The Midnight Tour

Grinning over her shoulder, she said, “How old are you now, Blaze?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Wow. That’s truly amazing. You don’t look a day over fifty.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Fifty-eight, if you must know.”

“No kidding? You do look great.”

“Oh, I know, I know.” Grinning, he stroked the wavy silver hair above his right ear. “I’ve been a raving beauty all my life and it’s too late to quit now. Ha!”

“Ready to go?” Sandy asked.

“Lead on, MacQuifl.”

She frowned back at him. “None of that, buster.”

He tilted his head sideways and gave her a look like a scolded, repentant kid. “Forgive me, my dear.”

“Just try to restrain yourself,” she said, and started off.

A path led away from the road’s end, curving along the side of a low, grassy hill before descending to the shore. It reminded Sandy of the way down to the beach at Malcasa Point.

How often had she taken the path down to that beach?

Dozens of times, at least. Maybe more than a hundred.

She found herself remembering the first time. With her mom and Jud and Larry.

Don’t, she told herself.

She remembered riding Larry’s back—playing “horsey” as he twirled on the sand, squealing.

Poor old Larry.

Stop it! Don’t think about any of that!

Blaze reminded her of Larry.

Good. Think about Blaze. Excellent idea.

Striding down the sandy path, she cast her memory back toward the time she’d met him. A long time ago. Twelve years.

I was hardly more than a kid...

The morning after the killings, Sandy had removed Eric from his cradle and gone exploring. About a hundred yards farther up the dirt road, they’d found Harry Matthews’s log cabin. A large, blue pickup truck was parked beside it.

Leaving Eric on the ground for a few minutes, Sandy had crept around the outside of the cabin, pistol in hand.

Nobody seemed to be there.

She entered the front door and looked around.

Harry had apparently been living alone.

So she stepped outside and scooped up Eric and whispered, “Looks like we’ve found us a home, honey.” She carried him in.

And there they stayed.

Right at the start, Sandy made up a story in case anyone should come along. She would claim that she was Harry’s niece visiting him from Santa Monica. (She had lived in Santa Monica until she was twelve, so that’d be a good place to claim as her home.) If the story didn’t work and real trouble started, or if somehow Eric got seen, she would simply kill the trouble-maker.

She never went anywhere without Harry’s pistol in her pocket.

Day after day, however, nobody showed up.

They had no problems at all. The cabin and the surrounding woods seemed like a perfect hideaway, a sanctuary for herself and Eric.

He could grow up here...

But Sandy knew a problem was on its way.

As of the day they’d arrived, there had been only enough food in the cupboards, pantry and refrigerator to last for about two weeks.

Gradually, the supplies dwindled.

Dread stirred in her belly. Soon, she would need to leave the safety of the woods and venture into town for supplies.

On the bright side, she had some cash.

She’d been able to gather nearly four hundred dollars from her own purse, Lib’s purse, and the wallets of Harry and Slade. She’d also found several credit cards and Harry’s check book. The check book showed a balance of nearly nine thousand dollars.

The credit cards would do her no good at all.

The checks, on the other hand...She could use them to pay any bills that might come in the mail. Things like property tax, the electric bill (how nice that the cabin was wired for power!) or whatever else might turn up. Easy enough to forge Harry’s signature. But she didn’t see any safe way to use the checks for extra cash.

The cash wouldn’t last forever.

Once it was gone...

Too soon, the time came to go into town for supplies.

Sandy didn’t want to leave Eric alone, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t take him with her; he’d be seen for sure.

So after letting him suckle her that morning until he fell asleep, she carried him gently to his crib and put him down. Then she hurried out to Harry’s pickup truck.

Lib’s car and the trailer blocked the way out, but she managed to drive around them.

Fort Platt turned out to be a lot farther away than she’d thought.

It had taken her nearly an hour to get there.

The first thing she ran into, just on the other side of the bridge leading into town, was a place called the Sea Breeze Cafe. Though she felt an urgent need to buy supplies and rush back home to Eric, she craved a big, restaurant breakfast. Eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns, toast and coffee.

So she parked in its gravel lot, strolled in and...

No, she thought. That wasn’t when I met Blaze. I didn’t meet him until my next trip into town. That first time, I wanted to stop at the Sea Breeze, but didn’t. I drove straight to the grocery store, bought two hundred dollars worth of food and stuff, and drove straight home.

And panicked.

Couldn’t find Eric.

But then he turned up crawling around under the bed, happy as a clam.

It was two weeks later when...

That’s the time I stopped for breakfast.

She’d hardly been able to enjoy it, though. For one thing, she felt guilty about spending the time away from Eric. For another, though the meal and tip would only cost about six dollars, it was money that would be gone forever.

I’ve gotta figure out a way to make money, she thought.

But how?

I can’t go by my real name, don’t have any fake i.d. or phoney social security number. Even if I had the right papers, I sure as hell couldn’t get a job in town. Not unless it was just for a few hours one day a week or something. Wouldn’t dare leave Eric alone any more than that.

I’m screwed, she thought.