“But, Curt, my number is unlisted; even if they got it from her, they couldn’t get my address. And I want to help you if—”
“I said no, Barbara.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock. We’d better be going.”
She looked at the stubborn set of his face. “All right, Curt.”
He drove north toward the Arroyo Towers. When he parked the VW in an empty slot just two stalls from the apartment building’s front door, Barbara turned toward him on the seat. “What will you do now, Curt?”
“I suppose I’ll have to start asking questions again — of her folks, her teachers, her house mother, her friends. Find out some way who her boyfriend is — or boyfriends are. Then, check them out.”
“No police, anywhere along the line?”
Curt’s lip curled. “So they can tell me to be a good boy and go home and do nothing? No police.”
“What if classes start before you find your... predators, Curt?”
“Then they start without me. I’m committed to this, Barbara.”
Her eyes were troubled in the dimness of the car. “Have you ever thought what’s going to happen if you find them, Curt? You’re a college professor, not a... a professional fighter or anything. They’re a vicious gang, probably sick or disturbed. They—”
“I wasn’t always a teacher,” Curt began tightly, then was disgusted by the cheap dramatic overtones of his own remark. He turned to face her, talking intently. “All right, sure, Barbara, the world is full of people today who maim and destroy, who get their locks doing it. Old traditions are breaking down, and the new ones haven’t filled the gaps. In some ways our society seems to be falling to pieces — there seem to be predators all over, striking indiscriminately. I’ve heard all the arguments, that we have police to cope with them, that it is an inescapable product of swiftly changing mores. But these predators struck at me. My home, my wife. Maybe I’m weaker than other people, maybe I feel frightened or... or threatened because this could happen to me without some punishment coming to those who did it. I don’t know. But I do know that I have to try and find this particular gang. Find them, and break them, so they don’t ever do it to anyone else.”
In the darkness, Barbara gave a little shiver. “So... now I know.” She tried for lightness, but wasn’t successful. “A dedicated man, no less. But... take care of yourself, Curt. Don’t... let yourself do things with consequences you can’t foresee. Don’t change — you.”
She came forward into his arms, pressed her mouth against his for a long moment. Her lips were almost feverish. Then she was out of the car, looking in at him through the window.
“If it’s any help, Curt, I... feel threatened, too...”
Chapter 25
Rick swung into the gas station he had selected for the call. It had a broad blacktopped lot beside it, with four phone booths along one edge. When he stopped the Triumph, Debbie turned to face him on the seat, not even aware of her short beige skirt riding halfway up her thighs as she did.
“Ricky, I still don’t see why we have to be so sneaky about it.”
“I told you, Deb. If he thinks the cabin is a place that a bunch of chicks have rented for a week, he won’t check up who owns it.”
“But if I just tell him you’ll be there to talk to him, he—”
“—he’d probably have half the sheriff’s deputies in the county down there with him. And then what good would my word be, against a college prof’s? I gotta have it so that if he won’t believe me, I’ve got time to get away without him stopping me or finding out who I am.”
He got out, went around to open her door, the tension whining inside him like a wire drawn too tight. Debbie went down to the end booth and went in and closed the door. Rick stood directly outside but with his back to the booth, so he wasn’t watching her. He went over it all in his mind: if the professor was home, everything went into motion, set for the next night. Well, the next day, really.
Inside the booth, Debbie thought, I’m glad he’s not watching. She knew it would make her even more nervous if he were watching. She made herself drop her dime resolutely, but hoped down inside that the professor wouldn’t be home. It was all happening so fast. The trouble was that by being stupid she had put Ricky into terrible danger; somehow she had to make up to him for that, make sure of his safety.
On the fourth ring, the professor picked up the phone.
“Professor Halstead? This is—”
Curt’s voice was pleasant and relaxed. “I’m glad you called, Debbie. Have you something to tell me?”
“I... yes, sir. Well, that is, I want you to meet me somewhere. D’you have a pencil and paper there?” Curt said he did. “All right, then, do you know where San Conrado is?”
“A little town south of Half Moon Bay, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.” She had begun breathing easier; it wasn’t so bad after all. And her charade really was helping Professor Halstead in his search, because it would get him off the false trail of Ricky and the others. “Just about ten miles south of San Conrado, on the Coast Highway, is a small gravel drive leading off to the right-down a ravine. It’s got a big heavy wooden gate across it, and a big padlock on the gate. Down the gravel road, about a quarter of a mile, is—”
“Will the gate be locked or open?”
She shut her eyes, trying to visualize the gate. “Locked. I guess you can just park in front of it and walk down. Can you meet me there at eight o’clock tomorrow night?”
“Yes, surely. But why tomorrow? Why there? And why at night?”
Rick had rehearsed her on this. “Because I don’t want my folks to know that I’m still going out with... with my friend. They don’t like him. A bunch of us girls have rented the cabin for a week before school starts — we’re going down tomorrow, and tomorrow night the rest of them are going to a movie in Santa Cruz. I’ll say I’ve got a headache, so I can be there alone at eight o’clock.”
“I see,” said Curt. “Will your friend be there with you?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to try and get him there...” She almost giggled on that one; Ricky was so smart to have foreseen the professor’s asking about him! “He’d like to come, but he’s scared you won’t believe him, no matter what he says, and that you’ll try to get his name and get the police after him because of... of what your wife did with him. He says — Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, the way Rick had told her to. “My mom just came in the front door. Tomorrow night, eight. ’Bye.”
She hung up quickly, pushed open the door of the stuffy booth. Her green sleeveless blouse was sticking to her back, not entirely from the heat in the airless booth. She felt pride in having done it right, and a great sense of relief that it was over. She hated lying.
“It worked, honey! He’ll be there tomorrow night at eight.”
“That’s groovy, Deb.” So, the plan was on. That meant that from now on, Debbie had to be kept away from phones, away from her family, away from everyone until after tomorrow night. Rick had come up with the greatest idea for that, one that took care of everything at once. “So we’ve gotta wait until tomorrow night, so what are you doing tonight?”
She smiled raptly up into his face. “Going out with you, I hope?”
“Let’s make it the whole day, Deb. And night. Go back down to the cabin, right now — just the two of us, just like last weekend. We’ve got our swim suits in the car, and—”
“Oh, Ricky, do you think we dare?” But her eyes already were alight with the idea. “I could... I could call the folks and tell them that I’m getting a bus down to Cynthia’s place and...”