The Midnight Tour

“I’ll call and let you know. Or I’ll drop by.”

“What if I’m not here?”

She grinned. “Then you might miss me.”

“I’m usually home during the day. I work the graveyard shift. Wednesdays and Thursdays off. And I’ve got an answering machine, so if you call in advance...”

“I’ll try not to miss you,” Sandy said. Then she scooted back her chair and stood up.

Terry got to his feet and pulled out his wallet. He searched it, frowning, then came up with a business card. “Need a pen. I’ll write my home phone number on the back.” He returned the wallet to his pocket, then turned around and reached for the sliding door. “This’ll just take me a second. Want to come in?”

“I’ll wait for you here.”

He rolled open the door and stepped inside. While he was away, Sandy ate a few more potato chips. Then she drank the melted ice water at the bottom of her glass.

Terry came out and handed the card to her. “My home number’s on the back.”

“Thanks.” She slipped it into a rear pocket of her jeans. “I’d better get going.”

Terry stepped toward the open door.

“I think I’ll go around the side.”

“This way’s shorter,” he pointed out.

“But it might take longer. You might decide to show me your bedroom and you might talk me into testing the bed.” Smiling, she shook her head. “No telling what might happen after that. And whatever does, it might take hours.”

“Whoa! Jeez!”

“And I’ve already been gone too long. So I’ll go this way.”

She picked up her shoes and walked toward the porch stairs.

“I’ll come with you.” He hurried down the stairs after Sandy. At the bottom, he caught up to her and took her hand. As they walked past the rear of the carport, he said, “Maybe we can get together longer next time. Maybe have a picnic on the beach or something. Maybe go in for a swim.”

“We’ll do something,” she said.

“It’s a pretty nice beach.”

“You’re a pretty nice guy.” She freed her hand, then slipped her arm across his back, low against the warm bare skin above his shorts. As she curled her hand against his side, he put his arm on her back. She felt his hand against her shoulder blade.

When they came around the front of the carport, she stopped to put on her shoes. Terry held her steady. Then she turned to him.

She was tall enough to look him straight in the eyes.

He gazed into her eyes for a long time as if he couldn’t get enough of them. And she gazed into his, wondering and hoping.

Finally, Sandy said, “I’ve gotta get going. Thanks for the drink and everything.”

“My time. Day or night. Feel free to...”

She darted forward, kissed him fast on the lips, then whirled around and hurried to her pickup truck. She was inside it with the door shut by the time Terry got to her.

He looked at her through the open window. “I’m going to miss you,” he said.

“You can’t miss me. We don’t know each other.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good to know.”

“Anyway, you have The Sleeper to keep you company.” She twisted in her seat and leaned toward the open window and Terry’s face was there, sad as if she were already gone, but his mouth found her lips and kissed them with gentleness and longing and silent need.

When it was over, she backed her truck down his driveway to the road. She waved good-bye and he returned the wave and stayed there by the driveway, watching while she drove away.

Oh, God, she thought, I miss him already.

I can’t miss him. We don’t even know each other.

She had a strong urge to turn the truck around and go back.

Why not? Why the hell not? Eric’s probably romping around the woods, doesn’t even know or care that I’m not back yet.

But she kept on driving, heading for home.

Like a good little mommy.

Leaving behind the one and only man she’d ever felt this way about.

Felt what way?

What is it, love?

“I can’t be in love with him,” Sandy whispered. “I don’t even know him.”

I could remedy that.

She imagined herself making a U-turn and speeding back to his cottage.

She didn’t do it, though.

I’ll see him again soon enough, she told herself. Shouldn’t go rushing into anything. God knows, I’ve waited this long for a guy, I can wait two more weeks.

Chapter Thirty-four

BIG JOHN

“Man, you really missed out,” John said as Owen walked toward him. The big guy was standing on the sidewalk not far from the ticket booth, grinning and shaking his head. “Where were you, anyhow?”

“Taking a look around town. I checked out the museum.”

“Did that yesterday. Cool stuff in there, huh?”

“Yeah. But I’d always wanted to meet Janice Crogan. She owns it, you know.”

“Hey, what doesn’t she own in this town?”

“Anyway, I found a photography place that develops film in an hour. It’s just up the road a couple of blocks.” He glanced toward the ticket booth. Rhonda was behind the window, and Sharon was busy outfitting a family of five with tape players. “Let’s walk,” Owen said.

They headed north on Front Street.

“Did you get the pictures?” he asked.

“Ohhhh, yeah.”

“Dana, right?”

John grinned. “Got a whole bunch of Dana and some more of Lynn, too. But then you wouldn’t believe what happened. Really too bad you missed it, man. Wow.”

“You gonna tell me?”

“Sure. Why not? What are buddies for, huh?”

Buddies?

Oh, great, he thinks I’m his buddy.

“Okay. Here’s the thing. So I’m upstairs. I get our luscious sweet-hearts to pose for me, you know, and then I’m still hanging around and all hell breaks loose. Some little asshole gets away from his mom and she’s like ‘Oh my God, he’s been kidnapped! I’ll never see him alive again!’ Lynn, she’s gone by then. So it’s all up to Dana, you know? She goes running up the hall to see what’s wrong. You oughta see her run, man. She’s got these tits on her, and...”

“Hey.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. But she does. You oughta see ’em when she runs.”

“Cut it out!”

John laughed. “Anyway...So then there’s this girl, she saw the missing brat hightail it up the attic stairs.”

“He wasn’t kidnapped after all, huh?”