36
"Stop worrying, Max," Chase said. "From the sound of it, the band's gonna turn the corner up there in about ten seconds, so relax and enjoy the show. She'll find you."
"But not where I said I'd be," said Max. "I shouldn't have—"
"Hey, Max, what have you got going here?" Chase grinned. "You wouldn't by any chance—" He stopped when he felt Amanda dig her elbow into his ribs.
"She'll find you, Max," Amanda said, putting an arm around his shoulders, "and she'll understand. Really."
Max had been following the parade, trailing the Saint Bernard, when he had glanced a the space between two shorefront houses and seen Amanda and his father cruising slowly by in the Institute's Mako. He had sprinted down to the rocks and waved, and Chase had nosed the boat ashore and urged Max to jump aboard. They had rafted the Mako to a sport-fisherman tied up at one of the commercial docks, and stepped ashore to await the parade.
The bishop appeared first, followed by his entourage and the drum majorettes. As the first of the musicians turned the corner and entered the straightaway to the dock, the band struck up the "Colonel Bogie" march.
Max looked down at his empty camera.
"I've got one," Amanda said, and she pulled a tiny camera from her pocket. "I'll make copies for you."
Roland Gibson made his way through the crowd behind Chase and stopped beside him. The police chief's uniform was freshly pressed, his shoes shined. "Two thousand tourists, Simon," he said, smiling. "And you wanted me to cancel it."
"I'll grant you," said Chase. "But it's not over yet. When are you letting Puckett out of jail?"
"As soon as the last visitor leaves his last dollar... around six o'clock. Then you can hear all about Rusty's monster."
The radio on Gibson's belt crackled, and a voice said, "Chief..."
Gibson unhooked the radio, spoke into it, listened, then said softly, "Shit."
"What's up?" asked Chase.
"Tommy didn't say, just said there was something I should see." Gibson replaced the radio and stepped out onto the dock. "See you later."
All of a sudden Chase heard, behind him and over the blare of the approaching trombones, Max's voice shouting, "Elizabeth!"
He turned and saw Max sprinting along the edge of the crowd toward a barefoot girl in a blue dress who was running beside the band as fast as he could.
Max and the girl met; the girl was trembling, and Max was reaching for her, to calm her. As Chase drew near, he heard the girl try to speak, but all that came out of her mouth were incoherent sounds. Her hands fluttered like hummingbirds before Max's face, and Max was shaking his head and saying, "Slower, slower."
"What's she saying?" Chase asked.
"I can't tell," Max said.
Amanda came up beside Chase, knelt down, took Elizabeth's hands in hers and said, "Are you hurt?"
Elizabeth shook her head.
"Scared?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"Of what?"
"Something," Elizabeth said thickly. "Something big."
Then Chase heard his name being called. He looked up and saw Gibson beckoning to him from the end of the dock. "Be right back," he said to Amanda.
Gibson's face was grim with anger. "Something just killed Corky Thibodeaux's guard dog, Buster," he said. "Tore out his throat and gutted him, right up on
Maple Street . Tommy found this."He held out his hand, and Chase saw a stainless steel tooth. Two of its edges were serrated, and there were tiny barbed hooks on each end of the third, thicker side.
Chase's breath stopped; he stared at the tooth. Then he looked up at Gibson and said, "It's here, Rollie. It's come ashore."