Dave slowly pushed back his chair and stood up. Both women thought his eyes looked just a bit crazy. "You sorry b.i.t.c.hes!" Dave's voice was double-edged and sharp. He looked at his wife. "Have your a.s.s out of this house by the time I get back from work."

"Whoa, boy," Margie told him. "You seem to forget something. It was my money that started the insurance and real estate business, and this house is in my name. You carry your a.s.s, Dave. I've had it with you."

"Fine," Dave said tightly. "I'll pack up my stuff after work."

"No, you won't," Margie told him. "You'll do it now. And I'll help you."

"So will I," Susan said.

"You want me to call the office and tell Bette that you'll be late?" There was an equal amount of sharpness in that question.

Dave's smile was nasty. "I wondered when you'd get around to that."

"Oh, Dave, I've known about you and Bette for a long time. The whole town knows. At least you waited until Dave, Jr., and Sally were gone before you started s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around. I thank you for that."

Dave leaned over the table, putting his face close to hers. It was then that she noticed his breath was very bad and he smelled as though he had not bathed in several days.

"d.a.m.n, you stink, Dave!"

He slapped her, the force of the blow knocking her out of her chair. Susan conked him on the head with the salad bowl and cut a small gash in his forehead.

And the fight was on.

Andrea heard the boys leave; listened to their ugly laughter and rough talk.

"Good juice, baby!" Tommy said.

"Yeah," Peter said. "Great gash, honey."

"We'll do it again sometime, baby," Billy said.

"Yeah, Andrea," Chuck said. "Only next time-and there will be a next time-move your a.s.s a little bit more, will you?"

The boys scampered up the bank and were soon gone, laughing and talking.

Andrea sat up and looked at the trestle. The cats were gone.

For a fifteen-year-old, Andrea had uncommonly good sense and a fairly level head on her. Her one mistake had been in taking the shortcut across the trestle that morning. She would not make that mistake again.

With a painful sigh, she sat up and gathered her torn clothing around her. While doing so, she reviewed her options. Like most teenagers, she was TV smart when it came to the law. She knew if she reported the rape it would be her word against theirs. Four to one. And they would all alibi the others. But she wasn't going to let them get away with it. Regardless of the outcome, she was going to report it.

She looked at her torn panties, almost balled them up and threw them away, then thought better of it and stuffed them in her jeans pocket. She found a piece of old rope and used that for a belt to hold her jeans up; the zipper was ruined. With a deep breath, she began the climb up the bank to the tracks. First stop, she thought, Dr. Livaudais.

"Let's go!" Don said. "A neighbor just reported that Dave and Margie and Susan Brackett are having a fight in the Porter house."

When the cops arrived, they found Dave sitting on the floor in the den, bleeding from the head and face.

And City Patrolman Bid Grenier noticed something else while standing outside. Cats. Lots of cats all around the place. They were restless, and he did not like the look in their eyes. He didn't think he'd ever seen . . . quite that look before. He didn't know exactly what it meant, but he d.a.m.n sure didn't like it a bit.

"Anybody want to press charges?" Sonny Pa.s.son asked the three combatants.

"I just want to get my stuff and get out of this house and those crazy women!" Dave said.

"I'd like to have that crazy jerk committed!" Margie said, pointing at Dave, who was glaring at her.

"Oh?" Sonny asked. "You care to elaborate on that a bit, Margie?"

"Yeah, I do," she said, taking a deep breath. Then she unloaded it all, Don and Sonny taking it in.

Odd, Susan thought, watching the faces of the cops. They don't seem surprised. Susan glanced out the big picture window to the street. And there sat Rita Dantin in civvies, with Father Javotte and that new guy in town, Sam something-or-the-other. Handsome fellow, whoever he is. But why would they all come over here?

Odd.

Margie finished, Sonny looked at Dave. "You want to say anything, Dave?"

"On or off the record, Sonny?"

"Dave, you're not filing charges, and she's not filing charges, so it'll have to be off the record."

"Fine. She's a lying G.o.dd.a.m.n b.i.t.c.h!"

"That all you got to say?"

"That's it."

"Margie?"

"I want it on record that he is to stay away from this house and from me, Sonny."

"Duly noted, Margie."

"And witnessed," Susan said.

"Just let me get my stuff together and I'm gone!" Dave said.

Bid Grenier stepped into the room just as Dave and the women were leaving the den, heading out to pack up Dave's clothing.

"Don," Bid said. "The clinic just called. Andrea Golden just staggered in. Says four boys just raped her." He looked at a small notepad. "Chuck Lee, Billy Downing, Tommy Patterson, and Peter Labarre."

"I'm on my way," Don said.

"That ain't all." Bid's voice stopped him. "Ted Wilson's parents have sworn out a warrant against Matt Comeaux. Said Comeaux beat up their little darlin' in his office this morning."

"You got any more good news, Bid?" Sonny asked.

"Yes, sir. Dispatch just called. Said the Alexandria P. D. just teletyped a message. Mary Claverie busted out of the nut house during that big fire."

"All right. Bid. Call out our reserve officers. I think we're going to need them."

"I can't, sir. Dispatch said they all called in 'bout five minutes ago. They quit."

15.

Leaving the cops to deal with cop business, Sam and Father Javotte got in Sam's car and slowly drove the streets of the small town.

"Are you certain of the timetable, Sam?" Javotte asked.

"You can't be certain of anything when dealing with Satan, Padre, as you well know. Everything could blow up tonight, or six months from now. I voiced a theory, that's all."

Becancour lay still and hot under the fierce early summer sun. Most people were still at lunch; perhaps taking a nap under air-conditioning, refreshing their bodies for the afternoon's work that lay ahead of them.

"I thought I would spend the rest of my life pastoring in a quiet little town," Javotte mused aloud. "One never knows."

"Ever think what is shaping up here, facing us, was all planned, Padre?"

"The thought has crossed my mind during the last few hours. I'm being very selfish taking up this much of your time, Sam. You must be terribly worried about your wife."

Sam grinned boyishly. "Nydia is a witch, Padre. Any mortal who tries to mess with her will be in for a very unpleasant surprise. I don't know where Dog came from, but he's no ordinary animal, and my son has powers that will boggle your mind. They're all right."

"You would know, mentally, if they were not?"

"Yes."

"Growing up, Sam ... you were not aware of, well, your fate?"

Sam shook his head. "Perfectly normal childhood. Cars, girls, rock and roll music."

"Mine was cars, girls, and Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey." Javotte smiled at Sam.

"Always wanted to be a priest?"

"Oh, no. That came while in college. I set out to be an actor. But I soon realized I had zero talent for that. Slow down." Javotte's voice hardened. "Look over there." He pointed.

A man was staggering along the sidewalk, a bottle of whiskey in his left hand. He stopped and took a swig, then staggered on his stumbling way.

"You know him?" Sam asked.

"That is, was, was, one of the finest young doctors I know. Dr. David Whitson. Let's pull over and see if we can help." one of the finest young doctors I know. Dr. David Whitson. Let's pull over and see if we can help."

"Be careful," Sam warned. He pulled over to the curb.

"Peter!" the priest called. "Could we give you a lift home?"

The young man lurched to a stop and turned, his misty eyes focusing on Javotte. "Well, now. Look who's here. I think I'll pa.s.s, priest."

Javotte did not change expression. "How long have you been drinking, David?"

"Well, let me see." He leaned against a trash can. "Since last night. I came in and found my wife humpin' our neighbor. Isn't that cause to get drunk, buddy?"

The trash can tipped over, spilling the young doctor to the gutter.

Sam and Javotte got out and helped David into the backseat of the car. The doctor started giggling.

"Where to?" Sam asked.

"Let's try his house."

"Let's put him in that room," Tony said, pointing. "Jesus, what is happening in this town?"

"I think you know, Tony," Javotte said. "You just won't admit it."

"If you're implying that the devil is taking over Becancour, Father, I'm sorry, but I sure as h.e.l.l won't accept that answer."

"You will in time," Sam said.

Tony gave him a dark look.

"How is Andrea?" Javotte asked.

"Resting. Her parents have yet to show up, and I find that odd."

"She was raped?" Javotte asked.

"Repeatedly. Brutally. But unlike Judy Mahon, Andrea is cooperating fully." He looked at Sam. "Sonny told me all that you discussed this morning. You may have convinced all of them, but you've got a ways to go with me."

"I'm not even going to try to convince you," Sam told him. "If you want to walk around with blinders, that's your business."

Tony opened his mouth to speak, then closed it as Andrea's parents walked in.

The first thing all three men noticed was the filthy clothing on the parents. As they approached, their body odor struck the nostrils of the trio.

Sam glanced at the doctor. "Maybe they just don't like to bathe every day," Tony muttered.

"There ain't gonna be no charges against them boys," Mr. Golden said. "Andrea just showed off one time too often and finally got what she deserved, that's all."

His wife giggled. "Yeah. Just think of it. Four guys at once."

The husband giggled. "I'll have to round up some of the boys and we'll try that, baby. Is that a good idea?"

"Great!"

"Send the kid home when you get done with her, Doc. Me and the old lady got to lay in a stock of booze. We're havin' a party tonight. Come on out if you've a mind to."