The Cellar

car. There, he stretched her out lengthwise on the dirt shoulder. Her arms and legs were a little stiff, but he managed to straighten them. With her legs together and her arms flat against her sides, Roy went back to the car.

He drove slowly forward.

Over the top of the black hood, he watched as the car seemed to swallow her.

He stopped and climbed out. He had to get down on his hands and knees to see her in the darkness beneath the car.

A great hiding place.

He pulled Joni out of the backseat. Together, they walked down the footpath to the beach. 4.

The water, cold at first, quickly lost the shock of its chill and felt almost warm to Roy. Joni still stood on the shore. Only the largest waves reached far enough to wash over her feet.

Roy took off his shirt. He scrubbed the cloth with his knuckles, trying to wash it. Waves caught him, lifted him, turned him. When they carried him too far from Joni, he swam closer. He held up his blue shirt and studied it in the sunlight. If blood remained on it, which he didn’t doubt, at least the stains were barely noticeable.

“Come on in, Joni, and wash up.”

She shook her head. She stepped backward, farther from the water, and sat down on the sand.

“You know what happens,” Roy called, “when you don’t do like I say.”

She looked down the beach, where a point of rocks jutted into the water. Breakers smashed against the rocks, splashing white froth high. She looked up the beach. In that direction, the shoreline curved inward and disappeared. “Don’t try it,” Roy yelled, wading forward.

She stood up and walked into the water. It wound around her ankles. She kept moving. A high wave came, wetting her to the waist, sticking the pleated skirt to her skin. She stopped there. The water receded. Bending, she splashed it onto the bloodstains on her blouse. She rubbed the stains. A wave came, knocking her backward. She fell, and the white water swirled over her head.

Roy went to her. He lifted her. He kissed her forehead. Then, wrapping his hand in his shirt, he scrubbed the bloodstains on her blouse. They grew faint, but wouldn’t vanish altogether. Finally he gave up.

He pulled her deeper into the water, and did his best to wash the blood from her hair. Whenever he touched the sensitive wound left by the knife’s hilt, she jerked her head away. Finally her hair was clean enough to suit him. He led her out of the water.

On the beach, he removed her blouse and skirt. He spread them on the sand to dry. Then he took off his own clothes, and spread them next to hers.

They sat down on the sand. It was hot under Roy, almost burning.

“Try to sleep,” he said.

Joni lay back and shut her eyes.

Roy looked at her. Water made tiny points of her eyelashes. Her skin was lightly tanned, except where a two-piece bathing suit had left it pale. Just like a little lady.

Beads of water rolled down her skin, glinting sunlight. He wished he had oil. Suntan oil, or baby oil. He would rub her all over with it. Her skin would be slick and hot.

He lay on his side, and propped himself up on an elbow to look at her. Her eyelids fluttered. She was only pretending to sleep, of course.

She opened her eyes when he touched her.

She turned her head and stared at him. He wondered, briefly, if she looked so sad because of what happened to her parents, or because of what he’d been doing to her.

Not that he gave a shit.

Inching closer, he kissed her on the mouth. His hand began moving down her sun-hot skin.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 1.

“We oughtta be getting it in today, lady. That’s all I can tell you. When we get it in, I’ll install it.”

“Do you think the car will be ready today?” Donna asked.

“Like I say, depends when the radiator gets here.”

“How late are you open?” she asked.

“Till nine.”

“Can I pick up my car, then?”

“If it’s done. Stu’ll let you take it. I go off at five, though. Stu’s no mechanic. If it doesn’t get done by five, it doesn’t get done till tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

She found Sandy nearby, eying a vending machine. “Can I get some potato chips?” the girl asked.

“Well…”

“Please? I’m starving.”

“We’ll eat pretty soon. Why don’t you wait, and have potato chips with your meal?”

“Where can we eat around here?” she asked, leaving the machine behind.

“I’m not sure,” Donna admitted.

“Not that place we went yesterday. It was so gross.”

“Let’s try this way.” They started walking south on Front Street.

“When’s the car gonna be ready?”

“Who knows?”

“Huh?” Sandy wrinkled her nose. When she unwrinkled it, her huge sunglasses slipped forward. She shoved them into place with a forefinger.

“The guy at the station wasn’t up to telling me when it’ll be ready. But I have a feeling we’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“If Dad doesn’t get us first.”

The mention of him jolted Donna. Somehow, after meeting Jud, fears of her ex-husband had been pushed into a dark corner of her mind and forgotten. “He doesn’t know where we are.”

“Aunt Karen does.”

“Tell you what, let’s give Aunt Karen a call.” Looking around, she saw a phone booth at the corner of the Chevron station they had just left. They backtracked to it. “How much are the potato chips?”

“Thirty-five cents.”

She handed Sandy a dollar bill. “You’ll have to get change from the man.”

“You want anything?”

“No thanks. But you go ahead.”

She watched her daughter leave, then she stepped into the telephone booth. Her coins rang inside the machine. She dialed Operator, and asked for the call to be charged to her home phone. When the call went through, she heard the ringing of her sister’s phone. It was picked up after the second ring. Donna waited for Karen’s voice. She heard only silence.

“Hello?” she finally asked.

“So.”

“Bob?” she asked, though the voice didn’t sound much like his. “Bob, is that you?”

“Who is this, please?”

“Who is this?”

“Sergeant Morris Woo, Santa Monica Police Department.”

“Oh my God.”

“So. Your business, please, with Mrs. Marston?”

“I was just…she’s my sister. Has something happened to her?”