The Midnight Tour

clothes. He’d been stunned to discover, when she pulled off her T-shirt, that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Ah, look at them titties,” John had said, inspecting her through his telephoto lens.

Owen had resisted an urge to hit him. He’d learned his lesson about that sort of thing. Besides, a blow might’ve jiggled the camera and ruined a shot.

The camera had clicked and buzzed again and again as Dana drew the T-shirt over her head, dropped it, and stepped down into the spa.

Then John had said, “Show’s over. Ready to go?”

“No way.”

“What, you don’t want to leave? I thought you couldn’t wait.”

“Blow it out you ass, Cromwell.”

“Think maybe they’ll have an orgy?”

“Shhh.”

“A three-way babe orgy.”

“Shut up.”

“How’d you like to get in the middle of that?”

The mere thought of it excited Owen. “Just shut up, okay? You want them to hear you?”

“They can’t hear shit...those bubbles and everything.”

“Maybe. But I’m not so sure we’re the only ones over here.”

“What, your phantom cougher?”

“It sure sounded like a cough.”

“Why don’t you go investigate, offer him a lozenge?”

“I haven’t got a lozenge.”

“What’re they gonna do, just sit in there and drink all night? Come on, babes, let’s have some action.”

“Would you please be quiet?”

Not long after that, the beautiful stranger had climbed out of the spa.

“Oh man, oh man,” John had murmured, his camera clicking and buzzing.

“Oh shit,” Owen had said. “She’s getting the guns! She beard you, you asshole!”

“Take it easy.”

Then Dana had stood up and climbed out, followed by Lynn.

“Oh man,” John had said, snapping shots rapid-fire, “look at Lynn, look at Lynn. Oh man, she shaves it!”

I see, I see!

“We’ve died and gone to heaven, man!”

Except that Dana, down on one knee, had just pulled a pistol out of her purse. And Eve had just handed the giant silver revolver to Lynn.

And then they were all together, coming around the pool like a bizarre version of the Earps on their way to the O.K. Corral.

Side by side, Owen and John kept crawling backward. Owen watched for the legs of the women.

“I meant to bring a flashlight,” he heard one of them say. Her voice came from the left and sounded as if she was still down by the deep end.

“Want me to run in the house and get one?” He recognized Lynn’s voice.

“No, don’t bother. Let’s get this over with.”

“What was that?” Dana asked.

Bowels going cold, Owen stopped crawling. John stopped, too.

“Did you hear something?” the stranger asked.

“I thought I did. In there.”

“What?” Lynn asked.

“Like leaves.”

“Probably just the wind,” Lynn said.

“Maybe.”

“I’m a police officer,” the stranger said suddenly in a loud, hard voice that made Owen flinch. “Come out of the bushes. We know you’re in there. Come out slowly with your bands over your bead.”

Owen turned his head. John, on hands and knees, seemed to be looking at him.

Softly, Owen went, “Shhh.”

“I’ll give you five seconds. Then I’m coming in after you. If you make me do that, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Owen counted slowly to five, then to ten.

“Here I come, ” she announced.

“You’re not really...?” Lynn’s voice.

“You two wait here. Keep your weapons ready, but try not to shoot me.”

“If you go in, I go in,” Diana said.

“Me, too,” said Lynn. “All for one...”

John suddenly whispered, “Let’s get the fuck outa here.”

They resumed crawling backward.

Fast.

For a few seconds, Owen heard talk about getting scratched by the bushes.

Then the stranger announced in a, loud voice, “Here we come, ready or not.”

Chapter Forty-three

HERE THEY COME

Scurrying backward, Owen heard something shaking the bushes to his left.

The gals?

No. They were tromping through the foliage in the same direction, but farther away.

It’s that other guy.

No longer trapped in the thick shrubbery, Owen turned himself around, scrambled to his feet and dashed into the woods.

John ran close behind him. They were both gasping for air. Their shoes pounded the ground, crunching the undergrowth and snapping twigs

The woods were awfully dark. Owen could see nothing except dim shapes of gray and black and a few pale speckles of moonlight.

He was risking a bad fall. Or a collision with a tree.

But at least he was putting distance between himself and the heavily armed women.

As the ground began to slope downward, he slowed his pace slightly.

They won’t follow us this far, he thought.

Still running, he glanced over his shoulder.

Nothing back there except a dark, wooded hillside.

We left ’em in the dust.

Hell, they probably never did more than take a little stroll through the shrubs.

If we give them a few more minutes, he thought, they’ll be back in the water.

How about going back for a return visit?

Not a good idea. That’d really be pushing our luck.

Better not mention it to John. He’ll have us going back there for sure.

John?

Slowing down to an easy jog, Owen again looked behind him.

He saw the dark, wooded slope, but he didn’t see John.

Or hear him.