Johnny arrived with Pokey Ryan in an unmarked car, for Stan had called the 102 immediately. They screeched to a halt and went right over to Zinnie. Johnny put his arm around her and cupped her head in his hand. “Now there’s no reason to be alarmed … we’ve got no reason to think anything’s wrong. But … you know … we just want to be sure. We want to get some help here, okay?”
Zinnie, holding her fist, shook her head yes. She didn’t call his name hoarsely anymore, just every minute or so someone else would and the pain would greet her again, quickly and deeply, another knife in her gut. She couldn’t think and she couldn’t pray. She only whispered over and over, “God. Please. God. Anything. God. Please.”
“Uh oh!” Michaelaen worried. They were all outside. He could hear them. They were looking for him. The darn old Mayor was going to make them find him. It was dark down here. He didn’t like it anymore. Maybe he would just leave the things down here on that old shelf and go. But now he heard something else. It was Mrs. Dixon coming down the cellar stairs. He was more afraid of her than all the others put together. Once she’d even hurt Miguel. And then she’d given him money and stuff and taken all those pictures. He didn’t think he wanted any stuff from her. He’d just hide for a minute and then when she went upstairs he’d go right home. Of course! He knew a good spot. That old refrigerator with the legs on it. It even had a nice light on inside. He climbed inside and shut the door.
“Somebody shut that fucking dog up,” Johnny cried.
“It isn’t the sound of the dog,” Mary murmured. “It’s that other, strange wild sound that’s coming from the von Lillienfeld house. What is that sound, then? It is a banshee wailing, to be sure.”
“Stop that superstitious nonsense,” Stan yelled at her, frightened. “It’s the cat. Von Lillienfeld’s cat. That Siamese.”
“So now we know what but we still don’t know why,” Ryan shuddered. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.
“That’s the sound of the banshee, I tell you.”