Endless Night (47 page)

Good thing I made a pit stop, she decided after a while.

Must be that Pepsi.

When it came time to flush, she almost didn’t. The sound might wake up Dad. She could just lower the lid ...

But she suddenly realized that the sound of a flushing toilet was exactly what she needed.

If Dad hears that, he’ll know why I’m up roaming around.

Yo ho ho!

He’ll think I’m on the way back to my room, and never suspect the awful truth!

Grinning, Jody flushed the toilet. Then she gathered up her pillow and sheet. She strode boldly out of the bathroom and up the hallway toward her bedroom.

When she stopped at her bedroom, she realized that she wasn’t sure whether or not her father had been snoring as she’d left the john.

Doesn’t really matter, she told herself.

She took one step into her bedroom, found the doorknob, and pulled the door toward her.

She didn’t shut it all the way; that might arouse suspicion. But she didn’t want to leave it standing wide open, either. Not with Sharon coming over later. Sharon or Dad might happen by and notice that her bed was empty.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she headed for the guest room. She walked slowly, rolling her feet from heel to toe even though that made it worse on places that were still sore from Friday night.

Every few steps, she stopped and listened.

The house was very quiet.

Jody’s breathing and the thudding of her heart were the loudest sounds around.

This end of the hallway seemed awfully dark.

Jody had seldom walked it in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t recall it being this dark before.

The guest room door must be shut, she thought.

Usually, it was left open and light from the room’s windows stretched out into the hallway. With that door shut, and certainly no light coming in from the door to the garage, Jody could see nothing at all in front of her.

She shut her eyes.

It made no difference in what she saw.

Wonderful, she thought, and opened them again.

Blackness.

She halted. She sidestepped to the right until her arm bumped softly against the wall.

I can’t have very far to go, she told herself. Let’s not freak out over a little darkness.

This is more than a little.

No big deal, she told herself. Just turn around, and you’ll be able to see again.

She turned around.

And there was light. Dim light, but vastly better than nothing. And Barney Rubble in the bathroom seemed to give off a very healthy glow, considering that it had only one tiny little bulb and it was plugged in so far from ...

... from the door ...

... which was swinging shut, squeezing out the glow from Barney ...

... squeezing it down to a slice ...

... killing it.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jody whispered.

She backed away, arm rubbing the wall until she bumped a jutting edge of wood.

The door frame.

One more step, and the guest room door was beside her. She shifted the sheet and pillow to her right arm. With her left hand, she gripped the doorknob.

She didn’t turn it, though.

She stood there, struggling to breathe, staring down the hallway.

It wasn’t my imagination, she told herself. The door did shut.

Maybe Dad shut it. Maybe he’s in there, right now.

That has to be it.

He woke up. I probably woke him up when I flushed the toilet. And he figured since he was awake anyway he might as well go ahead and take a leak.

That’s gotta be it.

Far down the hall, a dim yellow slice of light appeared and slowly thickened.

Jody sucked a quick breath.

She twisted the doorknob, shoved her shoulder against the door, and lurched into the guest room. She shut the door fast, but took care not to let it bump. Leaning back against it, she panted for air.

That had to be Dad in the john, she told herself.

But what if it wasn’t?

Peering into the darkness, she tried to see Andy. The curtains, usually left open, were shut. Only enough light filtered in to let her see vague, blurred shapes. She could barely make out the bed underneath the window. She couldn’t actually see Andy in it. Holding her own breath for a few moments, she heard his breathing.

What if this isn’t Andy?

What if Andy’s dead and this is that dirty—Simon—pretending to be asleep?

The bastard can’t be here and also down by the john, she told herself. Especially figuring he’s DEAD. This has to be Andy.

Find out. Turn on the lights.

But if she turned on the lights, a bright strip at the bottom of the door would show in the hallway.

Simon’ll see it.

A coldness seemed to clamp Jody’s insides.

This is suddenly an awful lot like Friday night, she thought. And Friday night when I came out of the room with Andy, everyone was dead.

Dad’s down there right across the hall from the john.

She muttered, “Not this time.”

She tossed her pillow and sheet to the floor, whirled around, jerked open the door and rushed into the hallway. Nothing. Darkness. Everything looked normal. The light from Barney Rubble was a distant glow as dim as mist. No light came from her father’s room.

She swept down the hall, moving as quietly as possible but moving fast. So fast that she could feel a breeze against her bare skin, feel the nightshirt drift against her thighs and belly.

So far, so good, she thought.

She rushed into her own bedroom and hit the light switch. As brightness stung her eyes, she half expected to see a hairless, half-naked madman leap at her with a hunting knife.

It didn’t happen.

She jerked open the drawer of her nightstand and snatched out her Smith & Wesson.

On her way to the door, she thumbed the safety off.

She rushed down the hall to her father’s room. Halting just outside his door, she listened.

And heard the slow growl of his snoring.

Thank God!

She crept through the doorway, slipped sideways, and nudged the switch with her elbow.

Nobody stood over Dad’s bed, poised to strike him dead.

Nobody appeared to be in the room, at all, except Jody and her father.

He lay sprawled on his back, hands folded under his head, wearing his good blue pajamas. He had no sheet on top of him. The shirt of his pajamas was unbuttoned and hung open.

One of his snores turned into a moan.

Jody killed the light and slipped out of the room.

She crossed the hall and was about to check the bathroom when its door began to swing shut.

The door moved very slowly, blocking out the glow from Barney Rubble.

Oh my God!

She felt as if her heart had been dropped from a roof.

But she didn’t let that stop her.

She raised her trembling left hand. The door bumped softly against it.

With her right hand, she aimed at the center of the door.

She had fired at enough boards, out shooting with her dad, to know that her .22 would punch straight through such a door.

Don’t shoot till you see who it is, she warned herself.

She waited, expecting a strong thrust.

For a few moments, the door pushed gently at her hand. Then it eased away, stopped, and began coming back.

What’s... ?

She thumped it with the heel of her hand.

It swung away.

Swung away silently without knocking into anyone behind it.

Jody slapped the light switch, rushed in and whirled around, ready to fire.

The door had come to a stop against the far wall. Nobody could possibly be hiding behind it.

From where Jody stood, she could see into the bathtub. Nobody in there, either.

A sudden movement, off to the side, sent shivers crawling up her skin.

She gasped and jerked her head in that direction.

And saw the pale yellow curtains rising, full of wind, away from the open window.

Wind.

A gust, not a maniac, had been toying with the door.

To make sure, she half-shut the door. Feeling the warm breeze against her back, she stepped aside. A moment later, the door swung slowly until it bumped against its jamb.

The joke’s on me.

She felt too shaken to laugh.

Talk about paranoia, she thought. Any other time, I would’ve figured it out right away.

She had taken a shower that evening after they’d returned from the Pizza Barn. The shower had steamed up the bathroom. As usual, she had opened the window to let in some fresh air.

And open it had remained.

Just to play things safe, she stepped over to the window and checked its screen. The screen was hooked in place, as it should be.

One big, fat false alarm.

She thumbed her pistol’s safety switch upward to cover the red dot.

Then she approached the sink.

The girl in the mirror above it looked sweaty and haggard and a little wild. Her short hair was a tangled mess, wet loops glued to her forehead and temples. Her eyes seemed partly frantic, partly amused. Beneath them were half-moons of glistening speckles. A mustache of wet dots gleamed above her lips. The wide neck of her nightshirt drooped off her right shoulder.

Should’ve gotten a smaller size, she thought.

She’d bought it at a store in Indio while Dad was helping to pick out some new clothes for Andy. Nothing special about it. It had no cartoon characters or slogans. She’d bought it because she hadn’t wanted to send Dad outside Saturday night to take her Pooh nightshirt off the clothesline, and she’d packed an old white nightshirt to take on the trip. But the white one had turned out to be embarrassing: too tight, too short and too thin. This one hung loose almost down to her knees. And it was pink, so you couldn’t see through it.

The only problem’s the neck, she thought. Way too big.

She looked at her bare shoulder.

Bet Rob wouldn’t mind seeing me in something like this.

She rolled her shoulder. The neck of her nightshirt slipped farther down her arm, and now she could see the top of her right breast.

He’d go crazy.

Who knows? she thought. Maybe someday ... or some year.

I’ll call him tomorrow. Ask him if he wants to help me wash the car. And I’ll be out there in my bikini ...

Oh, yeah, right. No doubt, the sight of all my bruises and scabs would be a real turn on for him.

I’ll call him, anyway. Maybe we can get together and do something. My face is okay. I’ll just have to keep my shirt on for a while.

She gave herself a haggard smile.

God, it’s been so long. He must wonder where I’ve been. Hope he’s missed me as much as I’ve
...

She suddenly realized that she hadn’t actually missed Rob very much.

I
missed
him, she told herself. I thought about him a
lot.
So what if I didn’t long for him and pine away. I did have a few other things on my mind.

Including Andy.

The little pain in the butt.

Jody switched the pistol to her left hand, turned on the cold water, and bent down over the sink. With her right hand, she scooped water to her mouth.

As she drank, she thought about Andy.

He was bound to wake up and get cute with her.

No matter what, I’m gonna sleep in that trundle bed. Even if it means I’ve gotta tie the little squirt up, or ... Real nice. Tie him up. His whole family’s dead, and he’s got nobody except me. But he’s gonna try something. He’ll want me to hold him, or
something.

It won’t kill me to hold him.

Just so long as he doesn’t try to get grabby.

She remembered yesterday morning in the motel, holding him while he’d cried.

That had felt sort of good, really. Comforting him, knowing how much he needs you, even knowing that you were getting him a little turned on.

Not that I was trying to turn him on. It was just the circumstances, being on the bed, him with nothing on except his sheet and me in only my nightshirt, and the way he felt.

It might be that same way tonight, except that we’d be in a dark room with nobody likely to walk in on us.

Oh, man.

She turned off the faucet. The way she was bent over the faucet, the mirror gave her a view straight down the hanging front of her nightshirt.

If I bend down to pull out the trundle bed, and Andy’s watching from the front ... I can pretend I don’t know where he’s looking.

Real nice, Jody. Why play games? Just shuck it off and the hell with it.

Grimacing at her reflection, Jody straightened up.

She took a deep breath. She was trembling. She shook her head.

How can I even
think
about messing around with Andy?

He’s not your brother, you know.

Yeah, I know that. But aside from being a twelve-year-old kid, he’s also annoying as hell. I can hardly stand him half the time, so why would I want to fool around with him?

Maybe because you love him.

I don’t. Not that, way, anyhow.

Jody told herself that. She wasn’t certain that she believed it.

But she was suddenly certain of one thing: she wouldn’t be returning to the guest room tonight.

I have to, she realized. My pillow and sheet are in there.

Okay. That’s okay. I’ll just go in and grab them. Maybe Andy won’t even wake up. I’ll just sneak out again, and find somewhere else to sleep. Maybe on my bedroom floor. I can get my sleeping bag out of the closet ...

Oh, yeah? You took it to sleep over at Evelyn’s house, remember? It’s all burned up.

She wished she hadn’t thought about that.

I’ll just sleep on my floor without it, she decided.

She opened the bathroom door.

The man in the hallway grinned at her.

She didn’t have time to move.