Endless Night Part 44

No longer missing. Not kidnaped. Not dead. Safe and sound, and sleeping peacefully where Jody could see him.

With the white of sheets all around him, his tan looked dark. The color of a sandy beach in shadows. It seemed like the sort of tan that a kid should have halfway into a summer of swimming pools and lawn mowing and running around shirtless in the sun. But the tan should've been smooth and flawless. Instead, it was blotched with livid bruises, scuffed, scabbed and carved by small cuts that looked almost fresh.

As if he'd taken a bad spill off his bike, maybe tumbling across the pavement for a while and then rolling down a hillside.

He did roll down a hillside, Jody reminded herself.

Just like me.

She realized that she felt fairly good.

Staying on her side, Jody wiggled slightly and flexed a few muscles. She found her body to be somewhat stiff and sore, but without any major pains.

So far, so good.

She pushed herself up on an elbow. Not go good. Especially her neck. After she sat up straight, though, her neck felt better.

She half expected to see Dad and Sharon at the table by the window. That's where they'd been when she and Andy had climbed into the beds at about three o'clock that moming. On the table stood a bottle with an inch of whiskey remaining. There were also some plastic gla.s.ses, empty cans of root beer and Diet c.o.ke, and a couple of small packages of chips that they hadn't gotten around to eating.

The remains of their party.

She remembered how they'd all trooped down to the vending machines. A good stout wind had come up, so Sharon was struggling to keep her robe from blowing open. Dad had kept his eyes away from her, but Andy had watched her, even walking backward part of the time.

The little creep, she thought, and glanced over at him.

He still seemed to be asleep.

She didn't think he'd caught any glimpses of what he shouldn't, but it hadn't been for lack of trying.

Oh, he wasn't even trying. Not really. He was just clowning around. Trying to impress me.

Is that what he was doing? she wondered.

Who knows? Maybe he's got a crush on Sharon.

Or maybe he sees her as a mother figure, or ...

Not hardly. He was talking about Dad boinking her.

But where is she? And where's Dad?

Jody scooted slowly across her bed, holding the sheet to her waist and watching Andy. His face was still turned away. She couldn't hear him breathing because of the air conditioner (it's running, but is it working?), so she wasn't sure that he was actually asleep. He might roll over at any moment, wide awake.

But he remained motionless as she pushed away the sheet and swung her bare legs to the floor and stood up. The nightshirt urwmpled, but not enough. She grabbed its hem with both hands and stretched it lower. At mid-thigh, she let go. It unstretched a little, but stopped rising just in time.

Big deal, she thought. Who cares, anyway?

On the other side of the cluttered table, sunlight came into the room through a foot-wide opening between the curtains. Beyond the window, Jody could see the wrought-iron railing of the balcony. Beyond that was a section of parking lot, some scrubby little trees, a road, and the Texaco station where Andy had made his escape from Uncle w.i.l.l.y.

She grinned, thinking about Andy up on the gas station's roof.

From up there, somebody might've been able to see him. But he'd kept low. And besides, it'd been dark, then. And the station was a pretty good distance away.

Jody leaned forward until the edge of the table pressed against her thighs. The table wobbled a bit, so she didn't dare put anymore weight on it. From here, though, she could reach the curtains. She spread them farther apart. And spotted a man on the balcony, just to the right. He seemed to be standing directly in front of the door and close to the railing.

He wore his blue jeans and T-shirt.

Too hot for the chamois shirt, probably.

No shoulder holster. His Browning was tucked under the waistband at the back of his jeans.

Even with his face turned away, he looked like a thug.

That thick neck, those broad shoulders and bulging arms.

Sharon seemed to really like him, though.

They seemed to really like each other.

Jody couldn't see Sharon out on the balcony with him.

How long had Dad been out there?

And why was he out there, at all?

Maybe we aren't as safe as he's been pretending.

They can't find us here. How could they?

Ways. Who knows? There might be ways.

Jody let go of the curtains. As they swept down to where they'd been, she leaned away from the table and turned around.

Andy's hands were up, holding the pillow against the back of his head.

"Good morning," Jody said.

He pressed the pillow down harder.

"Are you okay?"

She heard a soft, m.u.f.fled, "Leave me alone."

She sat on the edge of his bed. The mattress sank slightly under her. She bounced on it a few times to shake Andy, figuring it might amuse him.

"Quit it," he said from under the pillow.

Jody stopped. She noticed that her thigh was touching his hip and she could feel the heat of his body through the sheet. It felt good. Not exciting, like sometimes when she and Rob had touched. But good in a comfortable, close way.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing."

On the b.u.mps of his spine just below the nape of his neck, he had fine, golden fuzz. Jody traced it with the tip of her forefinger. She could just barely feel it. Andy squirmed a little.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Quit it."

"Okay." She bent down and blew. The wind of her breath bent the tiny hairs and sent a miniature wave crawling up the back of his neck.

One of his hands reached down, slapping at Jody but missing, then rubbing his neck.

Jody plucked the pillow off his head.

"Hey!"

She plopped it on her lap and clamped a hand on it.

"Give it," Andy said, rolling onto his side.

"No way, Jose. And don't get any funny ideas about..." Her voice went dead when she saw his wet, red eyes.

He didn't try for the pillow. Instead, he turned onto his back and pulled up the sheet until it covered his face. "Just leave me alone."

"Can't."

"Jodyyyy."

"Hey, we're buds."

"I knowwww."

She reached out to him. The weight of her hand pressed the taut sheet down against him. Gently, she stroked his chest. "You were fine last night," she said. "Weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. It's when I think about them."

Jody's hand glided up his chest. She pinched the sheet just under his chin and tugged it. Andy let go. The sheet slid down, uncovering his face, his neck and shoulders. He made a loud, wet sniffle. He blinked, and tears fell from the comers of his eyes.

"You'll get tears in your ears," Jody told him.

"I don't care."

She reached over his face and brushed the wet stream off his left temple. Then she bent down low and turned his head away slightly and stopped the other tear with her lips.

"Gosh, Jody," he whispered.

She kissed the comer of his eye, then sat up.

Andy raised his head and looked past the end of the bed. "Where's your dad and Sharon?"

"Dad's standing guard on the balcony. I'm not sure about Sharon."

Andy lowered his head onto the mattress. He sniffed. He lifted the sheet to his face and rubbed his eyes, then brought his arms out from under it and lowered them to his sides, pinning the sheet across his belly.

"Better now?" Jody asked.

"A little, I guess. Will you kiss me?"

"I just did."

"I mean a real one. On the mouth."

"Oh, sure thing."

"Please?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Yeah." He turned his head away. "Sorry."

"You're awfully young, you know, to be trying to get girls to kiss you."

"I'm almost thirteen."

"That's what I mean. You're too young for that stuff."

"Mom used to kiss me."

Jody's throat went thick and tight. Her eyes grew hot. Andy went blurry as he turned his face toward her. Bracing herself with a hand on the far side of his chest, she eased down and kissed his mouth.

After a moment, she started to rise. Andy moaned as if hurt, so she decided to kiss him a little longer. She hoped Dad wouldn't suddenly barge in. He'd be sure to get the wrong idea.

We're not making out. It's not like that.

She realized that her right breast was pushed against his bare chest. It had been that way from the start of the kiss, but she'd been feeling so sorry for Andy that she hadn't really given it much thought. She'd noticed some slight pain. She'd even known it was coming from the underside of her breast where she'd sc.r.a.ped it climbing the wall Friday night. But she just hadn't registered the idea that she was allowing her breast to press against Andy in such a way.

Terrific. I've never even let Rob get ...

This is different, she told herself. It's perfectly innocent.

Perfectly. So why was she suddenly blushing so hard that she felt as if her face might burst into flame?