Damon, Lee (34 page)

At four-thirty Monday afternoon, Midge called Kitt to the phone. "I think it's Gus."

"Oh, Lord, what's wrong?" cried Kitt, as she dodged around a customer and headed for the desk with long strides.

"Hello? Gus?"

"Hi, Kitt." His cheerful voice settled her fears.

"Hi. What's up?"

"I've got to stay a little late for baseball practice. Could you pick me up, Kitt? And could you call Andy and tell her we'll be late? You'll stay for supper, won't you? And bring Hero?"

"Yes to everything. What time should I pick you up and where?"

"Coach said we'd be through at five-thirty. We're at the ballfield next to my school. You know where it is?"

"Yep. See you at five-thirty, Gus. Hit 'em all out of the park."

"I am. I am. Thanks, Kitt. Oh, Kitt?"

"What?"

"If you came a little early and maybe got out of the car to watch... ah... well, the guys know you're going to be my mother and..."

"You'd like to let them get a look at me. Hmmm?" Kitt chuckled.

"Will you?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure. I'd like to meet your friends, Gus. See you soon."

"Great, Kitt! 'Bye."

Leaving Midge to close the shop, Kitt collected Hero and went to meet Gus. He beamed with delight and pride as he introduced her to his coach and his friends and fairly jumped with excitement when she offered to fill in at second base for the last fifteen minutes of practice, replacing a boy who had to leave early. Chuckling to herself at the doubtful looks on the other boys' faces, she dug one of Ez's baseball gloves out of the storage compartment in the back of the wagon, settled Hero safely behind the backstop fence and headed for second base.

She paused at the coach's tentative "Miss Tate?" and turned to smile reassuringly at him. "Don't worry. I used to teach phys. ed. I've also been playing baseball since I was half the size of these guys."

Twenty minutes later, an ecstatic Gus was bouncing at her side as they headed for the wagon, calling back over his shoulder, "Didn't I tell you guys she was great?"

Laughing and ruffling his hair, Kitt prodded him into the front seat and motioned Hero after him. "Calm down, Gus. Fasten the seat belt and hold onto Hero. Come on, now. Andy's expecting us by six."

Waving to the boys running off toward their suppers and tooting goodbye to the others who were being picked up, they pulled away from the field and, with several other cars, took the next left to go around the block and back toward the ocean. Kitt was busy with handling the big wagon and talking to Gus, and she didn't notice the red Toyota which followed along three cars behind them. They lost the following cars as they turned down a side street, and when Kitt looked into the rearview mirror before making the turn onto Ocean Avenue, the road behind her was empty.

Andy had made Gus's favorite spaghetti sauce, and they feasted on spaghetti a la Gus, garlic bread and spinach salad. The highlight of their evening was a call from O'Mara just before eight. After talking with Andy and Gus, he asked for Kitt.

"You're an unexpected bonus, love. I was going to call you later; I didn't expect you to be at the Rock tonight."

"You never can tell where I'll be these days," Kitt said laughingly. "And where are you now? Last Thursday you called from Oslo, and before that it was Rotterdam, and before
that
it was Geneva."

"And now it's London. This should be the last call, love. I've got one more interview set up for either tomorrow or Wednesday, and then I'll be heading home. The next time you hear my voice in your ear, you'll feel the hot breath that goes with it."

"Hmmm. That sounds promising," murmured Kitt, glancing around to make sure Gus was out of earshot before she teased, "What else am I going to feel?"

"The phone melting in your hand if you don't stop that seductive purring." She could feel his deep chuckle vibrating right through her, and she closed her eyes at the sudden flush of heat tingling over her skin. "Kitt?"

"Ahh... I'm still here. You're a toad, O'Mara, doing this to me when you're well out of reach."

"What am I doing to you, love?" She squirmed with frustration as she heard the thread of laughter in his mock innocent voice.

"You just wait till you get home, you beast."

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to that, my love."

"When? When will you be home?"

"I don't know exactly. This meeting is up in the air. The guy is difficult to get to, and I've got to wait for a call. It's supposed to be arranged sometime in the next two days. As soon as I'm through, I'll get the first available flight out. Don't worry, love, you'll be the first to know when I get back."

"Well, hurry it up, toad-prince. This is the longest two weeks I've ever spent."

"Too true. I've thought of some very interesting ways we can make up for it, though, and you can be sure you'll enjoy every minute. Now that should give you something to think about until I see you again."

"Indeed it will. Two more sleepless nights. Oh, damn."

"Don't be silly, Kitt. I need you rested and full of energy. Know why?" He laughed at her answering groan. "Of course you do. Now pull yourself together and say goodnight nicely before you have Gus and Andy wondering why you're blushing."

"Beastly man. But I love you. Goodnight, O'Mara," she whispered.

"Goodnight, love."

The promise in O'Mara's warm, deep voice kept flowing through her mind, and Kitt was more than a bit distracted for the rest of the evening with Gus and Andy. She found it more difficult than ever to tear herself away from the house, and stalled for an extra half-hour after Gus went to bed before finally collecting Hero and saying good night to Andy.

The dusk of evening was deepening into night and the darkening sky was filling with stars as she started the drive home. She was driving automatically, most of her attention turned inward to thoughts of O'Mara's return, and it took a minute or so for her to realize that the car was slowing down despite her steady pressure on the accelerator.

"Oh, rats! That damn gas gauge!"

Her mind now focused on the present, she quickly looked around and discovered she was on Ocean Avenue near the Spouting Rock. With its last bit of momentum, she guided the big wagon off the road onto a flattened, informal parking place, which had been worn down by people stopping to watch the blowhole.

"Well, Hero, let's admit it—it's my own fault. Ez wanted to take this heap back with him to get that gauge fixed, and I only got him to leave it for another week by promising to keep a close watch on the mileage. I
knew
I should have filled it this afternoon, but I've been half-asleep all day."

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel for a few minutes while she considered her options: wait for a passing car and try to get a ride to a gas station, jog home, or find a house with lights on and knock on the door. Checking her watch and discovering that it was after nine, she told herself to forget about getting gas that night—all the local stations were closed. The car was off the road and should be all right until morning.

"Looks like you're going to get your run a bit early tonight, dog." She leaned across the passenger seat to push down the door locks, front and back, opened her door and got out, reaching back for her shoulder bag and then checking the locks on her side.

"Come on, Hero, let's go. Easy now, we're only jogging."

Within fifteen minutes, Kitt was in her living room calling the police to let them know that she'd left the car deliberately and would get it in the morning. She was yawning when she hung up the phone, and decided that enough was enough. Sleep was what she needed more than anything right now, even if it was still the middle of the evening. She checked that the deck door was locked, nipped off the one lamp she'd bothered to light and found her way down the hall by the glow of the streetlights shining into the big bay window in her bedroom. There was enough light so that she didn't need to turn on any lamps while she got ready for bed. She stayed awake just long enough to set the alarm for six-thirty and to feel Hero snuggle against her legs.

It was ten minutes to ten when the glare of headlights moved slowly down Elm Street from Maine Street, remained stationary for a couple of minutes at the foot of the street and then flashed across houses, fences and the front of the bookshop as a red Toyota turned onto Ocean Avenue, moved slowly past the shop and turned the corner toward Dock Square. The driver's face was a white blur in the streetlights' glow as he turned to look at the empty parking lot in front of the shop and then leaned closer to the car window to look up at the second floor, noting the absence of lights and the blackness of the bay window, indicating that the inside shutters were still open.

At quarter to eleven, and again at eleven-thirty-five, the same red Toyota made the same slow circuit down Elm Street onto Ocean Avenue, past the shop and around the corner to Dock Square. At twelve-twenty, the pattern changed. The Toyota idled at the end of Elm Street until the driver was sure that no cars were coming in either direction, and then the headlights went out and the dark car turned onto Ocean Avenue and then into the driveway of the house beside the bookshop, coasting down into the dark shadows at the back of the house before stopping. Two or three minutes passed before there was a soft click and a flash of reflected light on chrome as the driver's door opened. It was another minute before a denser shadow could be seen moving out of the car and resolving itself into a medium-tall, thin figure.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed the car door closed, worrying about loosening the tape which was holding down the automatic switch for the interior light. He peered across the backyard of the house, trying to see if there were any obstacles, and finally started moving slowly across the grass, feeling for each step. Suddenly, he stopped with a whispered "Damn" as he saw the deep shadows become defined as a thick lilac hedge between this house and the bookshop. Turning, he retraced his steps, and then, keeping to the grass verge, moved along the drive to the front of the house. He paused in the shadows at the corner, making sure no cars were coming, then moved quietly and swiftly along the fence under the trees and across the grass strip edging the bookshop parking lot, then into the deep shadow at the foot of the outside stairs. He was sweating and his heart was pounding with a fear-induced surge of adrenalin as he leaned against the side of the shop to catch his breath.

His restless eyes caught the reflection of headlights far down the road, and he quickly ducked around the stairs, crouching far back against the wall underneath them. Panic rose into his throat, choking him, as he watched the oncoming lights while his mind screamed:
It's her! It's her!
His fingers turned white as he gripped his hands together and pressed them against his mouth. She might not see him under here, but that damn dog would smell him or hear him. Not that it was very big, but it could bite, and God knew what
she'd
do. She was as tall as he was and strong, and that ape of a brother of hers had probably taught her some nasty tricks. Oh God, how did—

The car went by and it was dark and quiet again.

He wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his dark sweater and rubbed his hands dry against the faded jeans that loosely fit his thin legs. Edging out from under the stairs, he held his wrist out into the dim light from the streetlights so he could check his watch. Twelve-forty-three. She was never out this late on a weeknight, so she must be staying over at O'Mara's place like she had a couple of times before. She couldn't have gotten a ride home, because the lights hadn't been on at all. She never went to bed before eleven-thirty or twelve; she always took that mutt out at about eleven—but she hadn't tonight. It had to be tonight. There might not be another chance before that bastard O'Mara got back, and tangling with him was not in the cards.

Cautiously, he put a sneakered foot on the first step and slowly shifted his weight up onto it, lifting his other foot to the next step. His hands were spread out to his sides, palms against the wall, as he inched his way up the stairs, holding his breath and praying that no cars would come up the road before he reached the deck.

Fortunately for his peace of mind, he could not see Hero's head come up and turn toward the open bedroom door, his ears standing straight up as he strained to hear again the faint whisper of an alien sound. There it was. A barely audible growl only lasted for a few seconds as the tense dog rose to his feet and soundlessly dropped to the floor. Silently, pausing every few steps to listen, Hero ghosted down the hall and across the living room, stopping in a "point" position three feet from the deck door. The long drapes were closed across the window-wall, and he could only listen and try to identify the soft, brushing sound. Then the low growl came again as the dog heard a footstep on the deck and a faint metallic tick-tick against the door.

Basenjis are incredibly strong and athletic, and can easily clear a five-foot hedge in one bound. It was no trouble for Hero to leap over the sofa on his mad dash to get Kitt. He was a dark blur going down the hall, and a hurtling projectile as he launched himself from inside the bedroom doorway in one tremendous leap that carried him ten feet across the room to land in the middle of the bed, jarring Kitt half-awake. She quickly came to full alertness as a growling Hero pushed his nose frantically against her face, licking her cheek and tugging at her hair with his teeth.

"Okay, okay, Hero. I'm up. What is it? What's the matter, boy?" Her voice was low but urgent, and she wasted no time in swinging out of bed and scrambling into a robe. Instinctively, she didn't turn on a light; she could see well enough in the light from the street as she silently followed Hero down the hall. She saw him leap over the sofa and take a few more steps toward the door before he stopped and froze in position, growling softly as he stared at the door.

Kitt hesitated at the end of the hall, watching Hero and listening intently. Then she heard it—the faint scratching of metal on metal at the door. She strained to see through the drapes, but it was too dark outside to see shadows through the heavy fabric. Whispering a breathy "Quiet, Hero," she took two slow steps into the living room and stopped to listen again. Now, she could faintly hear harsh breathing and a soft curse, as well as the scratching.