For one thing, it wasn’t fair to her not to let her know what was going on here. She had to know just how rough it was getting, so she could have the option of getting out He hoped she’d decide to stay; he could use her help.
He shook her, gently.
“Oh,” she said, scratching her head, her brown hair a pleasant mess. “I was dreaming.”
“What about?”
“I don’t remember. But it wasn’t a nightmare.”
“That’s something, anyway.”
“Right. Didn’t you go to get me a Coke?”
“Yeah. I forgot it.”
“That’s all right. I probably shouldn’t be putting any caffeine in my system anyway, not if I want to get some sleep. What’s that on your shirt?”
Nolan looked down at the front of his turtleneck. “Blood,” he said. “Powder burns.”
“Jesus. What’s going on?”
“There are some things you need to know. Sit up.”
She did, and he told her about Sally and Infante breaking into his house, how they tortured Sherry, how he came in on them, killing Sally. She listened with a wide-eyed expression that tried to be interest but was mostly fear.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she said. No anger, just curiosity.
“I didn’t want to scare you off,” he said. “I thought I could use you.”
She managed a smirky little smile, smoothing a hand over the bed. “I see.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“I know it isn’t.”
“Telling you about my killing Sally makes you an accessory after the fact,” he said. “That’s the main reason I didn’t tell you. There’s always a chance, in a situation like this, that you can end up in the hands of the cops. So you were better off ignorant. I wanted your help, but I wanted to protect you, too.”
“You didn’t get blood on your shirt from killing Sally. That’s new.” She reached her finger out and touched the front of his shirt, like a kid checking if paint was dry. “That’s wet.”
He told her about spotting Infante’s car, about the confrontation in the motel room.
She looked ill.
“This screws things up a little,” he said. “I didn’t intend killing Infante — not at the moment, anyway. I wanted him alive, so I could use him, to get to Jon, and handle Julie, as well. Dead, he’s a problem.”
“Why?”
“When Julie tries to contact him and finds him gone, she may figure I’m in town, which takes away the edge I need.”
“What can we do about it?”
“Well, if Julie finds Infante’s body in his room, we’re as dead as he is.”
She nodded. “And so is Jon.”
“Right. We’re better off if we get rid of the body.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“There isn’t much to it, really.”
She shuddered. “Yeah, I know. It’s the second body you’ve dumped today, after all.”
Nolan shrugged. “It’s got to be done.”
“Well, give me a second.”
“It’s almost five. We better get this done while it’s still dark.”
She got out of bed and followed him out of the motel room. Neither one wore a coat, and it was cold. There was no one around; the sky was just hinting at dawn.
Nolan handed her some car keys. “These are to that little Mazda over there. It’s Infante’s. Back it around, right up to the edge of the sidewalk in front of the door to his room, and open the trunk.”
She nodded, and went to the car, and did as she was told.
Nolan unlocked Infante’s room, silenced 9 mm in hand; it was faintly possible that Julie might have showed up in the few minutes he’d been back at his own room, explaining things to the girl.
But there was no one in the room except Infante, and he was just a sprawl of leaking flesh on the carpet by the bed. Nolan took the spread off the bed and rolled Infante up in it; it was harder than it sounds. Then he went to the doorway, and the girt was standing by the open trunk.
“Nobody’s around,” she said, glancing from side to side, her breath visible in the air. “You need any help in there?”
“No.”
“Good,” she said, hugging her arms to herself, shivering, only partially from the cold.
Nolan went back and lifted the mummylike Infante into his arms, carrying him like a bride over a threshold, only Infante was going out, not in. When the girl saw the bundle in Nolan’s arms, she covered her mouth.
“Shut the door,” he said.
She shut the door to Infante’s motel room.
“Go get the other car.”
She walked down toward the Datsun. Briskly.
He laid Infante in the Mazda trunk, which was empty except for a spare tire. He had to stuff Infante in there, and bend parts of him around, as though he was fitting a piece into a puzzle, but the wrong piece. Infante would have been uncomfortable, had he been alive. Nolan shut the trunk.
The girl was there with the Datsun. It had frost on it, as did the Mazda.
He went over to where she was leaning out the rolled-down window and said, “Just follow, me,” and got behind the wheel of the Mazda.
He led her down a country road lined with trees on either side. About fifteen miles out of Gulf Port, Nolan pulled the Mazda into an access inlet to a cornfield. The field was flattened and desolate looking. There were no farmhouses or barns in sight. Nolan took a handkerchief and wiped everything he’d touched: steering wheel, trunk lid, even the car keys, which he pitched out into the field. Then he left the Mazda where it was and joined the girl in the Datsun, waiting in the road nearby, motor running.
“Turn around as soon as you can,” he said, “and head back to the motel.”
She nodded.
When she was pulling into the stall in front of their room, Nolan said, “Now let’s check Infante’s room again.”
“Why?”
“Don’t want to leave a mess.”
They got out of the car. Nolan went down and unlocked Infante’s room. She followed him haltingly inside. There was a reddish-brown spot about the size of a saucer, but not as perfectly round, on the floor by the bed.
“Get a towel,” Nolan said, “and get it wet and soapy.”
“You want me to clean that up?”
He just looked at her.
She frowned. “Woman’s work is never done,” she said, and went into the bathroom.
Nolan looked under the bed. The twin to the 9 mm was there. He reached under and got it.
By this time, the girl was on her hands and knees scrubbing. She stopped for a moment, looked at the reddish-stained towel in her hands, and said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s good enough,” Nolan said, nodding toward the spot on the floor. “You don’t want to rub it bald.”
“I’ll get another towel with just water and kind of rinse the area.”
“Good idea.”
Nolan went to the dresser and found a notepad and pen. He wrote the following on the top sheet: “Got hungry and bored. Going to Burlington for some food and a movie. Be back in a few hours.” He didn’t sign it, but left it out on top of the dresser. The girl looked at it.
“You think that’ll hold ’em off for a while?” she asked.
“It might.”
He went to the phone. He dialed the desk.
“I’m in room thirteen,” he said. “I’m just getting to bed now, and I don’t want to be disturbed. So don’t bother sending a maid around at all today. I’ll be sleeping.”
“Sure,” a disinterested female voice on the other end said.
“You write this down or something. I don’t want to be disturbed, got it?”