Cape Fear by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online Page A

decisive. That is precisely what I want to be. I don’t think I can frighten him away. I can’t kill him. The police are being less help than I thought they would be. There are two things I can think of. I can see Captain Dutton on Monday and see if he’ll cooperate the way Charlie promised he would. And if that doesn’t seem to work out, then we’ll move out of his range.”
    “How?”
    “School will be over next week.”
    “Wednesday is the last day.”
    “You can take off with the kids and find a place to stay and phone me at the office when you get located.”
    “But you shouldn’t …”
    “We can close the house and I’ll take a hotel room in town. I’ll be careful. This thing can’t last forever.”
    “But between now and then …”
    “I’m not certain of anything. But I can make a guess about how his mind works. He isn’t going to rush. He’s going to give us some time to think this over.”
    “Can we be more careful anyway?”
    “I’ll use the MG next week. You can drive the kids in inthe wagon and pick them up after school. And I’ll give orders they’re to stay on the place. And tomorrow you get some target practice with the Woodsman.”
    She linked her fingers in his. “I’m sorry I blew up. I shouldn’t have. I know you’ll do everything you can, Sam.”
    “I’ve got to dig a grave for Marilyn. Doc Lowney is going to leave her off here. Where do you think?”
    “How about that slope behind the barn near the aspens? That’s where they buried the bird that time.”
    “I’ll go change.”
    He put on faded, paint-spattered dungarees and his old blue shirt. He sensed that Carol was right. Instinct had told her Cady had poisoned the dog. He found it curious he should be willing to accept that with so little proof. It was contrary to his training, to all his instincts.
    He looked in on Jamie in his room. The plastic radio, its red case mended with tar tape, was turned on. Jamie sat on the bed leafing through one of his dog-eared gun catalogues. He looked up at his father and said, “It was really poison, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes, it was.”
    “And that man that hates us did it?”
    “We don’t know who did it, son.”
    The young eyes were pale and blue and hard. He held the catalogue out. “You see that thing? It’s a blunderbuss. With a brass barrel. Mike and me are going to get some f.f.g. powder and get this blunderbuss and I’m going to put a double load in it and I’m going to fill it all the way up with thirty old rusty nails and stuff and I’m going to hit that old Cady right in the gut. Pow!” Tears stood in his eyes.
    “Mike knows about it?”
    “I called him up while you were gone. He cried too but he was pretending he wasn’t. He wanted to come over but I told him I didn’t want to.”
    “Want to help me pick a spot for the grave?”
    “Okay.”
    They got a spade from the barn. A cairn of pebbles held upright the tiny cross that marked the grave of Elvis, the deceased parakeet. Elvis had had the freedom of the house and was up to two words when Bucky, four years old then, had stepped on him. Bucky’s feeling of guilt and horror had lasted for so long they had begun to worry about him.
    Sam got the hole well started and then let Jamie take his turn. The boy worked with dogged violence, grim-faced. As Sam stood watching, Nancy came up to him, walking slowly.
    “This is a good place,” she said. “Did you bring her back?”
    “Doc Lowney is going to bring her.”
    “I saw you from my window. Damn it all, anyway.”
    “Easy, girl.”
    “Mother thinks that man did it.”
    “I know she does. But there’s no proof.”
    Jamie stopped digging. “I could dig a bigger hole. I could dig a hole for him and drop him down in it with snakes and things, and fill it with rocks and stomp it all down on him.”
    Sam could see the boy was winded. “I’ll take a turn now. Let’s have the shovel.”
    They stood and watched him finish it. Lowney arrived. He had the