After Midnight

What do I need her purse for? Just have to get rid of it later, like Tony’s wallet.

I would’ve been better off if I’d never touched Tony’s wallet.

That’s what got me into this.

Finding that paper with the wrong address.

So I decided to leave Judy’s purse untouched.

Standing in the V of the open door, I did some more mop-up with my shirt. Then I shut the door and wiped its outside handle.

I dropped Judy’s keys into a pocket of my cut-offs, then went around the car to take care of fingerprints I might’ve left on the outside of the passenger door.

The surface of the parking area was pavement littered by old leaves and twigs. I doubted that my bare foot was leaving any tracks. To make sure, though, I opened the passenger door. The interior light came back on, and spilled a yellow glow onto the pavement. I did a couple of tests with my bare foot. Nothing showed, so I shut the door and wiped it again and took off.

I headed back to the scene of Judy’s escape.

She’ll be down there, somewhere. Maybe trying to crawl away, or hiding in the bushes.

Maybe watching me.

About halfway down the slope, I found my shoe. I slid my foot into it. Then I put the shirt on. It stuck to my skin. I left it unbuttoned so air could get in.

About the next step I took, my shoe slipped on the wet grass. I started to drop backward, but caught my balance in time and stayed on my feet.

Close call, I thought. What if I’d fallen and really hurt myself? Bumped my head on a rock, or something, and got knocked out cold? Then I’d be the one in big trouble. Judy could come up here and finish me off. Or take her car keys and escape. Lucky thing…

Would she?

What if she saw me fall, tumble down the slope, and not get up? Would she come out of hiding?

She might.

Or she might figure it’s a trick.

I took a few more strides, then pretended to trip over a rock or something. Yelling, “AHHH!” as loud as I could, I windmilled my arms, stumbled a couple of times as if trying to regain my footing, then plunged headlong.

I wanted it to look real.

It suddenly was real.

I slammed against the ground. It knocked my wind out and seemed to kick me into the air. I flipped over. The ground kept battering me, shoving me along. I twisted and rolled and flopped, arms and legs flying, all the way to the bottom.

Like Judy after her fall down the same slope, I came to rest on my back.

History repeats itself.

At least I hadn’t been shot in the head.

I felt plenty bruised and scratched and battered, though. And I’d lost both shoes.

Plus the pistol.

I should’ve been able to feel its weight against my right thigh, but the pocket had an awful lightness.

So much, I thought, for another brilliant idea.

Now what?

I had two choices. Either forget the trick and go looking for the pistol, or stay on my back and pretend to be unconscious.

I felt vulnerable without the gun. But I could get along without it for a while. I didn’t need artillery for handling Judy.

Just stick with the plan for ten or fifteen minutes, I told myself. See what happens.

It might be a waste of time.

On the other hand, searching for her in the dark woods would probably be a waste of time, too. If she’d found herself a good hiding place, and didn’t make any noise, I’d hardly stand a chance of finding her. Unless I tripped over her, or something.

This way, at least, was restful.

Just don’t fall asleep, I warned myself.

There probably wasn’t much danger of that. Though I was worn out, I didn’t feel sleepy. I was too tense for that. And too uncomfortable. The tumble down the slope had bruised and scratched me. I felt small pains in a dozen places, and I itched in about a dozen more.

I ached to rub my injuries, scratch my itches.

But I couldn’t do it.

Judy might be watching.

Or so I thought, anyway, until she shrieked, “No!” into the night somewhere far away.

18

CRIES IN THE NIGHT

Either Judy, or someone else.

It had to be Judy, though. A woman’s voice, and coming from the right direction. Who else could it be?

If it was Judy, she’d missed my tumble down the slope and she wasn’t watching me now. My fall had roughed me up, but accomplished nothing. I got to my feet, wincing a couple of times.

Standing there, I searched my pockets. Tony’s wallet was still in my back pocket. I still had all the keys, too. Apparently, nothing had fallen out except the gun.

I wiped the sweat off my face and rubbed my hurts and itches and stared into the woods.

Nothing to see.

I heard the trees whispering quietly with the breeze. Birds and crickets and other forest sounds. But not another outcry.

Okay, I thought. What’s going on?

She’d shrieked like someone scared witless, or hurt, or both.

So, was it real or fake?

If fake, she must be trying to lure me into a trap. A gutsy move. A crazy move. Hell, I was bigger and tougher than Judy. I’d already beaten the snot out of her. And I had a gun. Her only real chance of survival was to avoid me.

But you never know with people. They do weird, stupid stuff sometimes. Especially when they’re scared. Maybe Judy thought she could out-smart me.

Maybe she’d figured out a great, flawless trap.

On the other hand, she might be in real trouble.

Either way, I didn’t have a choice. I had to go looking for her. And finish her off, unless somebody’d already saved me the trouble.

I wasn’t going anywhere, though, without the pistol.

I wanted to find my shoes, too, but they didn’t matter much. The .22 mattered plenty.

Turning away from the woods, I searched the grassy area around my feet, looking for the gun. I’d been aware of losing my shoes early in the fall, but didn’t have a clue as to when the gun had slipped out of my pocket.