He started looking in the darkened windows.
He couldn’t see much.
He saw no bodies. At least he could feel grateful for that.
But he also felt deserted. A lot of times when Amy had him drop things off here, Richie would answer the door.
Where is Richie now? he wondered.
Richie always had a lot to do, a lot of places to go. And a lot of girls around him all the time, too.
One time he’d peeked in the window and seen Richie and this girl naked. They’d been doing what the couple in those photographs had been doing. It had made Jimmy sad and he didn’t know why, as if Richie had betrayed him in some way. Jimmy didn’t understand that feeling. He had many feelings he didn’t understand. Someday when he married Amy, he could tell her about these feelings. Amy was smart. She could explain them all to him.
Jimmy stood in the rain looking at the woods in back of Richie’s place. They weren’t deep woods, maybe a quarter mile deep at most. They weren’t like the nearby state park, where the woods seemed to go on for miles and miles. But they were fun to play in and they were the best place of all to find the quartz that he frequently brought Amy.
The rain in the leafy trees made a hissing noise now. A hissing noise like a snake. Snakes terrified Jimmy. Even garter snakes. There were downtown kids who’d wait for Jimmy sometimes and throw garter snakes on him. And he’d start crying and screaming. And they’d laugh and laugh and laugh. He had nightmares about snakes, about big boa constrictors wrapped around his legs and working their way slowly, surely up around his hips and chest and—
He shuddered, even thinking about it.
He looked at the front door of the cottage. He could just leave the bread between the inside door and the outside door. It would be safe in there.
But then he wouldn’t see Richie.
He listened again to the rain hiss in the leaves.
Snakes.
He had the sudden urge to get back to his own little place up on the hill.
He’d come back when Richie was here. He always had to walk down the hill, though. Couldn’t just look down the hill. There was a windbreak of large oaks on the west side of his house and they blocked his view.
Hissing. Hissing.
He’d go back home and then try it again in a while.
Richie would invite him in. He was sure of it.
Sure of it.
6
Amy was one of those people who didn’t have much rhythm. She remembered taking tap lessons as a little girl. At recitals, the instructor always kept her way in the back, behind the other, taller girls. Trying to hide her.
That was one reason Amy liked line dancing so much. Hippos could line dance and look OK doing it. Hippos and Amy McGuire.
In the past forty minutes, Amy and Sam had danced virtually every dance. No talk of romance, no talk about brothers who caused dissension, no talk of what this dancing meant in terms of their future relationship.
They just danced to one song after another, out on the floor in the midst of people of every kind, short, tall, skinny, fat, young, old. People having fun. Fun you didn’t have to be ashamed of in the morning.
The only occasional reminder of a less than perfect world was the deep roll of thunder across the sky. Rain had been falling steadily the past twenty minutes.
After a song by the Mavericks, Sam said, “Could I buy you a beer?”
“That sounds nice. I’m getting thirsty.”
“Why don’t you grab a table and I’ll find you.”
“Great.”
Sam wore a deep blue western-style shirt with white piping and white buttons. His white Stetson gave him the look of a somewhat melancholy cowboy star of the fifties.
She found them a table and sat down, watching Sally and her boyfriend out on the dance floor. They seemed to be having a great time.
As she sat there, Amy tried hard not to think about what a good time she was having.
That would just make it all the harder if their night ended badly.
She felt good about being Sam’s partner, in all respects of that word, but what if it didn’t work out?
When Sam was still several feet away, carrying two bottles of Schlitz with glasses on them, she saw a frown trouble his face. She wondered what was wrong.
Sam sat the glasses down and said, “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My flip phone.”
“Somebody’s calling you?”
“Sure sounds like it.”
He reached in his back pocket and extracted the phone.
“Yes?” he said.
He had to plug his other ear with a finger. The noise level was pretty high in here.
Sam didn’t say anything for a time. Just listened. He said, “Well, give him my best. I’m happy for him. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
Sam clicked off, put the phone in his back pocket again.
“Trouble?” she said as Sam sat down.
“Gil Harmon? His wife had two miscarriages the last couple of years. Now she’s in the hospital again. In labor. This one’s going to happen. Gil wants to be with her, and I don’t blame him. But unfortunately, that means I have to cover for him tonight.”
“Gosh,” she laughed, trying to make the moment light. “And here I thought we’d enter the dance contest later tonight.”
He smiled. “You’re not half as bad a dancer as you think you are.”
“Now there’s a compliment.”
He smiled. “I’ve really enjoyed this.”
“So have I.”
“Maybe sometime—”
“—we could do it again,” she finished for him.
“I just want to say one thing.”
Don’t ruin it, Sam, she thought. Let’s have good memories of tonight.
Baby steps. That’s what they were taking tonight. Baby steps. Later on, they’d worry about walking and running again.
“I’m willing to reopen the investigation into what happened to Richie that night.”
There. He’d done it. Changed the mood.
“Let’s talk about that some other time, Sam. Right now I just want to sit here and think about what a great time I had tonight.”
He reached over and took her hand. “This has been great, Amy.”
Then he stood up, walked over to her, drew her face up to his, and kissed her tenderly on the lips.
She felt thrilled and sentimental at the same time. She really did love Sam, and probably always would.
“All right if I call you tomorrow?” he said.
“I’d like that.”
“Good. Now I’d better get going.” He smiled. “I haven’t had a night patrol in years. Break up a lot of teenage groping in the park.”
She smiled, the smile concealing the disappointment she felt now that the night was ending.
7
She was angry.
After leaving the bar, Darcy had felt a certain elation. She’d done a very good job of humiliating Richie in front of his friends.