Picture Perfect (9 page)

While Lorrie unlocked the motor home door, Davey turned to see if his parents were watching him from the long panes beside the front door. Not seeing them, he scanned the living room windows. There was no shadow behind the lace curtains.

“C'mon, Duff,” he said, turning toward the motor home. Aunt Lorrie stood beside the open door, waiting to give him a hand up the steps. “I can do it myself,” he said, wanting to show her that he was self-sufficient.

“Okay then, but how about if I give Duffy a boost?” Lorrie's eyes met Stuart Sanders's amused gaze. At Davey's nod of agreement, Lorrie lifted Duffy and put her inside. “You two look around while I talk to Mr. Sanders, all right?”

“All right, but hurry!” Davey replied, then disappeared into the motor home behind Duffy.

Stuart Sanders rolled his shoulders and straightened his tie in preparation for his talk with Lorrie Ryan. It was funny, where criminals were concerned, he had always been aggressive and sure of himself, but with women—especially unattached, attractive women—he was a different man entirely, awkward and never quite knowing the right thing to say or do. “I only need a minute,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket as Lorrie came toward him. “I wanted to give you my card. It has my cell phone number on it. If you need me . . . for anything, I want you to call.”

Lorrie stared at him, worry etching lines into her forehead. “You don't think—”

Sanders put his hand on her arm, stopping her from completing her sentence. “Let's not borrow trouble by speculating on things that may never happen. I just want you to know that I'm only a phone call away, and that means help is only a phone call away. Understand?”

She nodded. “That's very considerate of you, Mr. Sanders.”

“Stuart. Call me Stuart.”

“Stuart, then.” She took the card from his hand, looked it over, then slid it down into her right front pocket.

“You do have a cell phone, don't you?”

“Yes, it's in the motor home. Do you want the number?”

He took a pen and a little spiral notebook out of his inside pocket and jotted down the number. “I gave Davey a card, too,” he told her. “He does know how to use a telephone, doesn't he?”

“Of course, he does. Along with a CB and a computer,” she said proudly.

He smiled. “Davey's a lucky boy to have an aunt who loves him so much.”

Lorrie's eyes started to tear up. “No, Stuart,” she said, shaking her head, “I'm the lucky one to have a nephew like Davey. He's one in a million.”

“I know. So are you.”

“Aunt Lorrie!”

Lorrie turned toward the sound of Davey's voice. “Coming, Davey.”

“You'd better hurry,” Sanders said.

“Yes, I . . .” Something—Lorrie wasn't exactly sure what—had just passed between them, something that left her feeling a little lightheaded. “Will you be here when Davey and I come back from our big adventure?”

“I'm not sure. It depends on what happens with your brother-in-law.”

“Aunt Lorrie!”

“Goodbye, Stuart. And thank you for your concern.”

“You're welcome, and have a good trip.”

Lorrie climbed up into the motor home and closed the door behind her. “So, what do you think, Davey? This is going to be your home for the next couple of days. Like it?”

Davey looked around, his eyes wide with excitement. “It's a house! A real house! On wheels!”

Lorrie smiled. She was proud of the recreation vehicle and had selected each accessory with great deliberation. The thick, forest-green carpeting added softness to the hard-surfaced, utilitarian appliances. The first thing Davey asked her to show him was his bed. Laughing, Lorrie pointed to a bunk over the driver and passenger seats.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Davey questioned, looking around for a big king-sized bed like his parents used.

“In the back,” Lorrie said, sliding back the bedroom door. “You see, just like home.”

“Wow. It is. It really is.”

“Okay, now. Sit down and I'll buckle you in.” As Lorrie secured the safety belt across Davey's chest and lap, she said, “I want you to know this expedition is in no way a Mickey Mouse production. This is a first-class, grade-A, super-colossal expedition to the Philadelphia Zoo and other points of interest. Any comments?”

“Nope,” Davey responded with mock solemnity.

“First things first. Let's go through our check list. Your medicine. What time do you get your shot?”

“You know. Every day at noon.”

“Right. I'll set the alarm on my watch for twelve noon just in case we're having so much fun we forget what time it is. Dog food! Did you remember to bring dog food?”

“Yep. It's under the table. Duffy eats twice a day.”

“Okay, then. I guess that's it.”

Davey chattered excitedly as the RV ate up the miles on the crowded highway. He was having a good time just sitting in his seat, talking to Aunt Lorrie about his CB buddies and the movies he'd seen. He thought about his mom and dad when he saw an airplane and wondered if it was their plane. He waved, just in case it was and they were looking out the window. Were they thinking about him the way he was thinking about them? He listened with half an ear to Lorrie talking about the Philadelphia Zoo. He had never been to a zoo before. His CB buddy, Digger, had told him it was humungous, whatever that meant. It must be good, he reasoned, because his buddy got all excited just telling him about it. He'd said it was almost as good as being there just telling Davey so he would know what to expect. A giggle erupted in his throat. Panda Bear was going to the zoo!

A large white dome with red lettering caught his eye as the RV slowed to merge with the traffic. “What's that, Aunt Lorrie?”

“The dome? It says ‘Cherry Hill.' That's the name of a town near Philadelphia. It's a kind of welcome for travelers, it lets them know that Cherry Hill is the next turnoff.”

Davey shrugged. His attention was diverted when a battered pickup truck painted with bright designs pulled up beside the motor home. He stared at it and saw it was pulling a big square box on wheels. The glare on the window made it impossible to see who was sitting in the front. It didn't really matter who it was. He would never see them again once Aunt Lorrie turned off the road for the zoo. On closer inspection he saw that the pickup truck was pulling a pop-up trailer. Davey watched the truck as it moved still closer to the RV. A man and a woman were sitting in the front. He stared at the woman; she looked scared. His eyes widened when he saw the man reach out and slap her across the face. He swallowed hard as he clutched Duffy.

“Another five minutes and we'll be getting off the turnpike. Are you excited, Davey?” Lorrie asked heartily.

“Uh-huh,” Davey mumbled as he slid a piece of gum into his mouth. The woman in the pickup wasn't like Aunt Lorrie or his mother. She was more like Millicent, the babysitter who used to watch him when his parents went out. Only she wasn't pretty like Millicent. And Millicent would never look scared like that, or cry like the woman in the truck. Millicent said only babies cried, and that you had to be tough to survive. When he'd repeated what Millicent had said, his mother had got him a new babysitter, Mrs. Goodeve.

Davey's golden eyebrows drew together as he stared pointedly at the girl in the truck. She gazed back at him through the glass before wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Get ready, Davey, here we go, exit four. Time to get off and make tracks for the zoo. I vote to see the monkey cage first. What about you, Davey, what do you want to see first?”

Davey turned, trying to get a last look at the pickup and the girl with the white face.

“The elephants,” he said, distracted. Why had the man hit the girl? What could she have done? She had just been looking out the window.

 

Cudge Balog caught a look at the RV beside him. Sitting in the passenger seat there was a blond kid holding a dumb-looking pooch. Wet nose prints slopped up the side window.

Cudge was driving as carefully as he could. No way did he want a trooper pulling him over. Damn, he wasn't even going to sneeze for fear his foot would jam down on the accelerator. Slow and easy was the way to do it. No wiseass trooper with polished sunglasses was going to chew him out for anything, real or imagined.

Cudge's hands tightened on the steering wheel. A bead of sweat dotted his upper lip. “Why ain't you saying anything, Elva? It ain't like you to sit so quiet. You up to something or what? If you got any ideas at all about jumping out or taking off, forget it.” His voice was mean and low.

“You told me to sit here and keep my mouth shut. Make up your mind. Either you want me to talk or you want me to keep quiet.” God, now why had she said that? She was so in tune with Cudge's voice that she knew exactly what his next move and statement would be. You did what Cudge said when Cudge said it, and you didn't ask questions. You didn't volunteer anything with Cudge either. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting this way? Her stomach churned and she felt bile rise in her throat. She was afraid to stay with him and afraid to leave him. Fear of walking the streets, with no place to go at the end of the day, was worse than living with Cudge. Everyone needed someone, something—a place that was their own at the end of the day when darkness fell. She remembered only too well the darkness of the pantry where her father had locked her to punish her. She hated the dark and the creatures that came out in the dark. In a way, Cudge was like one of the rats back in the apartment; his eyes were just as beady, his lips as thin, his ears as pointed.

Cudge ignored her; this was no time to let Elva get under his skin. He had to concentrate. “I want you to keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious, like a trooper in an unmarked car, that kind of thing. Keep what wits you have sharp. If I get pulled over for any reason, you just sit there, deaf, dumb and blind. Don't open that mouth of yours. You got that, Elva?”

“Yeah, I'm watching. How am I supposed to spot a trooper in an unmarked car? They don't wear their trooper hats in plain cars. I might pick the wrong person and then you'll get mad,” she whined.

“You can always tell a trooper because they wear those fancy polished sunglasses. I'm obeying all the traffic rules, so I think we're safe, but that's usually when something goes wrong. There's no way I could make a run for it in this old buggy. If we get caught, it's jail for both of us. You're an accessory and don't you ever forget it.”

“I won't,” Elva said. She had to think about what she was going to do when they got to the Wild Adventure campground. She knew she couldn't stay with Cudge after this. Enough was enough. Even her fear of the dark and the creatures that prowled in the night weren't as bad as winding up as dead as Lenny, and that's what would happen if she stayed with Cudge. She couldn't let him know what she was planning. The thought of leaving him was so daring, so alien to her, that she broke into a cold sweat. Fear—it always came down to fear. If Cudge made her help dig the grave for Lenny, she would bawl. And if he made the grave wider than it needed to be for Lenny, she would die on the spot—he wouldn't have to kill her.

“Damn you, Elva, didn't you see that trooper? What the hell is wrong with you? Look, in the next lane, that's a trooper or my name ain't Cudge Balog. Pay attention. I ain't gonna tell you again.”

“He don't look like a trooper to me,” Elva said defensively. “There's two kids in the backseat. Troopers don't ride with kids. I'm watching the best I can.”

“Okay, okay. He could still be a trooper. Just because he had kids doesn't mean a thing. Always go by the sunglasses. They try and trick honest drivers. I'm gonna move up now and get in the right lane. Keep your eyes peeled on the road and don't screw up, Elva.”

“If you're moving to the right lane, what should I be looking for? There ain't no traffic to the right of the right lane.” Her gaze shifted from Cudge's profile to her window. BJ! The kid in the RV looked just like her little brother BJ. Another bummer. There was really something wrong with her. BJ was dead. She stared at him for a moment before she turned back to Cudge.

Cudge clenched his teeth. One long arm reached out and yanked at Elva's shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, she felt the hard sting of his hand against her face. She blinked as scalding tears burned her eyes. She turned away before Cudge could see the result of his handiwork. The little boy in the RV, his dog clutched to him, was staring at her as she wiped the tears with the back of her hand. He looked scared, the way BJ used to look scared.

“You bawl one more time and you've bought it, Elva. We'll get off this pike and get something to eat. We have to kill time. I don't want to show up at that campground too early.”

Elva said nothing, wishing she knew who the little boy with the dog was. He looked just like BJ—same color hair, same bright blue eyes, same scared look. Only this kid had a dog to love. Poor little BJ had only had her, and what good had that done him? When it counted, she hadn't helped him at all. The little kid in the RV was alive and BJ was dead. And here she was with Cudge. How soon would it be before she joined BJ, wherever he was? Fear of the unknown or fear of Cudge—it was six of one and half dozen of the other.

 

It was mid afternoon when Lorrie and Davey left the reptile house. Lorrie took long gulps of fresh air to get over the creepy feeling the snakes had given her. Duffy frolicked at their feet, evidently glad to be outdoors even if she was confined to a leash.

Lorrie glanced at her watch. “I think we've had enough zoo for one day. What do you say we head for the campground and set up camp?”

“I didn't like the smell in that snake house, did you, Aunt Lorrie?”

“No. It was awful,” she said with a shiver. “Are you tired, Davey?” she asked, noticing how slowly he was walking.