Deviation (17 page)

She thought about this. “Okay.
I see what you're saying. But does that mean you don't want to take
over someone's house with me?”

“Not at all. Like I said,
the idea sounds wonderful. We've just got to be careful, is all.”

Her whole face lit up with
happiness, and she felt true joy in her heart. She was going to help
herself to a house tonight. Any one she felt like. Anywhere she
felt like. It was the greatest feeling she'd ever had, and she knew
that she could count on herself to pull it off now, too. She was a
different person. She was cunning, and resourceful. She'd cut the
last of the ropes that had been holding her down since birth, and in
doing so, the world had become a different place. She felt the need
to celebrate her decision, immediately. “Do you think any of
our beers are cold back there?”

“No. But I'd be happy to
get you one anyway.”

“That would be nice.”

“Perhaps you'd even like
to open your fancy rum.”

“No. I think I'd like to
save that for later.” She smiled at him from the shadows of
the driver's seat. “Once we find a house to our liking.”

* * *

As they drove along, drinking
beer, Frank realized he hadn't turned his phone back on since hanging
up on Pastor McKenzie a couple of days earlier. He pulled it from
his pocket and powered it up.

“Making a call?”
Dianne asked.

“Just checking.” He
glanced at the screen when it had finished initializing and saw that
he had two missed calls. He pressed the button for voice mail and
held the phone to his ear.

Both calls were from the pastor,
and both were short.

“Frank, it's me again.
Don't play games with me. We've got a common interest here. You
have my number. Call me immediately.”

The next message had come in
several hours later.

“Have it your way, Frank.
You're a dead man.”

The message disturbed him, but
if he remembered correctly, the pastor would be having some trouble
with the police by now.

“Everything okay?”
Dianne asked.

“More or less. The pastor
left a message. I wonder if they caught him yet?”

Dianne felt suddenly stupid for
not keeping up with the developments. After all, her and Frank had
left four dead bodies behind already. She reached quickly for the
radio and turned it on. “We should have checked the news
sooner.”

Frank took a long drink of beer.
“I must admit, I'm not used to this. I've never had my face
on TV before.”

“I wonder if they know
about me?” she mused.

“I don't see how they
would.”

They only had to wait four
minutes until the bottom of the hour, and then one of the local news
stations began broadcasting top stories. Douglas McKenzie was still
at large, though there was a massive manhunt underway by the FBI.
They were currently searching for him in Tampa, Florida, where Edgar
Stevens had been found slain in his apartment earlier this afternoon.
The police had recovered horrifying evidence in the burned-out
wreckage of St. Paul's in Milwaukee, and the pastor was said by
police to be one of the most ruthless serial killers in modern
history. The story went on to mention Frank by name, but only as a
person of interest. He was wanted for questioning, and police urged
him to come forward and turn himself in.

No mention of Dianne.

“I can't believe he got to
Stevens so quickly,” Frank said. “And without a lead.”

“You don't know he didn't
have a lead. He must have. It just didn't come from you.”

“Where, then?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm not even sure why
he'd target Stevens and I. We've never crossed him. At least not
badly enough to warrant our deaths.”

“Maybe because you
abandoned him?”

“Maybe.” He looked
at her. “Well, at least they haven't connected you with
anything yet.”

“They probably didn't even
find any of the bodies yet. Except that drug dealer of yours, in the
church, but they'll probably blame that on your old boss.”

Frank nodded. “Probably.”
He felt an abrupt desire to get drunk. “Would you like
another beer?”

“Yes.”

He reached into the backseat and
got them each one. Things were going to get worse before they got
better, he knew.

He only hoped he'd live long
enough to see them get better.

They alternated behind the wheel again, switching off
every few hours or whenever one of them just couldn't stand driving
any longer. Frank was driving when they somehow strayed off
Interstate 80 and onto 76, crossing the border into Colorado at about
2am, and then Dianne took over, driving until her shoulders ached and
she once again needed to empty her bladder. They stopped at a rest
area and used the facilities just east of Sterling. They also filled
the gas tank, although Dianne was beginning to think it would be a
good time to find a place to settle down for awhile.

They exited 76 and found themselves driving west on
Route 6.

“What do you think?” she asked Frank. “Do
you want to get further from the Interstate? Or should we start
looking for a place?”

“I think we're far enough from everything. If
they're going to find me, it will be because someone recognizes me.
That could happen anywhere.”

She looked him over. “Maybe you should stop
wearing that cassock.”

“That would probably make sense.” He took
a sip of beer. “Sterling, Colorado. Who would have guessed?”

“I've never even heard of it.”

“Me either.” He glanced at the dashboard
clock. It was just after 5am. “Do you propose finding a house
before the residents leave for work? Or after?”

She thought about it. “I guess it would be
easier after.”

“Are you sure? It will be light by then. And
we'll have to deal with them when they get back, never sure when that
will be, or how many of them will be coming.”

“So... you think we ought to make a move now?
Surprise them while they're still half asleep?”

“It would make sense. We could... immobilize
them... tuck them away in a closet for a day or two while we unwind.”

Dianne giggled. The idea of actually doing such a
thing delighted her. “God, this is so fucking amazing!”

“I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

“Aren't you?”

“If you weren't here, I probably wouldn't be.
But, yes, I am having a rather good time.”

“Good.” His words pleased her. “It
will get better, too.”

“For us, maybe. Not for the poor unfortunate
Joneses.”

“The Joneses have had it good for a long time.
It's our turn now.” She turned off Route 6 and began creeping
along Third Street, having no idea where she was going. “Where
do these Joneses live, anyway?”

“Wherever you want them to.”

She drove on, smiling, her eyes busy scanning the
streets for a desirable house. It was still fully dark, but the
streetlights provided enough light for her to see by. She turned
several times, making her way deeper into the town. Most of the
houses were simple and relatively small. She would have preferred
something a little fancier, but she knew there would be other houses
in her future. As long as she was careful, there would be a great
many of them.

She finally found one that appealed to her on Elm
Street. It was a single family home with a large garage and a peaked
roof over the front porch. It looked clean and new and the three
large front windows were all dark. There was a single car in the
driveway, a little red Mazda. She was about to pull in behind it
when Frank touched her arm.

“I think we ought to park somewhere else. At
least for now.”

She looked at him. “Oh?”

“Just in case. Park a few blocks away, and we'll
walk back. If everything goes right, we'll retrieve the car and move
it into the garage.”

“Okay. Better safe than sorry, I guess.”

“It's just a precaution.”

“Do you like the house?”

“It's a fine house, Dianne. I think we'll be
very happy there.”

She smiled again. The world was a better place than
ever before.

* * *

She drove a few blocks west of the house she had chosen
and found a small section of angle parking in front of an empty lot
where the Honda would be less conspicuous. They left most of their
things in the car for the time being, Dianne taking only her purse
and Frank only his gun. He kept it carefully concealed in his pocket
as they made the short walk back to Elm Street.

A sense of serenity had come over Dianne during the
past few minutes. Walking hand in hand with Frank through the dark,
suburban landscape made her feel at once peaceful with the world and
in control of it. It was a feeling she never wanted to lose. She
glanced at the houses as she passed them by, one after another, each
one of them filled with an absurd collection of human beings. She
had developed a new-found sense of superiority over them and she
never wanted to lose that, either.

When they arrived on the porch of the house she had
chosen, Frank raised his fist to knock.

“What are you doing?” Dianne whispered
harshly.

He looked at her. “Shall I ring the bell
instead?”

“I thought we were going to break in.”

“We are, sort of. But I think it would be easier
to not have to break the door down.”

“So... you want to see if they'll just let us
in?”

“No. But if they at least open the door, we
won't have to break the lock.”

“What if they don't open it? What if they call
the cops?”

“I think they'll at least check first. When they
open up to see who it is, I'll persuade them to allow us inside.”

“Wait.” She didn't like it. She opened
the screen door and carefully tried the doorknob, making sure it was
locked. It was. “Damnit.”

“Maybe you'd prefer to wait until they leave.”

“No.” She closed the screen door. “Go
ahead.”

Frank was about to knock and then changed his mind and
pressed the doorbell. From inside the house they heard muffled
chimes announcing their presence.

“I hope it's not a gang of bikers,” Dianne
muttered.

“I don't see any motorcycles,” Frank
pointed out.

“You know what I mean. Maybe we should have
scouted out the area for a little while to see who lives here.”

“We could always change our mind when they come
to the door. We could claim to be Jehovah's Witnesses.”

“True.”

A light came on inside the house and they braced
themselves for a confrontation. A few seconds later the porch light
came on, and then they could hear the deadbolt retracting.

Dianne felt a powerful mix of trepidation and
anticipation. It was the feeling of doing something entirely new.
She'd been stuck in her mindless little routine for so many years
that it felt completely foreign to her. She promised herself while
standing on the porch that she'd never allow herself to get
complacent or lazy again. She loved feeling this way, and she loved
that this was probably just the beginning.

“It's my world,” she whispered.

Frank looked at her as the door began to open. “Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Then a face was looking out at them, the face of a
middle-aged woman. She was dressed in a nightgown and her hair stood
up in a chaotic mess. She was overweight and very ugly, her round
face heavily creased with wrinkles and folds. She looked at them
each in turn, showing no outward concern over two strangers ringing
her doorbell at 5:20 in the morning.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Frank cleared his throat. “I hope so. Our car
broke down just up the street here. I'm terribly sorry to bother you
so early in the morning, but I was wondering if we might be able to
use your phone to call for assistance.”

She studied him suspiciously. “Are you a
priest?”

“Yes.”

“From around here?”

“Denver.”

She glanced at Dianne and then back at Frank. “There
was a thing on TV. I'm not so sure about this.”

From inside the house came the voice of a teenaged boy.
“Mom, who is it?”

“I'm not sure,” she called over her
shoulder.

“Please,” Frank pleaded. “Just a
quick phone call. Then we'll be out of your hair.”

She seemed to consider it, but not for very long. “If
my husband was home, maybe. But he works nights now. If you can
come back in a couple of hours...”

“It will only take a minute.”

“I'm sorry.” She pulled her nightgown
closed up near her throat and began to step away from the door.
“Maybe later.”