Endless Night

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Endless Night Page 22

by Richard Laymon


  God, Andy, where are you?

  Just a few hours ago, he’d been right here. Right where we are now, she thought. Except maybe in a different lane.

  Unless Willy’s lying about everything.

  But that doesn’t make sense, does it? The guy is a doofus, but he’s not one of the killers.

  What makes sense, she told herself, is that Andy couldn’t stand him and used the first chance he found to escape.

  Unless the killers got him. Followed their car until it stopped, followed Andy into the john ...

  That didn’t seem very likely. Why would they waste time tailing the car for like a hundred and fifty miles, then wait for it to stop at a gas station and then make off with Andy when he went to the men’s room? That’d be ridiculous.

  Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen that way.

  It didn’t, Jody told herself. Andy saw his chance to ditch Uncle Willy, and he took it.

  “How far are we from Indio?” she asked.

  “Maybe thirty-five, forty miles,” Dad said. “We’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

  “I sure hope Andy’s okay.”

  Sharon looked over her shoulder at Jody. “He’s probably turned up already.”

  “I don’t think he’ll get found unless he wants to be.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Dad told her.

  Jody remembered how Andy had tricked and outmaneuvered the killers last night while she’d been trying to get the old woman to open her door. “He’s pretty sharp for a little kid.”

  That old woman is dead. She got killed because she let us into her house. If I hadn’t gone to her door ...

  “Well,” Dad said, “if Andy’s trying to get back to L.A., he can’t just lay low and hide. If he tries to thumb a ride, there’s every likelihood he’ll be spotted by the Highway Patrol or the local cops. He won’t last long.”

  “What happens if they do find him? Will he still have to go and live with his jerky uncle?”

  “I don’t know, honey. The way it looks, his jerky uncle might want nothing more to do with him. But that remains to be seen. Once he’s had some time to consider how his wife is likely to react, he might change his tune.”

  “1 hope he doesn’t want Andy.”

  “Well, there’s no point in worrying about it. Let’s just worry about finding him, okay?”

  “Where do you think we might find him?” Sharon asked her. “After what the two of you went through, you must have a fairly good idea about how he reacts to things.”

  “I guess so. Let me think for a minute.”

  Jody settled back against her seat, rested her hands atop her thighs, and stared forward. She pictured herself in Andy’s place, sitting next to Wilson Spaulding as he steers his car into a filling station. Willy climbs out of the car. She waits until he sticks the gasoline nozzle into the tank. Then she opens her door and says, “I’ve gotta use the john, okay?” He says something like, “Go ahead, but make it snappy.” So then she walks fast to the restroom.

  Did Willy say it was on the side of the gas station? Or in the rear? Whichever, she would go to it. But not go in. After making sure that no one was watching her, she would bolt.

  Bolt where?

  That would depend on what was around.

  Maybe you run away from the gas station, run across the street, drop down and hide in a ditch or duck behind something or keep running until you’re a few blocks away.

  Or maybe there’s a truck, something like that, stopped at the gas station. And you can sneak aboard and hide when nobody is watching. And it drives away with you.

  That’d be the best thing. Especially if it happened to be going in the right direction. How would you know where it’s heading, though? You stow away on a truck, no telling where you might end up.

  “He might’ve just run for it,” Jody said. “I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to stow away on a truck, though. He wouldn’t know where it might be going.”

  “What about asking someone for a ride?” Sharon asked.

  “He wouldn’t. Not at the gas station, anyway. He’s a kid. People are gonna wonder why he isn’t with an adult, so he’d be afraid they might turn him over to his uncle.” •

  “What about thumbing a ride later, once he’s clear of the station?”

  Would he try that? Jody wondered. Would I?

  “I guess it’d depend,” she said. “Normally, I bet he wouldn’t. I mean, I know Evelyn would never try to hitch a ride in a million years. We used to talk about stuff like that, and she thought anyone who hitchhiked was an idiot just begging to get raped and murdered. She must’ve gotten that from her parents. So that’d mean Andy got the same sort of lectures, so you wouldn’t think he’d try hitching a ride. But on the other hand ... His whole family’s dead and he’s out in the middle of nowhere trying to get away from his creepy uncle. I guess maybe he might try anything. He might not even care how dangerous it is, you know?”

  “Well,” Dad said, “assuming he doesn’t want to take up permanent residence in Indio, he’s either got to find himself a ride, or start walking.”

  “If he decided to walk,” Sharon said, “he’s probably already been picked up by the cops.”

  “God, I hope so,” Jody muttered.

  “Do you have any idea how much money he’s got?” Sharon asked.

  “On him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jeez, I don’t know. None.”

  “He has twenty,” Dad said.

  “He does?” Jody asked.

  “I sort of slipped it to him. It didn’t seem like a good idea to let him go off without any cash.”

  “So he has the means to pay for a ride,” Sharon said.

  “Afraid so. Twenty won’t get him far in a taxi, though. And any cops with half an ounce of sense would’ve checked out the bus station first thing. If there is one. If any buses are running. Wouldn’t be a bad thing if he did get onto a bus. At least he’d be fairly safe as long as he stays on board.”

  “Andy wouldn’t even know how to find a bus station,” Jody pointed out. “Not unless he asked someone. I don’t think he would go around and ask anyone anything. He’d be afraid of getting caught.”

  “With twenty bucks,” Sharon said, “he could bribe someone to give him a lift.”

  “That wouldn’t be much different from hitchhiking,” Dad pointed out.

  “It’s a little different,” Jody said. “I can see him trying something like that. It’s still awfully dangerous, but it’s not the same. It’s like paying your own way, you know? Instead of begging. He wouldn’t try that at the gas station, though. He’d want to get away from there. I think.” In the silence that followed her words, a new thought occurred to her. She grimaced. “What if he did get a ride? He could be back in L.A. right now.”

  “It’s possible,” Dad admitted.

  “Oh, man.”

  “Where would he go in L.A.?” Sharon asked.

  “To our house.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I know so. He hated the whole idea of leaving.” Jody groaned at the thought of Andy arriving at the house, only to find it deserted. What would he do? “I’m beginning to wish we’d stayed home,” she said.

  “You’d be going crazy at home,” Dad said. “This way, we’re doing something.”

  “I know, but ... Is anyone still watching the house?”

  Dad shook his head. “I doubt it. Ryan was awfully eager to free up the manpower.”

  “But Andy won’t know where we are, or anything.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Sharon said. “If he’s the sort of kid who can make it back to your place in the middle of the night, I bet he’ll find a way to get inside. Then he’ll just settle down and enjoy himself.”

  “I don’t know. I sure hope so.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Jody woke up. She’d heard something.

  Though her eyes were open, the room was very dark.

  For a moment, she thought s
he was sleeping over at Evelyn’s house. But she wasn’t in her sleeping bag on the floor of Evelyn’s room; she was in a real bed.

  Then she remembered what had happened at Evelyn’s.

  She remembered everything, and finally knew where she was.

  Indio. This is that motel—the Traveler’s Roost across from the Texaco.

  But what had woken her up?

  She lay on her back, gazing at the dark ceiling, and listened. She heard the loud hum of the air conditioning unit. Nothing else, though. Dad usually snored, which could drive her crazy when they stayed at motels, but tonight he was quiet.

  Thank goodness for that, anyway, she thought.

  She was sure there’d been a noise, though. Something loud enough to ruin her sleep.

  Maybe a door had slammed or someone had yelled or ...

  Probably nothing important.

  Last night, Evelyn heard breaking glass. And I didn’t think it was anything important.

  The sheet covering Jody suddenly seemed heavy and hot. She flung it aside. Better. She would feel even better without her nightshirt, but she couldn’t take it off with Dad sharing the room. At least her arms and legs felt cool, now.

  Whatever I heard, she told herself, it probably wasn’t breaking glass.

  We’re safe here. Nobody followed us all the way to Indio. Nobody knows where we are.

  She folded her hands behind her head. The short hair back there was damp with sweat. She shut her eyes.

  And jerked quick and hard as someone pounded the door.

  Three sharp raps.

  Maybe it’s not our door!

  It is our door.

  “Dad!” she gasped. “Dad! Somebody’s at the door!”

  He didn’t answer.

  She swung her feet to the floor. Ignoring the pains, she stumbled through the darkness toward the other bed.

  Maybe it’s Sharon, she thought.

  What if it’s not?

  She bent over the bed and reached for her father. Her hands found the rumpled blanket and sheet on an expanse of flat mattress.

  He’s gone?

  Staggering sideways, she searched for the lamp fixtures on the wall between the two beds. Her fingers bumped a cool, metallic shade. Moments later, she found the switch. She jabbed it inward. Sudden light rammed the darkness away. She groaned and squinted.

  Dad’s bed was empty, just as she’d thought.

  Is he in the bathroom?

  “Jody?” The voice came from outside. It was hardly more than a whisper.

  She sighed. What a relief! “Jeez, Dad.” Hobbling toward the door, she realized that he must’ve gone outside and forgotten to take his key.

  Dumb.

  He almost never goofed up.

  Jody found herself smiling.

  He’ll never hear the end of this.

  “Neat play, Dad,” she said, and swung the door wide open.

  And knew she had made a mistake. A big mistake like walking outside with the platter of burgers, completely forgetting Dad’s warning to stay in the house.

  She should’ve made sure it was him before opening the door.

  A mistake like this can get me killed, she thought.

  Not this time, though, thank God.

  It wasn’t her father on the other side of the door, but it wasn’t a killer, either.

  “Andy!”

  She gasped and leaned out and grabbed him by both his arms and pulled him inside fast. Then she leaned out again. She checked both ways. The motel’s long balcony looked deserted.

  “Nobody saw me,” he said. “I was extra careful.”

  She shut the door and locked it. She faced him. He was grinning.

  “You creep!” she blurted.

  “Me?”

  Then she grabbed him and hugged him.

  Hugged him hard, mashing him against her body with all its scrapes and cuts and bruises. It hurt her, hugging him this hard. She knew it must also be hurting him; he’d been banged up awfully bad too, last night.

  Good, she thought. I hope it hurts a lot.

  But he didn’t protest. He kept his face pushed gently against the side of her neck, and moved his hands slowly up and down her back. He didn’t try to get funny, though. He never let his hands stray lower than her waist.

  “You little creep,” Jody whispered.

  “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “I oughta ...” She almost said, “kill you,” but stopped herself in time. “Man, you’re gonna be in big trouble.”

  “So what?”

  She eased herself away from Andy and held him at arm’s length. His face looked flushed and dirty. The red shirt that she’d given to him was unbuttoned and open. His chest and belly were shiny with sweat. Jody could see where he had lost a couple of his bandages. The exposed wounds looked raw, but not bloody.

  The blue denim shorts hung low on Andy’s hips, lower than his tan line, and Jody blushed as she remembered that he wasn’t wearing undershorts.

  His right knee was still wrapped with an Ace bandage, and he still wore the white socks and Keds that she had given to him. The brand new laces on the Keds were now almost as dirty as the shoes themselves.

  “You’re a mess,” Jody said.

  “You should’ve thought of that before you hugged me.”

  She glanced down at herself. Her nightshirt had been spotless white. Now, its front was grimy. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’ve gotta figure out what to do with you before Dad gets back. I don’t know where he ...”

  “He went to room 238.”

  Sharon’s room. “When?”

  “A few minutes before I started knocking. Boy, you sure are hard to wake up.”

  “He went to Sharon’s room?”

  Andy shrugged. “I don’t know. A big gal, and I mean big. Stacked, you know?”

  “Cut it out.”

  “Her hair’s even shorter than yours. Short like a guy’s hair. But man, what a babe!”

  “It was Sharon. She’s in 238. She’s another cop. She drove over with us. She’s really nice. Dad went to her room?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

  “And she let him in?”

  “Sure did.”

  “Did she look like she was expecting him?”

  “How would I know?”

  “What was she wearing?”

  “Some kind of robe. It was blue and shiny. Pretty short, too. ”

  “My God.”

  Andy raised one side of his upper lip. “Is this good or bad?”

  “It’s good,” she said. “It’s great. I think.”

  “You think he went over there to boink her?”

  “Jeez, Andy!” She gave his shoulder a rough jab, and he laughed.

  “He’s probably boinking her right now.”

  Jody tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help it. “You’ve got such a dirty mind. Now, quit it or I’ll throw you out of here. I’d forgotten what a pain in the butt you can be.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “We thought you might’ve gotten kidnaped or something. Or even murdered. How could you do a thing like that?”

  “I hate that guy. Is there something around here to drink?”

  “Just water.”

  “That’s okay.” He hurried past Jody, limping slightly—not much, though. Apparently, his knee had improved during the past few hours.

  Jody followed him past the ends of the beds, toward the long counter adjacent to the bathroom door. When he flicked a switch, bright fluorescent lights came on above the counter.

  In the mirror, he looked very small and young and filthy and vulnerable. Like some sort of street urchin out of a Dickens novel. Jody looked so much more adult and ... she’d known that her white nightshirt was too small. But when she’d stood in front of the mirror earlier to brush her teeth and wash, she’d been wearing her robe over it. Now, she was without the robe. The mirror reflection showed her nightshirt to be horribly short and tight: so short that she could
see the bandage Sharon had used to cover the bullet scratch high on her thigh; so tight that it grasped every mound and hollow. She could even see the darker color of her skin where her nipples pushed against the fabric.

  Oh, wonderful, she thought. Andy’s been getting a real eyeful.

  Her face flushed to a deep shade of red.

  As Andy bent over the sink, she hurried to her travel bag. Her robe was draped over the top, where she’d tossed it before getting into bed. She put it on and tied its sash.

  “You’re gonna get hot in that,” Andy said.

  “I’ll manage, thanks.” She stepped into her moccasins.

  “Shoot.”

  Hearing him say the word, Jody was tempted to tell him about the sniper who’d murdered those two people (and a baby, a baby that hadn’t even been bom yet) and then shot at her.

  But Andy would want to see the wound.

  She could tell him about it later, maybe. Sometime when she was dressed.

  She watched him drink some more from the faucet. For a while, he remained bent over the sink, cupping water into his mouth.

  At last, he shut off the faucet and dried his mouth on a towel. “Anything to eat around here?”

  Jody shook her head. “You can’t be that hungry. You ate the same time I did.”

  “It takes up a lot of energy, being a fugitive.”

  “Boy, Andy. They’ve got cops out looking for you.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “You must’ve lost all your marbles.” She sat down on the edge of her father’s abandoned bed. “I mean, running away from your uncle.”

  He grinned. “It was easy.”

  “Jeez.”

  He dropped onto the edge of the bed across from her. “Wanta know how I did it?”

  “I know. You pretended like you had to take a leak. When you got to the john, you ran off.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where’d I run to?”

  “I don’t know, but ...”

  “That’s because 1 didn’t run.” He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his thighs, and gave her a sly grin. “I climbed.”

  “What?”

  “I climbed up onto the roof of the gas station.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I thought I’d just run away, you know? Run off and hide, just to get good and far away from that turkey, then figure out some way of getting back to L.A. after he gave up looking for me. Maybe hitch a ride or buy a bus ticket, you know? But what happened, I saw how the door of the john was propped open and it looked like it was just begging for me to climb it.”

 

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