The Servants of Twilight

"Feel him," O'Hara said in a hushed and frightened voice.

Baumberg groped for the awareness that had terrified his partner.

"The darkness," O'Hara said." Feel the special darkness of the boy, the terrible darkness that rolls off him like fog off the ocean." Baumberg strained his senses.

"The evil," O'Hara said, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper." Feel it."

Baumberg placed his hands against the cool glass, pressed his forehead to it, stared intently at the Scavello house. After a while he did feel it, just like O'Hara said. The darkness. The evil. It poured forth from that house like atomic radiation from a block of plutonium.

It streamed through the night, through the glass in front of Baumberg, contaminating him, a malignant energy that produced no heat or light, that was bleak and black and frigid.

O'Hara abruptly lowered his binoculars, turned away from the window, put his back toward the Scavello house, as if the evil energy pouring from it was more than he could bear.

"It's time," Baumberg said, picking up a shotgun and arevolver.

"No," O'Hara said." Let them settle in. Let them relax. Give them a chance to lower their guard."

"When? "

"We'll leave here at. eight-thirty.

24

6:45 P. M.

Christine watched as Charlie unplugged the telephone in her study and replaced it with a device that he had brought with him. It looked like a cross between a phone, an answering machine, and a briefcase-sized electronic calculator.

Charlie picked up the receiver, and Christine could hear the dial tone even though she was a few feet away.

Replacing the handset in the cradle, he said, "If someone calls, we'll come in here to answer it."

" That'll record the conversation?"

"Yeah. But it's primarily a tracer phone. It's like the equipment the police have when you call their emergency number." 64911?"

"Yeah. When you call 911, they know what number and address you're calling from because, as soon as they pick up their receiver and establish a connection with you, that information prints out at their end." He indicated what looked like a short, blank length of adding machine tape that was sticking out of a slot in the device he'd put on her desk." We'll have the same information about anyone who phones here."

"So if this Grace Spivey calls, we'll not only have a recording of her voice, but we'll have proof the call was made on her phone-or one that belongs to her church."

"Yep. It probably wouldn't be admissible as court evidence, but it ought to help get the police interested if we can prove she's making threats against Joey."

7:00 P.m.

The take-out food arrived precisely on the hour, and Christine noticed that Charlie was quietly pleased by how prompt his man was.

The five of them ate at the dining room table-beef ribs, barbecued chicken, baked potatoes, and cole slaw-while Charlie told funny stories about cases his agency had handled. Joey listened, spellbound, even though he didn't always understand or appreciate the details of the anecdotes.

Christine watched her son watching Charlie. Mote poignantly than ever, she realized what the boy had been missing by not having a father or any other male authority figure to admire and from whom he could learn.

Chewbacca, the new dog, ate from a dish in the corner of the room, then stretched out and put his head down on his paws, waiting for Joey.

Obviously, he had belonged to a family that had cared for him and had trained him well. He was going to fit in quickly and easily. Christine was still disconcerted by his resemblance to Brandy, but she was beginning to think it would work out anyway.

At 7:20, the intermittent, distant sound of thunder suddenly grew louder. A blast split the night sky, and the windows rattled.

Startled, Christine dropped her fork. For an instant she thought a bomb had gone off outside the house. When she realized it was only thunder, she felt silly, but a glance at the others told her that they, too, had been briefly startled and frightened by the noise.

A few fat raindrops struck the roof, the windows.

At 7:35, Frank Reuther finished eating and left the table to make a complete circuit of the house, re-examining all the doors and windows that Pete had checked earlier.

A light but steady rain was falling.

At 7:47, finished eating, Joey challenged Pete Lockburn to a game of Old Maid, and Pete accepted. They went off to the boy's room, the dog padding friskily and eagerly behind them.

Frank pulled a chair up to one of the living room windows and studied the rain-swept street through a narrow chink in the draperies.

Charlie helped Christine gather up the paper plates and napkins, which they carried to the kitchen, where the sound of the rain was louder, booming off the patio cover at the back of the house.

"What now?" Christine asked, stuffing the plates into the garbage can.

"We get through the night."

"Then?"