As they walked past the canyon edge, Chris could see the sedan at the bottom. It was lying on its side, its upper wheels still turning slowly, it was fortunate it hadn’t caught fire.

“Toss back the money,” he told Adam.

Adam took the bills out of his jacket pocket and tossed it back without a word. Chris pointed at it and Helen stooped to pick it up. She slipped it into her coat pocket.

Adam was waiting by the car. “Get in the back,” Chris told him.

Adam opened the front door and pushed the seat forward. Bending over, he stepped into the back of the car and sat down. Chris waited until he was settled, then, slowly, cautiously, sat down in the front seat, half-turned around so he could watch Adam.

“You drive,” he told Helen.

“All right.” She got in quickly and shut the door. Leaning over, she switched on the engine.

“Well?” asked Chris when they were back to the main road.

“Keep going inland,” Adam said.

Chris heard Helen draw in a quick breath.

“Is she all right?” she asked in a stiffly controlled voice.

Chris looked at Adam. “She asked you a question,” he said.

“She’s all right.”

“She’d better be,” Chris told him.

Adam had regained his poise by now. He smiled thinly at Chris. “Quite the hero, aren’t we?” he said.

Chris was silent.

“Planning to turn us over to the police?” asked Adam. Chris only looked at him.

Adam smiled. “You, of course, realize what will happen when you do.”

Chris said nothing and the smile faded from Adam’s face.

“You’ll go to prison,” he said, coldly.

“And you’ll go to the gas chamber,” said Chris.

Adam seemed to tense forward and Chris raised the pistol. The sight of it seemed to relax Adam rather than caution. He leaned back, smiling again.

“Don’t worry,” he said, casually, “I won’t give you cause to shoot me. I plan to live for a long time.”

“Good luck.” said Chris.

“The turn is just around this bend ahead,” said Adam.

They all sat quietly until the car had turned off the road onto a narrow, rutted lane.

“Stop,” said Chris. Helen pushed in the brake and the Ford came to a halt.

“How far down is it?” asked Chris.

“A hundred yards or so,” said Adam.

Chris looked at him a moment, then, abruptly, pulled up the door handle and pushed outside.

“We’ll walk.” he said.

Adam shrugged. “Up to you,” he said.

“Come out slowly,” Chris told him.

“Very slowly,” said Adam. He sounded as if he were almost enjoying the situation now. He pushed the seat forward and leaned over to get out of the car.

“Be seeing you,” he said to Helen. He sounded very confident.

Chris held the gun on him and leaned over to speak into the car.

“You stay here,” he said, “I’ll send Connie out to you. Then you go get the police.”

“What are you—?”

“I’ll stay with them,” Chris interrupted. “Just get the police as fast as you can. There’s a station at Malibu.”

“Chris—”

“Do what I say, honey.” Chris straightened up. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Chris.”

He glanced at Helen.

“Darling, please be careful,” she begged.

Despite the tension, Chris felt a rush of happiness at the sound in her voice. “I will,” he said.

He and Adam started walking down the road.

“Nice day,” said Adam. “Just remember what I said.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” said Adam.

Their shoes crunched along the hard-packed dirt. Chris glanced ahead but saw nothing. “For your sake, that shack better be there.”

“For your daughter’s sake,” said Adam. There was mockery in his voice now. Chris stiffened.

“She’d better be all right too,” he said.

Adam chuckled. “The trouble with you would-be heroes,” he said, “is you don’t know what you’re up against. Sooner or later, you make a mistake. You’ll make yours.”

“You—”

“There’s the shack,” said Adam.

Chris’s stride faltered as he caught sight of a battered shingle roof rising above the bushes ahead.

”Hold it,” he said.

Adam stopped and looked over at him. “What now, little hero?” he asked.

Chris hesitated. This part had to be right. If Steve knew, for a moment, what was going on, he might kill Connie—of that Chris had no doubt. This part had to be exactly right.

“Well?” asked Adam.

Chris’s grip tightened on the revolver.

“You’re going to call him out,” he said.

“Am I?”

“I’m not fooling, Adam.”

“Shall I call him now?”

“Walk down further,” Chris told him. “I’ll be right behind you. As soon as you’re in front of the shack, call him—and, by God, you’d better make it casual.”

Adam looked at him a moment, a detached smile on his lips. Then he turned. “Watch your step,” he said as if to a casual chess opponent. He started toward the shack.

“Remember—I’ll shoot if I have to.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll remember everything,” said Adam.

Chris walked after him, the gun tightly readied in his hand. He drank in a mouthful of air and exhaled it—then shivered, realizing how cold it was, how heavily still. So still it seemed as if his footsteps must be audible inside the shack.

Up ahead, Adam stopped, glanced back. Chris nodded. He was just out of sight of the cabin doorway, a mass of bushes hiding it from him.

Adam called out. “Steve!”

Chris felt his heartbeat jolt at the loudness of it. Was he wrong to try it like this? he wondered. Was there a better way?

“Hey, Steve!” Adam called again. He sounded very casual.

Chris stiffened as he heard the cabin door squeak open.

“Where the hell have you been?” Steve asked.

Abruptly, Chris lunged out from behind the bushes, gun raised. “Hold it!” he ordered.

Steve twitched in surprise. Then, suddenly, he was grabbing for the gun in his pocket.

“Keep your—!” Chris started before reflexes, quicker than thought, had pulled the trigger and a blast of thunder surrounded him. At the top of the rise, Steve hitched around, one hand clutching at his shoulder. He fell back against the cabin, a gush of blood drenching his fingers.

Chris threw a glance at Adam, who was still standing in the same place. Then he looked toward the cabin again. Steve was writhing n the ground, teeth set in a grimace of agony.

“Don’t try it again,” Chris warned him.

Вы читаете Ride the Nightmare
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