He looked at her with a sad helplessness. She smiled and took his hands. “Give me a chance to get used to it. It’s a lot to throw at a person all in one day, you know.”
He raised her hands and touched them briefly to his forehead. “We’d better be getting back,” he said and forgot to move his lips. “Henry’s probably had fifteen fits already.”
“I just thought of something else,” she said, laughing. “We haven’t eaten all day. I’m starving. I hope Harold brought lots of good stuff.”
They got to their feet. Angel stopped and looked at her, then put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her. When he pulled his head back, his face was very serious.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Evelyn grinned uncertainly. “You’re welcome,” she said.
Angel grabbed her in a hug and threw his head back with a yell. They shot into the air, spinning like a top.
31.
Henry and Tim sat on the floor, eating the last of the chicken. Henry was fidgety and kept pulling out his watch and checking the time.
“Take it easy,” Tim said with his mouth full. “They’ll be back.”
Henry tossed a half-eaten drumstick back in the basket. “They’ve been gone all day,” he grumbled. “Where are they? They went down to the river and then disappeared. For all we know Haverstock may have them.”
“If he had them, he’d have us too,” Tim said mildly.
“It’s almost sundown,” Henry continued to grumble. “We should have been making plans, getting so far away Haverstock would never find us.” He slumped back against the wall. “What have they been doing all day!”
There was a footfall in the other room. Henry lurched clumsily to his feet. “Angel,” he called.
Haverstock and Louis stepped into the room. A look of desolation crossed Henry’s face. Tim got to his feet and nervously wiped his greasy hands on his pants.
“Well,” Haverstock said and smiled, “this is certainly a picturesque hideaway you’ve chosen. Where is Angel, and the girl?”
Henry swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“Henry, please don’t be difficult,” Haverstock said and sighed. “I’ve had a very demanding day. Where are they?”
“They’re not here,” Henry said, a pleading whine creeping into his voice. “I don’t know where they are.”
Haverstock turned his attention to Tim. “Is that right?”
Tim shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes. They went off somewhere this morning and haven’t come back. We don’t know where they are.”
“Very well.” His smile flicked on, then off. “I believe you. If they had fled, they wouldn’t have left you two behind, now would they? Since you’re still here, they must be coming back.” He turned to Louis. “Keep an eye on them. I’m going out and look around.”
Louis nodded and pulled a revolver from his pocket, pointing it at Henry. Haverstock looked at the gun and raised an eyebrow. “Louis,” he said mildly, “you have hidden depths.” He gave Henry and Tim a glance and left.
Louis leaned his shoulder against the door frame and smiled his almost-smile, keeping the revolver pointed at Henry. Henry and Tim stood frozen, staring at the gun. Henry swallowed and licked his lips.
“Louis,” he said, his voice hoarse, “why are you doing this? When he’s gotten rid of all of us, you’ll be the only one left. He won’t need you anymore, don’t you know that? Don’t you know that?”
Louis raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
Henry swallowed again and rubbed his damp palms on his pants.
“Don’t waste your breath, Henry,” Tim said. “He’s Haverstock’s trained dog.”
Louis frowned and straightened. He looked at them for a moment, then his shadow-smile returned…
“Don’t try anything, Henry,” he said softly.
“What?” Henry said.
“Don’t try it.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Henry said. He suddenly felt as if his body would no longer function.
“I warned you.”
“I’m not…”
Louis fired twice into Henry’s chest and stomach. Henry cried out in rage and indignation. The molten hatred he felt for Louis almost nullified the fire in his belly. He flopped like a rag doll, gracelessly spilling his blood on the faded linoleum. His heavy body seemed to deflate. He crumpled at an impossible angle against the baseboard.
Louis fired three times at Tim’s running form, but all three missed the small target. Two gouged the floor, throwing splinters and dust. The third dislodged a chunk of wood from the door frame as Tim ducked behind it.
Tim surveyed the empty room frantically and found no place to hide. It must have been the dining room, he thought for no good reason. There were three other doors. He had no choice; two of them were closed. He ran toward the door that stood ajar, ran across a plain of faded pink roses that seemed as large as a baseball field. His twisted body lurched clumsily.
Louis stepped into the room, reloading his gun. He smiled when he saw Tim dart into the closet. He walked slowly and confidently toward it, enjoying himself and remembering when he was a kid in El Paso, shooting rats in Mr. Waldrop’s barn.
He pushed back the partially open closet door and aimed the revolver at the floor. A wrinkle appeared over his nose. The closet was empty. Then he saw light coming through the split board in the back wall. He hurried around to the other side.
Tim squirmed behind the kitchen cabinet, stumbling over the trash that had fallen back there, almost falling over the chunks of petrified crud. His skin crawled as he brushed through spider webs in the half darkness. He looked up and froze, a scream blocking his throat. A black widow as big as his head moved hesitantly toward him. She stopped when Tim stopped, testing the web with her forelegs, waiting for a telltale vibration.
Tim slowly eased to the floor and felt around for a weapon. The black widow scuttled forward an inch and stopped. Tim’s hand touched something that moved. He jerked his hand away and looked down, but it was only a sow bug. It began to crawl away on its fourteen legs. Tim put his foot on it and it curled into an armor-plated ball. Tim reached down carefully, keeping his eyes on the spider, trying not to move the web. He felt around for the sow bug, then had to look down to locate it. It had uncurled and was about to crawl away. Tim whacked it with his fist and it curled again. He picked it up like a baseball, judged his distance carefully, and threw it. It bounced off the spider and caught in the web. The black widow scurried protectively back up to her egg sac.
Tim sidled past the web and looked back. The sow bug cautiously unrolled and began to squirm. The spider hurried to it and touched it with her forelegs. Then she turned her back. With graceful movements of her rear legs, she began entangling it.
Louis entered the kitchen and grimaced. Three walls were lined with dusty, sagging cabinets offering far too many places for Tim to hide. He went to the first cabinet and examined the space behind it. He grabbed the end and dragged it away from the wall. Nothing was behind it but filth and a black widow spider. He crushed her with his shoe.
Tim ran beneath a cabinet that stood on legs, moving quickly but as quietly as possible. The spider webs and insects brought involuntary whimpers to his throat. He heard the rumble and felt the floor vibrate when Louis pulled the other cabinet out. He stopped and listened, heard Louis swear under his breath.
Tim hunched over to keep his head out of the webs that carpeted the underside of the cabinet. He took a step backward, still watching Louis’s feet worry around the other cabinet. Suddenly he caught his heel and sat down hard, rattling his vertebrae. He felt a metal rod across his back. He twisted his head and shoulders around and began to tremble. He sat on a rat trap nearly as big as he was. Then he felt giddy with relief. The trap had been sprung long ago. The metal was rusty and cushioned with dust. He scrambled away and his stomach turned over when he stumbled into the mummified remains of the rat. Loose bones scattered under his feet and the dry skin was as hard as sheet metal.