“I had a kitty named Celia. Celia had beautiful green eyes. What color are Clew’s eyes?”
“Blue.”
“Would you let me pet her?”
“Well…”
“I’m feeling awfully sad, ‘cause my kitty, Celia, got run over yesterday.”
The girl’s face clouded. “Did she get killed?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Was she all mooshed?”
“Yeah. It was awful.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d let me pet Clew. Just for a second, okay?”
“Well…”
“Please? Pretty please with sugar?”
She shrugged her small shoulders.
Oh, beautiful and young and tender.
Roland pulsed with need.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jake, driving his patrol car along the streets of Clinton, felt helpless. This was getting him nowhere.
Earlier, he had taken the vodka bottle to headquarters, dusted it for prints, lifted some good latents with cellophane tape and fixed them onto a labeled card. He had then spent a while comparing the prints with those of juveniles and the few college students in the department’s files. He had expected no match, and he had found none.
Nothing to do, then, except spin his wheels and wait. Either the creature and its human host had gone off seeking greener pastures in a different jurisdiction, or they were still in the area and would strike again. So it came down to waiting for a missing person report, or for a body to be found.
By then, it would be too late for someone.
But we might get lucky.
Jake hated the waiting. He wanted to
Where do you start when you’ve got nothing to go on?
The Oakwood Inn.
In spite of the warmth inside his patrol car, Jake felt a chill on the back of his neck.
No reason to go back out there, he told himself once again. You searched the place thoroughly yesterday.
The thing left its eggs.
Yeah, but…
Yeah, but…yeah, but. Face it, Corey, you know you ought to be out there, should’ve probably been there all last night staking the place out, you just let Barney talk you out of it because you’re scared shitless of going back.
There’s nothing to
Sure, keep telling yourself that. You’re doing nothing now but wasting time. The thing left its eggs in that place. Maybe it’ll go back to them.
I don’t
That’s no excuse, he told himself. The thing isn’t slithering around, it’s in someone. Probably.
There’s no point. It won’t be there.
If it won’t be there, what’re you scared of?
Even as Jake argued with himself, he was circling the block. He returned to Central Avenue, turned left, and headed in the direction of Latham Road.
Okay, he thought, I’ll check the place. Won’t accomplish anything, but at least I’ll have done it and I can stop condemning myself.
He started to drive past the campus. A lot of students were out: some strolled the walkways; others sat on benches beneath the trees, reading or talking; a couple of guys were tossing a Frisbee around; quite a few coeds were sprawled on blankets or towels, sunbathing in bikinis and other skimpy outfits.
Jake pulled to the curb and stopped.
Hardly a back among the whole bunch, males and females alike, that wasn’t bare.
Through the broad gap between Bennet Hall and Langley Hall, he could see into the campus quad area. Even more students were gathered there—most of the men shirtless, nearly all of the women in swimming outfits or halter tops.
Jake considered leaving his car and wandering among the students. Sure thing, he thought. In uniform.
Go home and change into your swimming trunks. Then you could blend in, check them out, ask a few questions.
It didn’t seem like a bad idea.
Anything to avoid going out to the Oakwood?
Whoever has the telltale bulge up his (or her) spine won’t be showing it off. Maybe not, but that narrows the field. He’ll be one of the few wearing a shirt.
If he’s out here at all.
You’d have nothing to lose by conducting a little field investigation.
You’re procrastinating. Move it.
Jake sighed, checked his side mirror, then swung away from the curb.
I’ll come back in my trunks, he decided, as soon as I’ve checked out the damn restaurant. Nothing better to do, and who knows? I might learn something.
When he turned onto Latham Road, he began to tremble. His heart quickened. The steering wheel became slick in his sweaty grip.
He wished Chuck was with him. Some company would be nice, and his partner’s banter always had a way of keeping the mood from getting too heavy. Barney shouldn’t have reassigned Chuck. What difference would it make, anyway, if one more person knew what was going down?
Why the hell can’t
Calm down.
Try to think about something pleasant. Like what? Like Kimmy. And how you were cheated out of being with her yesterday? Great. Pleasant thoughts. You had to work yesterday, anyway.
After today, you only have to go four days and then it’ll be Friday and she’ll be with you. Four days. Seemed like forever. And what if all this crap is still going on?
We’re letting it all out of the bag on Tuesday. After that, it won’t be on my shoulders anymore. Anything still going on by Friday, someone else can handle it.
Jake glanced to the right as he drove past Cardiff Lane. On the way back, maybe he would make a detour past the house. Not much chance of seeing her, though. If she was outside, she’d be in the backyard behind the redwood fence.
Maybe I could drop in. Barbara hates surprise visits, but she shouldn’t begrudge me this one. After all, I gave up my rightful time yesterday so Kimmy could be there for her birthday.
Maybe give Kimmy a ride. Not much traffic along here. Let her turn on the siren and lights. She’d love that. Tell her, “Don’t turn on that siren.” She’d get that look on her face and reach for the switch.
Jake’s smile and good feelings faded as he spotted the sign for the Oakwood Inn. He turned onto the narrow road. Kimmy, he thought, would like this road with its rises and dips. If he took it fast, the car would drop out from under them after each crest and she’d get “fluffies.” This was one road, however, that he would never take her on. Not a chance.
