The Lake

FORTY-SIX

“Where to? Anywhere special in mind?”

“You choose. I’m in your hands.”

“Okay. Hold tight. Just close your eyes and relax!”

Deana pushed back into the seat, snugging against the soft upholstery. Nice car, she thought dreamily. A two-seater Porsche coup.

A tangy whiff of leather hit her nostrils.

She felt a little shaky. Slightly out of her depth.

It was the first time she and Warren had been together like this. Up close and really together. Sure, she’d been to his house. Drunk his scrumptious cocoa. Become best buddies with his dog. A gal can’t get much closer, she told herself with a slow smile.

She stole a glance at Warren’s profile. Straight nose, firm chin. Lit up now by a passing car. He looks kinda sexy in that white shirt, she thought, the way it shows up against his tan.

The night was warm and sticky, and Warren had discarded his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were strong, matted with dark hair, and well-muscled. She watched his hands holding the wheel loosely. Imagining how they’d feel wandering over her naked body…

Stop that!

Still, she couldn’t help thinking about it. A picture leapt into her mind. Warren, running his hands over her shoulders, holding her breasts, squeezing her nipples. His mouth opening onto hers…

A thought struck her. She frowned. Who knows, Warren might decide he was too old for her, smile kindly, and say, “Good-bye eighteen-year-old ex-high-school kid Deana. Go find somebody your own age…”

Warren felt her gaze and smiled. His eyes flashed as he turned to look at her.

“Will I do?”

“Do?”

“Yeah. You’ve been staring at me for the last coupla miles…”

“Sorry. Just thinking that you look kinda sexy. In the dark. With that intense expression on your face, you seem so intelligent and… mature, somehow.”

“I hope by that you don’t mean I’m too decrepit for a young gal like you?”

“On the contrary, I feel safe around you. Felt it that very first time you invited me to your house. You have this, I don’t know—gravitas, I guess you’d call it.”

“Wow! Sounds heavy.”

They’d dropped down to a crawl, climbing along a rutted road. For the first time she looked out the window.

Her breath quickened. She shivered. Almost panicked.

Goose bumps scurried up her body.

“Warren…”

“Uh-huh?”

“Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d maybe go over to Stinson Beach. Take a stroll in the moonlight…”

Deana’s face turned ghostly pale.

“Why, Deana, what is it?”

They’d arrived at a clearing now.

The clearing. The parking area for the outdoor theater…

The Porsche purred to a halt.

“Warren!” she wailed. “How could you do this to me?”

“Do what, Deana? For godsakes, what d’you mean?”

Dismayed, he looked at her. She’d drawn up into a small tight ball, her hands held clenched to her face.

“You brought me here, Warren. How did you know? Why did you bring me here?”

Tears coursed down her cheeks.

Then he got it.

Whatever had happened to Deana a short while ago, had happened here, in this clearing.

He pulled her gently to him, making soothing noises as if she were a child waking scared from a nightmare. She shook, sobbed, and cried all at the same time, her face wet and shiny with tears.

He waited till she’d calmed down a little.

“Take me back, Warren,” she said quietly. “Please. Take me away from this place!”

“Sure, honey. Just don’t cry anymore. You’re safe with me.”

Deana snuffled, and he produced a tissue from the glove compartment. She took it, gratefully, and dabbed at her face. “I must look a real freak,” she said with another sob.

“You look wonderful, Deana. You always do.”

“Thanks, Warren,” she said, still sniffing loudly. A pause, then: “I think I owe you an explanation.”

“Not necessarily. But I can guess. Something to do with what happened to you—and your mom?”

She nodded, her lips still trembling.

“No need to explain. Don’t want you upsetting yourself any more. I’m just sorry I chose this place, is all.”

“Not your fault. I said you choose. Didn’t say anything about not going anywhere near Mt. Tam. So don’t blame yourself. You weren’t to know. But can we go home now, please?”

“Sure,” he said, turning the key in the ignition, still looking at her anxiously. “Sure you’re okay now?” Deana nodded, snugged back into her seat again, and stared out into the night. Remembering Allan.

How he’d opened the car door for her, and how there hadn’t been a cat in hell’s chance of him escaping.

Then the old Pontiac, whooshing by, lifting him off his feet.

Allan. Allan…

Another sob shook her body. Vivid pictures flashed through her mind. She saw herself running away from Allan.

Saving my own skin…

He could’ve been alive.

Maybe I could’ve saved him.

Don’t think about it anymore…

She gasped.

Something…

Someone was back there, in the bushes. The car moved on past. Warren maneuvered it slowly, carefully over the ruts.

Still Deana could see it… the white face, with dark holes for eyes. No, not dark holes. It, whatever it was, had an eye. It had looked at her. Its mouth gaping wide… Its scrawny hands parting the bushes…

Then it faded into the dark beyond.

She turned around. Stared hard.

Saw nothing.

She frowned.

The face had been a lot like Nelson’s. Thin, white. Eerie. Positively ghoulish in the dark shadows.

It can’t be Nelson, she told herself.

Nelson’s dead.

Mom identified the body.

Her breath evened out. Her mind had been playing tricks again. Coming here hadn’t been one of Warren’s greatest ideas.

Glancing across at him, she met his eyes. He smiled gently. “Okay now?”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

She was still shaking, though.

Thinking about Nelson.

But a dead Nelson, she reminded herself. Hope I can sleep tonight. Hope I don’t see him again. Walking past my window, waving his hatchet.

Bullshit, Deana.

Pull yourself together.

Nelson’s dead.

This is two weeks on. We’re safe now. Mom’s okay. She’s got Mace, ’n’ I’ve got Warren to keep me company. I hope. Unless I’ve scared him off by tonight’s little performance.

“And as we lie here,” Allan’s voice whispered in her head. “Our naked bodies all sweaty and tangled…”

Oh my God.

Stop it.

Allan’s dead. Gone. Please God don’t let me go over that again…

She looked at Warren, felt the bumps and jolts as the car sped downhill, bouncing over the ruts. He met her gaze, smiled, and said, “You’ve got me now, Deana. I’ll take care of you.”