him.
Then he slashed through the side of Milton’s neck. With a quick jump to the left, he dodged the spurting blood.
Headlights appeared down the road. Far off. But how far? The road was as straight as a ruled line, so it might be a mile
or more.
Or maybe a lot less.
Albert looked at Milton. The old man was down on his hands and knees, the white headbeams of his car skimming across his back.
The cut was in darkness, but Albert could hear the blood splashing on the dirt and gravel.
He reached inside the car and killed the headlights. Then he hurried to the front. Bending over, he grabbed Milton’s ankles.
He tugged them and Milton flopped flat.
Then he dragged the old man to the edge of the roadside drainage ditch and shoved him with his foot.
Milton tumbled down the steep slope.
Being careful not to lose his footing, Albert followed him.
At the bottom of the ditch, he crouched by Milton’s side.
The guy was sprawled face down, silent and motionless.
Dead yet? Albert wondered.
He pounded his knife into Milton’s back.
The first couple of times, Milton grunted. After that, he was quiet.
The stabbing didn’t excite Albert very much, so he stopped after five or six times.
As he waited for the car to pass, he went through Milton’s pockets. He found a stiff, wadded handkerchief, a comb, a rabbit’s
foot, two books of matches, a few coins, a wallet with eighteen dollars and a gasoline credit card, and another wallet. The
second wallet, made of flimsy plastic, contained eighty dollars in traveler’s checks.
Up on the road, the car sped by without slowing.
Albert waited until its sound was faint with distance, then rushed up the slope to Milton’s car. He did a quick U-turn and
headed up the road.
His heart raced as he thought about the girl.
She’d looked really cute.
It had only been a glimpse, of course. Maybe she was a dog if you got a good look at her.
Nah, I bet she’s cute.
Find out pretty soon.
Albert imagined stripping her naked, then plunging his knife into her belly, watching the blood gush out, spreading the gash
wide…
But five miles later, he realized that she was gone.
Maybe that other car …
Okay, Albert thought. No big deal. I’ll just have to find someone else.
The world’s full of women.
ELEVEN
RETURN TO DAVE’S
Janet woke up and stretched, enjoying the smooth warmth of the sheets next to her skin. She felt chilly air on her bare shoulders
and neck. Under the covers, though, she was warm and cozy.
She felt good. This morning, there was no nausea.
Sleepily, she reached a hand sideways. She expected to find Dave’s bare chest. Instead, her hand found only the edge of the
mattress.
She was in a single bed.
Opening her eyes, she realized that she was in Meg’s guest room.
Monday morning? Must be.
Her second morning without Dave.
Thinking of him, Janet’s throat constricted. She tried to swallow the tightness away. He’s nothing to cry about, she told
herself. Don’t cry. He’s not worth it, not worth a damn…
Except that she had been in love with him and she had lived in his apartment and slept with him every night for three months
and woke up in bed with him every morning. Every morning, she would find him there beside her, naked and warm, and they would
snuggle and sometimes—often—they would end up making love.
Never again, she thought.
It’s over. All over.
I don’t want to see him again, much less touch him, much less make love with him.
Janet used the edge of the sheet to wipe her eyes. Then she took a deep, shaky breath.
Forget the bastard.
Watch who you’re calling a bastard.
Smiling slightly, she touched her belly. It was smooth and warm and flat. “Howdy in there,” she whispered. “Your daddy wants
to kill you, but I’m not gonna let him.”
She suddenly felt guilty for saying such a thing out loud.
She patted her belly. “Can you hear me in there?”
Nothing.
“Blink once for yes, twice for
Then he slashed through the side of Milton’s neck. With a quick jump to the left, he dodged the spurting blood.
Headlights appeared down the road. Far off. But how far? The road was as straight as a ruled line, so it might be a mile
or more.
Or maybe a lot less.
Albert looked at Milton. The old man was down on his hands and knees, the white headbeams of his car skimming across his back.
The cut was in darkness, but Albert could hear the blood splashing on the dirt and gravel.
He reached inside the car and killed the headlights. Then he hurried to the front. Bending over, he grabbed Milton’s ankles.
He tugged them and Milton flopped flat.
Then he dragged the old man to the edge of the roadside drainage ditch and shoved him with his foot.
Milton tumbled down the steep slope.
Being careful not to lose his footing, Albert followed him.
At the bottom of the ditch, he crouched by Milton’s side.
The guy was sprawled face down, silent and motionless.
Dead yet? Albert wondered.
He pounded his knife into Milton’s back.
The first couple of times, Milton grunted. After that, he was quiet.
The stabbing didn’t excite Albert very much, so he stopped after five or six times.
As he waited for the car to pass, he went through Milton’s pockets. He found a stiff, wadded handkerchief, a comb, a rabbit’s
foot, two books of matches, a few coins, a wallet with eighteen dollars and a gasoline credit card, and another wallet. The
second wallet, made of flimsy plastic, contained eighty dollars in traveler’s checks.
Up on the road, the car sped by without slowing.
Albert waited until its sound was faint with distance, then rushed up the slope to Milton’s car. He did a quick U-turn and
headed up the road.
His heart raced as he thought about the girl.
She’d looked really cute.
It had only been a glimpse, of course. Maybe she was a dog if you got a good look at her.
Nah, I bet she’s cute.
Find out pretty soon.
Albert imagined stripping her naked, then plunging his knife into her belly, watching the blood gush out, spreading the gash
wide…
But five miles later, he realized that she was gone.
Maybe that other car …
Okay, Albert thought. No big deal. I’ll just have to find someone else.
The world’s full of women.
ELEVEN
RETURN TO DAVE’S
Janet woke up and stretched, enjoying the smooth warmth of the sheets next to her skin. She felt chilly air on her bare shoulders
and neck. Under the covers, though, she was warm and cozy.
She felt good. This morning, there was no nausea.
Sleepily, she reached a hand sideways. She expected to find Dave’s bare chest. Instead, her hand found only the edge of the
mattress.
She was in a single bed.
Opening her eyes, she realized that she was in Meg’s guest room.
Monday morning? Must be.
Her second morning without Dave.
Thinking of him, Janet’s throat constricted. She tried to swallow the tightness away. He’s nothing to cry about, she told
herself. Don’t cry. He’s not worth it, not worth a damn…
Except that she had been in love with him and she had lived in his apartment and slept with him every night for three months
and woke up in bed with him every morning. Every morning, she would find him there beside her, naked and warm, and they would
snuggle and sometimes—often—they would end up making love.
Never again, she thought.
It’s over. All over.
I don’t want to see him again, much less touch him, much less make love with him.
Janet used the edge of the sheet to wipe her eyes. Then she took a deep, shaky breath.
Forget the bastard.
Watch who you’re calling a bastard.
Smiling slightly, she touched her belly. It was smooth and warm and flat. “Howdy in there,” she whispered. “Your daddy wants
to kill you, but I’m not gonna let him.”
She suddenly felt guilty for saying such a thing out loud.
She patted her belly. “Can you hear me in there?”
Nothing.
“Blink once for yes, twice for
Similar Books
