done so without sounding absolutely bonkers. The cabdriver was fat, fifty, and wheezy. Heâd be no match for the giant if this was a setup . . . which in a horror movie, it would be.
Lured back, Tess thought dismally. Lured back by a phone call from the giantâs girlfriend, whoâs just as crazy as he is.
Foolish, paranoid idea, but the walk to The Stagger Innâs door seemed long, and the hard-packed dirt made her walking shoes seem very loud: clump-clud-clump . The parking lot that had been a sea of cars last night was now deserted save for four automotive islands, one of which was her Expedition. It was at the very back of the lotâsure, he would not have wanted to be observed putting it thereâand she could see the left front tire. It was a plain old blackwall that didnât match the other three, but otherwise it looked fine. He had changed her tire. Of course he had. How else could he have moved it away from his . . . his . . .
His recreational facility. His kill-zone. He drove it down here, parked, walked back to the deserted store, and then off he went in his old F-150. Good thing I didnâtcome to sooner; heâd have found me wandering around in a daze and I wouldnât be here now.
She looked back over her shoulder. In one of the movies she now could not stop thinking about, she surely would have seen the cab speeding away ( leaving me to my fate ), but it was still right there. She lifted a hand to the driver, and he lifted his in return. She was fine. Her car was here and the giant wasnât. The giant was at his house (his lair ), quite possibly still sleeping off the previous eveningâs exertions.
The sign on the door said WE ARE CLOSED. Tess knocked and got no response. She tried the knob and when it turned, sinister movie plots returned to her mind. The really stupid plots where the knob always turns and the heroine calls out (in a tremulous voice), âIs anybody there?â Everyone knows sheâs crazy to go in, but she does anyway.
Tess looked back at the cab again, saw it was still right there, reminded herself that she was carrying a loaded gun in her spare purse, and went in anyway.
- 24 -
She entered a foyer that ran the length of the building on the parking lot side. The walls were decorated with publicity stills: bands in leather, bands in jeans, an all-girl band in miniskirts. An auxiliary bar stretched out beyond the coatracks; no stools, just a rail where you could have a drink while youwaited for someone or because the bar inside was too packed. A single red sign glowed above the ranked bottles: BUDWEISER.
You like Bud, Bud likes you, Tess thought.
She took off her dark glasses so she could walk without stumbling into something and crossed the foyer to peep into the main room. It was vast and redolent of beer. There was a disco ball, now dark and still. The wooden floor reminded her of the roller-skating rink where she and her girlfriends had all but lived during the summer between eighth grade and high school. The instruments were still up on the bandstand, suggesting that The Zombie Bakers would be back tonight for another heaping bowl of rock n roll.
âHello?â Her voice echoed.
âIâm right here,â a voice replied softly from behind her.
- 25 -
If it had been a manâs voice, Tess would have shrieked. She managed to avoid that, but she still whirled around so quickly that she stumbled a little. The woman standing in the coat alcoveâa skinny breath of a thing, no more than five feet threeâblinked in surprise and took a step back. âWhoa, easy.â
âYou startled me,â Tess said.
âI see I did.â The womanâs tiny, perfect oval of a face was surrounded by a cloud of teased blackhair. A pencil peeked from it. She had piquant blue eyes that didnât quite match. A Picasso girl, Tess thought. âI was in the office. Are you the Expedition lady or the Honda
Lured back, Tess thought dismally. Lured back by a phone call from the giantâs girlfriend, whoâs just as crazy as he is.
Foolish, paranoid idea, but the walk to The Stagger Innâs door seemed long, and the hard-packed dirt made her walking shoes seem very loud: clump-clud-clump . The parking lot that had been a sea of cars last night was now deserted save for four automotive islands, one of which was her Expedition. It was at the very back of the lotâsure, he would not have wanted to be observed putting it thereâand she could see the left front tire. It was a plain old blackwall that didnât match the other three, but otherwise it looked fine. He had changed her tire. Of course he had. How else could he have moved it away from his . . . his . . .
His recreational facility. His kill-zone. He drove it down here, parked, walked back to the deserted store, and then off he went in his old F-150. Good thing I didnâtcome to sooner; heâd have found me wandering around in a daze and I wouldnât be here now.
She looked back over her shoulder. In one of the movies she now could not stop thinking about, she surely would have seen the cab speeding away ( leaving me to my fate ), but it was still right there. She lifted a hand to the driver, and he lifted his in return. She was fine. Her car was here and the giant wasnât. The giant was at his house (his lair ), quite possibly still sleeping off the previous eveningâs exertions.
The sign on the door said WE ARE CLOSED. Tess knocked and got no response. She tried the knob and when it turned, sinister movie plots returned to her mind. The really stupid plots where the knob always turns and the heroine calls out (in a tremulous voice), âIs anybody there?â Everyone knows sheâs crazy to go in, but she does anyway.
Tess looked back at the cab again, saw it was still right there, reminded herself that she was carrying a loaded gun in her spare purse, and went in anyway.
- 24 -
She entered a foyer that ran the length of the building on the parking lot side. The walls were decorated with publicity stills: bands in leather, bands in jeans, an all-girl band in miniskirts. An auxiliary bar stretched out beyond the coatracks; no stools, just a rail where you could have a drink while youwaited for someone or because the bar inside was too packed. A single red sign glowed above the ranked bottles: BUDWEISER.
You like Bud, Bud likes you, Tess thought.
She took off her dark glasses so she could walk without stumbling into something and crossed the foyer to peep into the main room. It was vast and redolent of beer. There was a disco ball, now dark and still. The wooden floor reminded her of the roller-skating rink where she and her girlfriends had all but lived during the summer between eighth grade and high school. The instruments were still up on the bandstand, suggesting that The Zombie Bakers would be back tonight for another heaping bowl of rock n roll.
âHello?â Her voice echoed.
âIâm right here,â a voice replied softly from behind her.
- 25 -
If it had been a manâs voice, Tess would have shrieked. She managed to avoid that, but she still whirled around so quickly that she stumbled a little. The woman standing in the coat alcoveâa skinny breath of a thing, no more than five feet threeâblinked in surprise and took a step back. âWhoa, easy.â
âYou startled me,â Tess said.
âI see I did.â The womanâs tiny, perfect oval of a face was surrounded by a cloud of teased blackhair. A pencil peeked from it. She had piquant blue eyes that didnât quite match. A Picasso girl, Tess thought. âI was in the office. Are you the Expedition lady or the Honda
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