The Lake

Huh. Harry—what kind of a name was that for a dog anyhow?

Head down, still nursing her cheek, she hurried past the old woman. Breaking into a run, she slammed smack into someone else hurrying toward her.

Dazed by the impact, Deana shook her head. She heard excited barks. Then loud wuffing noises, echoing up and down the street.

Sabre.

Thank God.

She didn’t think she’d ever be this grateful to hear a barking dog.

“What the…” Warren held on to her, tight. “It’s the midnight runner, if I’m not mistaken. What brings you out here again?”

“Warren. Am I glad to see you—” Deana broke off with a grim laugh. “My God. What an experience. I can’t believe it!”

They fell quiet for a moment, listening to the hag’s shrill voice, still calling: “Harrryyyy. Come to Mommy, darling…!”

Deana looked at Warren. Their eyes met and they grinned at each other. It was a nice, friendly moment.

Then, with a yelp of pain, Deana clamped a hand to her jaw.

Warren frowned. “You all right?” he asked. “I could drive you to an emergency room. There’s one a coupla miles from here…”

Deana shook her head.

“No? Okay. Then sit here on the wall awhile. Get your breath back.” He led her to a low brick wall. She lowered herself down, carefully, and leaned back into the bushes.

“It’s great to see you, Warren. And the mutt. Believe me—things got a bit nightmarish back there for a while.”

A large wet nose examined her knees with loud snuffling sounds. Deana smiled. Pushing the dog away, Warren said, “Sabre. Sit. Sit, boy!”

Sabre sat.

Warren dropped down by Deana’s side, wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her gently to him. Feeling safe and comfortable, she sighed and snugged into the crook of his shoulder.

Sabre squatted, bright-eyed, watching. Steamy breath plumed from his mouth like puffs of gray smoke.

“How about that cocoa?” Warren said at last.

“Sounds like a swell idea.”

“Sure? What if I’m a mad rapist?”

She drew back and faced him. “I’ll take my chances that you’re not.”

“Good. Nice to know I can be trusted.”

“Didn’t say that. Just meant that I’m willing to take my chances. Personally, I don’t think you are. Anyway, even if you were, I can look after myself.”

“Yep, I guess you could. You sure look like you’d hold your own in an emergency.”

Is he joking, or what?

Maybe not.

Anyway—now’s a good time to ask about Mom’s knife…

And try out his cocoa.

“Follow me,” he said.

Deana tagged behind, while Warren led the way up the driveway. She smiled. It had been his wall they’d been sitting on. And, like he said, there were two redwoods in front.

Sabre trotted by Warren’s side.

Without quite knowing why, Deana glanced back, through a gap in the redwoods. She could just about see the street.

A car was nosing its way past the driveway.

She caught her breath.

It was long and black, with tail fins. No lights.

The glare from the streetlight hit the windows. They were black, too.

She shuddered.

It’s going real slow… like a funeral car.

The car passed out of sight, and she hurried to catch up with Warren.

Warren was at the front stoop, reaching into his pocket. Bringing out a key, he slid it into the lock.

The door opened in on a dark hallway.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Here we go, Deana thought.

Straight into the lion’s den.

The vestibule had a warm smell. A faint aroma of food hung on the air.

Pot roast—last night’s dinner, she guessed.

Warren took her arm, leading her along the hall and through an entryway at the end.

He clicked on the light. It flooded a small compact area that obviously served as both kitchen and breakfast bar.

He gestured toward a pinewood chair. She sat down and scooted it along the tile floor to the table. It made a loud scraping noise. She wondered if she’d disturbed anyone.

Warren took a stool at the bar. Looking at her quizzically, he made the first move.

“Let me guess. You’ve come for your knife, right? I have it here. And your cap. Although I see you’ve found another one. Must need quite a wardrobe—going out, losing your things like that…”

“Okay, Warren. I confess. I did come back for my knife. It’s Mom’s, and she’ll go ballistic if she finds out it’s missing.”

“Looks remarkably like a vegetable knife to me.”

“So what? Any kinda knife is a good idea for someone out running at night.”

“Sure,” he said seriously. “But maybe it’s not such a wonderful idea. Midnight running, I mean. Especially for a young girl…”

“I’m eighteen. I can look after myself.”

“Eighteen?” He looked impressed. “All of eighteen?”

“Look. Hand me my knife, please, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Knife and cap. You ought to thank me.”

Uh-huh. Here it comes.

I have to thank him.

Serves me right for being so dumb.

For walking into his trap like a complete moron.

“Oh yeah? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I meant by accepting my offer of cocoa. Nothing more.”

Warren seemed a little offended that she’d read something more into his words.

“Okay,” she replied, relenting slightly. “But we’ll have to make it snappy. I might be missed.” As an afterthought, she added: “Mom’s well in with a guy from Mill Valley PD.”

“Really? In that case, a quick swig of my special brew and you must be on your way. I’ll escort you, if you like. In case you meet up with Harry and Mommy Dearest again.”

“Whatever.” Deana was intrigued by his easy, lighthearted manner. He sure didn’t