"what money?" Joyce asked.
Her brother reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. "This money," he answered, tossing the roll into the air. "Old Harry might not care much for me, he might believe the worst of me, but he's not Gonna believe I threw away four hundred dollars to frame his daughter. No, he'll believe that she's runing a game on him with her story of us raping her, because she figured it'd make him not believe you when you tell him that she's a whore."
Joyce grinned. "And by telling him all of the things she's going to tell him, I make it look like she made up everything and told me she was Gonna he if I told him about what I caught her doing."
"That's right," Willie agreed. "He will believe you when he finds that I've got three people that'll swear I've been with them an day, since I got up this moming And I'm gonna can you-know-who and tell her to say you were in her shop this morning "You see, baby cakes," he said to Lyn, an evil smirk on his face. "We had you, and we got you. The least that's Gonna happen is that your old man is Gonna beat your ass. He might do more than that."
Lyn knew Willies was telling the truth. She and her father had not been getting along since the death of her mother, and the hard feelings had continued to develop after Harry's remarriage.
Her mother had been an alcoholic, driven to drink by a husband who neglected her in favor of his business or the girls he ran around with. Lyn blamed her father for hit mother's death and didn't hesitate to let him know that.
He might believe that she was selling herself. If he did, he might lock her up, put her in a hospitals He had threatened to put her mother in a hospital there was no reason why he wouldn't do it to her.
"Oh, Willie, it's perfect!" Joyce exclaimed, clapping her hands.
He nodded. "I know guys like old Harry too well," he explained. "He'll buy the story. I just wish I could be here to see what he does to this stuck-up little bitch. But," he added philosophically, "you can't have everything."
"What about Lyn?" Joyce asked.
"Oh, you locked her in her room when you went to find him to tell him the bad news," Willie explained.
He took a knife from his pocket and cut the cloth holding Lyn's feet to the bed, then rolled her onto her belly to cut the stocking that was binding her hands. Lyn was too stiff from her tormented position to do more than let her hands fall away amp;om each other. By the ame she hid regained some strength in her limbs, they had left her room and she'd heard the door locked from the outside.
Lyn was sure her father felt guilty about neglecang his first wife. That was one of the reasons why he was so attenave to Joyce. She also knew that he resented her being around, for she reminded him of her mother. lock me up in a hospital Lyn thought. I Bet me of his sight so I don't remind him of Momma, and he won't have me reminding him how much Momma worked to fix this place up. He then let Joyce fuck the place up with all of her silly ideas.
The girl rose and paced the floor. As she thought, it seemed clearer and clearer to her that there were only two things she could do. She could stay and hope that her father would believe her instead of Joyce, which she didn't think he would do. Or she could run away.
She knew that, if she did the latter, her father would think it was a sign that she had done what Joyce was going to claim, but she didn't care. At least she would be free. She wouldn't end up in a mental hospital.
And she did have a place to go. Her mother had a brother who lived in Massachusetts. Lyn had never met her uncle Wayne, because her father disliked him intensely and had forbidden her mother to have him at the house. But he and her mother had corresponded, and Lyn did have his address. She could go to him and he'd protect bet amp;rom her father. Her father wouldn't know where she was if she went to Uncle Wayne's.
She didn't know how much ame she had before her father got home, but she was sure she couldn't delay any longer. She dragged herself from the bed and slipped back into bet underwear, sheen added a sweatshirt that covered her upper torso and tits, but which left her midriff exposed. Lyn had listened to other giris talk about hitchhiking and knew that the sexier she looked, the better her
chances of get an a ride. She donned a pair of shorts, then slipped her feet into ankle boots.
Hurriedly, she dragged her old Girl Scout pack from the top of the closet and fined it with clothing At the last moment, she took ail of her mother's jewelry and stuffed it into the bee Willie and Joyce thought that locking her in the room was going to keep her there. Lyn smiled as she thought of how Joya was going to explain her disappearance. What she did was go into the bathroom and wiggle out the window, then make her way along the roof anal she was at the back of the house. There was a tree there she climbed down easily. Lyn hadn't learned the means of getang in and out that way herself a boy had climbed into her room one night on a bet. She had ъ chased him away, of course, but only after he had waved to his friends from her bedroom window while she stood beside him. Good old Timmy, she thought. He wasn't around any longer, his folks had moved. For the first ame, Lyn missed him.
Tiredly, she started waikin6 Massachuseits was a long way away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lyn almost sobbed with relief when the truck siowed to a stop just ahead of her. She had been gone from the house for twenty or so minutes and hadn't gotten very far. Each time she'd heard a car conning up behind her, she'd been afraid it was her father, looking for her. Now, it looked as if she were going to make her escape without incident.
"Where you heading girlie?" the sum, wiry relet driver asked as he swung down from the cab of the semi.
"Brockton, Mass," Lyn replied, hoping they'd take her in that direcaon. It appeared they were going to, for the red-headed relief driver was grinning and indicaang she should climb into the cab.
"You're going to have to ride nn the sleeper," the driver said. He was a slightly older edition of the other man, although with preying hair. Lyn knew they had to be brothel. Obediently, she crawled into the berth behind the customenade seats and stretched out, glad to be free of Lancaster.
"We'd carry you as far as Springfield, Mass," the relief driver said, taming around to grin at her.
'That's our home base. But you won't have any trouble getting a ride from there to Brocton."
They hadn't said much to her as the truck had gotten on the Interstate and started eating up the miles. Even when they'd stopped for a meai, which they had treated her to, they hadn't spoken much to her. And, in the truck, most of their conversation was over their CB radio. Their handles were Red Fox and Grey Fox, Lyn teamed, and she gathered that they made the trip from Springfield to Lancaster three times a week.
When they reached Waterbury, Red Fox, who was now driving swung off the Interstate and onto an older road. It was, his brother explained, a shortcut they used, since their destinaaon was to the east of town and the road from the Interstate to the terminal was heavily traveled. "This way, we gain about half an hour," Grey Fox explained. Lyn didn't care it was pouring down rain outside and she was glad to be sheltered from the rain and the wind, which was starting to increase.
They had been on the back road for about fifteen minutes when Ed, the older brother climbed into the sleeper compartment with her.
Thinking he wanted to sleep, Lyn started to move to the seat he had just vacated. But before she could even get over him, he had wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest as he murmured: "That's what I like, a hot number.-'
He tangled his fingers in her hair and pressed her mouth to his, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he reached down and cupped her right ass-cheek in his big hand. Lyn sputtered and tried to free herself from his embrace.