Free Cat's Cradle by William W. Johnstone Page B

the cop didn’t matter; the fact that the cop had done his best to talk the young man into dropping the knife didn’t matter; the fact that her brother had a rap sheet in a dozen cities didn’t matter; the fact that her brother had jumped bond, broke probation and skipped didn’t matter. He was her brother, and he could do no wrong. What had happened to her brother was not her brother’s fault. Oh, no. It was society’s fault. It was the fault of the cops. The system. But not the fault of her brother.
    “All right,” Mille finally broke the silence. “A multi-tined instrument. That’s what the stupid sheriff said. But the rumors are the people were scratched as well. My brother was going to Columbia in ’65. I remember him telling me about a rash of murders in the city. And something else, too. What was it?” She smiled. “Got it! the bodies were scratched and drained of blood. And partially eaten. By both human and animal. And in one case, at least, the flesh around the wound had . . . decayed? No. Aged !”
    Mille sat straight up in her chair. She said, quoting Doctor Ramsey, “His action seems to have stopped the aging process. Do you suppose, just maybe, the same thing that happened in New York City is, or has happened in Ruger County?”
    “Mille, I don’t believe in spooks and hants and all that stuff.”
    “Well, I do, Kenny. At least I believe in the unexplained.” She wrote him a check. She could afford it. Her parents had sued the city after the cop shot and killed her darling, precious, wonderful brother-and won. Since Mille adored her sibling they had given the money to her.
    “You get to New York City. You find out everything and anything you can about those murders. Then get back here fast.”
    Kenny was gone within the hour.
    Kenny had majored in journalism, but soon discovered he was not very good at it. He completed his major, however, earning his extra money by working part-time for a local private detective.
    Kenny had found his true talent. Snooping. Spying. Meddling. Prying. Making a pest of himself until his prey would say anything just to get rid of the ugly, freaky looking little guy.
    Mille stretched out on the bed and smoked another joint. She smiled a grim smile of satisfaction.
    “Now, Sheriff,” she muttered. “Now, I’m going to nail your ass—but good !
    * * *
    The creature stumbled through the thinning woods. It was almost to the edge of Valentine’s city limits. It lifted its head and surveyed the situation through slanted yellow eyes. Its head ached. The head had every right to ache. The brain was full of pus and corruption, eating away at the mass of once intelligent matter. The face had changed as well as the eyes. The skin was now wrinkled and dark. From the neck down, a thick pelt of long dark hair had grown. The shirt it had worn had grown very uncomfortable, so the creature had ripped it off, tossing it aside. The trousers were torn and ragged, flapping with every step, exposing the hairy legs.
    Thick drool leaked past the creature’s lips, dripping down on its hairy chest. It shook its aching head and snarled. The stinking drool flew from its lips.
    The creature stumbled across the deserted highway and slipped unnoticed into a wooded area near a field, which lay behind a residential area near the outskirts of Valentine. Something clicked and bounced metallically as the creature lurched across the blacktop. A small pin that had been attached to the thing’s belt fell onto the road. It was a pin denoting ten years of faithful service and attendance to a local church.
    Congratulations, Eddie Brown.
    Welcome back.

8
    Monday morning.
     
    The ringing of the phone jarred Dan out of the first really good night’s sleep he’d had in two weeks. He fumbled for the phone and succeeded in knocking it off the night stand onto the floor.
    Muttering low curses, while Vonne smothered her giggles beside him, Dan found the receiver and stuck it to his ear—upside down. He