The Midnight Tour

Chapter One

SANDY’S STORY—August, 1980

“Ow!” Sandy said. “Watch it with those teeth, buster. There. There, that’s better. Little monkey. Are you my little monkey? Huh, are you?”

Through the open window behind her, she suddenly heard footfalls crunching the forest mat of pine needles and twigs near her trailer home.

Fear knocked her breath out.

Eric stopped sucking, as if he sensed her alarm. He let go of her nipple, tipped back his head and looked up at her face.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

Eric made a tiny whimper of concern.

“Shhhh.” Turning her head, Sandy looked over her shoulder.

The curtains behind her were shut. She kept them that way most of the time, even though her trailer was hidden away in a clearing and strangers rarely stumbled upon it.

You just never knew.

Watching the curtains, she could see the gloom of dusk through the thin yellow fabric. But she saw no movement, no trace of the intruder.

At least be can’t see us, either.

She wondered how she knew it was a man.

Maybe because of the heavy, sure sound of the footsteps.

He had already walked past the area directly behind her window. He kept going, and the crunching sounds faded a little.

Maybe he’s leaving.

More likely, though, he was circling the trailer—heading for the side with the door.

Just go away! Whoever you are, get out of here!

For a few seconds, she couldn’t hear him walking anymore.

Eric took her nipple into his mouth and resumed sucking.

Then the intruder climbed the stairs. The wood creaked and groaned.

Sandy turned her head and gazed at the door. It was directly across the narrow room from where she sat. It had no window.

Did I lock it?

I always lock it.

But did I?

She’d been awfully upset when she came in—hardly able to think straight.

I must’ve locked it.

No sound came from the other side of the door.

Sandy heard her heart pounding hard. And she heard the quiet suck and slurp of Eric at her breast.

The intruder knocked on the door.

Sandy flinched and Eric nipped her.

“Who is it?”

“Marlon Slade.” The voice was rich and deep like Darth Vader. “We met this morning.”

“I know that.”

“I’d like to speak with you for a moment, Miss Blume.”

“What about?”

“May I please come in?”

“I don’t think so. My dad’ll be getting home from work any minute. He doesn’t like me to have company when he isn’t here.”

“Miss Blume, the mosquitos are eating me alive. Please let me in.”

“Can’t. I can hear you just fine through the door.”

The knob rattled. The sound sent a cold wash of panic through Sandy. “Hey!” she shouted, springing to her feet. “Don’t do that!”

The door stayed shut.

She had locked it.

“I’d rather not discuss this through a door.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“If you don’t think so, I’ll wait out here and speak with your father. I’m sure he’ll be interested in the offer, even if you’re not.”

Standing in the middle of the room with Eric clutched in her arms, she shook her head and said, “I told you I don’t want to be in your movie.”

“Of course you want to be in it. Now, please be a dear and open the door.”

“No, thank you.”

Something thumped hard against it, making it jump.

Making Sandy jump.

Eric turned his head to look at the door.

“Stop that!” Sandy shouted.

Silence.

But no sound of retreat. Marlon Slade was still standing on the top stair in front of her door.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Sandy suggested. “I’ll come down to town, and...”

“No,” he said, just as if he knew she was lying. “Let’s talk about it now. I came all the way up from the road to this godforsaken... trailer. I will not go all the way down until we’ve spoken face to face about the situation.”

“There isn’t any situation.”

“You’re refusing to be in my film. I do not accept your refusal. That, young lady, is a situation. I’d like to discuss it with you face to face, like civilized people. Please! The mosquitos are horrendous out here!”

“Then go away. It’s simple.”

“I tell you what. I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you let me in. Cash. You get it whether or not you agree to be in The Horror. How does that sound?”

“I don’t need your money. I do all right.”

“I’m surprised Miss Kutch pays you anything.”

“I get generous tips.”

“I’m sure you do. You’re a very beautiful young lady.”

Scowling at the door, she said, “I’m a good guide.”

“Five hundred. I’ll give you five hundred dollars in cash if you let me in.”

That was a lot of money, too much to turn down without a very good reason. If all she had to do was let him in and listen to his offer...

What’ve I got to lose?

“Okay. Just wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”

She hurried up the hall to Eric’s small bedroom. Leaning over the bars of his crib, she eased him onto the mattress. Then she lowered the lid, fastened the hasp and padlocked it.

“Now keep still, honey,” she whispered.

On her way out, she slid the door shut.

“I’ll be right there,” she called. She rushed into her own room. The tan shorts and shirt of her guide uniform still lay rumpled on her bed where she’d thrown them. Her underwear and socks had already gone into the clothes hamper, but she hadn’t figured out what to do about her uniform—there would be no more tours of Beast House for weeks, maybe not for a couple of months—so she’d left her uniform on the bed.