Button, Button: Uncanny Stories Read Free Page A

glanced at Carrie. "Cheer up," he told her. "We're helping them, aren't we?"
    Carrie shivered. "It won't be too much, will it, Greg?"
    "I'll decide on-"
    He broke off as the door was opened. For a moment, he felt angry disappointment that the bell had not been answered by a maid. Then he thought: Oh, what the hell, the money's still here-and he smiled at the woman who stood before them. "Good afternoon," he said.
    The woman looked at him with that half polite, half suspicious smile most women gave him at first. "Yes?" she asked.
    "It's about Paul," he said.
    The smile disappeared, the woman's face grew blank. "What?" she asked.
    "That's your son's name, isn't it?"
    The woman glanced at Carrie. Already, she was disconcerted, Greg could see.
    "He's in danger of his life," he told her. "Are you interested in hearing more about it?" "What's happened to him?"
    Greg smiled affably. "Nothing yet," he answered. The woman caught her breath as if, abruptly, she were being strangled.
    "You've taken him," she murmured.
    Greg's smile broadened. "Nothing like that," he said.
    "Where is he then?" the woman asked.
    Greg looked at his wristwatch, feigning surprise. "Isn't he at school?" he asked.
    Uneasily confused, the woman stared at him for several moments before she twisted away, pushing at the door. Greg caught hold of it before it shut. "Inside," he ordered.
    "Can't we wait out-?"
    Carrie broke off with a gasp as he clamped his fingers on her arm and pulled her into the hall. While he shut the door, Greg listened to the rapid whir and click of a telephone being dialed in the kitchen. He smiled and took hold of Carrie's arm again, guiding her into the living room. "Sit," he told her.
    Carrie settled gingerly on the edge of a chair while he appraised the room. Money was in evidence wherever he looked, in the carpeting and drapes, the period furniture, the accessories. Greg pulled in a tight, exultant breath and tried to keep from grinning like an eager kid; this was It all right. Dropping onto the sofa, he stretched luxuriously, leaned back and crossed his legs, glancing at the name on a magazine lying on the end table beside him. In the kitchen, he could hear the woman saying, "He's in Room Fourteen; Mrs. Jennings' class."
    A sudden clicking sound made Carrie gasp. Greg turned his head and saw, through the back drapes, a collie scratching at the sliding-glass door; beyond, he noted, with renewed pleasure, the glint of swimming pool water. Greg watched the dog. It must be the one that would-
    "Thank you," said the woman gratefully. Greg turned back and looked in that direction. The woman hung up the telephone receiver and her footsteps tapped across the kitchen floor, becoming soundless as she stepped onto the hallway carpeting. She started cautiously toward the front door.
    "We're in here, Mrs. Wheeler," said Greg.
    The woman caught her breath and whirled in shock. "What is this?" she demanded.
    "Is he all right?" Greg asked.
    "What do you want?"
    Greg drew the notebook from his pocket and held it out. "Would you like to look at this?" he asked.
    The woman didn't answer but peered at Greg through narrowing eyes. "That's right," he said. "We're selling something."
    The woman's face grew hard.
    "Your son's life," Greg completed.
    The woman gaped at him, momentary resentment invaded by fear again. Jesus, you look stupid, Greg felt like telling her. He forced a smile. "Are you interested?" he asked.
    "Get out of here before I call the police." The woman's voice was husky, tremulous.
    "You're not interested in your son's life then?"
    The woman shivered with fear-ridden anger. "Did you hear me?" she said.
    Greg exhaled through clenching teeth.
    "Mrs. Wheeler," he said, "unless you listen to us-carefully-your son will soon be dead." From the corners of his eyes, he noticed Carrie wincing and felt like smashing in her face. That's right, he thought with savage fury. Show her how scared you are, you stupid bitch!
    Mrs. Wheeler's lips stirred