“He enjoys his melodramas,” Sandy said.
“Guess so. Anyway, I figured ‘whatever it takes.’ This morning, he gave me the call, said you were coming in and told me where he’d be taking you.”
Sandy shook her head.
“I am sorry about tricking you. But I just had to meet you. I would’ve done anything.”
“Anything?”
“Pretty near.”
“A desperate man. That’s flattering and scary.”
“Well, I’ll be perfectly straight-forward and honest from now on. I promise.”
“From now on, huh? That’s assuming we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he said.
“What do you have in mind?”
“This sort of thing, I guess. Seeing each other. Talking. You know.”
“That might be nice.”
He looked relieved and glad.
“There is a problem, though. I’ve got Eric. And we do live pretty far away. I usually don’t make it into town more than a couple of times a month.”
“I guess I could live with that.”
“You wouldn’t have any choice. It’s that or nothing. Twice a month is all I can get away.”
“You don’t have any other guys, do you?”
“Just Eric.” She met Terry’s eyes. “I’ve had some bad luck with the men in my life. I’ll probably have bad luck with you.”
“But you’re willing to give me a try? Give us a try?”
“On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You have to promise you’ll never come to my place,” she said.
“I don’t even know where it is.”
“But you’re a cop. You could probably find out easily enough. If you haven’t already.”
“I haven’t.”
“The thing is, whatever we do, I don’t want Eric involved. He and I... we’re very close. I think he’d see you as an interloper who’s trying to take his mom away from him. He’s insecure enough as it is. So you have to promise never under any circumstances to come out to the house.”
“I promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” With his forefinger, he marked an X over his heart. Then he leaned forward and reached across the table. Sandy reached out, too. He took hold of her hand and gently squeezed it.
A few minutes later, done with her drink, she said, “I’d better get going.”
“How about staying for one more round?”
“Afraid not. And you should know better.”
“I do. But I hate to see you go so soon.”
“I’ll be back in town before you know it.”
“How will I know it?” he asked.
“Oh, Blaze will probably tip you off.”
He laughed. “Come on.”
“I’ll call and let you know. Or I’ll drop by.”
“What if I’m not here?”
She grinned. “Then you might miss me.”
“I’m usually home during the day. I work the graveyard shift. Wednesdays and Thursdays off. And I’ve got an answering machine, so if you call in advance...”
“I’ll try not to miss you,” Sandy said. Then she scooted back her chair and stood up.
Terry got to his feet and pulled out his wallet. He searched it, frowning, then came up with a business card. “Need a pen. I’ll write my home phone number on the back.” He returned the wallet to his pocket, then turned around and reached for the sliding door. “This’ll just take me a second. Want to come in?”
“I’ll wait for you here.”
He rolled open the door and stepped inside. While he was away, Sandy ate a few more potato chips. Then she drank the melted ice water at the bottom of her glass.
Terry came out and handed the card to her. “My home number’s on the back.”
“Thanks.” She slipped it into a rear pocket of her jeans. “I’d better get going.”
Terry stepped toward the open door.
“I think I’ll go around the side.”
“This way’s shorter,” he pointed out.
“But it might take longer. You might decide to show me your bedroom and you might talk me into testing the bed.” Smiling, she shook her head. “No telling what might happen after that. And whatever does, it might take hours.”
“Whoa! Jeez!”
“And I’ve already been gone too long. So I’ll go this way.”
She picked up her shoes and walked toward the porch stairs.
“I’ll come with you.” He hurried down the stairs after Sandy. At the bottom, he caught up to her and took her hand. As they walked past the rear of the carport, he said, “Maybe we can get together longer next time. Maybe have a picnic on the beach or something. Maybe go in for a swim.”
“We’ll do something,” she said.
“It’s a pretty nice beach.”
“You’re a pretty nice guy.” She freed her hand, then slipped her arm across his back, low against the warm bare skin above his shorts. As she curled her hand against his side, he put his arm on her back. She felt his hand against her shoulder blade.
When they came around the front of the carport, she stopped to put on her shoes. Terry held her steady. Then she turned to him.
She was tall enough to look him straight in the eyes.
He gazed into her eyes for a long time as if he couldn’t get enough of them. And she gazed into his, wondering and hoping.
Finally, Sandy said, “I’ve gotta get going. Thanks for the drink and everything.”
“My time. Day or night. Feel free to...”
She darted forward, kissed him fast on the lips, then whirled around and hurried to her pickup truck. She was inside it with the door shut by the time Terry got to her.
He looked at her through the open window. “I’m going to miss you,” he said.
“You can’t miss me. We don’t know each other.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good to know.”
“Anyway, you have The Sleeper to keep you company.” She twisted in her seat and leaned toward the open window and Terry’s face was there, sad as if she were already gone, but his mouth found her lips and kissed them with gentleness and longing and silent need.
When it was over, she backed her truck down his driveway to the road. She waved good-bye and he returned the wave and stayed there by the driveway, watching while she drove away.
Oh, God, she thought, I miss him already.
I can’t miss him. We don’t even know each other.
She had a strong urge to turn the truck around and go back.
Why not? Why the hell not? Eric’s probably romping around the woods, doesn’t even know or care that I’m not back yet.
But she kept on driving, heading for home.
Like a good little mommy.
Leaving behind the one and only man she’d ever felt this way about.
Felt what way?
What is it, love?
“I can’t be in love with him,” Sandy whispered. “I don’t even know him.”
I could remedy that.
She imagined herself making a U-turn and speeding back to his cottage.
She didn’t do it, though.
I’ll see him again soon enough, she told herself. Shouldn’t go rushing into anything. God knows, I’ve waited this long for a guy, I can wait two more weeks.
Chapter Thirty-four
BIG JOHN
“Man, you really missed out,” John said as Owen walked toward him. The big guy was standing on the sidewalk not far from the ticket booth, grinning and shaking his head. “Where were you, anyhow?”
“Taking a look around town. I checked out the museum.”
“Did that yesterday. Cool stuff in there, huh?”
“Yeah. But I’d always wanted to meet Janice Crogan. She owns it, you know.”
“Hey, what doesn’t she own in this town?”
“Anyway, I found a ph
otography place that develops film in an hour. It’s just up the road a couple of blocks.” He glanced toward the ticket booth. Rhonda was behind the window, and Sharon was busy outfitting a family of five with tape players. “Let’s walk,” Owen said.
They headed north on Front Street.
“Did you get the pictures?” he asked.
“Ohhhh, yeah.”
“Dana, right?”
John grinned. “Got a whole bunch of Dana and some more of Lynn, too. But then you wouldn’t believe what happened. Really too bad you missed it, man. Wow.”
“You gonna tell me?”
“Sure. Why not? What are buddies for, huh?”
Buddies?
Oh, great, he thinks I’m his buddy.
“Okay. Here’s the thing. So I’m upstairs. I get our luscious sweet-hearts to pose for me, you know, and then I’m still hanging around and all hell breaks loose. Some little asshole gets away from his mom and she’s like ‘Oh my God, he’s been kidnapped! I’ll never see him alive again!’ Lynn, she’s gone by then. So it’s all up to Dana, you know? She goes running up the hall to see what’s wrong. You oughta see her run, man. She’s got these tits on her, and...”
“Hey.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. But she does. You oughta see ’em when she runs.”
“Cut it out!”
John laughed. “Anyway...So then there’s this girl, she saw the missing brat hightail it up the attic stairs.”
“He wasn’t kidnapped after all, huh?”
“Nope, just thought he’d visit the attic. Which is off limits, you know.”
“I know.”
“So Dana, she goes up to get him and all of a sudden the kid lets out this scream like he just bumped into Freddie Krueger or something. I can’t see too much on account of all these rubber-neckers around the door, but I hear the kid yelling that something’s after him. Next thing you know, out Dana comes carrying him.”
“Carrying him?”
“Yeah! Like she’d snatched him off his feet. Had him hugged like this.” John demonstrated with his arms. “There’s an idea for you, pal. Run up into the attic, maybe she’ll carry you down.”
“I’ll be sure to do that. Was the kid okay?”
“Sure. He was fine. Just scared shitless. But then, get this. Dana, she’s looking the kid over and all of a sudden the mom hauls off and whacks him across the face. Which really pisses off Dana. Next thing you know, she’s yelling at Mom for hitting the kid, and the gal hocks one on her.”
“She spit on Dana?”
“Yeah! Man, you should’ve seen it. A big old gob. Lands on her shirt. Right here.” He pointed at his own shirt, just above the pocket. “Note how I’m not saying word one about it being on her tit.”
“Very decent of you.”
“Anyway, so Dana grabs her and pins her to a wall and pukes on her.”
“What?”
“She upchucked all over the gal.”
Owen grimaced.
“Man, it was awesome! God only knows what Dana’d been eating, but...”
“That’s okay,” Owen said. “You don’t have to go into it.”
“Whatever it was...”
“Hey!”
“All right, all right. Sorry.”
“So what happened after she threw up on the mother?”
“That’s when the reenforcements showed up. Lynn, Sharon and some guy...”
“Must’ve been Clyde.”
“Yeah. So Sharon and Clyde, they escort mom and the kid out of the house. I heard ‘em say something about cleaning her up. Man, you should’ve seen her. She was dripping puke all down the hall.”
“What happened to Dane?”
“Well, Lynn shut the attic door and kept people away from the mess. While she was doing that, Dana went off and came back with a mop and stuff. Then Lynn sort of directed traffic while Dana took care of the mess.”
“Don’t they have a janitor?”
“Nah. Lynn takes care of everything. She’s Janice Crogan’s daughter, you know that’”
“hurl? Really?”
“Her step-daughter,” John explained. “She’s married to Lynn’s dad.”
“I had no idea.”
“And Janice is away on a trip...”
“I knew that.”
“So Lynn’s in charge of the whole works till she gets back.”
“How do you know all this stuft?”
John shrugged. “Been around a couple of days. And I pay attenlion. I keep my eyes open. I listen. People say stuff. You put two and two together.”
“What do you know about Dana?”
“Has a weak stomach.”
“Very funny.”
“Doesn’t like it if you hit kids.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself around her.”
“Great set of hooters.”
“Stop that.”
“She’s living with Lynn.”
“How do you know?” Owen asked.
“Saw them drive in together this morning.”
“I saw that, too. Doesn’t mean they live together. Maybe they car pool, or...”
“Well, I also heard some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like Dana has some kind of hot date tonight.”
The news gave Owen a sick feeling.
“They were talking about Lynx picking her up later and bringing her home. Home being Lynn’s place. So obviously they’re living together.”
“She has a date?”
“Buck up, little buckeroo.” John slapped his shoulder. “At least she’s not a Lesbo.”
“Who’s she seeing?”
“Didn’t catch that part. All I know is, he’s a guy. And it sounds like Dana hasn’t gone out with him before.”
Is it me? Owen suddenly wondered. Did John overhear them talking about a date with me?
No way!
But we did have that nice talk this morning, Owen reminded himself. And Dana did seem to like me. A little, at least. Maybe. Thought I was a jerk for ditching Monica, but her eyes got wet when I said that stuff about how she was everything a guy could ever want.
I touched her. I moved her.
And I promised not to bother her...unless she wanted me to. Joking like. But she didn’t take it like a joke. She said she would think about it.
And she asked where I’m staying tonight!
My God, Owen thought. Maybe she does plan to see me.
I might be the hot date!
But I told her I’d be at the Welcome Inn. I’ve gotta get over there.
What if they don’t have any vacancies?
He checked his wristwatch.
Almost two o’clock.
“What’s up?” John asked. “Wishing you were the lucky guy?”
“Sort of.”
“Don’t waste your time, pal. Guys like you and me, we’re never the lucky guy. Not when it comes to babes like Dana or Lynn. They got a word for guys like us.”
“What’s hat?”
“Losers.”
“Speak for yourself.”
John laughed. “Only one way you’d ever stand a chance with a gal like Dana—knock her out and tie her up.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He laughed again and said, “Truth hurts.”
“Fuck you.”
“Wanta?”
Owen snarled at him.
Laughing, John reached over suddenly and pinched his nipple.
Owen yelped “Ouch!” and swatted his hand away.
“Not much up top,” John said.
“Leave me alone!”
“Aw, that didn’t hurt you.”
“Did, too.” Owen stopped at the curb. On the other side of the street was the photo shop. “Just keep your hands to yourself, okay?”
“If you say so. Is that the place?” John asked.
“Yeah. Is your roll finished?”
“Yep.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a black plastic canister. “I’m all
reloaded and everything.”
They crossed the street and entered the shop.
A man behind the counter looked up at them. He had no hair or eyebrows. He was too tall, too thin. He looked as if he’d been grabbed at each end and stretched by someone playful and malicious. “Help you?” he asked.
“We’d like to get some film developed,” Owen said.
John set the container on top of the glass counter. The man picked it up, opened it, and dumped the roll of film into his hand. His fingers were nearly twice as long as Owen’s. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Twenty-four color prints. I can take care of that for you.”
“We’d like two copies of each,” Owen said.
“Better make it four,” John said.
“Four?” Owen asked.
“Two for us, two for the girls.” Grinning, he said, “I promised ‘em.”
“That’s okay.”
“Four copies each?” the man asked. “That’ll run you.”
“That’s okay,” Owen said. “When can we pick them up?”
“When do you need them?”
“The sooner the better, I guess.”
The man glanced over his shoulder at the wall clock. Though mounted above a door, it was nearly level with his head. “I’d say I can likely have them done for you before closing time.”
“When’s that?” Owen asked.
“Six o’clock.”
“Ihat’s four hours,” John pointed out, glowering at the man. “Your sign says one hour developing.”
“You want four copies?”
“You telling me it takes four times as long?”
The man’s thin lips pressed together tightly and curled up at each end. “Might,” he said. “Might take longer. But I close at six, either way.”
“Six’ll be fine,” Owen told him, trying to sound especially friendly and sincere. “Really. We’ve got no problem with that. My friend’s a trouble-maker.”
“I ‘spent he is,” the man said.
Owen hauled out his wallet and removed a fifty-dollar bill. “I’d be glad to pay in advance.”
The man eyed the bill. He nodded as if agreeing with himself about a matter of little importance. “No need for that,” he said. “Come in here around five, maybe I’ll have ’em done for you by then.”
The Midnight Tour bhc-3 Page 36
