Nobody answered there, either.
"This can't be good," she muttered.
On her way back to the table, she saw Harney watching her. She tried to smile for him. From the look on his face, however, he could tell that she was upset.
She scooted into the booth.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I couldn't get Ina. Or Bass. Nobody's home at either place. Either that, or they chose not to pick up the phone."
"Why would they do that?"
"If they're in bed together, for instance."
"Hey."
"Wouldn't surprise me. You should've seen Ina tonight. She's on the make for Bass. In a big way."
"I don't think he'd go for something like that."
"Of course not. That's because you wouldn't do it, honey. Underneath it all, though, Bass is really sort of a jerk."
"Hey, come on. He's our friend."
"I know. But he's still sort of a jerk."
"Even if he is, he wouldn't jump into the sack with Ina. He loves Faye too much for that. I bet there's some other reason why nobody answered the phone. Maybe they went somewhere."
"Bass was planning to phone Faye's parents at nine o'clock. That was more than half an hour ago. Then he was supposed to call me here at the restaurant."
"Maybe they found out something and took off."
"Can we drop by Ina's house on the way home? Just to make sure nothing's wrong?"
"I don't know, honey."
"It won't take long."
"It's not that. I mean, we don't want to barge in on anything."
Raising her eyebrows, Pac asked, "And what could we possibly barge in on? Bass, the paragon of virtue, would never betray his dear Faye."
"Well. He might. You never know."
The waiter brought two mugs of steaming coffee. "Will there be anything else?" he asked.
"That should about do it," Hamey said.
"If I may inquire?"
"Yes?"
"I recall a blond senorita when I served you last time -- oh, several weeks ago."
"Yes?"
"I hope she is well."
Harney nodded and said nothing.
"If I may inquire, is the senorita married or otherwise disposed of?"
"Disposed of?"
"Taken? Engaged?"
"She's engaged," Hamey told him.
"A pity." His smile was touched with disappointment. "I hope your dinner has been satisfactory."
"It's been great," Harney said.
"Terrific," Pac added.
"Excellent," said the waiter. "Shall I bring you your check?"
"Please," Harney said.
"That's Ina's car," Pac said.
Harney swung into the driveway behind it.
"You can wait here," Pac told him. "I'll probably just be a second."
"Why don't you stay here and I'll check?"
"Because I'm the fuzz." She smiled at him and opened the door.
His door opened at the same instant.
Together, they walked toward Ina's house.
On the way, Pac reached into her purse and took out her off-duty pistol, a .380 Sig Sauer. She opened the screen, put her head close to the wooden door, and listened. "The TV's on," she said. She pressed the doorbell button and waited. When nobody came, she pushed it five times, pausing a while between each ring.
"Now what?" Harney asked.
"Let's give them a couple more minutes."
"What for?"
"To get decent?" She said it like a question, grinning over her shoulder at Harney.
He stepped up close behind her, slipped his hands through the open sides of her dress, and gently cupped her breasts. As he caressed them, he nibbled the side of her neck.
Pac squirmed. "Stop that!" she whispered.
"Are you sure?" he asked, circling her nipples with his thumbs.
"They might come to the door."
"If they do, I'll stop real fast."
"Hey, come on. This is serious."
"So is this," Harney said. "God, I love the feel of you." One of his hands slid down from her breast, down her ribs and belly, and pressed between her legs.
She squirmed. "Don't, hon. Please."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." She felt a finger slide in. Harney's other hand squeezed her left breast. She gasped and writhed.
"I think you like it," he whispered.
"Of course I like it."
"But I'll stop if you insist."
"You rat."
"Do you insist?"
"How am I supposed to think straight?"
"I'll stop," Harney said, and took his hands away from her.
"Thanks."
"Now let's see if we can arouse them," he said. Stepping in front of Pac, he lifted the door's heavy knocker and brought it down hard. "That oughta wake the dead."
"Let's hope it isn't necessary," Pac said. Then she yelled, "INA! BASS!"
Harney brought down the knocker two more times.
"Try the knob," Pac suggested. While Harney attempted to turn it, she stepped to the side and pressed her face close to the frosted glass of a high, narrow window. She could see nothing through it except the brightness of a living-room lamp.
"Locked," Harney said.
With the butt of her pistol, Pac smashed the window. She waited for the glass to stop falling, then reached through the hole, found the knob, and turned it.
After she pulled her arm clear, Harney pushed open the door.
Suddenly, he caught his breath and rushed inside.
Pac followed, Sig ready, and saw him kneel over Ina. The young woman's face was torn and swollen. Blood streaked it. But she was alive. Pac could hear her harsh, labored breathing.
"Harney, call for an ambulance."
"I'll call Dad's office while I'm at it."
She stepped over an outstretched arm, taking a long step to avoid the blood. Her foot came down on something hard like a pebble. It rolled under her shoe, and her foot slipped. Shifting her weight to her trailing foot, she avoided a fall. The pebble skittered across the hardwood foyer and stopped in the carpet. Pac went to it. She picked it up, saw that it was a bloodstained molar, and dropped it in disgust.
She scanned the living room, noticing the two glasses on the coffee table. Both glasses were half-full. She bent over them and touched one with the back of her hand. Still cool, but far from cold. The drinking had been interrupted some time ago.
She hurried into the kitchen, gave it a quick look, and headed for the hallway. As she walked up it, pistol ready, she heard Harney on the phone.
Halfway up the hall, she looked into the dark entrance of the bathroom and saw its splintered door frame. With the muzzle of her Sig, she flicked the light switch.
Nobody in the bathroom.
She let out a deep, shaking sigh.
Seeing the open window, she suspected she would find nobody in either of the bedrooms. She searched them, anyway. Then she returned to the living room. Harney, done with his calls, was again kneeling beside Ina.
"Did you find Bass?" he asked.
Pac shook her head. "It looks like he made it out through the John window."
"Brave son of a bitch."
"That's your good buddy you're talking about."
"Buddy or not, sometimes he can be a jerk."
"I'd better have a look outside."
"No way."
"He might be out there, Harn. Just because he made it out the window doesn't mean . . ."
"Stay right here, okay?"
"It's my job."
"Fine, but if you go out there, I'm going with you."
"No, stay with Ina."
"Then you stay here."
A knock on the glass startled Pac. Spinning around, she saw a face at the hole she'd knocked in the window.
"Don't shoot." The face grinned. It belonged to Deputy Joe Shepherd.
Pac unlocked the door and the deputy pushed it open.
"That was quick," Harney said.
"Sorry. We were pretty far out when we caught the squeal. Made it here as fast as we could."
"How long did it take?" Pac asked.
"Just under ten minutes, I guess."
"That wasn't my call," Harney said.
Chapter Thirty-six
Hairy Pizza
"What can I do?" the truck driver wanted to know. But he didn't wait for Rusty to answer. "There she is, staring up at me like something out of a fuckin' nightmare. What can I do, swerve? Lay on the brakes? Hey, I'm not gonna take no chance of jack-knifing my rig over some gal that ain't gonna know the difference anyhow, you know what I mean? Besides, it wouldn't of done no good. I mean, I'm gonna hit her, no way out of it. Not a fucking chance in hell I'm gonna miss her."
"Don't worry about it," Rusty told the man.
"Don't worry. Sure. You ever run over a fuckin' head? How do you think it feels, squashing something like that under your wheels? Did you see her?"
"I saw her."
"Flat as a fuckin' pizza. A hairy pizza."
"Did you see anyone?"
"Sure I saw someone -- used to be a cute blonde."
"You mean the head?"
"You're goddamn fuckin' right I mean the head. I shouldn't of taken this run, that was my big mistake. I should've stayed home with the wife and kids. How'm I gonna sleep, huh? Answer me that. Christ, I'm never gonna sleep another fuckin' wink the rest of my life."
"Did you see anyone by the side of the road?"
"I didn't see nothing but the head."
"How about a car? Did you notice a car parked along the roadside?"
"No, like I said . . . No, wait, there was a car. Only it wasn't parked. It passed me on the grade. A Mercedes."
"What year?"
"Looked like new, but how can you tell with those things? It passed me, must've been doing sixty."
"Did you notice the occupants?"
"There were two of them. That's all."
"Did you catch the plates?"
"You kidding?"
"The head. Was it moving when you saw it?"
"Sure, it was tap dancing. What the fuck're you talking about, was it moving?"
"Rolling?"
"Oh, Jesus. No, it wasn't rolling. You think they tossed it outa the Mercedes? Not a chance. It was just sitting there staring up at me. Sorta like the rest of her was buried under the pavement and she was looking for a hand to pull her out."
Chapter Thirty-seven
The Return
The stretcher carrying Ina was being rolled out to the ambulance when a big red Pontiac Grand Prix pulled up to an empty length of curb across the street. Pac watched its driver's door swing open. Bass climbed out and crossed the street.
"Bass!" Pac called.
He ran up the lawn and met her at the front door.
"How's Ina?" he asked, glancing from Pac to Harney.
"Alive," Harney said. "Where were you?"
Bass ran a hand through his dark hair and shook his head. "Running. My God, running, hiding, trying to lose that son of a bitch."
"How did he get in the house?" Pac asked.
"He knocked. Ina went to the door. I don't know what he did to her."
"He hit her with something."
"The tire tool, I bet. He had a tire tool. I was in the crapper, though. I didn't know what was going on. I came out and there's this guy in the hall. The guy we saw this morning. I got out through the John window, but he came after me out the back door. Chased me through all these yards, over hedges and fences. Jesus! Finally, I thought I'd lost him so I circled back to get my car."
"You didn't go inside to see about Ina?" Harney asked, sounding annoyed.
"You're kidding. I figured that crazy bastard might be in there."
"With Ina."
"I'm gonna take him on by myself? The guy's a goddamn killer! What am I supposed to do, wrestle with him?"
"What did you do after you got your car?" Pac asked.
"I figured I'd drive someplace and call you guys. What happened, though, he was waiting for me. In his car. He started after me. Took me forever to lose the bastard. I finally did, though. Must've been twenty minutes ago. Suddenly, he's gone. So I pull into the first gas station I see and call the sheriff."
"What kind of car was he driving?"
"Jesus, I don't know. Who knows? It was dark as hell . . . I don't know. Where'd they take Ina?"
"County General."
"Is she gonna be all right?"
"We don't know."
"That crazy bastard's gonna kill us all."
Chapter Thirty-eight
The Spat
Merton unlocked the door and entered the house.
Looking up at him from the couch, Walter said, "And where have you been?"
"Out." Merton tossed the key ring underhand.
"I suppose my car is now so hot I'll have to bury it in a hazardous waste dump."
"I don't think so."
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"
"Nothing much."
"Nothing much? You go hunting a man with a shotgun and claim nothing much happened?"
"He got away."
"Well, thank heavens for that."
"They all got away: Paxton, the bitch he was with this morning -- hell, I never even saw her. And some other one. They all got --"
"What other one?"
"I don't know. Paxton had some skinny brunette bitch with him tonight. I nailed her pretty good, but I didn't get a chance to finish the job. Least I don't think so. If she lives, she'll be able to put me away all by herself."
"Good heavens."
"So I guess I'll be hitting the road. See you around, Walter."
"You're not leaving again?"
"I just came back to pick up my van."
"You can't leave."
"Ah, sure I can. Thanks for the help today."
Walter got up from the couch, pulling his robe tight across his white chest. "Just stay here," he said. "Please. You'll be safe here."
"Not gonna take any chances."
"Where'll you go?"
"Far away."
"No!" He reached out a long-fingered hand and stroked the side of Merton's cheek. His eyes glistened with tears. "Don't leave, Merty. Please."
"If I stay, they'll get me. Do you want that? Do you want me to get sent back inside?"
"Of course I don't want that. But . . . even if they find you, it doesn't mean you'll be convicted. People are always getting off. Even guilty people."
"Not me. With my record? And two eyewitnesses to place me with the body? And the brunette bitch? Not to mention whatever kinds of evidence they might pick up on me from going after Paxton and that bitch tonight."