“ Did you get the gun?” she asked.
“ How did you know?”
“ I checked the office while you were asleep.”
“ Why didn’t you tell me?”
“ I wanted to see how you would handle it. You didn’t want me to know about the gun? I like that. You were trying to protect me from the harsh reality of the situation. Not very smart, but I like it. Please don’t do it again. We should trust each other.” She went to the desk. “Do you want to call or should I?”
“ You can do it,” he said.
She sat down and started pushing buttons, calling numbers in the book at random. It took ten calls before she was blessed with no answer.
“ Here we are,” she said. “Mary Mckinna. 13 Church Street. Great, look at this.” She showed him the phone book. Under the address were the words, Next to the Cemetery.
“ I was afraid that even if we found someone not at home, we wouldn’t be able to find the house. Guess I worried in vain. We should have no trouble finding a cemetery in a town this size.”
“ No,” she echoed, “no trouble at all.”
“ Let’s go,” he said.
“ I’ll get my gear.” She went back to their place behind the counter, picked up her laundry bag. “You know,” she said, “I’m going to miss this place. I feel like I’ve entered a new stage in my life.” Then she walked to the back door, opened it and they stepped out into the hot night.
Five minutes later they found it.
“ The Rio Dulce Cemetery,” he read off the sign.
“ Think there was a river here?” she whispered.
“ Must have been.”
“ Where’s the house?”
“ You don’t have to whisper, nobody can hear us.”
“ What about them?” She pointed into the cemetery.
Chapter Thirteen
“ It has to be that white house over there.” Jim pointed through the cemetery.
“ Let’s go.” Glenna started walking down the street.
“ Where are you going?”
“ Around. Church Street must dead end into the cemetery. We’ll go around the block.”
“ Car coming.” He grabbed her arm, pulled her into the graveyard. They huddled behind a hedge while the car passed.
“ It’s the police,” she whispered. The black and white cruiser rolled on by without stopping. “I didn’t tell you something,” she said, lying next to him. They were sandwiched between the hedge, shielding themselves from the street and a row of tombstones.
“ What?”
“ I felt something crawl across my foot last night. Just before I went to sleep.”
“ So?”
“ It might have been a gecko.”
“ You think?”
“ Could have been, have you seen any?”
“ Yes, in my room at the motel and at the mini market on the other side of the Interstate.”
“ Well, I’ve been seeing them, too. I shook one off my foot just before you-know-what came creeping out from under my father’s car. You think there’s a connection?”
“ I hope not, but maybe.”
“ There are no geckos in California. They live in the tropics,” she said.
“ I know that.”
“ Just making conversation.” She desperately wanted to believe there was no connection. She was sorry she brought it up. Sorry she even thought about it. This wasn’t the place to think about slimy things with big teeth that creep in the night.
“ We’ll cut across the cemetery. It’s safer than the street,” he said.
He took her by the hand, led her through the sea of tombstones, toward the white house. She felt the strength in his hand as she shivered. The clouds let through enough light to cast opaque shadows from the gravestones.
“ I feel like the shadows are reaching out for me,” she said.
“ It’s a little scary,” he said.
“ I’m twenty years old and I’ve never been in a cemetery before. I don’t like it.” She heard something, a scraping sound. She tightened her grip on his hand. He froze. “Did you hear it?” she whispered.
“ Yeah,” he said. She felt his palm, as sweaty as hers. “Did it sound like that thing last night?”
“ I don’t think so.” They remained in place, two statues, ears tuned to the night, but they heard nothing more.
“ Must have been the wind blowing some of these across the grass,” he whispered, bending down and picking up a bunch of artificial flowers. He tossed them back on the grave. “Come on.” He continued leading her through the graveyard.
At the side of the cemetery they found two obstacles between them and the house at 13 Church Street. A shallow drainage ditch and on the other side of the ditch, a four foot wooden fence. They found a plank across the ditch and beyond, a two foot gap in the fence. The Church Street residents must cut across the cemetery as a short cut to downtown Rio Dulce, she thought.
He stepped onto the plank, pulling her along behind. Then he squeezed through the gap, still holding her hand. Once through, they found themselves between the fence and the back of a two car garage. The fence was about three feet from the garage. They were in a dark area, perfect for one of those homeless beggars to hide in, she thought-or a slimy overgrown lizard.
She felt as trapped as the dead neighbors next door in their coffins. Her heart was pounding. She felt like she was being drawn out of a long dark tunnel when he led her away from the dark space. Then they were at the back door of the house.
“ At least we don’t have to worry about the neighbors calling the police,” he said.
“ Look at that.” She was looking at a new Red Mazda Miata, the price sticker still in the window. The car was parked in front of the garage. “I really wanted one of those, but I couldn’t afford one. I hope we find the keys.” She looked from the car to the back door. “How do we get in?”
He took the steps up the back porch and tried the door. It was locked.
“ That window is open,” she said.
He came off the porch and followed her pointed finger. It was open because of the heat, she thought, or maybe there aren’t too many burglaries in small town Rio Dulce.
“ I’ll get down on my hands and knees.” He started for the window. “You can stand on my shoulders and see if you can get the screen off.”
“ Careful,” she said, “don’t trample the flowers.” There was a flower bed along the side of the house. He stepped between two small rose bushes, careful not to cut himself on the thorns. Then he dropped to all fours. She stepped onto his back and tried to pry the screen off.
“ I can’t do it,” she said, stepping off. “I need a screwdriver or a knife.” She walked along the side of the house. “Aha!” She bent down in front of the flower bed and picked up a rusty garden trowel. “This will work.” Then she was on his back again, using the pointed end of the trowel to pry the screen off. “I’ve got it.” She tossed the screen onto the grass. Then, with a feeling of danger and accomplishment, she pulled herself up into the window.
Inside she found herself on the kitchen sink. She squeezed on in. She tried to turn once her rear end was through, but she slipped and landed on the tile floor with a quiet crash that echoed through the quieter house. She pushed herself up and opened the back door. Then she went straight for the refrigerator, pulled open the door and bathed the kitchen in a murky light full of hidden shadows.
“ Tupperware.” She took out a plastic container and checked the contents. “Tuna casserole.” She resealed the lid. “We’ll take this with us for later.” She took her laundry sack from Jim, dropped the leftover casserole into it.
“ Close the fridge. I found a flashlight,” he said, closing a drawer next to the sink. He turned it on as the kitchen lost the gloomy light from the refrigerator. “Let’s find the car keys and get out of here,” he whispered.
She nodded and they went through the kitchen. There was a key rack by the back door, but no keys.