Deana didn’t stop till she was outside the gates. Only then did she draw to a halt, panting hard, trying to steady her breath.
Wow. I’m outa there.
Goddamn bitch!
Luring me in…
She grimaced.
Resident fuckin’ entertainer at the Zimmer City Rest Home?
Oh yeah?
Eat shit and die, you crazy old bitch!
Deana started to run uphill.
Toward Warren’s house.
THIRTY-NINE
A low growl brought her skidding to a halt.
Her heart lurched.
Sabre.
And Warren, holding Sabre’s lead, being yanked along as the dog rushed forward to greet her.
“Why, if it’s not the midnight runner! Good to see you, Deana.”
“Great to see you, too, Warren. And Sabre—how ya doin’, big boy?” She smoothed Sabre’s forehead. He got excited, danced back, then bounded forward, nudging his wet nose into her hand.
“Sure looks like he’s glad to see you again.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes were curious.
He looked at her torn sweater, at the left side of her bra gleaming white in the lamplight.
She seemed awfully upset.
He took off his fraternity warm-up and draped it around her shoulders.
“What happened to you back there?”
Deana gave a cracked sort of laugh. “Happened? Tell you what happened, Warren. Nearly finished up as entertainer of the year, that’s what happened.”
He frowned, wanting to know more but not asking.
Laughing shakily, she held on to his arm.
“Remind me to tell you about it sometime.”
He guided her to his place, his arm around her waist. She liked the way it felt. His arms around her. His jacket around her. Making her feel warm and safe.
Most of all, safe.
Sabre trotted by Warren’s side, eyes eager and bright, his ears held high.
Guess he is glad to see me, she thought. Could have done with him when I visited the old folks’ home. He’d have come in real handy…
“Anyway, Warren,” she said, quietly, pushing the vision of distressed gentlefolk out of her mind. “Are you glad to see me?”
He stared at her quizzically, a broad smile spreading across his features. “Yes,” he said simply. “I’m very glad to see you again.”
“Came to ask if you’d like to have dinner with Mom and me sometime.” Adding, “Mom would really like to meet you.”
“Think I’d pass the grade?”
“What’s up, Warren? Running scared? You did say you’d like to see me again. And I said I might be out one night and that we could arrange something?”
He scratched his head. “Yep. I believe I do recall something along those lines…”
“Warren—are you coming to dinner at my house, or what?”
“It’ll be my pleasure, Deana. But why not use the phone? Would’ve been easier than running up here in the dark… getting…”
Mauled by Mommy Dearest’s buncha geriatric weirdos? You’re not kidding…
“’Cause I like running. Especially at night. Developed quite a taste for it, as it happens.”
“Deana. Does your mom know you’re out?”
“Get to the point, why don’t you, Warren? Matter of fact, she doesn’t. It’s just that it seems so exciting for us to meet in secret like this.”
“Mmmm,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Guess I feel a hot chocolate coming on. How ’bout you?”
“You bet,” she said, and smiled.
FORTY
Sitting in Warren’s kitchen, nursing a mug of his yummy chocolate drink, Deana relaxed. It felt good to be here in Warren’s home—especially in his friendly, slightly untidy kitchen.
Sabre retired to his den under the sink. He lay there, checking out Deana’s movements. Then, snuffling into his paws awhile, he closed his eyes.
But his ears stayed alert.
Like sentinels on guard.
Good old Sabre. Some dog, that. She smiled.
Then frowned slightly.
If only I knew what to tell Warren.
How much to tell him.
Or how little.
And not only about tonight, either.
She thought about Mace.
Warren deserves to be put in the picture.
What picture?
Dammit. There’s so much to say…
Oh God. If only things weren’t so complicated.
“Anybody home?” Warren watched her, his brows raised.
“Sure. Can you keep a secret?”
“Try me.”
“Well, you’re right, Warren. Mom doesn’t know I’m out tonight. She doesn’t know about the other nights, either. Jesus. She’d go hairless if she did know.”
It was a start, anyway…
“I see. Go on.”
“Something happened to us. To Mom and me. About ten days ago. I can’t explain it yet. But trust me it’s been a horrible experience. People died. Violently. It’s been bad, Warren.”
He hugged his chocolate, stared into its creamy depths. Giving her time to choose her words.
“Mom’s been concerned for my safety—and I for hers, come to that. We’ve both been in danger.” Deana stopped, then carried on, more cheerfully this time. “But in the end, it turned out okay. Thing is, I don’t want Mom worried about me going out at night. She’s been through such a lot.
“I told her I met you when I phoned your store for a book.”
Warren looked up sharply.
Deana smiled.
“Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard. Is modern gangster stuff something you stock?” He nodded. She went on. “So, Warren, I’d be really grateful if you’d keep our… nighttime assignations to yourself. Oh, also your visit to the house.”
“I see. Had an idea there was more. I have a nose for mysteries.” He tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger. “Murder She Wrote was a favorite show of mine.
“Okay,” he continued, choosing his words carefully. “I’ll go along with that. But let me tell you here and now, I don’t like unsolved mysteries. And I don’t go for subterfuge, either. Especially where Mom and daughter are concerned. So maybe, least said, soonest mended, huh? Give you time to sort things out with Mom.”
Deana nodded. For a moment there, she’d been about to confide in him.
Give him the works.
Tell him her feelings about Mace.
But now was not the time to mention Mace.
Later. Maybe.
Pity.
She’d have dearly liked to discuss him with Warren.
But maybe later. Much later.
Get too heavy and Warren might cry off.
“So.” Warren smiled at her encouragingly. “I’m invited to dinner, am I?”
“Sure are.”
“Best bib and tucker?”
“Mmmm… Not necessarily. Smart casual, I think. Mom’s kinda casual herself.”
“Ah.”
“So how about evening after tomorrow? You doing anything that night?”
“Er… Let me see.” Warren took his time. Humming a little. Studying the ceiling, as if checking out the evening after tomorrow. He looked at his wristwatch. It showed 12:14.
“Let’s get this straight. It’s already tomorrow, so does that make our date tomorrow evening or the one after that?”