The Lake

TWENTY-EIGHT

Sheena left the club early.

Pacey hadn’t been any too pleased, but when she told him, “Either I go an’ I come back again tomorrow night, or I go an’ don’t come back at all,” he’d shrugged and said, “Family crisis? Sure. We all have one a’ those from time ta time. I should know, believe me. Okay. Do it, Sheena. But don’t make a habit of this. I can’t afford for you not to be here.”

Damn right he was, too. The other guys working the door at Pacey’s Place couldn’t handle it the way she could. She was proud of her physique. A powerful five ten, and stacked with it. Because of all those workouts. She gave a tight smile. Her karate was pretty impressive, too.

Tonight, Sheena had had one of her “insights.”

They didn’t come often, but when they did, she knew better than to ignore them. They’d been with her for as long as she could remember, but tonight’s was the strongest so far.

She was uneasy about Warren.

As she swung her Chrysler coup into Del Mar, the feeling of unrest mounted. She eyed the low black job up ahead. It was easing along like it was looking for someplace. She put her foot down, the engine roared, and she released the pressure slightly. The street was like a goddamn morgue. So quiet. Nobody around. But hey, Warren liked it, and it was within easy reach of Eureka…

Sheena cruised up the hill till she saw the two redwoods. Home.

Home? She didn’t think so.

The car in front was still doing around twenty-five, thirty. Slightly annoyed, Sheena slowed down. She continued with her train of thought.

Guess I have this monkey on my back—have to keep on the move. She gave a wry smile. No place like home, isn’t that what they say? What home, I ask myself…

“Hey, buddy. Get a move on, why don’t ya?”

She removed a piece of gum from its wrapper and wadded it into her mouth. The fingers of her free hand tapped the wheel impatiently.

Suddenly, the black job revved and disappeared up the street.

Nearly there now.

Sheena’s breath quickened.

She felt strangely alert.

Like she was homing in on a target of some kind. She was reading all the signs. Super-aware.

This is it.

Her eyes pierced the darkness. Instinctively, she drove past her driveway and stopped in a dark, shadowy place a couple more yards on. While all her senses were taut, oddly acute, a part of her brain told her she needed a workout. One of those hard, punishing jobs when all she focused on was the pain of her hurting lungs and straining muscles.

It was a strange yet familiar feeling—more a compulsion, really. She always felt this way when she had one of her “insights.”

Yeah. I need a workout.

But that’ll come later.

After that, sleep.

Same routine every time.

She heard voices.

Peered into her rearview mirror.

It was Warren and some kid. The kid’s face showed up ghost-white against her black clothes.

They were jogging out of the driveway. Laughing quietly. Looking into each other’s face. Sharing a joke.

Sheena’s brows raised a little.

Nice work, bro.

What happened to the “one man and his dog” routine?

The joggers rounded left and set off down Del Mar.

Sweat glistened on Sheena’s forehead.

Her hands clenched the wheel.

Something was wrong.