“The gal got her head blown off, right?” Dana said. “Does that mean her ghost won’t have a head?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I thought you were supposed to be an expert.”
Dana saw no more houses ahead. On both sides of the road were fields, barren except for scattered trees. “Where
“We’re almost there.”
“Seems like a queer place for a restaurant, this far out.”
“The turnoff’s around the next bend. You’ll want to go right.”
“I don’t know much about these things,” Dana said, “but I’d bet the babe’s ghost is missing its noggin. Just a guess, you understand.”
“You’d better slow down.”
There were headlights near the crest of the hill far ahead. Her rearview mirror was dark. She eased down on the brake but couldn’t see the side road. “Where?”
Roland pointed.
It was a narrow low space that looked more like a driveway than a road.
Dana slowed almost to a stop. As she turned, the VW’s headlights swept across a large, dark, wood sign. She tried to read the sign’s carved words, but they were a blur through the water streaked and splattered on her windshield. The wipers beating back and forth were no help—just another distraction. The headlights left the sign. Squinting, Dana saw the falling rain, the slick trails her head beams made on the pavement, and land rising on both sides of the road.
“Have you got the money?” Roland asked.
“In my purse.” She grinned at him. “Not that you’ll be getting it.”
“I’ll get it, all right.”
“I’d be surprised if you last ten minutes.”
“You’re going to come in at dawn, right?”
“Wrong. We’ll both be back in town snug in our beds before midnight.”
“I mean, just assuming I don’t chicken out. Which I won’t. You’ll come in at dawn?”
“Just come out.”
“You want to see inside the place, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Well, come in anyway.”
“Forget you.”
The sides of the road were gone, and Dana realized she had entered the parking area. She kept driving straight ahead. At first, she couldn’t see the restaurant. Then the head beams found its stairs, porch, and door. The pale band of a police line ribbon was stretched across the porch posts at the top of the stairs. The door was crosshatched with boards.
Dana stopped directly in front of the stairs and killed the headlights. “Whoops,” she said. “Where’d the restaurant go?”
“How am I supposed to get in?”
Dana bent over, head against the steering wheel, and reached down between her knees. Her fingertips combed the gritty floor mat until they found the pry bar. She picked it up and gave it to Roland.
“You thought of everything,” he muttered.
Twisting around, Dana knelt on her seat and got the camera out of the back. “Take some good ones,” she said. “Especially of the gal. No head. Should be nifty.”
Roland put the camera into his pack. Leaning forward, he swung the pack behind him and struggled into its shoulder straps. He hugged the sleeping bag against his side and gripped the pry bar. “How about turning on the headlights till I’m inside?” he asked.
“Why not.” The lights tunneled into the darkness. “Have fun.”
“You’ll come in for me at dawn,” he said. It was not a request.
“I’m not going inside that place.”
“I think you will.” He opened the door and climbed out. Standing in the rain, he leaned inside. “I’ve got the pictures with me.”
“Give them here,” Dana snapped.
“You may have them in the morning. If you
“You shit!”
He slammed the door.
When he was in front of the car, Dana blasted the horn and he jumped. He turned around. Glared at her. Then curled his lip above his crooked teeth and turned away. At the top of the stairs, he broke the police ribbon and stepped to the door. He started to pry the boards off.
Dana, furious, watched him. Her heart was beating fast, her breath hissing through her nostrils. She saw herself rush up behind Roland and slam his head against the door until he was senseless. Then she would search him and find the pictures.
But she didn’t move.
Her luck, the creep would probably hear her coming.
In her mind, she saw Roland whirl around and lay open her head with the bar.
She wouldn’t put it past him.
He’s a fucking wimp, she thought, but he’s not exactly stable.
She saw him drag her body into the restaurant.
The thoughts began to frighten her.
Roland got the door open. He lifted his sleeping bag off the porch, glanced back at Dana, then went inside. The door swung shut.
Dana shut off the headlights.
Leaning across the seat, she locked the passenger door.
She reached for the ignition key, intending to turn the engine off. But she changed her mind, shifted to reverse, and slowly backed the car away. She considered leaving. It would serve the shit right, getting stranded out here. If he realized she was gone, however, he might decide to spread out his sleeping bag on the porch. He had to spend the night inside. That was the bet. That was the punishment, the price he had to pay for being such an asshole.
And for looking at the pictures.
He has them
Dana, suddenly realizing she might be dangerously close to the rear of the parking area, hit her brakes. The car jolted to a stop. She set the emergency brake and killed the engine.
When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found that she could see the restaurant. It was about fifty years ahead of her, a low dark shape the width of the parking lot, black beneath its hooded porch.
It looked forbidding.
And Roland was inside.
Dana smiled. “You’ll have a
When Roland closed the restaurant door, he stood motionless and scanned the darkness. He could see nothing. He heard only his own heartbeat and quick breaths and the sounds of the rain.
There’s nothing to be afraid of, he told himself.
His body seemed to believe otherwise.
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to drop the sleeping bag, take off his pack, and get his hands on the flashlight. But he couldn’t move.
Go ahead and do it.
He was sure it would be all right, but part of him knew with absolute certainty that something was hunched silent in the dark nearby. Aware of his presence. Waiting. If he made the slightest move, it would come for him.
