Little Sister

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “All right,” said Francie. “I’d better get busy.”

  “Good,” said Beth, turning to the window and glancing out again. “Hurry.”

  Because they worked steadily, it did not take them long to do their remaining packing and get the house in order. Beth called her aunt and explained the new plan while Francie feverishly filled boxes with her things. Beth finally dragged the last of the suitcases down to the kitchen and called out for Francie. A voice answered from outside, behind the house.

  Beth pulled on her jacket and went out. Francie was standing in the backyard, staring at the dilapidated old house, its lighted windows glowing in the night, the naked branches of the side yard trees arching over it.

  “Finished?” Beth asked.

  Francie nodded. “I already put my stuff in the car.”

  “The old place looks kind of cozy with those lights on in the dark, doesn’t it?” said Beth.

  Francie nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Maybe some nice family will get it and fix it up,” said Beth. “It needs a little loving care.”

  “I hope so,” said Francie in a thick voice.

  “I think so,” said Beth. They stood there in silence for a few moments. Then Beth said, “Come on. We’d better go.”

  “Good-bye, house,” said Francie.

  “I’ll just get my bags in the kitchen,” said Beth. “You get in the car.”

  Beth went back in the house and made one last check of windows and doors. Then she went back into the kitchen and picked up the two suitcases full of odds and ends she was bringing back. Haul away, she told herself.

  • Just as she passed the phone in the kitchen, it started to ring. Beth jumped. She turned and stared at the shrilly ringing phone, feeling a twisting in her stomach. It was him. She knew it.

  The kitchen door opened, and Francie stuck her head in. “Do you want me to get that?” she asked. She walked over to the phone.

  “No, don’t,” said Beth.

  Francie looked at her in surprise, her hand poised over the receiver.

  “Let it ring.”

  The two sisters looked long at each other as the insistent ringing came to a halt.

  “Let’s just go,” said Beth. “Now.”

  Francie nodded and went out the kitchen door, slamming it behind her. Beth began to lug the heavy suitcases toward the door.

  Just as she reached the door and turned the lights off in the kitchen, the ringing began again. Beth turned and looked at it, her eyes narrowed. “Go ahead and ring,” she said. “Ring your bloody head off.” She fixed the lock, slammed the door behind her, and hurried toward the waiting car.

  Chapter 28

  ANDREW HUNG UP THE RECEIVER on the pay phone beside the men’s room and went back into the garage through the office. Noah had the main doors of the garage closed against the cold.

  He walked up to Noah, who had the hood of his old Pontiac open and was tinkering around with a wrench on the engine.

  “What’s the matter with it?” said Andrew.

  “Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I’m gonna have to put it up on the lift.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Noah. Just tell me how long it’s gonna take you to fix it.”

  Noah slammed the hood down and pointed inside the car. “Take your junk out if you want anything in there.”

  Scowling, Andrew opened the back door and removed the bag from the well behind the seat. He clutched the bag to his chest, imagining that he could feel the outline of the gun, which was in there, stashed among his clothes. The sight of the cop this afternoon, pulling up just as he had gotten hold of Francie, had practically made his heart stop. He was sure that the cop would search the car, go through his bag, and find the gun. They were probably looking for a gun now, a weapon that might have been used on the dentist and his wife. Luckily Francie had been good as gold. She had whimpered a little, but the cop assumed she was just upset about the accident. He hadn’t even bothered to look in the car. Andrew set the khaki-colored duffel bag down on the cold cement floor of the garage, and

  Noah proceeded to activate the lift. Andrew watched in frustration as his new car left the ground.

  “How’d you manage to do this anyway?” Noah asked as the car rose slowly up into the air.

  “I told you. Some asshole truck driver ran us off the road. Me and Francie were leaving town.”

  “Mmmm…” said Noah. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coveralls and walked under the car. He squinted up at the grime-blackened workings on the Pontiac’s underside. Then he rocked back and forth in his work boots. “That’s what I figured,” he said.

  “You couldn’t figure your way out of a paper bag,” said Andrew. “Just cut the crap and tell me what it is.”

  “Well, if you’re so smart, you tell me,” said Noah.

  “Do you know or don’t you?” Andrew asked.

  “Yep. It looks to me like you hit a rock when you went off the road.”

  “Brilliant,” said Andrew.

  Noah pointed upward. “See that? You’ve got no fluids. That’s why the car won’t start. When you hit the rock, you tore off the oil pan, and all the oil drained out. And the transmission pan is hanging on by a thread. All the fluid’s gone from there too.”

  “All right, all right,” said Andrew. “Can you fix it?”

  Noah sighed. “Well, it can be fixed. I don’t know if you want to put that kind of money into an old car like this. It’ll cost you almost what you paid for the car.”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion. I asked if you can fix it.”

  Noah shook his head. “You’re a nice guy, Andrew.”

  “Oh, Mr. Sensitive.” Andrew looked down at his camp watch. “Just tell me how long it’s going to take. Francie and I want to get on the road again. She’s waiting for me. I’ve got to let her know what time we can get going.”

  Noah laughed. “What time? Oh, you can forget the watch. Try looking at a calendar.”

  Andrew stared at him.

  “I’ve got to order the pans. For a car this old I’ll be lucky if I can even locate them. It’ll take them maybe two or three days to come in. Then I’ve got to fix the thing.”

  “Use pans you have here.”

  “I don’t have any here. It’s a special order. I’m telling you. I wouldn’t lie to you about it.”

  “Can’t you fix the simplest thing without all this crapping around?” Andrew shouted.

  “You wanna fix it?” Noah asked.

  Sweat broke out on Andrew’s forehead, and he looked at his watch again. Then he looked down at the duffel bag. “I can’t wait,” he said. “I need it now.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Noah. “That’s the way it is.”

  A car horn sounded out by the gas pumps. “I’ve got a customer,” said Noah. “You decide what you want to do. I’ll be right back.”

  Noah stumped away across the garage as Andrew stared up at the metal underbelly of his car. It was black and broken, and for a moment Andrew had the ugly sensation that it was like looking inside himself. “Why don’t you work, you fucking piece of junk? One goddamn day, not even. That’s all you were good for,” he muttered. The frustration seemed to be filling his throat, choking him. His means of escape hung there above him, useless as a severed limb.

  For a moment the anger left him, and weariness rushed in, like a tide into an empty inlet. They were sure to catch him now. Someone would remember seeing him in Harrison. Maybe someone on the bus, that woman with the bratty kid maybe, had watched him when he left the bus, watched him turn up the walk to Ridberg’s house.

  The bitch was probably thinking about it right now. Figuring that as soon as she got that snotty kid to bed, she would call the cops and tell them. She’d probably seen it on the news about the murders, and being nosy and thinking she was smart, she’d put two and two together. She’d describe him to the cops, and once the Oldham police got wind of it, they’d remember him from this afternoon.


  Fear crashed over him, and he thought he could hear a woman’s mocking laughter inside his head. He shouldn’t have killed the dentist. It was stupid. He hadn’t meant to. But the wife had driven him to it. His eyes turned hard as he remembered her pink, quivering face.

  But then he straightened his shoulders a little. A flash of defiance returned. It had felt good. Good to see that self-righteous little sow cower at the sight of his gun. His face broke into a wintry grin as he recalled the fear in her eyes.

  Well, it was not too late, he thought. He still had his gun. He could still get Francie, and she would stand by him. They’d get away from the cops somehow. If he had to kill them all, they would.

  Noah opened the side door to the garage and came back in. He walked over to where Andrew stood and glanced up at the mangled underside of the car. “So,” he said, “Francie’s waiting for you to come and get her. That’s why you’re in such a hurry to get this fixed, right?”

  Andrew bristled at the smug tone of Noah’s voice. “That’s what I said.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” said Noah, bending over his toolbox and selecting a screwdriver. He stood up and began poking at the transmission pan, prying it loose. “’Cause she and her sister were just here, filling up their car. Seems they’re on their way to Philadelphia. Leaving tonight, they are. The both of them.”

  Shock jolted through Andrew like an electrical charge. “What?”

  “Yeah. The car was piled high with suitcases.”

  “She can’t do that.”

  “Well, she was doing it.” Noah poked at the car again. “Seemed pretty happy about it too.”

  Andrew did not reply.

  “Anyway, about the car,” said Noah, “now that I’m looking at it again, it looks like you tore a hole in the exhaust system too. I can fiddle with that while we wait for the pans to arrive. As I said, it’ll take two or three days. Then a day to put the pans in. But I don’t know if it’s worth it really. I can’t recommend it. Even if I give it to you at cost, it’s too much money to put into a car this old. It’s up to you.”

  He looked out from under the car at Andrew, who was staring fixedly at the doors of the garage.

  Chapter 29

  “YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET,” SAID BETH as she drove along one of the two-lane highways leading out of Oldham.

  “I know,” said Francie.

  “It’s hard leaving a place you lived in all your life.”

  “Was it hard for you when you left?”

  Beth hesitated. “It was different. I wanted to get away. You’ve been kind of pushed out before you were ready. But yeah, in a way it was strange for me too. I didn’t know what to expect. I felt a little like I was stepping off the edge of the world.”

  “Yeah,” said Francie in a small voice.

  “You’ll be surprised how fast a new place can start to seem like home, though.”

  “Maybe. I hope so.” Francie was quiet for a few moments. Then she went on. “It’s not like I was so happy there all the time. But I knew everybody and and where everything was…”

  Beth could hear tears in Francie’s voice, and she had the impulse to interrupt, to try to change the subject, but she stopped herself. Let her talk if she needs to, she thought. She murmured, as if to encourage the girl.

  “The house and school.” Francie went on. “I don’t know how I’ll get along with the other kids there in Philadelphia. They’ll probably think I’m some kind of hick and won’t speak to me.”

  Beth felt as if she were experiencing every one of Francie’s fears as the girl enumerated them, and a little sense of panic rose in her. “Don’t worry,” she said, as much to reassure herself as Francie. “It’ll

  take a little time to adjust, but it’ll all work out. It’ll be easier than you think.”

  “I guess so,” said Francie, her voice a little less shaky. After a few minutes she said, “Did you get that headstone for Dad?”

  “Uh, no,” said Beth slowly. “I didn’t. I had a problem there.”

  “Didn’t you find the place?”

  “I found it all right. There was nobody there to help me when I arrived.”

  “Did you wait for somebody to come?”

  “Nooo,” said Beth. “That is, I waited a little while, but—the truth is that while I was waiting I started getting concerned about you and Andrew, and I decided to come back.”

  “Just like that. All of a sudden?”

  Beth chewed her lip for a second. “It was because of something I heard on the radio. It was silly, I guess. It’s not important now. Anyway, I figured I could ask Aunt May to pick out something and send me the bill. I’m sorry I didn’t get it.”

  “That’s okay,” said Francie in a doleful tone.

  “Speaking of the radio, do you want some music?” Beth asked with forced brightness.

  “Sure,” said Francie. She leaned over and fiddled with the dial until she found a music station. She sat back in her seat as if she were relaxed. Beth looked over at her out of the comer of her eye. Francie’s eyes were weary, but her hands were clasped tensely together. Beth felt as if the mention of Andrew’s name had summoned his presence between them, and the song that blared out of the radio did not dispel it.

  “It’s been a rough day,” said Beth.

  Francie nodded. “That’s the truth.”

  “You know,” said Beth, leaning over and turning down the radio volume, “I’m still feeling a little guilty about today and accusing you of going off with Andrew.”

  “I didn’t want to go anywhere with Andrew,” said Francie.

  “I know. The point is, we’re going to be living together now, and I’m going to try not to jump to any conclusions like that. I mean, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.” Beth gave a shaky laugh. “You’ll have to be a little patient with me.”

  “I think you’ll turn out all right,” said Francie.

  Beth smiled. They lapsed into silence, the radio playing softly between them. Beth peered out at the road ahead. It was still foggy, but at least the sleet had stopped, although the road remained a little icy. Once they hit Route 95, it was a clear shot to Philadelphia, or at

  least to a motel room somewhere in Connecticut. Meanwhile, she had to negotiate a series of two-lane highways, some of them in a rather pitted condition. There was no problem in staying alert, she thought. Her nerves were jangled after the day’s upheavals and the rush to get on the road. Take it easy, she reminded herself. You’re on your way home. She had a sudden image of herself opening the front door of the house, the warmth of it rushing over her as she ushered Francie inside and closed the door behind them. She thought that maybe she’d build a fire in the fireplace when they got in tomorrow. It would be lovely to relax in front of a fire, the flames dancing cheerfully in the grate.

  As if to echo her thoughts, a flashing yellow light caught her eye. She looked up into the rearview mirror and saw that the vehicle with the flashing light was behind them, coming up rapidly on their tail.

  Francie sat up and noticed it too. “It’s the cops,” she said.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Beth. She looked down at her speedometer. “I wasn’t speeding,” she said.

  “Maybe it’s not for us,” said Francie.

  “Maybe,” said Beth, “but there’s nobody else around.” She kept driving, her hands tense on the wheel, but when she glanced up in the mirror again, the flashing light was still on their tail.

  “It’s too big to be a police car,” said Francie.

  “Must be one of those vans.”

  “They do patrol these roads,” said Francie. “Thank goodness. But what did we do?”

  “Nothing that I know of.” Beth sighed. “I’d better pull over. See what he wants.”

  Beth put her right blinker on and eased the car slowly over to the shoulder. She jerked the gearshift into park as they stopped. “What a pain in the ass,” said Beth, but her voice had a nervous edge. “They make you feel guilty even when you haven’
t done anything.”

  “I know,” said Francie.

  The police vehicle stopped some ways behind them. Beth opened her purse and hunted for her license. Then she gasped and looked at Francie. “I hope the registration is in the car. I never even bothered to look. Open that glove compartment.”

  Francie pushed the button, and the metal door dropped down. She looked around inside, rummaging in the collection of objects stored there. “What does it look like?”

  “It’ll probably be in an envelope with a window.”

  “I can’t find it.”

  “Let me look,” said Beth. She leaned across the seat and peered

  into the lighted cavity. “Oh, shit,” Beth muttered. “Where is it? Don’t tell me it was somewhere in all those papers. Shit. I knew I’d throw out something important.”

  Francie sat up and looked back over the seat. She could see the man from the parked vehicle walking up to their car. She frowned and said, “Don’t they usually wear hats?”

  “Got it,” said Beth, sitting up in the seat and rolling down the window.

  The man’s left hand curled over the half-opened window. He bent over and stared into the car. In his right hand he held a gun. Francie screamed, and Beth looked up and saw glittering eyes and a frozen smile. “Andrew,” she whispered.

  For a second she was paralyzed. Then instinct forced her to move. She jammed her left elbow down on the door lock, turned on the ignition, and stomped on the gas. The car jerked forward, and Andrew’s hand smashed into the window frame. He seemed to fall away from the car. Beth did not look back, but she heard Francie cry out, “He’s gonna shoot.”

  Almost as soon as the words were out Beth heard a crack and thud from the gun, and the back window of the car exploded. The wheel turned crazily in her hands as he fired again, and she tried to steer away from him. The car began to skid on the icy road, and she saw a tree appear in her headlights and heard the crunch of metal as the impact of the collision threw her back against the seat, bumping her head on the roof of the car.

  For a second she sat there, stunned, as if she still expected the car to be in motion. Her hands, sweaty and weak, gripped the wheel. She looked over at Francie, who was holding onto the seat as if she were on a roller coaster, her eyes wide behind the lenses of her glasses. Their eyes locked in shared dread. He was beside them again, the barrel of the gun poking through the window.