The Stake

He found her in the living room, sitting on the sofa near Hal, saying, “I know the whole thing sounds crazy, but...” She looked up at Larry.

“Lane’s feeling worse. She might not make it out for dinner.”

Jean scowled. “I’d better go see her. Larry, why don’t you get Hal another drink?”

* * *

Her mother shut the door when she left the room. A few minutes later Lane heard the doorbell. That would be Pete and Barbara arriving.

She heard faint, cheerful voices. Some laughter.

It all seemed too weird to be real: the group drinking and eating and having a merry old time while they prepared to conclude their business with the “vampire,” never suspecting they had a realmonster in their midst.

The Devil hath the power to assume a pleasing shape.

Kramer hath a pleasing shape, all right.

God, if only they knew what he was really like.

Lane imagined herself getting out of bed and going into the living room. “Hey, guess what Kramer did to me.” Then he gets out his “sharp friend” and has at them all. Maybe Dad and Pete could nail him, but he was sure to cut someone.

She pictured the straight razor slashing a quick gash across her father’s throat.

I’m not going to risk Mom and Dad, she thought. Better to let him keep on messing with me than...

Lane suddenly realized how vulnerable she was, lying in bed with nothing on but her nightshirt, and Kramer in the house.

They’re probably all drinking. Kramer says, “Mind if I use the facilities?” Somebody points out that the John is just at the end of the hall. Of course, nobody escorts him. He excuses himself from the group and comes straight to my room for another round of threats and feelies.

Lane climbed out of bed. She turned on the lamp. At her dresser she took panties from a drawer and put them on. Though flimsy, the snug fabric felt shielding. She pulled off her nightshirt and stuffed it into a drawer. Shivering, she slipped into a bra. As she fastened its hooks, she remembered the times she’d gone to school without one, hoping to attract Kramer’s attention.

You attracted it, all right.

Had nothing to do with that, she reminded herself. Kramer picked me before I started anything.

For additional protection Lane put on a T-shirt. At the closet she took a pair of thick corduroy pants off a hanger. She stretched the T-shirt down to her thighs, drew the pants up over its tails, and fastened the waist button and closed the zipper. Now, to get at her skin, Kramer would have to yank the shirt up out of her pants. She slipped a belt through the loops and cinched it tight. Then she put on her big, plaid shirt. She buttoned its front but didn’t tuck it in.

She glanced at herself in the mirror.

Not exactly armor, but a lot better than the nightshirt. If Kramer paid another visit, he would have a tough time finding any bare skin below her neck.

Lane climbed into bed. She pulled the top sheet and blanket up to her chin. It felt strange to be completely dressed beneath the covers. Not only strange, but hot.

Better a little discomfort, she thought, than to let that slimy bastard put his hands on me again.

She listened for his footsteps. She knewhe would come.

Suppose he comes, and I’ve got Dad’s gun under the covers and I blow him away? They’ll find the razor on his body.

Lane’s heart began hammering as she thought about it.

I’ll get it.

She climbed out of bed. When she eased the door open, voices and laughter flooded in. They’re having one hell of a party, she thought.

The hallway was clear.

She rushed to her parents’ room. Leaving the light off, she made her way toward the closet where Dad kept his revolver.

In the dim glow from the hallway, she saw the telephone on the nightstand.

And felt a rush of relief.

She turned on the bedside lamp, phoned directory assistance, and got the number for Melanie Benson. She tapped out the number.

As she listened to the quiet ringing, she watched the door. “Come on, come on,” she muttered.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up.

“Yeah?” Riley, sounding annoyed by the interruption.

“It’s me, Lane.”

“All right! What’s up?”

“Kramer’s here. He’s at my house.”

“No shit?”

“He’s having dinnerwith us, for godsake.”

“What the hell?..”

“Never mind. Look, he’s probably going to be here for a couple more hours. I can’t get away, but... I don’t know, I just thought I oughta let you know. He’ll probably be going back to his house afterward, you know? Maybe you want to be waiting for him.”

“Fuckin‘-A.”

“What do you think?”

“Fucker’s gonna be in for the surprise of his life. The lastsurprise of his life.”

“Be careful, okay? He carries that razor with him.”

When they autopsy the fucker, they’ll find it up his ass.

“Good luck, Riley.”

“Yeah, sure. See you around, Lane.” He hung up

Lane cradled the telephone. She rubbed her sweaty hands on the legs of her corduroys, turned off the lamp and hurried to the bathroom. She locked herself in

Sitting on the toilet, she hugged her belly and hunched over and tried to stop shaking.

Forty-six

“Well, here she is,” Pete announced, lifting his cocktail as if toasting Lane as she came into the living room.

“Can’t keep a good woman down,” Hal said.

Larry felt a surge of relief, but it was mixed with apprehension. “Feeling better, honey?” he asked.

“A lot better.”

“That’s terrific.”

“The gang’s all here,” Barbara said.

Now I can relax, Larry told himself. While everyone else had been drinking and munching snacks and apparently having a good time, he’d been drinking and worrying about Lane.

But she must be okay. Thank God.

In a way, though, he’d been comforted by the knowledge that she would be staying in her bedroom away from the action when it came time to pull the stake.