The Cellar

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The green, metal sign read, WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT, POP. 400. DRIVE WITH CARE. Roy slowed down to 35 miles per hour.

He saw a dozen people lingering near a ticket booth in front of an old Victorian house. He glanced at the sign. Its red lettering wobbled and dripped like wet blood. BEAST HOUSE. He grinned, and wondered what the hell it was.

Slowing, he studied the faces of the people near the ticket booth. None looked at all like Donna or Sandy, not even with the changes six years might bring. He kept moving.

He watched the sidewalks for them; he watched the road and parking spaces for their car. A blue Ford Maverick, Karen had said. She wasn’t lying. At that point, she had been beyond lying.

When he saw a blue Maverick parked at a Chevron station, he couldn’t believe his luck. Karen had mentioned car trouble, but that shouldn’t take so long to repair: He’d expected Donna to have a day on him, at least.

He stopped beside a row of gas pumps. A skinny, sneering man approached his window. “Fill ’er up with Supreme,” Roy said, and wondered if Supreme was what the Rolls took. He decided the gas jockey would’ve made a remark if it didn’t. The guy’d said nothing.

Roy climbed out. It felt good to stand and stretch. His jeans were still damp in the pockets. He scratched his itchy skin and stepped to the rear of the car.

“That Maverick over there,” he said. “It wouldn’t belong to a woman traveling with her daughter, would it?”

“Might.”

“The woman’s thirty-three, blond, a real fox. The kid’s twelve.”

The guy shrugged.

Roy pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. The man eyed it for a moment, then took it and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

“What’s the woman’s name?” Roy asked.

“I can check.”

“Is it Hayes? Donna Hayes?”

He nodded. “That’s her. I remember the Donna.”

“And she had a kid with her?”

“Little blond gal.”

“How long you been working on the car?”

“Couple days. We brought her in Monday morning. That’s yesterday. Busted radiator. We had to send over to Santa Rosa for a new one, just got it in.”

“So they’re staying in town?”

“I don’t know where else they’d be.”

“Where are they?”

“Only one motel. That’s the Welcome Inn, about a half mile up the road, on your right.”

Roy gave the man another five dollars. “That’s to keep your mouth shut.”

“How come you’re looking for her?”

“I’m her husband.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughed. “She run out on you?”

“That’s right. And I’m aiming to fix her for that.”

“Don’t blame you a bit. She’s a choice piece, that gal. I’d be pissing steam if she run out on me.”

Roy paid for the gas, then drove half a mile up the road. He saw the restaurant first, a rustic building shaded by evergreens. WELCOME INN’S CARRIAGE HOUSE. FINE DINING. A short distance beyond it was a coffee shop. Then a driveway led into a courtyard with about half a dozen cabins on each side. Just past the driveway entrance stood the motel office. The red tubing of the neon VACANCY sign was lit.

Roy kept driving, suddenly nervous.

So close. He didn’t want to blow it, now. He needed time to think.

He drove up the road until he found a wide shoulder. There, he pulled off and shut down the engine. He checked his wristwatch. Nearly three-fifteen.

Donna’s car is at the Chevron station, he thought. Okay. If she picks it up today, she either leaves right away, or spends the night. If she leaves, she’ll drive past here. He could simply wait and stop her somehow.

What if she heads south? No, she wouldn’t do that. Not after making a beeline north like this.

Still, she might.

Or she might stay another night at the inn.

That’d be easy enough to find out. Just check in the motel office. If she’s planning to stay over, she would’ve registered by now.

He couldn’t check the office, though. She might find out.

Well, not necessarily. He could go to the office, get her cabin number, and drive right to her door before she had a chance to find out anything, take precautions, call the cops. He could bust in, grab her and the kid, get out before anyone knows what hit.

Not a chance. People would see. There’d be cops after them so quick…

Why take them anywhere? Just go in, shut them up, and stay inside. Plenty of privacy. Even beds. Stay as long as he felt like it.

What if they’re out?

If they’re out, they might ask at the office, and find out he’d been there asking.

“Shit,” he muttered, seeing his plan fall apart.

Okay, getting the number from the office is out. That leaves one way to learn which cabin is theirs: Stake the place out. Watch for them.

He spent a few moments wondering about the best way to keep watch on the cabins, then climbed out of the car. He took his pack from the backseat and slipped his arms through the straps. Then he opened the trunk. Joni was conscious. He lifted her out by the arms.

They walked along the roadside until Roy saw the office of the Welcome Inn about fifty yards ahead. Then he led Joni into the trees. The twigs and pine cones of the forest floor hurt her bare feet, and she started to cry.

“Stop that.”

“It hurts.”

“Do you want me to carry you?”

She nodded.

Roy grinned, remembering how she’d refused a similar offer, just last night. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. He bent down. She wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, as if she’d had a lot of practice. Roy hooked one arm under her back and the other behind her knees. He lifted, and began to walk with her through the trees.

He enjoyed carrying Joni this way. She was light enough so it caused little strain. Her arm reaching around his neck seemed almost friendly, though he knew she only did it for her own security. Her face was close to his. With a slight forward shift of his head, he could brush his cheek against the softness of her hair. The backs of her legs were bare against his right arm. As he walked, he caressed the velvety side of her thigh. Her free hand made no effort to stop him.

Soon a row of cabins came into view. They were painted like redwood, with slanted roofs. They had windows in back, but no doors.

Staying far away from the cabins, Roy worked his way past the end one. A break in the trees gave him a view of the parking area. It curved slightly southward between the cabins. From its angle, he figured that the windows of the nearest cabin on the left should give him a view of all the other cabin fronts.

He made a wide sweep through the woods, and came up directly behind it. He grinned. The angle of the cabin’s rear side shielded it from the other cabins. He set Joni onto her feet.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

Whispered. He liked that.

“I’m getting us a place to stay.”

The window sill was level with Roy’s head. The window was shut.

“I’m gonna lift you up,” he whispered. “Tell me who’s inside.” He put down his backpack and patted his shoulder.

Joni climbed onto his shoulders. She held the top of his head. Gripping her knees, Roy slowly stood until her eyes were level with the bottom of the window.

“Closer,” she said. She leaned forward, thighs pressing the sides of his head. Hands cupped to her eyes, she peered into the window screen. “Higher,” she whispered.

He raised her. “Who’s there?”

“Nobody.”

“Are you sure?”

“Huh?”

“Is anyone there?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He lowered her to the ground, and she climbed off. “You’re not lying, are you?”

“I don’t tell lies,” she said solemnly.

“Okay. You’d better not.”

“I’m hungry.”

“We’ll eat when we get inside.”

“What?”

“I’ve got lots of stuff in the pack. But first we have to get in there.”

“How?”

He didn’t answer. He led her to the right side of the cabin. There were two windows on the side, but they could be seen from the cabin across the parking area. He didn’t want to chance being seen. They returned to the single rear window.

He could only get in by breaking it.

That would mean noise.

What were the alternatives? He could walk to the door of an occupied cabin, knock, and knife his way in. Someone might see him, though. And if he screwed it up there might be a scream. That’d be worse, by far, than a little breaking glass.

Maybe he should go under the cabin and watch for Donna from there. Kneeling, he looked into the crawl space under the elevated floor. It was a couple of feet high. Plenty of room. He ought to have a good view from the front.

It would be filthy, though. All kinds of bugs and spiders. Slugs. Maybe even rats. No telling how long he would have to wait: maybe hours. And what would he do with Joni? The hell with that.

With his knife, he pried loose the two lower clamps of the window screen. He worked the screen loose and propped it against the wall.

Reaching into the pack, he took out his flashlight. “Okay,” he said, “onto my shoulders.”

Joni climbed on.

Roy handed the flashlight to her. He straightened up. “See up there? Where the window ends?”

“Here?” She pointed to the wood crossbeam at the bottom of the upper window.

“Right. Break the glass just above that, then you can undo the latch. Use the end of the flashlight. Hit it hard.”

“Here?”

“A little more to the left.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Now hit it hard so it breaks the first time.”

Holding him across the forehead with one hand, she swung. Roy heard the loud slam of the flashlight striking glass. The glass didn’t break. “Hard!” he muttered. “Hit it hard! Hard as you can.” He waited. “Go ahead, damn it!”

The flashlight crashed down on his head. Again. Again. Pain streaked through his skull. He put a hand up. The flashlight struck his fingers.

Ducking, he rammed Joni into the wall. She cried out and dropped the flashlight. Roy reached up. He grabbed her blouse and tugged. The girl tumbled over his head. Her back slammed the ground.

“Hey!”

Roy looked toward the corner. A teenage girl stood there, holding towels in her arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. She sounded more angry than afraid.

In an instant, Roy had his knife out. He pressed it to Joni’s belly. “I’m gonna kill this little girl if you don’t come over here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Run or yell, and I’ll gut her like a catfish.”

The girl began to shake her head. “You’re sick,” she said.

“Come here.”

With short, hesitant steps, the girl began to approach him. Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to figure him out.

He watched how the late-afternoon breeze ruffled her hair. He watched how her small breasts jiggled seductively inside her white T-shirt. He watched her lean, tanned legs.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“Just answer.”

“I own the place.”

“You?”

“My family.”

“Then you’ve got keys,” he said, and grinned.