Blood Trance Read online

  Not letting up on the gas, I started swerving, right to left, left to right. I didn't know how else to avoid that thing, that huge mechanical monster of a car lunging at my rear, trying to ram me again. I didn't move quite fast enough, and my car was clipped on the left tail-light. My auto shook and jolted like a bumper car. I twisted the steering wheel in the opposite direction, and sped ahead. I looked down at the dash, saw that we were now roaring at almost sixty down this sleepy street. Like two warring birds, we swooped from side to side as we zoomed around a long curve in the road. I didn't know what I was going to do, how I was going to escape this thing. If he succeeded in crashing me into a tree or parked car, then what? Would he jump out and shoot me?

  “But it was a man?”

  Yes. I glanced in the mirror, saw a guy behind the other wheel. There wasn't much light, just some from his dash, so I couldn't make out much. Only short hair. And a coat.

  “A tan coat?”

  I couldn't tell, not really. But this could have been the figure I'd seen chasing after Loretta in the park. The guy that had been after her and whom Helen wanted to kill.

  “Hold the image, Alex. What else can you see? Describe him.”

  Something across the top of his mouth. A shadow or maybe a mustache. That was about all I could discern. It was just happening so ridiculously quickly. My eyes flicked back ahead, studying the road, hoping for a way to safety, when I saw it. Light. A lot of it about a block ahead. There was a main thoroughfare up there, I remembered. At least four lanes. If I could make it that far, perhaps there'd be a way of losing my tail in the traffic. Maybe there'd even be a cop.

  All of a sudden there was another great whack of metal against metal, and almost instantly my car was flying into someone's front yard. I saw a mailbox, heard a large thud as I plowed it over. And then a tree. I hung on to the wheel, turned back to the road, plowed through the grass, and swooped through a web of heavy branches. Almost as quickly, my rental car bounded back onto pavement, and I was streaking off again.

  I glanced back in my mirror, saw the car with its big lights. I expected it to charge after me, but it didn't. I sped on as fast as I could, yet the other car began to fall back. I didn't stop. Didn't dare. Yet as I sped to the main road up ahead, as I passed under the bright lights and off toward my motel, I couldn't help but wonder. Why was he now letting me get away?

  Chapter 9

  That question kept echoing in my mind, even an hour later after I'd eaten and retreated to my motel room, where I took a shower. Wearing a T-shirt and underwear, I lay down on my bed, a full-sized thing with an orange bedspread, and stared up at the bumpy, sprayed-plaster ceiling. I'd deal with the ruined rental car tomorrow, but what had all that been about? Had someone just tried to scare me away, or had that guy really meant to kill me?

  The big question, though, was whether or not this recent attack was somehow connected to the matter-of-life-and-death note Loretta had written to my sister. My first inclination was to say that, sure, it had to be. Then again, I sensed that although there was a variety of things going on here, they might not all be interconnected.

  I rolled over and checked my watch, which sat on the fakewood bedside table. As soon as I saw that table, the phone, the bedside light switch, I was struck with a powerful sense of déjà vu. This room with its two identical beds covered with identical orange spreads, the two armchairs covered with green fabric and small table in between, as well as the television that sat upon the three-drawer dresser, were all so amazingly familiar.

  “That's because you've returned to all this in hypnotic trance, Alex.”

  No, all this was familiar because we'd become such a bland country. I knew this room not because I'd stayed in specifically this number before but because it resembled just about every other motel across the country. In the name of buy-all, have-all corporate efficiency, everything had become the same. The only difference in rooms across the country was whether or not the remote control had been ripped off or whether you got free shampoo or simply a free shoeshine towelette. It was amazing to—

  I dropped my digression when I noticed that it was after eleven and that it wasn't too late to call my sister, who regularly stayed up until one or two. After this first contact with Loretta, I wanted to talk to Maddy, for I had questions, things I needed to find out, ideas to test.

  I leaned over to the phone, dialed, and she picked up on the first ring.

  “Hi,” I said, “it's me.”

  Her voice now humming not through trance but over the telephone lines, Maddy asked, “How's Chicago?”

  “Actually, I don't know. I flew into O’Hare, then came up here, wherever here is. I think I'm just a little north of Glenview.”

  “Our old home territory. If you get a chance, you should go check out our old house. I wonder what it looks like.”

  “Yeah, I wonder,” I echoed, though I didn't have much interest in finding out.

  A wave of sad memories threatened to wash over me, and it struck me that my relationship with Maddy was an incestuous one, not in terms of sex, of course, but definitely in terms of emotions. We were bound together in tragedy, stitched tightly together with a thread of painful memories. A normal brother and sister grew up, went their own ways, and developed their own lives. But we'd been hit with so much crap—Dad's sudden death, Mother's Alzheimer's, Maddy's impairments—that it was hard to move on. It was all so hard to understand, and that confusion kept us glued together. As I sat there in my motel room, telephone to my ear, I wondered if I'd done the wrong thing in going to work for Maddy, if I hadn't taken the job for all the wrong reasons. Now that I was away from her and her island, it was clear that I'd taken the job not simply because I was bored with technical writing but because of my desire to be closer to my sister.

  “Alex,” called my ever-perceptive sis, “are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a long evening.” “What happened?”

  I went through the whole thing, getting out of my car, hearing the scream. All that business in the woods. Then the odd conversation back at the house. And, of course, being followed and rammed.

  “Shit, Maddy, you should see my rental car. It's all beat to hell.”

  “If they give you any trouble at the rental agency, just tell them I'll pay for the whole thing. The important thing is that you're all right. You are, aren't you?”

  “Not a scratch.”

  “Well, just be careful, Alex. I had no idea things would get this rough. Take care of yourself—you're the only brother I have.”

  “Yes, boss.” I started twiddling the phone cord around my finger. “What do you know about Loretta's younger twin brother and sister?”

  “Not much, really. Billy and Carol Marie are something like twelve years younger than Loretta, I think. Their mother died quite soon after giving birth to them.”

  “Was it complications from the birth or something else?”

  “God, I never even thought that it might be anything but natural,” said Maddy over the line. “I hope it was, anyway. I do know that her death was extremely difficult for Loretta. If I remember correctly, it was about then that she started having trouble. Going out and all, I mean. Somehow Loretta managed to make it to high school and even graduate, but ever since she's pretty much stayed at home.”

  Recalling what Loretta had started to say about Helen, I asked, “What did Helen do before she married Loretta's father? Did she work for him or something?”

  “She was their cleaning lady.”

  “No shit.”

  “And they were married pretty soon after Loretta's mother's death. Like a couple of months after, I think, when Billy and Carol Marie were obviously still infants.”

  “That would be about when the family moved out of the city and up here,” I speculated. “But if Loretta's mother didn't die of anything natural, you can guess who'd be number-one suspect.”

  “If that's the case,” mused Maddy, “I wonder if Loretta saw something. Maybe
that's what all this is about.”

  “Whatever, Helen must have done a hell of a job cleaning house,” I said, recalling that the house was spotless now as well. “Either that, or Loretta's father thought it'd be cheaper to marry her than pay for a full-time live-in.”

  “How cynical of you, Alex.”

  “You haven't met her. I just can't imagine anyone falling in love with Helen. She wasn't what you'd call a warm and fuzzy personality.”

  “No, perhaps not. But outwardly, at least, she did do an okay job of raising those kids. Loretta said Helen always made their breakfasts, packed their school lunches, and cooked a hot dinner.” Maddy asked, “So what do you have planned for tomorrow?”

  “I'm getting together with Loretta sometime. Before that, though, I have to go to the car-rental place and see what kind of trouble they're going to give me. If there's enough time afterward, I thought I'd take that envelope up to Ray Preston.”

  “Oh, good. And you'll give it to him personally?”

  “As promised.” I thought of our childhood days in these environs, and said, “You know, when this is all over, you should come down here.”

  “That'd be fun, but—”

  “Oh, come on, Maddy, you can't hide away on that island forever. We could stay downtown, eat at all the best restaurants, see a show. It'd be a blast. How long have you been up there without leaving? Over a year now, isn't it?”

  “Well…” My sister's voice trailed off. “We'll see. It's just so hard for me; you've no idea.”

  “Maddy, you could hire a private jet—you've done that before—to bring you right to Meigs Field downtown. It couldn't be easier. I'd meet you.”

  “But then I'd be at the mercy of someone else.”

  “Just me.”

  “But I couldn't push myself, you know,” she said, referring to her wheelchair. “I wouldn't know where things are.”

  “Just think about, it, would you?”

  “I will, I promise!”

  From her tone, however, I already knew that while she might think about it, she'd already decided against it. I shook my head as I sat there on the bed. No one was more stubborn than Maddy.

  “There's one thing you never told me,” I said, knowing it best to move on. “Why did Loretta come to see you? I mean, how did she find you? She was way out in the ’burbs and you were downtown.” I paused, got no answer, “Maddy? Maddy, are you still there?”

  After a long moment, her voice faint and oddly shaken, she said, “Yeah, I'm here.”

  “Are you all right?” Clearly she wasn't. “Did I say something?”

  “It's just the idea of Chicago.” As if she were crying, she paused, then cleared her throat. “It's just so… so…”

  “Painful?”

  “Exactly. I don't know if I'll ever come back, Alex.”

  “Oh.”

  I understood, or thought I did. The city of Maddy's birth was also where she'd lost her sight and lost her mobility. Thinking about it, if I were she, I don't think I'd want to visit the vortex of tragedy, either.

  “Listen,” I said, “it's late. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Let's just talk tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” She sniffled. “I love you.”

  “Likewise.”

  I hung up, hoped Maddy was okay, wondered if she'd put on a video and listen to a movie, forget about it all.

  “I think I cried myself to sleep,” called my familial seer.

  The next instant I felt terribly and thoroughly numb with exhaustion. I rubbed my face, went to the bathroom and flicked off the light, then returned and flopped down on the bed. I barely remembered collapsing and pulling the sheets over myself.

  “Right. You slept very well, very soundly. Then the next morning you woke up refreshed. And then?”

  Chapter 10

  My second rental car was red, too. It was the first thing I attended to the following morning, and they were none too pleased at the car agency when I drove in and told them how I'd been chased and rammed by some hood, probably a gang member. I walked around the car with the manager, a balding guy with a walrus mustache and a gut to match, and we inspected the battered rear end, the dents and dings on the side. As he muttered and groaned, I pulled out some clumps of dirt and grass that were wedged up in the wheel well.

  “This must be from when I was forced up into that yard,” I said, holding the grass up as evidence.

  The manager paused at one dent, felt it with his fingertips, then stared at me, shook his head, and groaned a polite, “Shit.” He studied the indentation, then looked back at me with a skeptical eye. “What'd the police say?”

  “Nothing. I haven't reported this.” I saw him nervously pull on his big mustache, and I added the lone word, “Yet.”

  “Shit.”

  Fortunately I had played my credit cards correctly, having charged the rental on the one that would give me the most insurance, so every bit of damage was covered. Nevertheless, when I inquired about renting another car, the manager shook his head, tugged quickly on his mustache, chuckled a high, cynical laugh, and told me that wouldn't be possible until after I'd talked with the police. I immediately imagined the hours that would consume, and I began scheming another course. In the end, after a number of phone calls to corporate headquarters and insurance agents, I got my car, albeit reluctantly, having guaranteed the auto by charging the entire value of it on Maddy's credit card. The whole process took almost two hours, and I was sure it would have taken all day had I not had a multimillionaire sister to lube the way.

  Of course, somewhere along the way, somewhere in there with all the other calls, I phoned Loretta to postpone our meeting, a shift of plans she didn't care for at all.

  “Why?” she'd asked, voice deep and curt. “Is there something the matter?”

  She sounded hurt, as if she were taking it personally, as if she were worried that overnight I decided I didn't like her. I reassured her that I wanted to come over, that something unforeseeable had come up. She wanted to know what that unforeseeable thing was, and the best lie I could come up with was closest to the truth.

  “Car trouble.”

  I don't know why I didn't want to tell her about being chased last night, but instinctively I knew it was best not to talk about it, at least not yet. I didn't want to fuel an already anxious person who herself had been attacked in the woods the previous night. And in any case, she understood the idea of car trouble, the possibility of that, and when I told her I had to return my rental car and get another, she then assertively said she'd be waiting for me about noon.

  “It shouldn't take you so very long to return a car,” she chided me. “All you have to do is drive in and drive out.”

  I said I thought it might take longer and that I'd see her at one. She offered a gruff okay to that, then hung up.

  As it turned out, I had over an hour to spare, which left me with more than enough time to make it up to Ray Preston's place of business, a small dry cleaner's he owned. I checked the address on the envelope and headed off in rental car number two for Northfield, a small, rather sleepy burg that fell in the shadows of the more prominent and wealthy Winnetka. I cut across a string of towns and took Edens Expressway up there but in the gridlock that was tightening boalike around Chicago and its endless suburbs, the trip took almost forty-five minutes. By then I was sure that it would have been lots cheaper and faster for Maddy to have sent the envelope by express mail.

  Gold Medal Cleaners was easy to find, a nice gold storefront at one end of a short strip mall. As I pulled up and shut off my car, I looked up at the store's large, plate-glass window, saw a notice about a special on shirts, hung not boxed, and a neon sign that glowed: ALL CLEANING DONE ON PREMISES. Inside I spotted a woman customer, a couple of young girls behind the counter, and a man standing by one of those long racks, the mechanical kind that revolves. My eyes met the man's, held for just a moment longer than was customary, and I saw his brow quickly go up as if in recognition.

  Taking t
he envelope from the seat beside me, I climbed out of my car and went in, passing the woman customer, who was now exiting with her plastic-sheathed clothing. A bright-faced, attractive girl greeted me from behind the counter, her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her teeth clean and white.

  “Hi, what can I help you with?” she called. “Do you have anything to pick up?”

  “No, but is Ray Preston here?” I said, then lifted up the envelope. “I have something to give him.”

  “Mr. Preston? Oh, sure. He was just up here. Wait a minute, I'll go get him.”

  While she disappeared into the back, a girl with red hair appeared, smiled at me, and started pinning numbers to clothes and then stuffing them in a nylon bag. I stood there, dumbly staring first at the rack of clothes, then turning and studying a gum dispenser by the front door.

  A moment later, the brown-haired girl returned, saying, “Mr. Preston's on the phone. If you want to leave the envelope, I'll make sure he gets it.”

  Maddy's request flashed to mind. Make sure he gets it, she implored. Hand-deliver it to him, face to face. Just make sure you see him, she had said. It wasn't like this was a secret document or anything. It was something much simpler; the reason Maddy had wanted me to see him, shake his hand, perhaps have a short conversation, was I knew, that Ray had been one of her clients. And once I returned to Maddy's island, I was sure I would be thoroughly grilled, for first and foremost and forever and ever, my sister was a shrink. One who had been worried about the clients, some more than others, she had abandoned. So I knew I had to see him personally and I knew that invoking my sister's name would gain me an audience. It always had everywhere else.