Endless Night Part 22

The door to the guest room stood open, as usual.

We've got plenty of room for Andy.

If only he could stay with us ...

Forget it. Won't happen.

Pa.s.sing the open door of her bedroom, she glanced in and saw Andy had his head down. She decided not to intrude on him.

She went ahead to the kitchen.

Her father was still there, but no longer at the table. He stood at the counter, shaping hamburger into patties.

"I just put Andy's jeans in the washer," she said. "Don't worry, I gave him some of my old stuff to wear. I mean, you know, he's not running around the house in his birthday suit, or anything."

"Well, lucky us."

Jody laughed. "Do you have anything you want me to toss in?"

"Don't think so. I did a load this morning. Including your nights.h.i.+rt."

"Winnie? How'd it come out?"

"Not bad at all. At least it's clean. Or looks clean. If there's still any blood, it doesn't show. The only problem is, there are some snags and minor rips."

Jody wrinkled her nose. "Oh."

"It isn't bad. Really. I don't think we'll have to consign Winnie to the rag bag. Maybe a few patches here and there ..."

"Where is it?"

"I hung it out on the line to dry."

Jody went for the back door.

"No you don't. Halt right there."

She stopped.

"You can't go outside." He set down a gob of ground beef and started to wash his hands. "You finish making the patties, I'll go out and see if it's dry."

Jody wrinkled her nose. "Is our back yard dangerous?"

"Probably not. Basically, we're surrounded. But you never know who might be up on a hillside with a good rifle."

"Maybe you'd better not go out, either."

"They aren't after me, hon." He dried his hands, then swaggered over to the back door. "You might wanta pa.s.s the word to Andy about staying in."

He left. As the door b.u.mped shut, Jody stepped to the counter. She picked up the moist, greasy ball and began shaping it into a patty.

Basically, we're surrounded.

By cops, she supposed. That had to be what he'd meant.

Where were they, in the neighbors' houses? On the roof-tops ?

Jody flinched and yelped as something whapped her rump.

She whirled around.

The second moccasin had already been launched. It flipped end over end. She tried to catch it, but missed. Its sole smacked the underside of her right breast.

Andy, standing in the doorway, bared his teeth in a grimace. His face went scarlet. "Oooo."

"Neat play."

He looked agonized. "I'm sorry. Did it hurt?"

"Yes, it hurt." One hand held the meat and both were greasy, so she used the back of her wrist to rub the injured area. "I'm sc.r.a.ped up there already from the wall fast night."

Andy watched her, his eyes very wide. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he muttered.

"Yeah, I know," she told him, and quit rubbing. "Besides, I got you first."

"I didn't know you were gonna turn around."

She toed the moccasins closer, flipped one rightside up, then slipped her feet into them. She turned again to the counter and worked on shaping the sides of the patty. "We're having hamburgers, by the way. Is that okay?"

"Sure. "

"We usually do them on the barbecue. Maybe not tonight, though, seeing as how we're surrounded."

"We're what?"

"Surrounded. By cops. But Dad's afraid of snipers, so you and I have to stay inside."

"Snipers ?"

"He's just playing it safe. I guess they've got things really tightly controlled right here, but there's nothing much they can do about people who might be up in the hills. With a good rifle, you know, you can hit somebody from like a mile away."

"I know that."

"See how lucky you are to be going away?"

"Maybe I'll get shot going to the car."

The words made her stomach hurt. "Cut it out," she said. She set down the thick disk of meat and faced him. "Nothing' ll happen. So quit worrying, okay?"

Just then, Dad came in. "Still pretty damp," he told Jody. "We'd better give it a couple more hours." Then he gave Andy a big, crooked grin. "Good looking outfit there, pal."

Andy made a face. "It's weird, wearing girls' things."

"Long as you don't enjoy it too much, you're in good shape."

"Real nice, Dad."

"Did Jody warn you about going outside?"

"Yes, sir."

She went to the sink and turned on the hot water faucet. As she washed her hands, she listened to her father say, "We should all try to stay away from the windows, too. I've shut the curtains, but if these fellows are desperate enough, they might just throw some wild shots at the house and hope for the best."

"Wouldn't it be better if you and Jody just left town, or something?" Andy asked.

Jody rinsed the soap off her hands, turned the water off, and reached for the towel. Wondering why her father hadn't answered yet, she looked over her shoulder.

He was leaning back against the counter beside the refrigerator, scowling at the floor. Whenever he scowled, he looked murderous.

Jody turned to face him.

"It goes against my grain to run from trouble. But my grain be d.a.m.ned. Honor doesn't matter squat to me when it comes to Jody's safety." He glanced into her eyes, then quickly returned his scowl to the floor. "The deal is, what's best? Which comes down to this: what's safest for my girl? We could take a long trip, but what happens when we come home again? Or we could move to the middle of nowhere and change our names and start all over like different people."

"No way, Dad. Huh-uh. Not me. I'd rather take my chances."

"Yep, I know that, all right. But we'd do it, anyhow, if I figured it was the safest thing. I don't think it is, though. There's no such thing as real safety until those men have been taken off the streets. The sooner that happens, the better for everyone."

"So you're hoping they'll come here," Jody said.

"Yep. Only I'm just not sure I want you to be here if they do."

Andy brightened. "Maybe she could come to Arizona with me."

She felt like pounding him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"The jury's still out on that, honey."

"What? You can't send me away! I won't go! Besides, you need me here. I'm the witness, you know."

"We both are," Andy reminded her.

"Well, you are going. But I'm not. Dad! You can't be serious. What kind of trap would it be if you sent your d.a.m.n bait out of town?"

He aimed the scowl at her.

"I mean it!"

"Settle down, honey. And watch your language."

"Well, really! You can't send me away. It wouldn't be fair."

Dad stretched an arm in her direction. His open hand gently patted down the air. "Easy, easy. The deal is, I'm the only one I trust to watch out for you."

"It's settled, then, isn't it?"

"For now. But let's just say the situation's fluid."

Fluid. Jody didn't care for the sound of that. She pictured a puddle on a table top. If the table didn't move, fine. But the slightest b.u.mp might send the fluid spilling off its edges.

What would it take, she wondered, for Dad to send me packing without him?

A bullet through a window, maybe.

The phone rang. Its sudden jangle made her flinch and started her heart thudding hard. But she was glad to see Andy jerk. He's as rattled as me.

Dad went for the phone, right arm raised away from his side as if rowing the air, the way it always did when he was in a hurry. On a forward swing, he wrapped his big hand around the phone. "Yellll-oh," he said, then listened for a while. "Gotcha. Thanks."

As he hung up, Jody lifted her eyebrows.

"Nick Ryan," he explained.

"Ah." She knew Nick well. He'd gone through the academy with Dad, and was one of his oldest friends.

"He's running the show." Dad turned to Andy. "Your uncle's coming up the street. Looks like he made it in time for supper."

Andy didn't look pleased. "Oh, great."

"He's early. Traffic must've been light."

"Are they sure it's him?" Jody asked.

"A spotter verified the Arizona tag. What I want you to do, Andy, is grab a look at him just to make sure. Let's go." Dad led the way.

Andy and Jody followed.

On both sides of the front door were long, narrow windows draped with yellow curtains. The first week after moving into the house, Dad had called in a man to have the gla.s.s replaced with thick, transparent acrylic slats. The man was missing two fingers of his right hand. Jody, four at the time, had asked, "Why don't you have more fingers?" He'd smiled and said, "I got hungry and had to eat 'em. Now, I've got me half a mind to nibble off some of yours. They sure look tasty." It was one of Jody's earliest memories. Mom had been alive then, had overheard the conversation from the kitchen, and been aghast: first at Jody for asking such an embarra.s.sing question; then at the worker for his reply; then again at Jody. She'd expected Jody to run away screaming. Instead, the toddler had said in a tough little voice, "You just try biting me, bozo, and I'll knock your head cleannnnn off." Jody didn't remember saying that, but Mom used to tell the story to just about everyone, and Dad even repeated it whenever one of his friends pointed out that it wasn't a good idea to have windows within arm distance of the door. His friends were all cops, of course. And they all got a big laugh out of Jody's encounter with the finger eater.

Until remembering the story again right now, she'd a.s.sumed almost from the day it happened that the man had been teasing her. After all, people don't eat fingers.

It occurred to her now, however, that he might've been serious.

After last night, nothing would surprise her. In fact, eating someone's fingers seemed almost normal compared to wearing pants made out of somebody's b.u.t.t.

Dad stepped to the window on the right side of the door and hooked the curtain aside.

What had the front of the pants looked like? Jody wondered.

I don't want to know.