Part 37 (1/2)

'f.u.c.k, no. I just dialed some numbers. Wrote 'em down so I could call you back, buta'

Pen slammed down the phone. With a tug at its plastic base, she removed it from the wall jack.

For a long time, she stood leaning against the doorframe, gasping, arms folded across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, legs tight together. She trembled badly. She knew that she should be feeling relief, even triumph.

Instead, she felt sick.

Knowing such a man was out there, even though she would get her number changed and he would be out of her life forever.

Knowing what she had said to him.

The foulness.

And knowing, worst of all, that she had actually tried to lure him to her.

To kill him with the shotgun.

She felt soiled.

Pus.h.i.+ng herself away from the wall, she walked on shaky legs down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Bodie woke up and groaned at the pain in his head. He felt as if his lids were all that held his eyes inside his sockets, that if he opened them, his eyes might burst out from the pressure behind them.

He also felt ready to throw up.

Must've really tied one on last night. He couldn't remember getting smashed, buta What the h.e.l.l was he lying on? Not a bed.

He rubbed the surface.

Gra.s.s. Dewy gra.s.s.

He opened his eyes. The pain and nausea swelled. He thrust himself to his hands and knees and vomited. The spasms wracked him, driving white-hot nails into the base of his skull. When he had finished, he knelt above the mess and clutched his head. The hand above his right ear pressed against an enormous lump.

Not a hangover. I've beena He'd been driving, taking Melanie back to Phoenix.

A crash? He must've crashed and been thrown clear of the van. Melanie!

He turned his head, groaning at the new surge of pain. The van was nowhere in sight. Neither was a road. Bodie was on his knees behind a hedge. To his right was a field with playground equipment near the far corner. Turning some more, he saw a building - a school?

Where the h.e.l.l am I? What am I doing here?

Bodie pushed himself carefully to his feet and stood motionless, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pa.s.s. He dragged a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose, and dropped the handkerchief to the gra.s.s. Then he walked slowly through an opening in the bushes.

He found himself on a sidewalk. In front of him was a narrow street, homes on the other side. Cars were parked along the street, but not his van. To his left, about a block away, was a busy road with cars pa.s.sing through its intersection. He walked toward it and tried to remember.

I was at Pen's apartment. With her on the sofa. We kissed. Oh, we did kiss. It had been soa and then Melanie came in. She was supposed to be asleep but she hadn't taken the pills. Should've taken the d.a.m.n pills. Acting very weird. Time to get her out of there, take her back to Phoenix . She was in the back of the van, wouldn't talk. I stopped for gas. Then what?

He could remember signing his credit card slip, but nothing after that.

But we didn't crash. If we crashed, where's the van?

He gingerly fingered the b.u.mp on the side of his head.

Melaniea could she have hit me with something? Must've. Knocked me out. While I was driving? Maybe I was stopped at a light. She could've knocked me out, shoved me over to the pa.s.senger seat and got behind the wheel.

Wasn't ready to go back to Phoenix.

Found the school yard, unloaded me, and dragged me behind the bushes.

Strong enough to do that?

They say crazy peoplea Crazy.

She's gone after someone.

Unfinished business.

Pen?

Bodie's head throbbed.

She's gone after Pen.

No, maybe not, maybe it's Harrison and Joyce. That's okay. Who gives a s.h.i.+t?

But what if it's Pen? What'll Melanie do to her?

Bodie stopped at the corner of the busy street. It was Robertson Boulevard, just as he'd suspected, and he could see the freeway overpa.s.s in the distance.

He had to warn Pen.

He raised his left hand to check his wrist.w.a.tch.

The watch was gone.

No way to know how long he'd been unconscious in the field.

If it was only a few minutes, he might still have time to warn her.

He spotted pay phones across the road.

He slapped the rear pocket of his pants. His wallet was gone. He shoved a hand into his front pocket. No change.

No way to phone Pen. No way to warn her.

He started to run.

Bolts of pain shot through his head but he didn't slow down.