The Midnight Tour

“My what?” Sandy asked.

“Yer stip. Dat guy ya killed.”

“You want to see him?”

“Sure. Where’s he at?”

“Why don’t we just get going?”

Lib’s puffy eyes narrowed. “How I know ya really got a stip?”

Sandy suddenly understood: Lib needed to see the body, needed to know for certain that she hadn’t lied about killing Slade.

We’ve both got to be killers, That’s what makes us partners.

“Okay,” Sandy said. “You wanta see him, you can see him. Come on.” She lowered Eric into his travel basket, then hurried down the hallway. Lib followed, bottle in hand.

Sandy slid open her bedroom door, flicked the light switch, then stepped back. “Help yourself,” she said. “But be careful not to step in any blood.”

Lib took a step into the room. A moment later, she spotted the body on the floor to her left. Sandy saw her back straighten. Then Lib crouched down. Her head shook slowly from side to side.

“Dis guy’s massacerated.”

“Huh?”

“What’d he do to ya?” ,

“For one thing, he threw Eric across the room. And he tried to rape me.”

“Dis guy’s deader ’n fried shit.”

“Yeah.”

She looked over her shoulder at Sandy, and smiled. “Yer a mighty bad little dude, Chany.”

“He had it coming.”

“What’re we gonna do wid him?”

“I figured to leave him in the room, here, and wait till we’re someplace far away. I want to make his body disappear, you know? Someplace where it’ll never be found. The thing is, there might be people who know he came looking for me tonight. Maybe if we both vanish off the face of the earth...”

“Suits me pine,” Lib said. “Let’s all banish.” Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and seemed to be studying the body. “We get to moobin’, he’ll start to roll around. Wanta anchor him down or put him someplace?”

“Nah, that’s all right. We’d get all messy. Let’s just finish up and go.”

At least he’s confined to the bedroom, Sandy thought as she drove slowly down the hillside, trying to stay in the ruts.

I shut the door, didn’t I?

Sure I did.

In her imagination, though, she’d left the bedroom door wide open and she pictured Slade tumbling through it, rolling into the hallway, his bloody mutilated corpse somersaulting down the whole length of the trailer.

Probably didn’t happen, she told herself. And if it did, the harm’s already done.

Just try not to let the trailer flip over or you’ll REALLY be in trouble.

In spite of the low gear, they were picking up speed on their way down the slope.

“Carepul,” Lib said.

Sandy eased down on the brake pedal for a few seconds and watched the speedometer needle sink. When she let up, it started to climb. So she put on the brakes again, squeezing the speed down, the needle dropping from 20 to 15 to 10. By the time she reached the edge of the paved road, she’d slowed almost to a stop.

The road looked empty, so she made a slow, right-hand turn. Then she shoved the shift lever to Drive and started to pick up speed. Cool air, smelling of the woods and ocean, blew straight into her face through the hole in the windshield.

“Made it,” Lib said, and patted her leg.

Sandy took a deep breath. She felt relief about coming down the hill without mishap, but now they were on a real road—where they were sure to be seen, sooner or later, by people in passing cars.

Maybe by cops.

A squirmy tightness came into her stomach.

“I don’t know how far we’ll be able to go,” she said. “The way this car looks, we’ll be stopped by the first cop who sees us.”

“Just tell him we hit a deer.”

That didn’t seem like a bad idea. Vehicles crashed into deer fairly often in this area. That sort of accident might explain the damage to the car.

“But I don’t have a driver’s license,” Sandy explained.

“Huh?”

“I’m driving. No matter what we tell him, he’ll want to see my license. And I don’t have one.”

“I got one.”

“But you’re smashed. And if he takes one look at you, he’ll know somebody pounded the crap out of you. If we get stopped, we’re sunk.”

The single headlight caught a sign by the edge of the road:WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT

POP. 2,600

HOME OF THE LEGENDARY “BEAST HOUSE”

PLEASE DRIVE WITH CARE,

WE LOVE OUR CHILDREN.

Then the speed limit went down to 35.

Sandy took her foot off the gas pedal until the needle dropped to 30.

Turning her head slightly to the left, she stared out across the moonlit field at Agnes’s house.

Home.

I’m going to miss it so much. And Agnes.

She ached to turn into the driveway.

One more look around. It might be my last chance forever. And give Agnes a last kiss before I go. I might never see her again. She might be dead by the time I ever...

“Place sure looks spooky at night,” Lib said.

It’s not spooky, it’s home.

She frowned at Lib, but saw that her friend’s head was turned toward the right, toward Beast House.

So her frown became a smile. “You oughta try being inside it in the middle of the night.”

“Tanks but no tanks.” She faced Sandy. “So, is dat where you met Eric’s padder?”

“He was known to hang around in there.” She turned her head for a final glimpse of Agnes’s house. Her throat suddenly felt thick. Tears welled up in her eyes.

How can I just drive away like this and not even tell her goodbye or thanks or ANYTHING. She’s the only person in the whole wide world who loves me.

Except Eric.

And a whisper came as if from a malicious twin caged in a corner of her mind, What about Mom?

No! Fuck her! She hates me! I hope she’s dead.

The twin whispered, No you don’t. You miss the bell out of her.

Bullshit!