Pulse (24 page)

Authors: John Lutz

Tags: #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Espionage, #General

BOOK: Pulse

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Leighton, Wisconsin, 1986

T
he lost dog posters had brought no response. They faded in the sun and wrinkled in the rain and mists of mornings. Rory no longer felt a twinge of guilt when he walked or drove past them.

In fact, the posters lifted his spirits now in an unexpected way. He knew logically that he’d done the right thing with Duffy the dog, so there were no longer twinges of regret. Now the posters reminded him of Sherri Klinger. Sometimes when he drove past them, he smiled.

Rory suspected his mother knew he was sneaking off with the car when she was away, and sometimes even when she was in the house asleep. She was becoming worn down, and simply didn’t want to confront him again.

He was driving better all the time, obeying traffic laws so he wouldn’t have a run-in with the law, parallel parking with greater skill so he no longer bumped up on the curb or dented cars in front of or behind him.

She must know he was driving more frequently and becoming better at it. Or maybe his mother was looking the other way when he “borrowed” the car because she approved of him seeing Sherri Klinger.

Yes, that was possible.

Sherri was, in everybody’s estimation, a Nice Girl. Meaning she was possibly still a virgin. She would be good for Rory.

Well, he went along with that.

On the pretense of searching for Duffy, Rory would pick up Sherri at a prearranged spot—sometimes Creamery Curb Service, near the back, where people drinking soda or milkshakes in their cars were facing the other way and she wouldn’t be noticed getting in the car—and they would simply drive around, Sherri keeping an eye out for the lost Duffy, Rory pretending.

They talked as they rode, getting to know each other better. After a while, Duffy was seldom mentioned, though they carried on the charade of searching for him.

“Gas is expensive,” Rory told Sherri one day, as they were tooling along the county road in his mother’s Impala.

Sherri laughed. “What is that, a news announcement?”

Rory smiled and took a curve a little too fast. It was a nice sensation. “What I mean is, maybe we oughta park a while and search for Duffy on foot.”

“That doesn’t sound very efficient.”

“It’s getting harder and harder to keep the gas gauge off empty,” Rory said.

“So you’re saying we don’t have much choice.”

“My wallet’s saying it.”

“You don’t have a credit card?”

“I used one my mom gave me, but she confiscated it when it got up near a thousand dollars.”

“Jesus, Rory! She’s got some nerve. I mean, it’s
your
card.”

“It does have her name on it.”

“So?”

“Anyway, it’s a nice day for a walk.”

Rory found a place where they could pull off the road and the trees were spaced out so they could drive the Impala into the woods just far enough so that it was invisible from the road. The underbrush might have scratched the paint on the side of the car, but not so much that Rory’s mom would notice. And if she did notice, she’d probably think she’d done it herself.

Rory leaned over to work the door handle for Sherri just as she was leaning forward to grip it herself. Unexpectedly, they were close. This had to be more than coincidence. This was
fate.
They kissed. Then kissed harder, using their tongues.

The kisses became more than kisses. And then became something wonderful.

Afterward Rory folded his shirt so Sherri could sit on it and not get blood on the Impala’s seat.

“What are we going to do now?” Sherri asked.

“That,” Rory said. “Again.”

They both laughed.

“God, Rory!”

“Nobody has to know,” he said.

“In a way,” she said, “I want everybody to know.”

He stared at her, horrified.

“Don’t worry,” she said, and patted his knee.

“We’re acting like an old married couple,” Rory said.

She punched him hard in the side of the neck and then hugged him. They hugged each other, not wanting to let go. This was fine. This could be perfect. If no one would ever disturb them. Ever.

Finally they pulled apart.

“Ready to go back to the real world?” Rory asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“I’ll put the window down so it won’t look funny, me driving without a shirt.”

“You are so devious.”

“I guess we both have to be devious now,” he said.

“Maybe everyone learns that sooner or later. It’s called growing up.”

As he maneuvered the Chevy back out onto the road, Sherri was thinking how her mom and dad would wring her neck if they ever found out about this. She had already been taking birth control pills she’d gotten from Hattie, the school nurse, without anyone knowing.

Rory noticed they weren’t far from where he’d killed and buried Duffy. Now here they were, him driving shirtless, and the untouchable Sherri Klinger sitting beside him with her wadded panties and his shirt under her bare rump so she wouldn’t get blood on his mom’s car.

Some wide and wonderful world.

Some future!

“Want to stop at Creamery Curb Service and get some milkshakes?” he asked.

“
Rory!
”

New York, the present

T
hey were driving in Quinn’s black Lincoln, on their way to pick up Sal and Harold. The sun was low and the shadows stark and angled. The day’s ferocious heat was hanging around with the remaining light, but the big car’s air conditioner kept the interior comfortably cool. Now and then a smattering of rain spotted the windshield, taunting with the notion that the brutal heat would be broken.

Ordinarily Pearl would complain about the lingering cigar smoke smell in the car that meant Quinn had been puffing on one of his precious Cubans, but this evening she had things on her mind that made the cigar problem seem minor.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it,” Pearl said. “Then I wonder if it’s not just me, but that’s the way it is—you can’t stand the obnoxious twerps, but you know if they were gone you’d miss them so much it would hurt.”

“You talking about Sal and Harold?” Quinn asked.

“You know damned well I’m talking about Juditha Jane Jason,” Pearl said.

He switched on the wipers. Switched them off. He was aware of her watching him as he drove. He hadn’t known Jody’s middle name was Jane, but he should have. But then, no one had told him. He kind of resented that.

“You raised a daughter,” she said. “Being a parent? Is it like that?”

Quinn thought about Lauri and smiled without realizing it. “Sometimes it’s tough. Other times it’s grand.”

“You’re proud of Lauri. You love her and you’re proud of her. I can tell.”

“I am,” Quinn said. “And sometimes she could drive me nuts, just like you know who.”

They drove for a while without talking. Quinn cut off a cab at a gridlocked intersection and the driver yelled and cursed at him and made obscene gestures. Quinn ignored him. Sometimes, Pearl thought, he was like something made out of marble. But she knew his warm and beating heart, and part of his soul.

“How do you feel about Jody?” she asked.

He didn’t divert his gaze from the madness of Manhattan traffic. “I’m beginning to feel possessive.”

Pearl scooted across the Lincoln’s big bench seat and snuggled up to him.

He glared down at her. “Pearl, you’re a cop.”

“Private,” she said. “Very private.”

Jody stood in the lobby of Enders and Coil and looked through the tinted glass at a patch of sky. Even through the tinting, low-hanging dark clouds could be seen. Rain clouds. Or a tease? Probably it wouldn’t rain, but it might.

She placed her purse on a nearby leather chair and put on the light raincoat she’d had the foresight to bring to work. She had stayed late, letting her penchant for romping through Enders and Coil’s up-to-date files and recent correspondence pass for hard work and ambition.

There was a full-length mirror at the other end of the lobby, and she went and stood before it, making sure the coat, which had never fit her well, hung low enough to cover her skirt and didn’t look ridiculous.

A little short, but still okay. She’d have to be moving for the skirt to show.

She’d walked only a block from the law firm’s building when a drop of rain landed on her eyelash. The clouds hadn’t been bluffing. She felt similar cool pinpoints on her bare forearms. Great! Though she’d brought her raincoat, she had no umbrella and wasn’t wearing the kind of shoes suitable for jogging to her subway stop.

She squinted and glanced skyward, though she had no idea what she expected to see.
Yeah, more clouds
. Based on the increasing number of drops, this didn’t seem like the kind of summer shower she could escape by ducking into a doorway and waiting it out.

It began to rain harder.

Jody knew how it was in Manhattan when it rained. Occupied cabs were the only yellow vehicles you saw.

She didn’t like spending the money, but the temptation of getting into a dry cab and being transported to the brownstone was irresistible even if it was a strain on her limited budget.

And there was a cab. Occupied. Followed by two more. Both occupied. Jody felt like she was being messed with. It was as if every damned cab in the city had cardboard pop-up figures in their rear seats that sprang bolt upright with the first drop of rain.

Something cool touched Jody’s ankle. A spray of water from a puddle. Close to her on the left, a cab had pulled to the curb. One of its rear doors swung open like an invitation, as a voice said, “Miss?”

Jody leaned down and peered into the back of the cab, and there was a middle-aged, attractive woman smiling out at her.

Immediately Jody wondered if the woman was a cop or security guard and had been following her. Maybe because she still felt somewhat like a criminal for having examined Enders and Coil’s files.

“I noticed you plowing through the puddles,” the woman said. “That’s not necessary. Come in out of the rain.”

Jody hesitated.

“Besides, you might want this.” The woman was holding something up for Jody to see.

Jody’s purse!

My, God! She must have left it sitting in the chair in the law firm building’s lobby. She recalled walking past the chair on her way out, but had no recollection of pausing and picking up her purse. As if it hadn’t been there to see.

The woman’s smile grew more benevolent. “Come on. We’re obviously going the same direction. Lucky for you I looked out the window and recognized you as the person who forgot this, and who I’d tried to catch up with on foot. I wasn’t sure at first.”

Jody pushed aside whatever reservations she had and climbed into the cab’s backseat next to the woman. She accepted the purse. “It’s mine, all right. Thanks so much!” She reached into the purse. “Can I give you—”

“Nothing, really,” the woman said.

“We’ll split the fare,” Jody said.

“Not on your life. We’re going to the same place, anyway.”

Jody looked at her curiously.

“A restaurant,” the woman said, “where I’m going to buy you dinner. I’ve been a young girl alone in the rain in New York myself.”

“No ... really,” Jody said, thinking she
was
suddenly hungry. Maybe the woman’s suggestion had worked on her in some Pavlovian way.

“I’m Sarah Benham,” the woman said. “With an ‘h’ and an ‘h.’ This is where you tell me your name and say you’re glad to meet me.”

“Jody Jason. And I am glad.”

Sarah showed her benevolent smile. “It looks like fate meant for us to be friends.”

But Jody wondered if it might not have been coincidence, this charitable cab ride and then dinner. On the other hand, what was the harm? This woman, who seemed perfectly nice, who’d returned her purse, wasn’t about to attack her. And even if she did, Jody could handle herself. It was a miserable evening, Jody was starving, and the truth was, she loved an adventure.

“No argument, please,” Sarah said. “I want to impress upon you that New York isn’t such a callous city. And it looks to me as if you worked hard and late this evening. Such industriousness should be rewarded. You need a good meal, and I’d like to introduce you to apple martinis.”

“But I wasn’t working for you,” Jody pointed out, thinking that apple martinis sounded interesting.

“You were if you were working for truth, justice, and the American way,” Sarah said, grinning.

“I suppose I was doing exactly that,” Jody said, playing along, getting hungrier. It was odd how Sarah Benham could take on an almost motherly manner, even though she wasn’t
that
much older than Jody. Then it struck Jody that yes, Sarah might actually be old enough to be her mother. It was difficult to tell for sure these days, what with all the cosmetic surgery and beauty aids. Possibly Sarah was even older than Pearl.

Wow! That was one Jody had to think about to grasp. Here she was sitting next to her new friend—acquaintance, anyway—who was more or less her mother’s age. Manhattan was a special place, all right.

“Besides,” Sarah said, “it won’t hurt me to make points with Enders and Coil.”

“Are you an attorney, too?”

Sarah laughed. “Heavens no. I’m in insurance. An adjuster.”

“An Enders and Coil client?”

“Not at present, but I might need a good lawyer someday. And I believe in thinking ahead. Italian okay?”

“Sounds wonderful!”

“We’ll enjoy a nice comfort-food meal and a chat, and then share a cab again, if it’s still raining.”

A motherly touch again. Or maybe that was all in Jody’s mind. Maybe her new friend Sarah wasn’t at all as she imagined.