The beep came.
Hey, pick up. Its goody-two-shoes. You know? Goody-two-shoes with the spit on her face. Pick up. Its urgent.
She heard a click. Lane? Rileys voice.
Yeah, its me. Take the tape out of the machine and put it in your pocket.
Sure. Whats up?
Do it now, okay?
A few seconds later he said, Okay, Ive got it. Whats going on? Is he leaving?
Hes dead.
What?
My Dad killed him about ten minutes ago. I dont have time to tell you about it now. The thing is, you can go on home.
Damn it!
You oughta be glad.
I wanted to...
I know, I know.
Maybe Ill burn the fuckers house for him.
No, dont do that. There might be some kind of evidence.
Oh yeah, theres plenty of that, all right.
Really?
Hey, the fuckers got a regular museum here in a closet pictures on the walls. You, Jessica, half a dozen...
Me? Lane asked, feeling as if her breath were being sucked out.
Sure as shit. Must be thirty, forty of em. Hes got a darkroom here, all kinds of cameras, telephoto lenses, you name it.
My God.
A lot of girls stuff, too. Panties, bras, nightgowns. Fuckin pervert. Looks like he used em to...
Just leave everything the way it is. For godsake, dont burn the place. The copsve gotta find that stuff. Itll help keep my dad out of trouble.
For a few moments there was silence. Then Riley said, I dont know. Some of the shots he got of Jessica... I dont want a bunch of cops seeing her like that.
They have to know what Kramer was doing.
Yeah? Bet you wouldnt be saying that if you saw what hes got on you.
He couldnt...
He was following you around, Lane. He was out to your house, too, from the looks of it. You better start learning to shut your curtains better.
Jesus, she muttered.
Still want me to leave everything?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she groaned.
Pictures of me on his walls. Taken through the windows? Her skin went hot and crawly.
Leave everything, she said. Please. Youve got to.
More silence. At last Riley said, Ill leave some of it. Enough so the cops get the idea. Okay? Ill take the worst ones of you and Jessica and burn em.
All right. Thanks. She heard the front door bump shut. Look, Ive gotta hang up. My folks just came in. Ill be in touch. You get out of there. She hung up the phone and hurried to the hallway.
* * *
From his hiding place behind a cactus cluster across the street, Uriah watched the lair of the vampires and wondered what had happened there.
Everyone else in the neighborhood mustve been wondering, too. He counted more than twenty rubberneckers wandering around the street and sidewalks, all of them strange in the flashing lights of the police cars and coroners van.
After a long time a couple of gurneys were rolled down the driveway. As they were being loaded into the coroners van, Uriah caught glimpses of bulky dark bags.
A lot of the gawkers cleared out, once the meat wagon was gone.
One by one the police cars left. The last of them stayed for quite a while. Only a few neighbors were still hanging around by the time a pair of cops stepped out of the front door, went to the remaining car and drove away.
Uriah sat down on the gravel behind the cactus, wrapped the blanket around himself to keep off the chill, and waited.
Whatever had gone on across the street, he still had to go in and carry out his mission. The cops hadnt taken care of any vampires, he was sure of that. Cops might be good at some things, but they didnt know beans about Satans bloodthirsty children.
Thats where I come in, he thought.
Guess thats that, Pete said, and yawned. He was reclined in the easy chair, wearing one of Larrys shirts over the bandages that had been applied in the emergency room. Score one for the good guys.
I just wish you wouldve told us, Jean said, looking at Lane with weary, sad eyes.
Let it go, honey.
I was just so scared, Lane murmured.
Its all right, Larry told her, and stroked her hair. Its over now.
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder. Is it okay if I go to bed now?
Sure, go on.
Lane got up from the sofa. She said good night to Pete and Barbara, kissed Jean, came back to Larry, whispered, Night, Dad, and kissed him. Then she walked out of the living room, moving slowly, her head hanging.
When she was gone, Barbara said, Poor kid. The hell she mustve gone through...
You got the bastard, Lar.
With a little help from my friends.
Man, you nailed him good.
Lets not talk about it anymore, Jean said. She slumped forward until her elbows met her knees, and seemed to stare at the carpet.
Come on, Pete, Barbara said, getting up. Lets go before you pass out. To Larry she said, They doped him up pretty good at the E.R.
Im fine.
She took his arm and helped him out of the chair.
Im okay, Im okay. Pulling away from her, he staggered toward the sofa. He shoved a hand toward Larry.
Larry reached up and shook it.
Pete held on. So I guess we did good, huh, pardner?
Larry shrugged. He didnt feel as if hed done good. He felt dazed, sick and weary and sad.
Too bad old Bonnie didnt perk up for us.
Just as well, Larry said.
Still got us a hell of a book, though, huh?
No book, Larry said. Not about this.
Hey, man...
We never had a vampire, anyway. Even if we did, I couldnt write the truth. I couldnt write about Kramer. About Lane. I wont.
Pete stared down at him, eyes still blackened from his encounter with Uriahs rock. He stared for a long time. Then he sighed. His grip on Larrys hand tightened. Good man, he said.
You, too. Well do a different book together.
A corner of Petes mouth tilted up. All right. Im full of ideas. Well...
Youre full of Darvon, Barbara broke in, putting an arm around him. Now, come on. Lets go home and get some shuteye.
When they were gone, Larry turned off the lights and walked with Jean toward their bedroom. At the end of the hallway a glowing band showed beneath the bathroom door. He heard water running.
Ive gotta take a shower, too, he mumbled.
Dont be long, Jean said. I dont want to be alone.
Ill hurry, he told her. They entered the room. He went to the master bath, turned on the light but left the door open.
He took off his clothes. When he lifted the lid of the hamper to drop them in, he saw the wadded, bloody shirt hed been wearing when he killed Kramer. The sweatsuit covered it. He shut the lid, stepped to the tub and turned on the water.
Under the hot spray he thought of Lane in the other bathroom. Like him, trying to cleanse herself of Kramer.
He was weeping when the shower curtain rattled open. Jean stepped into the tub. She slid the curtain shut and put her arms around him. Her face pressed against the side of his neck.
They didnt speak. They held onto each other hard.
Lane draped her towel over the bar and slipped into her nightshirt. Where she had missed a patch of water, low on her back, the soft fabric hugged her skin.
She left her clothes hanging in the bathroom and stepped out.
The house looked dark except for light from the open door of her parents bedroom.
She went to her own room, flipped on the light and stared at her bed. As weary as she felt, she knew that sleep wouldnt come easily or soon. She would lie in bed, wide awake, remembering.
No, I wont, she told herself.
She was in her room just long enough to pick up her pillow and blanket. Holding them to her chest, she turned off the light and walked silently down the hallway.