The Midnight Tour

“She...”

“I’m asking her, not you. What’s your name?” he asked Lib.

“Bambi,” she said.

“Bambi? Like the deer?”

“Yeah. I got opp lucky. Day almost called me Tumper.”

That’s Thumper,” Sandy explained..

“What happened to your teeth, Bambi?”

'He knocked ’em clean out my head,” she explained, nodding in Slade’s direction.

“Is that before or after he attacked this one?”

'Charly,” Sandy said. “I’m Charly. Like in Charlie’s Angels.”

'He beat me up pirst,” Lib explained. “Den he went apter Charly.”

“He’s my dad,” Sandy explained. “Bambi, she’s my stepmother. He was always beating the shit out of us and...you know, messing with me. So tonight I was ready for him and I got him with my knife.”

The beam of light swept down and returned to Slade’s body.

Sounding appalled but calm, the man asked, “This is your father?”

“Yeah. Dirty rotten son of a bitch.”

“You killed your own father?”

“Sure did. And I’m not sorry for it, either. He got what he had coming.”

The man slowly shook his head from side to side.

Keeping his light on Slade, he said, “If what you’re telling me is true, it sure sounds like self-defense. So why are you trying to hide the body? You should’ve just called the cops right after it happened and admitted everything. Nobody’s going to blame you for trying to defend yourself like that.”

“Guess I was scared,” Sandy said. “I’ve got a little baby, you know? I was scared they might take him away. I mean, I’m only fourteen, and...”

“You’ve got a child?”

“Yes sir. And he’s the daddy.” She jabbed a finger toward Slade’s body. “He’s my baby’s daddy and my daddy, too.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Dey’ll take away little Eric por sure,” Lib said. “Dem polks at Child Welpare. Dat’s how come we had to run opp and why we gotta hide da pucker’s body.”

The man was silent for a while. Then he asked, “Where are you from?”

“Noplace much,” Sandy told him. “Last couple of months, we’ve just been on the road.”

“You live in this trailer?”

“Yes sir,” Sandy said.

“Where are you heading?”

“Noplace. Just figured we’d keep on going, and hope for the best.”

“What kind of money do you have?”

“A few bucks. You want it?”

He lowered the pistol. “I’m not sure I believe everything you’re telling me,” he said. “But you two...It’s pretty obvious you’re in a jam. I’d be glad to help you, but I don’t want to end up like this guy.”

“Are you fixin’ to attack us?” Sandy asked.

“Not likely,” he said.

'Den it ain’t likely we’ll kill you,” Lib told him.

“Mom’s right,” said Sandy.

“In that case... Maybe you’d like to be my guests. I’ve got a cabin just up the road a piece. You could probably use some food and a good night’s sleep.”

“Got anyting to drink at dat cabin ob yours?” Lib asked.

'Just about anything you might want.”

“Hot damn! Let’s went, honey!”

The man said, “My name’s Harry. Harry Matthews.”

“I meant her,” Lib explained, swinging a thumb toward Sandy.

“I like to call my girl honey. But maybe I can call you honey, too, ip you treat us right.”

“Fine. So let’s take care of this body, first. Then we’ll go on up to my place.”

Chapter Fifteen

A VISIT FROM CLYDE

All afternoon, Dana’s mind dwelled on Warren. She thought about the way he’d looked and the things he’d said. She wanted to know everything about him.

Tuck, no doubt, would be able to tell her plenty.

But Dana was afraid of hearing it. The guy just couldn’t be as wonderful as he seemed. He must have some sort of awful flaw.

After a talk with Tuck, she might want nothing more to do with him.

We can’t talk about him here, anyway, she told herself. I’ll wait till after work.

During a slow period in the middle of the afternoon, she was leaning against the side of the ticket booth, daydreaming about Warren, when Clyde stepped around the corner. He was carrying a stool with a padded seat.

'Interested” he asked.

“I don’t want to take your seat,” Dana told him.

“I’ve still got one.” He set down the stool for her.

“Well, thanks.”

As Dana climbed onto it, Clyde watched her closely. Though he wore sunglasses, their lenses weren’t dark enough to hide the direction of his gaze. He mostly watched her breasts and crotch.

She was used to that sort of thing.

Sometimes she found it flattering, sometimes exciting. Often, though, it seemed like an embamssing invasion of her privacy and annoyed or disgusted her.

Long ago, she’d discovered that her reaction depended on who was doing the staring.

Though Clyde was certainly handsome—well over six feet tall and built like a Mr. Universe contestant—she didn’t care much for him.

“So,” he said. He folded his arms across his massive chest and looked her in the eyes. “How’s it it going?”

'Okay.”

“First day on the job.”

“Not bad,” she said.

“You have a little trouble upstairs?”

“No big deal.”

“Lynn pulled you out.”

“I just wasn’t feeling very well. I needed some fresh air.”

“Where have I heard that before?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Happens to everyone. Well, not everyone. But just about. It’s hard to last all day in there, especially for a beginner. I’ll tell you your symptoms. Cold sweat, faintness, nausea, a sense of suffocation. Tell me I’m right.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Did you barf?”

“No.”