Companions of the Night Page 5

  Even realizing that their indifference was likely only a case of not-in-front-of-the-child, Kerry felt sorry for Ethan. "Here, let me help," she offered. "You're in no shape..."

  Ethan shook his head, giving a fleeting smile that was almost enough to make her resolve to take on Regina. But in any case, he'd brought only one rag.

  She hovered uselessly, convinced she really should insist, and equally convinced Regina was silently laughing at her.

  The question was: was Ethan?

  He wiped down the steering wheel, inner and outer door handles, and the dashboard. If anything, Kerry's father was going to wonder why the car was cleaner than it'd been in a long time.

  Finally Ethan stood, moving slowly, favoring his injured leg more than he had been previously. He had gotten his bandage wet, and blood had seeped through onto the cuff of his gray sweater.

  Kerry noticed again how pale he was. It was stupid not to have gone straight to the clinic. At the very least he should sit until he caught his breath, but Regina crushed out her latest cigarette and asked, "Ready?" Then, hardly giving him a chance if he planned to say no, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and told Kerry, "Why don't you come in my car? I think Ethan's done a pretty good job of soaking down the passenger seat here, and there's no use in your getting a wet bottom just to be able to ride with him."

  Kerry felt her cheeks go hot and red again, so she hardly glanced at Ethan to see if he'd offer any objection.

  Not that she could think why he would.

  He didn't.

  Regina's car, parked beyond the bend in the driveway, turned out to be a red Ferrari. Somehow Kerry wasn't surprised. Impressed, despite herself, but not surprised. While she waited for Regina to lean over and unlock the passenger door, she noted that Ethan's uncle had a three-car garage and a tennis court back here. There was also a stockade fence, which probably indicated a built-in pool. The house was looking better and better. And ever more unattainable, no matter how rich and famous Kerry ever got.

  "Lift the handle, sweetie," Regina said, as though she didn't realize Kerry's mind had momentarily wandered, as though she thought Kerry couldn't figure out for herself how to get into the car.

  There was a man's denim jacket on the floor of the passenger's side. Probably not Ethan's, Kerry thought, picking it up rather than stepping on it, or Regina would likely have taken it into the house. Just bow many students does she make house calls on? Kerry wondered.

  Looking over her shoulder to back out, Regina saw Kerry holding the jacket. "Just wad it up and toss it in the back," she said.

  If Regina didn't care, why should Kerry? She flung the jacket behind her.

  Ethan had already backed her father's car up to, but not into, the street. He pointed to the left and then to the right, asking which way to turn.

  Kerry pointed to the left, and he backed out to the right but facing left, so that they could lead.

  "Where to, sweets?" Regina asked.

  "Fawn Meadow Circle," Kerry said. "It's—"

  "I know where it is," Regina interrupted.

  That was a surprise. It wasn't in the village of Brockport itself but in a nearby development, all of which had pseudo-woodsy names like Doe Run and Meadowlark Lane. Kerry was prepared for Regina to be hesitant once she got into the development, but she wasn't even fooled by Fawn Meadow Drive, the street before Fawn Meadow Circle.

  "Do you live near here?" Kerry asked, thinking that might be good news if Ethan ever visited Regina's house. She might actually get to see him again.

  But Regina gave her a look that said she most definitely didn't live in this neighborhood and that Kerry was a fool to even consider she might. "Which house?" she asked, the first thing she'd said in the seven- or eight-minute drive.

  "The blue two-story with the basketball hoop on the garage " Kerry figured that in this light Regina was just as likely to pull up in front of the Armendarizes' house, which, in daylight, was green.

  But by chance—either that, or Regina was very familiar with the neighborhood—Regina found the right house.

  "Thanks," Kerry mumbled, glad for an excuse to jump out of the car—to show Ethan exactly where in the driveway he should park so Dad wouldn't notice that it had been moved.

  Ethan turned off the engine and got out to look at the house, which Kerry realized she should have already done. The light by the front door was on, but she'd left it that way so as not to have to find her way up a dark walk. None of the other downstairs lights were on. Upstairs, lan's drapes were open and—though there was no sign of Ian—she could see his elephant lamp was on. But the windows of her father's room were dark. Most significantly, Kerry's father hadn't come crashing out the front door bellowing, "Where have you been, young lady?" so Kerry felt confident telling Ethan, "Everything's fine."

  "You're sure?" he asked. "Do you want to go in, maybe flash the lights as a signal if you don't need me?"

  It was, she felt, a serious offer, but she shook her head.

  He handed her the keys. "I'm..." He seemed to search before settling on just the right word: "...certain your name is never going to come up."

  Kerry shrugged, unsure how to answer. If you say so? I hope not? Are you free the night of the junior dance?

  Unexpectedly, Ethan took her hands, leaned forward, and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. The second time tonight, and on neither occasion had she had the time or the presence of mind to respond. "You did save my life," he told her, smiling, his tone light but his eyes very, very serious.

  Out on the street, Regina tapped her car horn. It only lasted a moment, but at two-thirty in the morning, that might just be enough to rouse the neighborhood. "Uhm...," Kerry started.

  But Ethan only waited a second to determine that she didn't, in fact, have anything to say. He smiled again as he pulled his hands from hers "Thank you," he said, turning to head back out to the street.

  Kerry hurried to the front door, flew in, turned off the light before Mrs. Armendariz could see it and say—later that morning, when Kerry's father dropped Ian off for the day—"There was some sort of commotion in front of your house last night, and your light was on. Are you letting your children run wild?" Mrs. Armendariz had a thing about single parents who let their children run wild.

  Kerry went upstairs as quickly as she could without making noise. Her father's door was still closed. Ian was sprawled across his bed, asleep despite the light being left on. Kerry pulled his blanket up over him, then removed Footy from her jacket pocket and wedged the koala bear under her brother's arm. When she went to the window to shut the drapes, she saw that Regina's car was gone. "Good-bye, Ethan," she whispered "It was nice knowing you. Bizarre, but nice."

  She flicked off the light, leaving only Ian's night-light on. Then she headed for her own bed, knowing that unless something went wrong with their plan and the police came banging on her door demanding explanations, the chances were she'd never see Ethan Bryne again.

  Chapter Five

  KERRY'S ALARM WENT off four hours later, but she felt as if she'd had only about fifteen minutes' sleep.

  In the kitchen, her father was whistling while he poured himself a bowlful of the cereal that Kerry thought of as Bran, Twigs, and Gravel. She searched through the cupboard for anything with a lot of sugar and marshmallow shapes.

  "Good morning," her father said, planting a kiss on the back of her head as they met in front of the refrigerator, he getting the skim milk and she the regular.

  Kerry gave a noncommittal grunt. Under the best of circumstances, mornings were not a good time for her, and her father didn't seem to sense anything unusual now. He had the newspaper on the table, which meant he'd been outside already. Apparently Mrs Armendariz hadn't come running out to complain, and apparently nothing was so obviously wrong with the car or its location that he commented. Kerry, who never read anything besides the comics page, tried to be unobtrusive about skimming the headlines. No story about a ring of vampire hunters being captured, nor about
the police looking for a mystery girl.

  Still, she didn't let herself relax. There really hadn't been time for the morning papers to get the story. They'd probably have her picture by the evening edition. If there was time after Dad left for work, she could turn on the TV and try the local news.

  Ian came down without having to be carried or threatened, which was unusual, and he planted a big wet kiss on Kerry's cheek, which was downright odd. But he had the sense not to say anything about last night. He made Footy give Kerry a kiss, too, despite the fact that Kerry growled at him.

  "Such a pleasant family," Dad said with a smile that was much too bright for so early in the morning.

  Kerry grunted again.

  Eventually Dad took Ian over to Mrs. Armendariz's. Kerry watched from behind the drape in Ian's room. Dad certainly didn't seem to take any longer than usual to drop Ian off. May be Mrs. Armendariz hadn't heard or seen anything last night to complain about.

  Then Dad got into the car and pulled out of the driveway, drove around the circle and down the street. No hesitation that Kerry could see. Maybe I'm going to get away with this after all, she thought.

  Yeah, right, she told herself. More likely it's all just going to cave in later.

  ***

  ALL DAY AT school she half expected to hear her name announced over the PA system: Kerry Nowicki, please come to the principal's office; the FBI is here to arrest you.

  In fact, it almost would have been a relief. Especially during her second period literature test on the book she had never finished. "What was the narrator's name?" she hastily asked her friend Nelle as they settled into their seats seconds before the bell. "Did she ever get a name by the end of the last chapter?"

  But nobody came to fetch her during school, and when she took the bus that dropped her off at the supermarket, the police weren't waiting for her there either.

  "My father call?" she asked Elaine at customer service.

  Elaine glanced through the phone messages. "Nope. Were you expecting him to?"

  "Not really." Kerry headed back to the lockers before Elaine could start asking questions. In the locker room, someone had left the front section of the evening paper on the bench. That was usually world news, but if something important happened locally, it'd be on the front page. Kerry thought abduction and attempted murder on Main Street should qualify as important; and even if that was too common these days, surely the fact that the criminals saw themselves as vampire hunters must be unusual enough for a mention.

  Nothing.

  Maybe the police hadn't released all the details yet because they were still investigating. Chilling as a cold hand on the back of her spine, another thought came to her: Maybe the laundry owner and Sidowski and Roth and Marcia had gone into hiding; maybe the police hadn't been able to catch them at all. What if they come after me? she thought. Surely, if there hadn't been arrests, Ethan would have told the police about her so they could protect her. Wouldn't he?

  She spent the next five hours unable to remember regular customers' names. She made mistakes giving change, rang up cabbage as lettuce, even overloaded cranky old Mr. Nate's shopping bag so that he complained at the office.

  Finally, when her shift was over, the head cashier patted her on the shoulder and said, "Get a good night's rest for tomorrow, would you?" and she sat down by the door to wait for her father to pick her up, thinking this was the worst day she had ever lived through, even worse than last night.

  After a few minutes she shouldered the backpack containing her school clothes and books and went outside, just in case her father was waiting in the parking lot, but there was no sign of him. By 8:20 she was thinking that she could have walked home, and she went back to the customer service desk to have Elaine call her house. There was no answer.

  "Must have just noticed the time and he's on his way," Elaine assured her.

  But those who were leaving at 8:30 cashed out, got their things from their lockers, and left, and still no sign of her father.

  Kerry went back to customer service, but Elaine had gone for the night and Craig didn't allow personal phone calls. So Kerry called Mrs. Armendariz from the pay phone that was located, for some reason Kerry had never been able to figure out, near the crash and clatter of the beverage-container return center All Mrs. Armendariz had to offer was that Kerry's father had taken a half-day's vacation from work to take Ian to the pediatrician for his four-year checkup, and he had picked up Ian shortly after noon. She hadn't noticed anything since then, and the car wasn't in the driveway.

  "Thanks," Kerry said.

  Something had happened, she was sure of it. Ever since Mom had left, Dad, who had never been on time in his life before, had made a strict point of being punctual. He was never more than five minutes late to pick her up, and here it was almost forty-five minutes past the time he knew she was expecting him.

  It has to be the car, she thought. Oh, please let it be car trouble, not anything to do with—

  Turning from the phone, Kerry walked smack into Ethan Bryne.

  He put out a hand to steady her, and only a second later seemed to recognize who she was. "Kerry," he said. And, a moment after that, "What's the matter?"

  "My father was supposed to pick me up at eight o'clock." She felt awful, because she was truly concerned about her father and Ian, and yet here she was aware that her supermarket uniform of white shirt and black pants looked like a stupid tuxedo-for-girls, and her eyes were red-rimmed because she was worried. Don't cry, she told herself. You don't need to cry just to prove you're more worried about him than about how you look.

  "Kerry," Ethan repeated gently.

  A woman and her daughter entering the store were forced to walk around them. The little girl craned around to stare, not making any pretense of not listening.

  "I'm afraid something's happened," Kerry said. "Did you call the police?"

  Ethan shifted the shopping bag he was carrying to his left hand. "Yes," he said. "This ... likely has nothing to do with that."

  One of the newer stockboys whom Kerry barely knew was gathering shopping carts. He looked over at the mention of police and asked, "You okay, Kerry?"

  "Would you like a ride home?" Ethan asked before she could answer.

  Kerry was aware of the stockboy watching and realized this probably looked like a pickup. She nodded vigorously to Ethan, then told the stockboy—Bill? Will?—"If my father does show up, could you tell him Ethan's given me a ride home?" Not that the name would mean anything to her father, but it did show that she wasn't going off with a stranger.

  "Sure." The stockboy crashed two lines of carts together.

  Ethan had hold of her arm and was guiding her out into the parking lot before it occurred to Kerry that Ethan didn't have a car. "Oh. I just remembered. We're not riding your bicycle, are we?"

  Ethan laughed. "No, that's pretty well totaled. I decided to go all out and borrow my uncle's car."

  After the fancy house, Kerry was amazed to see that the car was only a Skylark—the same as her father's, although blue instead of white, and considerably newer. Ah, well, Kerry thought, remembering that there had been three doors to the garage. Probably Ethan had left the Porsche and the Rolls at home.

  Ethan opened the passenger door for her, then tossed her backpack and his bag of groceries in the back. Classic Coke and potato chips, she noted. She wondered what yesterday's vampire hunters would make of that.

  "Your leg's a lot better," she said as he got into the car beside her.

  He turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking space before answering, "It wasn't as bad as it looked."

  Which was hard to believe.

  But his color was definitely better. And he was using his right hand as though it didn't hurt. He finally had a jacket, a brown leather one. She couldn't make out any bandaging under his sleeve, but all in all she decided he was lucky he hadn't been forced to stay in the hospital overnight.

  "What did the police have to say?" she asked him whe
n it became apparent he wasn't going to volunteer information.

  Ethan shrugged. "They seemed to buy my story."

  "The others didn't contradict you?"

  "No."

  "The police arrested them? All of them?"

  Ethan glanced at her. "Yes." As they passed through pools of brightness beneath some streetlights, his eyes seemed to flicker from light blue to black. "Why? What is it you're really asking?"

  "It's just—I was afraid that all of this had something to do with my father not showing up."

  "No," he said. He glanced at her again. "No. The police got them all: Daniel and Marcia Jordan, George Roth, Phil Sidowski."

  It was strange to hear their full names. Not as reassuring as she would have thought, and strange.

  He told her, "They won't be bothering you again."

  "Are they going to jail?" Kerry asked.

  He looked at her blankly.

  "Or to a mental hospital?"

  "That's for judges and lawyers to decide."

  "But you'll have to testify?"

  "Eventually. I suppose." He seemed to be getting annoyed with her questions. "I gave a full deposition to the police last night." Maybe that was it. He had volunteered to face them by himself, but maybe he resented it. Or maybe he was just exhausted. She was, and she had gone to bed about the time he was just beginning with the police.

  "As for your father...," Ethan said. "Your car is ... old." He was too polite to call it a junk heap. But she had never been so aware of all its clunks and thuds and vibrations until riding in this newer and better-maintained version of the same model "I'm sure he's sitting by the edge of the road, waiting for the triple A, even as we speak." He gave her a reassuring smile.

  "I suppose," Kerry said. "The same thing happened with my mom once."

  She said that because the previous night he had known Kerry's mother didn't live with them, and it seemed an opportunity to start a conversation, but he didn't ask for any details.

  He was certainly less friendly and open than last night, more distant and self-assured. It was hard to put her finger on what it was that had originally made her think he was a freshman. Had a jailing out with Regina, did we? she wondered.