than happy to pay.”
He unlocked the trunk. Its lid swung up.
“We don’t have to get the insurance companies involved, do we?” she asked. “I’d rather take care of this just between us, if it’s okay.”
“Sure,” he said.
“Great.” She sounded very relieved.
Melvin took the flashlight out of his trunk. He turned it on, and shined it on the woman’s hands as she searched her purse. She found a pen and notepad. He watched her hands shake as she tried to hold the pad steady and write on it.
“You may develop some stiffness in the neck,” she said as she wrote. She sounded a lot like Vicki talking about his bite. “That wouldn’t be at all uncommon in a situation like this. But if you’ll come to the hospital and ask for me…”
“Fine,” Melvin said.
“I’ll see that you’re taken care of. We have a fine physical therapy department.”
“Okay.”
She tore a page off the pad. It fluttered as she gave it to him. He held it under the flashlight beam. Her name, Patricia Gordon, was scribbled in shivery ink. Beneath the name was a telephone number. Melvin tucked the paper into his shirt pocket.
As she slipped the pad into her purse, he aimed the light at her face.
She squinted and turned her head.
Not bad looking at all. A cute little nose. Freckles. Sandy-colored hair sweeping across her forehead.
The name tag read, Patricia Gordon, RN. The dress had a zipper down the front. It was low enough to show a small wedge of bare skin below her throat.
“Could you…?” she started to say, but her breath exploded out as Melvin rammed the flashlight into her belly. Pain bolted up his own right arm. He cried out and dropped the flashlight at the same moment Patricia doubled. He drove his knee up into her so hard she was lifted off her feet. Before she could fall, he wrapped his arms around her waist. He hoisted her and flung her into the trunk. She landed on her back, legs in the air. The slamming trunk lid knocked her legs down. The trunk latched.
Melvin picked up the flashlight with his left hand. He thumbed the switch back and forth a couple of times, but the light was dead.
The red rear lights gave enough brightness for him to check the area behind his car. While he looked around, he heard bumps and muffled shouts from the trunk.
The purse, he decided, must’ve gone into the trunk with Patricia. It had been on a shoulder strap. He didn’t see anything on the pavement or ground.
He walked over to her car. The engine was still running. He opened the driver’s door, leaned in, pulled out the ignition key and punched off the headlights with a knuckle. When he shut the door, the car rested in darkness.
He wiped the door handle with the hanging front of his shirt.
Back at his own car, he removed the key from the trunk lock. Patricia shouted, “Let me out of here! You can’t do this!”
“Wanta bet?” he muttered.
He climbed into his car, made a U-turn, and drove away.
He knew he might be leaving his tire tracks on the dirt shoulder of the road. He thought about going back and rubbing them out. Someone might come along, though. He’d been lucky to take care of Patricia without another car showing up. Tomorrow, he’d send Manny away and put different tires on his car, get rid of these. Easy.
At home, Melvin parked inside his two-car garage. He used the remote control on his dash to lower the door. As it rumbled down, he climbed out of the car.
This was the first gal he’d brought home alive.
Exciting, a live one in his trunk. But a little scary, too.
He stood at the rear of his car and stared at the trunk.
What’m I gonna do with her now?
During the long drive, he’d had plenty of time to consider the problem. But he hadn’t come up with any great ideas. It was a toss-up between killing her immediately and keeping her alive for a while. It might be fun if he didn’t kill her right away. He could tie her up and fool around with her. On the other hand, he was eager to try a
He unlocked the trunk. Its lid swung up.
“We don’t have to get the insurance companies involved, do we?” she asked. “I’d rather take care of this just between us, if it’s okay.”
“Sure,” he said.
“Great.” She sounded very relieved.
Melvin took the flashlight out of his trunk. He turned it on, and shined it on the woman’s hands as she searched her purse. She found a pen and notepad. He watched her hands shake as she tried to hold the pad steady and write on it.
“You may develop some stiffness in the neck,” she said as she wrote. She sounded a lot like Vicki talking about his bite. “That wouldn’t be at all uncommon in a situation like this. But if you’ll come to the hospital and ask for me…”
“Fine,” Melvin said.
“I’ll see that you’re taken care of. We have a fine physical therapy department.”
“Okay.”
She tore a page off the pad. It fluttered as she gave it to him. He held it under the flashlight beam. Her name, Patricia Gordon, was scribbled in shivery ink. Beneath the name was a telephone number. Melvin tucked the paper into his shirt pocket.
As she slipped the pad into her purse, he aimed the light at her face.
She squinted and turned her head.
Not bad looking at all. A cute little nose. Freckles. Sandy-colored hair sweeping across her forehead.
The name tag read, Patricia Gordon, RN. The dress had a zipper down the front. It was low enough to show a small wedge of bare skin below her throat.
“Could you…?” she started to say, but her breath exploded out as Melvin rammed the flashlight into her belly. Pain bolted up his own right arm. He cried out and dropped the flashlight at the same moment Patricia doubled. He drove his knee up into her so hard she was lifted off her feet. Before she could fall, he wrapped his arms around her waist. He hoisted her and flung her into the trunk. She landed on her back, legs in the air. The slamming trunk lid knocked her legs down. The trunk latched.
Melvin picked up the flashlight with his left hand. He thumbed the switch back and forth a couple of times, but the light was dead.
The red rear lights gave enough brightness for him to check the area behind his car. While he looked around, he heard bumps and muffled shouts from the trunk.
The purse, he decided, must’ve gone into the trunk with Patricia. It had been on a shoulder strap. He didn’t see anything on the pavement or ground.
He walked over to her car. The engine was still running. He opened the driver’s door, leaned in, pulled out the ignition key and punched off the headlights with a knuckle. When he shut the door, the car rested in darkness.
He wiped the door handle with the hanging front of his shirt.
Back at his own car, he removed the key from the trunk lock. Patricia shouted, “Let me out of here! You can’t do this!”
“Wanta bet?” he muttered.
He climbed into his car, made a U-turn, and drove away.
He knew he might be leaving his tire tracks on the dirt shoulder of the road. He thought about going back and rubbing them out. Someone might come along, though. He’d been lucky to take care of Patricia without another car showing up. Tomorrow, he’d send Manny away and put different tires on his car, get rid of these. Easy.
At home, Melvin parked inside his two-car garage. He used the remote control on his dash to lower the door. As it rumbled down, he climbed out of the car.
This was the first gal he’d brought home alive.
Exciting, a live one in his trunk. But a little scary, too.
He stood at the rear of his car and stared at the trunk.
What’m I gonna do with her now?
During the long drive, he’d had plenty of time to consider the problem. But he hadn’t come up with any great ideas. It was a toss-up between killing her immediately and keeping her alive for a while. It might be fun if he didn’t kill her right away. He could tie her up and fool around with her. On the other hand, he was eager to try a
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