The Midnight Tour

Warren set the bottles on the counter, then turned around to face her. “Some kind of peeping Tom?”

That’s one of the possibilities.”

“No wonder you’re worried. Any ideas at all about who it might be?”

She shook her head. “Clyde?”

Laughter burst out of Warren. He looked surprised by it, himself.

Dana started laughing with him. When she stopped, she said, “You don’t think Clyde is a likely suspect?”

“It isn’t that. I wouldn’t put anything past him. It’s just that he’s such a jerk. And he’s the first name out of your mouth.”

“Anyway,” Dana said, “we don’t have any reason to suspect him except for the fact that he is such a jerk. And he’s shown some interest in me at work.”

“I bet he’d love to get his hands on you.”

“He’d better not hold his breath.”

Warren turned away and continued preparing the drinks.

“He isn’t my type,” she said.

“Then you’re the exception. Most women find him irresistable.”

“So I’ve heard. Personally, I find him creepy.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“We don’t really think he’s our prowler, though. He doesn’t seem like the type to sneak around and spy on people.”

“You have to be careful of him, though.”

“Oh, I am. But it’s this prowler who has me worried. I mean, there’s no telling what he might try. And I just know Tuck’s going to...”

“Tuck?” Warren turned around.

Oh, no!

“Lynn.”

“You called her Tuck?”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

A smile spread across Warren’s face. “As in Friar Tuck? Robin Hood and his merry men?”

“As in a lot of stuff. It’s short for Tucker. I’ve always called her Tuck, but she didn’t want me to say it around any of you guys.”

“Why not? I think it’s cute.”

“She used to have trouble with people making fun of it. A lot of trouble. It rhymes with a certain something.”

“That might cause problems.”

“Maybe you could pretend I never said it.”

“I suppose that’s possible. What’ll you give me to keep my mouth shut?”

“What do you want?” Dana asked.

He glanced at her lips.

Here we go again, she thought as her heart quickened its pounding.

“Could I try on your lipstick?” he asked.

NO!!!

She supposed her shock must’ve showed.

Smiling, Warren said, “Plant it on me with your mouth.”

Chapter Thirty-six

SANDY’S STORY—July, 1992

She couldn ’t wait two weeks.

She couldn’t wait two days.

She could barely last overnight, tossing and turning in her bed, her mind in a turmoil, her body feverish as she wondered and hoped and worried.

In the morning, she woke up naked under her twisted sheet.

She was surprised to realize that she must’ve been asleep. Raising her head and looking down at herself, she had to smile.

Just like The Sleeper. But sweaty and messy, skin flushed, creased here and there from wrinkles in the sheets.

Not a pretty sight, she thought. Good thing Terry can’t see me now.

But she suddenly wished that he could. Wished he were here in the room with her right this minute.

I could be at his place in a couple of hours.

The notion shocked her with its urgency.

Why not!

She squirmed and stretched on the bed, then climbed off.

Her nightgown was on the floor. She vaguely remembered sitting up in the middle of the night, breathless and soaked with sweat, pulling the nightgown up over her head and throwing it aside.

She picked it up. It still felt damp.

At the sound of a grunt, she turned her head and saw Eric standing in the bedroom doorway. He smiled and raised a hand.

“Morning there, hotshot,” she said. “I picked up something special for breakfast yesterday. You want to hang around for it? I’ll just be a few minutes. I have to take a shower.”

He nodded. But he stayed in the doorway, staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

With a shrug, he turned around and wandered away.

She tossed her nightgown into the hamper, then headed for the bathroom.

Why did he look at me that way? she wondered.

She glanced down at herself.

Sure, she was naked. But that was nothing new. She often went around without anything on, and Eric himself never wore clothes. It had always been that way. It seemed perfectly natural.

So why did be stare at me like that?

Maybe I do look different, she thought. She entered the bathroom and studied herself in the mirror. Her smoothly tanned skin had a more rosy look than usual. She must’ve picked up a little too much sun yesterday in spite of her sun block. That happened fairly often, but...

Was Eric suspicious?

Maybe he noticed the extra color and didn’t understand how she managed to get it while buying groceries.

Or was it something else?

Could he tell, by looking, that she’d met Terry yesterday and...?

She swept the shower curtain aside and found blood stains in the tub.

“Eric!” she yelled. “Get in here!”

He showed up quickly and offered a nervous smile.

“What’s this?” Sandy pointed into the tub.

Eric groaned.

“How many times have I asked you to clean out the tub after you’re done? Especially after you’ve slaughtered some damn thing?”

Looking miserable, he shrugged.

“I mean, man! Don’t you think it’s high time for you to start cleaning up your own messes? You’re thirteen! I’ve got better things to do than