifted sufficiently to keep him level instead of sagging under his own weight. He was shivering with tension, but I would have been willing to swear he knew who I was.