foolish and a coward she finally lifted the receiver gently from the cradle and put it to her ear.
As soon as it was up, Fuller lifted his phone and Graham started to scan the large panel, holding a long cable and a jack as he listened through the set of headphones balanced over his ears.
Hesitantly Jess said, “Hello.” All she could hear was heavy breathing on the line. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Graham plugged into a socket, listened for a second, then pulled the cable out and tried another opening.
Upstairs in the sorority house the caller sat on the edge of Mrs. MacHenry’s bed, her telephone receiver held tightly in his hand. There were tears rolling down his face as he tried to speak to Jess but only a soft, whimpering sound, like that of a child, emitted from his lips.
“Who is it?” Jess pleaded.
Suddenly a woman’s voice broke harshly into the crying. “Stop this! Nasty Billy! Nasty Billy! Nasty Billy! What an evil child.” The voice seemed to be losing control as it ranted on. “You filthy little beast!” Then there was a scream of pain followed by wheezing.
The caller covered the receiver and leaned over, vomiting on the floor beside Mrs. MacHenry’s bed.
Jess stood stock still, expecting the receiver to click while Graham furiously tried another, then another socket.
There was another scream, as though a child were being beaten, then a man’s voice, rational, mature, almost pompous.
“Billy,” the man said, “now you must tell us the truth, Billy. Your mother and I have to know. Is this true? Did you?” There was gagging and then more silence followed by a raspy whispering voice that spoke tauntingly, hatefully to her. “You never have had any consideration for me! Never. Always self, self, self.” The woman’s voice hissed out, “It was just like having a wart removed.”
Shocked, Jess reacted. “Oh, my God!”
Then there was a click and she heard a dial tone. At the phone company Graham banged his fist against the wall and shook his head in frustration. He slipped off the earphones and dialed a number. Standing by the window with her hand over her mouth, an incredulous and frightened look on her face, Jess Bradley heard the ringing of the telephone. She looked around in a daze, saw the instrument and walked in a stupor toward it. At the fifth ring she picked it up and said in a weak voice, “Hello?”
It was Ken Fuller, “I’m sorry, Jess, We didn’t get it. Graham just called me. There’s wasn’t enough time. He has to try every connection. Unless he gets lucky. Anyway, next time you’ll just have to try to keep him on the line longer. Do you think you can?”
When she didn’t answer he asked, “Are you there, Jess. Did you hear me? You’ll have to keep him on longer.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Are you all right? You don’t sound too good.”
Making an effort she said, “No. I’m fine.”
“What happened, Jess? You cried out there at one point, right at the end, before he hung up. Something like, ‘Oh, God.’ Did you recognize something?”
“No. I guess it was just kind of getting to me. I feel pretty sick, to tell you the truth.”
“We all do. Did the call make any sense to you? Did it sound like something or somebody, any body you know?”
“Uh, no. No, it didn’t.”
“Are you sure? Before, when he called, did he use more than one voice like this?”
“Yes. He used several different voices.”
“The same ones?”
“I’m not sure. I think . . . No, I think the man’s voice was different.”
“Damn it, I don’t know what to think. Jess, now tell me, is it possible, do you think maybe it’s possible that it’s somebody putting you on? Some kid you know. Something like that?”
“No,” she answered dully, “I don’t think so.”
“I see. Jess, I meant to ask you before. Who was that guy who was leaving the house tonight when we arrived?”
“My boyfriend, Peter.”
“Were you having a fight?”
“Sort of. But—”
She was
As soon as it was up, Fuller lifted his phone and Graham started to scan the large panel, holding a long cable and a jack as he listened through the set of headphones balanced over his ears.
Hesitantly Jess said, “Hello.” All she could hear was heavy breathing on the line. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Graham plugged into a socket, listened for a second, then pulled the cable out and tried another opening.
Upstairs in the sorority house the caller sat on the edge of Mrs. MacHenry’s bed, her telephone receiver held tightly in his hand. There were tears rolling down his face as he tried to speak to Jess but only a soft, whimpering sound, like that of a child, emitted from his lips.
“Who is it?” Jess pleaded.
Suddenly a woman’s voice broke harshly into the crying. “Stop this! Nasty Billy! Nasty Billy! Nasty Billy! What an evil child.” The voice seemed to be losing control as it ranted on. “You filthy little beast!” Then there was a scream of pain followed by wheezing.
The caller covered the receiver and leaned over, vomiting on the floor beside Mrs. MacHenry’s bed.
Jess stood stock still, expecting the receiver to click while Graham furiously tried another, then another socket.
There was another scream, as though a child were being beaten, then a man’s voice, rational, mature, almost pompous.
“Billy,” the man said, “now you must tell us the truth, Billy. Your mother and I have to know. Is this true? Did you?” There was gagging and then more silence followed by a raspy whispering voice that spoke tauntingly, hatefully to her. “You never have had any consideration for me! Never. Always self, self, self.” The woman’s voice hissed out, “It was just like having a wart removed.”
Shocked, Jess reacted. “Oh, my God!”
Then there was a click and she heard a dial tone. At the phone company Graham banged his fist against the wall and shook his head in frustration. He slipped off the earphones and dialed a number. Standing by the window with her hand over her mouth, an incredulous and frightened look on her face, Jess Bradley heard the ringing of the telephone. She looked around in a daze, saw the instrument and walked in a stupor toward it. At the fifth ring she picked it up and said in a weak voice, “Hello?”
It was Ken Fuller, “I’m sorry, Jess, We didn’t get it. Graham just called me. There’s wasn’t enough time. He has to try every connection. Unless he gets lucky. Anyway, next time you’ll just have to try to keep him on the line longer. Do you think you can?”
When she didn’t answer he asked, “Are you there, Jess. Did you hear me? You’ll have to keep him on longer.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Are you all right? You don’t sound too good.”
Making an effort she said, “No. I’m fine.”
“What happened, Jess? You cried out there at one point, right at the end, before he hung up. Something like, ‘Oh, God.’ Did you recognize something?”
“No. I guess it was just kind of getting to me. I feel pretty sick, to tell you the truth.”
“We all do. Did the call make any sense to you? Did it sound like something or somebody, any body you know?”
“Uh, no. No, it didn’t.”
“Are you sure? Before, when he called, did he use more than one voice like this?”
“Yes. He used several different voices.”
“The same ones?”
“I’m not sure. I think . . . No, I think the man’s voice was different.”
“Damn it, I don’t know what to think. Jess, now tell me, is it possible, do you think maybe it’s possible that it’s somebody putting you on? Some kid you know. Something like that?”
“No,” she answered dully, “I don’t think so.”
“I see. Jess, I meant to ask you before. Who was that guy who was leaving the house tonight when we arrived?”
“My boyfriend, Peter.”
“Were you having a fight?”
“Sort of. But—”
She was
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