Next: A Novel (36 page)

“It’s a song.”

“That’s very unusual,” she said.

“My dad used to sing it.”

“I see.”

“He’s dead now.”

“I see.”

“Killed himself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Shotgun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Want to see it?”

She blinked. “Maybe some other time.”

“I keep it right here,” he said, nodding to the underside of the counter. “Not loaded, of course.”

Tapping, singing. “Trouble is the only place I’ve been…”

“I’ll just sign in,” Alex said. He gave her back her card, and she filled out the form. Still clicking, all the time. She thought about going elsewhere, but she was tired. Jamie was waiting. She had to feed him, buy some new clothes for him, a toothbrush, all that.

“There you go,” the kid said, giving her the room keys.

It wasn’t until she was back in her car, driving to a parking spot near the room, that she remembered she was not supposed to have used her credit card.

Too late now.

“Mom, I’m hungry.”

“I know, honey. We’ll get something.”

“I want a burger.”

“Okay, we can do that.”

She drove through the parking lot and back onto the street. Better to get him fed before they went to the room.

CH069

There were two moregunshots as Lynn ran into the backyard. Her daughter, Tracy, was screaming, Dave was up in the tree yelling and shaking the branches, and Jamie lay on the ground with blood pouring from his head. She felt sick. She started forward, and Tracy screamed, “Mom! Stay down!”

The gunshots seemed to be coming from the street. Whoever it was was shooting through their wooden slat fence. There was the sound of distant sirens. She could not take her eyes off Jamie.

She started to move toward him.

More gunshots, and snapping of leaves in the tree. They were shooting at Dave. Dave was whooping and growling, shaking the branches angrily. He yelled, “You dead! You dead, boy!”

“Dave, be quiet,” she shouted. She started crawling toward Jamie. Tracy was shouting into the cell phone, giving the address to 911. Jamie was moaning on the grass. He was all she saw. She hoped that Henry had gone out the front door and would see who it was, and would not get hurt.

It was obviously someone trying to get Dave.

The sirens were louder. She heard shouts and running footsteps on the street. Some car had pulled up, bright lights shining through the slats of the fence, casting streaks of shadow.

Overhead, Dave gave a war whoop and was gone. Tracy was yelling. Lynn got to Jamie. The blood was thick around his head.

“Jamie, Jamie…”

She got to her knees, turned him over gently. He had a huge gusher on his forehead. Red blood pouring down one side of his face.

He smiled weakly. “Hi, Mom.”

“Jamie, where are you hit?”

“Not…”

“Where, Jamie?”

“I fell. From the tree.”

She had the edge of her skirt in her hand, was cautiously wiping the wound. She saw no bullet hole. Just a huge abrasion, bleeding profusely.

“Honey, you weren’t shot?”

“No, Mom.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t me, anyway. He was after Dave.”

“Who was?”

“Billy.”

Lynn looked up at the tree overhead. Branches gently swaying in the light of the headlamps.

Dave was gone.

Dave’s first jump landed him on the sidewalk, and he began running after the fleeing Billy Cleever, who was heading down the street, running home. Dave could move swiftly when he wanted to, loping on all fours. He ran parallel to the sidewalk, staying on the grass, because the concrete hurt his knuckles. He was growling continuously, as he closed in on Billy.

At the end of the block, Billy turned and saw Dave bearing down on him. He held his gun in two shaking hands and fired a shot, then another. Dave kept coming. Along the street, people were looking out their windows. All the windows glowed blue from the TV sets inside.

Billy turned to run, and Dave caught him and slammed his head into a traffic signpost. It rang with the impact. Billy tried to turn, but he was terrified. Dave held him firmly and smashed his head into the concrete. He would have killed him for sure, but the sound of approaching sirens made him pause and look up.

In that moment, Billy kicked, scrambled to his feet, and ran up the driveway of the nearest house.

He climbed into a car parked in the driveway. Dave chased him. Billy slammed the door and locked it just as Dave landed on the windshield. He slid over the surface of the hood, peering into the interior.

Billy aimed his gun but he was too shaken, too terrified to fire. Dave dropped down to the passenger side, tried the door, yanking again and again at the handle. Billy was gasping for breath, watching him.

Then Dave dropped down again, completely out of sight.

The sirens came closer.

Billy realizedhis predicament slowly. The police were coming. He was locked in the car with a gun in his hand, his blood and fingerprints smeared all over it. Powder marks and a red cut where the hammer had nipped him. He didn’t know how to shoot, not really. He had just wanted to scare them, is all.

The police were going to find him here. Trapped in this car.

Cautiously, he peered out the passenger window, trying to see Dave.

Black and screaming, Dave leapt up and slammed against the window. Billy screamed and jumped back. The gun fired, hitting the dashboard, plastic splinters cutting into his arm, the car filling with smoke. He dropped the gun onto the floorboard, leaned back in the seat. He was gasping for breath.

Sirens. Closer.

Maybe they would find him here, but it was self-defense. That would be obvious. Monkeyboy was a vicious animal. The police would take one look at him and realize that everything Billy had done was self-defense. He had to protect himself. The monkey kid was vicious. He looked like an ape and he acted like an ape. He was a killer. He belonged behind bars in a zoo…

Flashing red lights sweeping the roof of the car. The sirens stopped. Billy heard a bullhorn. “This is the police. Come out of the car now. Very slow with your hands where we can see them.”

“I can’t!” he yelled. “He’s out there!”

“Come out of the car now!” the voice boomed. “With your hands up.”

Billy waited awhile, then came out, holding his hands high, blinking in the bright spotlight of the police cars. A cop came up and shoved him onto the ground. He snapped handcuffs on him.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Billy said, his face pushed in the grass. “It was that kid Dave. He’s under the car.”

“There’s nobody under the car, son,” the cop said, lifting him to his feet. “Just you. Nobody else.

Now: you going to tell us what this is about?”

His father came. Billy knew he was going to get a beating. But his father didn’t give any indication of that. He asked to see the gun. He asked Billy where the bullets were. Billy said he was shooting at a vicious kid who was attacking him.

Billy’s father just nodded, his face bland. But he said he would follow the cops down to the station, when they took Billy there to book him.

Henry said,“I think we have to admit, it just isn’t working.”

“What do you mean?” Lynn said, running her fingers through Dave’s hair. “This isn’t Dave’s fault, you said so yourself.”

“I know. But there seems to be trouble all the time. Biting, fighting…Now gunshots, for God’s sake. He’s endangering all of us.”

“But it’s not his fault, Henry.”

“I’m worried about what will happen next.”

“You could have thought of that earlier,” she said, in a sudden burst of anger. “Like four years ago, when you decided to do your experiment. Because now it’s a little too late to be having regrets, don’t you think? He’s our responsibility, and he’s staying with us.”

“But—”

“We’re his family.”

“They were shooting at Jamie.”

“Jamie’s all right.”

“But shooting …”

“It was some crazy kid. Sixth-grader. The police have him.”

“Lynn, you’re not listening.”

She glared at him. “What do you think, that you can quietly get rid of him, like a Petri dish that didn’t turn out right? You can’t just dump Dave in the biotrash. You’re the one who’s not listening. Dave is a living, thinking sentient being, and you made him. You are the reason why he exists on this earth. You don’t have the right to abandon him just because he’s inconvenient or has trouble at school.” She paused to catch her breath. She was very angry. “Anyway, I’m not giving him up,” she said. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“But—”

“Not now, Henry.”

Henry knew that tone. He shrugged and left.

“Thank you,” Dave said, bending his head so she could run her fingers through the fur on his neck. “Thank you, Mom.”

CH070

Alex took her son to an In-N-Out drive-in, and they had burgers and fries and strawberry shakes.

It was now dark outside. She thought of calling Lynn again, but Lynn had sounded harried. She decided not to.

She paid for the burgers in cash. Then they drove to a Walston’s drugstore, one of those block-long places that had everything. She bought Jamie some underwear and a change of clothes; she did the same for herself. She bought a couple of toothbrushes and toothpaste.

She was heading toward the checkout when she saw the guns for sale, over by the cameras and watches. She went to look. Over the years, she had gone to shooting ranges with her father. She could handle a gun. She told Jamie to go look at the toy aisle, and she went to the gun rack.

“Help you?” It was a wimpy guy with a mustache.

“I’d like to see that Mossberg double-action.” She nodded to the wall.

“That’s our model 590, twelve-gauge, perfect for home defense. Got a special price this week only.”

She hefted it. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

“I’ll need an ID, and a deposit to hold it.”

“No,” she said, “I mean, I’ll buy it now.”

“Sorry, ma’am, ten-day waiting period in California.”

She handed the gun back. “I’ll think it over,” she said.

She returned to Jamie, bought the Spider-Man toy he was playing with, and walked out to the parking lot.

A man was standing at the back of her car, bending over the license plate. Writing the number down. He was an older guy, in some kind of uniform. He looked like a security guard from the store.

She thought:Run. Leave now.

But that didn’t make sense; she needed a car. It was time to think fast. She told Jamie to get in the car, and she walked to the back. “You know he’s a damn liar,” she said.

“Who’s that?” the guard said.

“My ex-husband. He pretends like this car is his, but it isn’t. He’s just harassing me. I got a court order to stop him, and I got a big judgment against the security guard at Wal-Mart.”

“How’s that?” he said.

“Don’t act dumb,” she said. “I know you got a call from him. He pretends to be an attorney, he pretends to be a bail bondsman, or a court agent, and he wants you to check if my car is in the lot. He says it’s some pending legal matter.”

“Well, yes—”

“He’s lying, and you’re now liable. Did he tell you I was an attorney?”

“No, he just—”

“Well, I am. And you’re an accessory to his breaking the court order. That makes you liable to damages. Invasion of privacy and harassment.” She took a pad from her purse. “Now your name is…” She squinted at the name tag, began to write.

“I don’t want any trouble, ma’am—”

“Then give me that sheet of paper you wrote my license on, and back off,” she said. “And when my husband calls again, you damn well tell him you never set eyes on me, or I’ll see you in court, and I promise you, you’ll be lucky if all you lose is your job.”

He nodded, gave her the paper. His hands were shaking. She got in the car and drove off.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, she thought, Maybe it will work. Then again, maybe not.

Mostly she was stunned by how fast this bounty hunter had located her.

He no doubt had followed her own car north for a couple of hours, and then realized that she had switched cars with her assistant. He and his cohorts knew her assistant’s name, and they got her car registration. So now they knew the car Alex was driving.

Then Alex had used her credit card, and within minutes, the bounty hunter had known about it and fixed her position at a motel in San Juan Capistrano. Realizing that she’d need supplies, the hunter had probably called every convenience store within a five-mile radius of the motel, and gave a story to the security people. Be on the lookout for a white Toyota, license so-and-so.

And this guy found her.

Right away.

Unless she missed her bet, the bounty hunter was on his way to Capistrano right now. If he was driving, he would be there in three hours. But if he had access to a helicopter, he might be here already.

Already.

“Mom, can I watch TV when we go back to the motel?”

“Sure, honey.”

But, of course, they weren’t going back to the motel.

She parked around the corner from the motel. From her position, she could see the lobby, and the kid inside. He was talking on the phone, looking around as he did so.

She turned on her regular cell phone, and dialed the motel.

The kid put the other line on hold, and picked up.

“Best Western.”

“Yes, this is Mrs. Colson. I checked in earlier.”

“Yes, Mrs. Colson.”

It seemed to excite him. He looked around in all directions now, frantic.

“You put me in room 204.”

“Yes…”

“I think there’s someone in my room.”

“Mrs. Colson, I can’t imagine—”

“I want you to come here and open the door for me.”

“If it’s anybody, it’s probably the maid—”

“I think it’s a man.”

“Oh no, it couldn’t be—”

“Come here and open the door. Or do I have to call the police?”

“No, I’m sure…I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you.”

He switched to the other line, spoke quickly, and then left the lobby, running down toward the rooms at the back.

Alex got out of her car and sprinted across the street to the lobby. She moved in quickly, stepped behind the counter, picked up the shotgun, and walked out again. It was a sawed-off twelve-gauge Remington. Not her first choice, but it would do for now. She’d get shells later.