“Now,” he said, “we’ll go over to your place and wait for him.”
“What about Sandy?”
“Her, too.”
“Does she have to? I’d rather…I don’t want her to see him, if it’s possible.”
“Here’s the problem. He doesn’t seem to be around right now, but he might be. I could’ve missed him. If he’s watching, he’ll know we’ve left Sandy in 12. He might try for her.”
“Suppose she’s with us,” Donna said, “and Roy comes and somehow he…gets by you. Then he’s got Sandy. If we leave her with Larry and that happens, she’ll still be all right.”
“Whichever way you want it.”
“Do you think he’ll know, if we leave her in 12?”
“He might,” Jud admitted.
“But there’s a good chance he won’t?”
“I’d say so.”
“Okay. Let’s leave her in 12 with Larry.”
“Fine.”
He instructed Larry to stay inside, to keep the door locked and the curtains pulled, and, at the first sign of trouble, to fire a signal shot and lock himself and Sandy in the bathroom. Low in the tub, they should be be safe from bullets. Jud would come running. He’d be there five seconds after the first shot.
“Perhaps,” Larry said, “I can pot the bugger with my signal shot.”
“If he gives you a clean shot, take it. But don’t hang around waiting. You’ll be fairly safe once you’re in the tub with the bathroom door locked.”
Jud left him the rifle. He picked up Lilly Thorn’s diary. Then he and Donna crossed the shadowy parking area to Cabin 9.
He went in first, and searched it. When Donna was in, he locked the door and made sure the window curtains were completely shut. He turned on the lamp on the nightstand between the two beds.
“Where do you want me?” Donna asked.
“I’ll be on the floor here between the beds, so I’m out of sight. You might as well take one of the beds. Maybe this would be best,” he said, patting the one farthest from the door.
“Looks good to me. What’ll we do while we wait?”
“You can watch TV, if you want. Doesn’t matter. I want to see what Lilly’s got to say.”
“Can’t I?”
“Sure.”
“Why don’t I read it to you?”
“All right.” He smiled. He liked that idea. He liked it a lot.
Donna took off her sneakers. Her socks were white. Her feet looked very small to Jud. He watched her climb onto the bed and sit upright, bracing her back against the headboard.
He sat down on the floor between the beds. With a spare pillow, he padded the front of the nightstand, and leaned back. He placed his Colt .45 automatic on the floor beside him.
“All set?” Donna asked.
“All set.”
“ ‘My Diary,’ ” she began to read. “ ‘Being a True Account of My Life and Most Private Affairs.’ ” 2.
“ ‘January 1,’ ” she read. “I guess this whole thing’s 1903. ‘This being the first day of the new year, I devoted myself to solemn meditation. I gave proper thanks to the Lord for his bounty in providing me two fine boys, and the wherewithal to meet our needs. I asked Him to forgive my transgressions, but most of all to look kindly upon my dear Lyle, who had a fine noble heart and strayed from the path of righteousness only because he loved his family to a fault.’”
“He was a bank robber,” Jud said.
“But he had a noble heart.”
“Maybe you can skip some of this.”
“And get to the good part?” She slowly flipped the pages, scanning them. “Oh, here’s something. ‘February 12. I was sick at heart, today. The Lord continued to remind us that we are outcasts in this town. Several of the local youngsters attacked Earl and Sam as they were returning from school. The cowards wounded my boys with stones, then fell upon them, further bludgeoning them with fisticuffs and sticks. I know not the reason for their cruelty, only that its source lies in the reputation of the boys’ father.’ ”
Donna turned more pages. “Looks like she went around town for a few days, telling the parents what their kids had done. They were polite to her, but cold. She no sooner got done making the rounds than her boys got beaten up again. One had a bad knock on the head, so she went to a Dr. Ross. ‘Dr. Ross is a kindly, cheerful man of fortyodd years. He appears to bear no grudge against myself or the children because of our kinship to Lyle. On the contrary, he looks upon us with the kindliest eyes I have seen in many months. He assured me that I need not fear for Earl’s condition. I invited him to take tea, and we delighted in one another’s company for the better part of an hour.’”
Jud listened to the whisper of turning pages.
“Looks like she’s seeing Dr. Ross almost every day. She’s started calling him Glen. ‘April 14. Glen and I took a picnic basket to the hilltop behind the house. Much to my surprise and delight, he produced from his medicine case a bottle of the finest French Burgundy. We enjoyed ourselves marvelously, feasting upon chicken and wine, and upon each other’s company. As the day progressed, our passion rose. I was hard put to restrain the man. Though he kissed me with an ardor that stole my breath away, I allowed him no further liberties.’ ”
Donna stopped reading. She looked down at Jud, smiled, and sat down beside him on the floor. “I’ll allow you the liberty of a kiss,” she said.
He kissed her gently, and she pressed her mouth to his as if hungry for the taste of it. When he put a hand on her breast, she pushed it away.
“Back to Lilly,” she said.
Jud watched her skim the pages. She was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, the book propped against her upraised knees. The soft downy hair on her cheek looked golden in the lamplight. The closeness and smell of her excited Jud so he stopped caring much about Lilly Thorn.
“She doesn’t get very specific, but I think she’s well beyond the kissing stage, at this point. She’s hardly writing about anything, now, except Glen.”
“Mmmm.” Jud put a hand on Donna’s leg, feeling the heat of her thigh through the corduroy.
“Ah-ha! ‘May 2. Last night, long after the children were abed, I stole outside at the appointed hour and met Glen in the gazebo. After many protestations of love, he asked for my hand in marriage. I accepted his offer without hesitation, and he joyously clutched me to his bosom. Through much of the night, we embraced and planned our future. At length, the chill became too great for us. We stole into the parlor. There, on the couch, we held one another tenderly, blessed by the fullness of the moment.’ ”
Donna shut the diary, keeping place with her forefinger. “You know,” she said, “it makes me feel kind of…dirty, reading this. Like a peeping Tom, or something. It’s so private.”
“It might tell us who killed her family.”
“It might. I’ll go on with it. Only…I don’t know.” She lowered her head and began turning the pages. “They’ve set a date for the wedding. July 25.”
Jud put his arm across her shoulders.
“ ‘May 8. We held another rendezvous in the gazebo, last night, meeting at the stroke of one. Glen had the presence of mind to bring a comforter. With the chill of night vanquished, our ardor burst upon us without restraint. We were caught as in a tide. Powerless to resist its pull, we allowed the tide to buoy us upon its bosom and sweep us into blissful delight such as I have never known.’ I guess,” Donna said, “that means they screwed.”
“Christ, I thought their raft had capsized.”
Laughing, Donna pounded his leg. “You’re awful.” She faced him, and he kissed her. “Awful,” she said into his mouth.
He brushed his fingertips along the smooth skin of her cheek, traced the outline of her jaw and throat. She put the book down. Turning so a breast pushed against Jud’s side, she plucked at his shirt, unbuttoning it. Then she slid her hand beneath it, stroking his belly and chest.