Chapter 8 Patrick #2
The footsteps coming up the porch were slow and sure, and in the hushed silence each step was a thunderclap.
Jason’s hand slid from Patrick’s mouth and down to his chest, still clutching tightly.
That warm, broad hand palming his thumping heart was the only thing preventing Patrick from running away.
Three sharp knocks sounded on the door.
Patrick twitched. Jason’s grip drew him farther back, unbearably tight and yet comforting.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Jason whispered, practically brushing his lips against Patrick’s earlobe.
The touch of his breath sent a shiver straight down Patrick’s neck to his groin.
If the visitor didn’t kill them, Patrick was going to die from the one-sided sexual tension.
The doorknob turned.
“Didn’t you lock it?” Tiffany hissed.
“I swear I—” Patrick said, but didn’t finish because the door swung open, hitting them all with a flood of incandescent white light.
A hulking figure filled the doorway, backlit by the car’s headlights.
“Daniel?” Carrie said.
A guttural cry rose from behind the sofa, and before Patrick could register what was happening, Mikey rushed for the door with the fireplace poker swinging.
The poker connected with the intruder’s head with a vicious crack. The intruder toppled to the floor and did not stir again.
Mikey yelled in triumph. “Got him, Carrie!”
“Michael!” Carrie rushed over. Jason released Patrick, taking tentative steps toward their fallen visitor, and Patrick immediately missed the closeness of their bodies.
Jen set down the table lamp. “Nice work, Pipsqueak. I’m pretty sure that was the creeper watching us from across the lake.”
Carrie directed her flashlight on the fallen intruder. A man flopped on his side with his eyes closed, blood beginning to pool below his head. He wore a short-sleeved button-down shirt and belted olive khakis over hiking boots, and a broad-brimmed hat lay by his body where it had been knocked off.
Shit.
A different flavor of fear washed over Patrick, as he’d always toed the line when it came to the authorities. “He was watching us because he’s a park ranger. Shit. I told you all not to overreact!”
The triumphant look on Mikey’s face was slowly replaced with alarm as he realized what he’d done. The poker dropped to the floor. Patrick winced as the iron tip gouged the hardwood.
Mikey clapped his hands to his mouth. Suddenly he was that twitchy kid again, the one afraid of getting into trouble. “Oh shit. Oh shit. I killed a park ranger.”
“Carrie’s ex is a park ranger?” Freddy said, confused.
Carrie’s face twisted in an apology. “It’s not Daniel. I got mixed up in the dark. They’re about the same height and build.” She crouched over the body, placing her hand on the man’s neck—and recoiled. What now? Patrick couldn’t take any more surprises.
“I’ve seen him before,” she said with wonder. “He was at the gas station I stopped at before I came here.”
Freddy pointed an accusing finger at her. “He’s been stalking you!”
This was getting out of hand. “Freddy, calm down,” Patrick said, tamping down on his own panic. “I’m sure it was a coincidence.”
Mikey dragged his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I can’t go to prison. I wouldn’t last a day. I’m gonna have to drop out of school and go on the run to Mexico.”
Carrie straightened and laid a hand on Mikey’s arm. “It’s okay, Michael. You didn’t kill him. He’s still got a pulse.”
Patrick exhaled a sigh of relief. Mikey gulped, the news a cold consolation.
Unless he was milking Carrie’s sympathy for everything he could get.
Patrick wouldn’t put it past him. If he couldn’t be her hero, he could be an object of her pity.
“I could still get charged with assault. I’m screwed. I’ll lose my scholarship—”
Carrie rubbed his back and made soothing noises, ever the Cedar Lake angel. Mikey wasn’t the only one reverting to his past ways.
“Just because he’s wearing an official uniform doesn’t mean he didn’t slash our tires,” Tiffany said, her voice vibrating with anxiety.
Jason turned on his flashlight, pointing it at the man’s face.
He looked familiar, but Patrick couldn’t place him.
He was a tall white guy about their age, with the hulking body of Lurch and the long, pinched face of H.
P. Lovecraft. For someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, he was as pasty as whipped cream.
Or maybe he’d lost that much blood from Mikey’s blow.
Without his hat, his white-blond hair fanned out like a dandelion gone to seed. Carrie had questionable taste in men if her ex looked like this. Though maybe after what had happened with Jason, she thought hunky football heroes were out of her league.
“That’s Russ,” Freddy said with surprise. “Ranger Russ. I’ve seen him around town. He’s the local weirdo.”
Jen raised her eyebrows. “I thought you were the local weirdo.”
“Hey, I’m a people person!” Freddy protested. “I’m the local character. This guy never talks to anyone.”
Jason snapped his fingers. “Russ Meachum.”
“You know him?” Patrick said, surprised.
Jason looked around at everyone like they were idiots. “We all do. He went to high school with us.”
“I don’t remember him,” Jen said disdainfully.
“He was in the year below us. Remember when I did that week in detention because of that smoke bomb business?”
Patrick nodded. He thought Mikey would have the decency to look embarrassed, but he was busy sticking his nose into Carrie’s neck as she hugged an arm around his shoulders.
Jason had taken the fall for a prank Mikey had set up in the boys’ locker room, because he knew he’d get away with a slap on the wrist, whereas Mikey would get a mark on his record that would harm his chances of getting a college scholarship.
Brainy Mikey, despite his faults—or maybe because of them—needed to get the hell out of Cedar Lake to fulfill his potential, and didn’t have the means to do so otherwise.
“I met him in detention. Odd kid, kind of a loner,” Jason continued. “I thought he could use some friends, so I invited him to join the Jumpscare Society. But he said his mom wouldn’t allow it. She only let him watch Disney movies.”
Freddy gestured at Russ. “See? It’s always the ones with mommy issues.”
Patrick huffed impatiently. “He was probably just checking up on us. It makes no sense. Why would he slash our tires and then come back in his car?”
“To lull us into a false sense of security! We’re trapped here, then a ranger shows up and we think he’s gonna help! But instead—” Freddy sliced a finger dramatically across his throat.
“Freddy—” Patrick said warningly.
“What was mama’s boy in detention for?” Jen asked.
Jason cleared his throat. “He, uh, brought a knife to school.”
An icy tingle traveled unbidden down Patrick’s spine and he finally understood what people meant when they said they had the feeling of someone walking over their grave.
“That does it. I’m getting the fuck outta here.” Tiffany marched out of the open door.
“It was a misunderstanding!” Jason called after her. “They were short on knives in his Home Ec class, so he brought a meat cleaver from home.”
“I don’t care!” Tiffany yelled at Jason through the doorway. “You can all stick around and get murdered if you want, but I’m not staying another minute. We’re just a bunch of sitting ducks.”