Keeping his grip on her hair, he raised himself off her back. He sat on her rump. Her feeble writhing didn’t worry him. He knew he’d taken the starch out of her. But he wasn’t quite sure how to finish her off. As he shook his arm and waited for its weakness to pass, he scanned the moonlit ground. He saw no rocks close enough to reach.
She twisted under him.
“Stop it,” he snapped. He gave her hair a savage tug. “And stop that sobbing.”
In a moment, his arm felt better. He raked his fingers through the weeds alongside Claire’s body, and found a stick. It was slightly larger than a pencil, and neither end had much of a point. But perhaps it would do.
Clutching it like a knife, Gorman scooted up her back and rammed it at her neck, just below her right ear. The stick skidded down her skin, clawing a furrow. Screaming, Claire bucked and twisted in a frenzy. Gorman struck again. This time, a couple of inches broke off the stick, leaving a decent point. The third blow penetrated. Her shriek leaped to a higher pitch. She thrashed wildly as he forced the stick deeper. Then he pulled it out and stabbed again. He kept plunging the stick into her neck long after the screams stopped and she lay motionless beneath him.
Then he climbed off her. The sleeve of his jacket was sheathed with blood. He wiped his hand on the seat of her jeans.
Patting his pockets, he made sure he hadn’t lost his wallet or cassette recorder during the struggles.
The recorder. He took it out. Good God, it had been running throughout the killings. He would have to destroy the tape.
He would also have to get rid of his clothes. Every stitch. But that could wait.
Down the slope, he picked up Brian’s pants. The underwear fluttered out. He dug into the pocket and removed the car keys. Wandering along the hillside, he found the camera. Finally, he knelt over Marty’s body. The contract was in a pocket of the shirt. He took it out. Though he wasn’t precisely sure why, at that moment, he also took Marty’s keys.
Then he rushed down to the fence. With a final glance at Brian’s impaled body, he ran.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The air felt chilly on Tyler’s face, but the rest of her body was snug under the covers. Rolling over, she pushed her face into the soft warmth of the pillow.
The chirp and warble of birds sounded peaceful, stirred memories of distant summer mornings when she lay in bed, so comfortable she didn’t want to get up, but eager to get outside. Adventures beckoned: today the comic book stand (she’d make a fortune!), today the careers tournament with Sally and Huss and Loretta, today a picnic at the lake, today exploring.
Exploring was maybe the best—taking off, on bike or foot, to follow that road, that forest path, those train tracks, farther than she’d ever gone before.
Later came the mornings, almost painful with excitement, when she couldn’t wait to get up and take the bus to the public pool where Skip Robinson would be practicing his backstroke and this time he might notice her. Finally, he did. And he was so shy. And he always smelled like Coppertone.
Abe smells like Brut. She squirmed against the bed, remembering the feel of his body as he embraced her last night. There on the stoop like a couple of teenagers while Nora led Jack into her room. If she’d asked Abe to come in, he would be next to her now. Instead, they’d gone alone to their rooms. Tyler had regretted it even then, feeling the loss like an empty ache.
I hardly know the man, she thought.
But Dan had been in her mind. She’d come here to find Dan, and it would’ve been some kind of vague betrayal to make love with Abe.
She wished she had.
She owed nothing to Dan. They’d made their choices five years ago and even if she found him today (in Beast House?) it was probably over for good. She shouldn’t have let thoughts of Dan stop her.
More than that had stopped her. It was also wanting Abe so badly and knowing she might never see him again after today. He and Jack would head north; she and Nora would head south. And if she’d made love with Abe, the parting would be worse.
Thinking about it now, she felt the loss as if he were already gone.
We have today, she told herself.
They had agreed, last night, to meet for breakfast. And after that? The Beast House tour? Nora seemed determined to try it, and if Abe and Jack would go along…at least they’d be together that much longer.
Abe, I want you to meet my old friend, Dan Jenson. Dan, Abe Clanton.
Tyler? I can’t believe it’s really you. My God, let me look at you. You’re beautiful! Lost a few pounds have you?
Jealous sparks from Abe’s eyes as Dan sweeps her into his arms. Abe starts walking away. No, wait!
Too upset now to enjoy the luxury of the bed, Tyler got up. She parted the curtains slightly and looked outside. Her heart jumped. Seated on the stoop directly across the courtyard, elbows resting on his knees, eyes down, was Abe. The morning breeze stirred his hair. He was frowning as if deep in thought. Thinking about me? she wondered.
Sure thing. You flatter yourself.
But he might be.
God, he looks so lonely and troubled.
Astonished by her boldness, Tyler stepped away from the window. She put on a robe over her nightgown and went to the door. As she opened it, Abe looked up. His frown melted into a smile. “Morning,” Tyler called.
“Good morning.”
“Been up long?”
“Not long.”
“How about a cup of coffee?”
“How can I refuse?” He stood and brushed off the seat of his blue jeans. The jeans were old, worn pale at the knees, frayed a little at the cuffs. He wore newlooking boots. His white T-shirt hugged his torso, taking on the curves of his muscles.
Tyler was suddenly very aware that she was naked under her robe and nightgown.
That’s hardly naked, she thought.
But she could feel the cool breeze curling up her legs, sliding between them. Her nipples pushed into the slick fabric of her nightgown. She was slightly breathless as she stepped back from the doorway to let Abe enter.
“So,” she said, trying to sound calm, “did you sleep well? No nightmares about Bobo, I hope.”
He studied her face. “I slept fine. How about you?”
“Like a log.” She broke from his gaze and turned away. Her knees were shaky as she crossed the room. She took the coffee pot down from the mounted hotplate, and carried it into the bathroom. She filled it and brought it back. As she plugged in the dangling cord, Abe walked up behind her. She turned to face him. “It’ll probably take a few…” Her voice fell away. She stared into his eyes.
His open hand caressed the side of her face. “I missed you,” he whispered.
Tyler tried to speak but her throat was tight. She stepped into his arms, and kissed him.
Abe held her tightly, more tightly than last night, as if they’d been away from each other a very long time and he needed the feel of her body to know she was with him again. After a moment, his embrace loosened. His hands slid up and down her back.
Tyler wished he would hike up her robe and nightgown so she could feel his hands on her bare skin. But he patted her rump, and eased away.
Tyler untied her cloth belt. She parted her robe. She took him by the wrists and lifted his hands to her breasts. His hands were warm through the filmy nightgown. Her breath trembled as he caressed and gently squeezed. Then he shut the robe. Gripping its lapels, he pulled her forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth. He smiled. “You trying to seduce me?” he asked.