Come Out Tonight - By Richard Laymon Page 0,100

real question.

“Brenda,” he said, “here I come.”

He pulled away from the curb.

Just forget about Sherry, he told himself. I’ve had her.

Oh, God, yes! Best night of my life.

Now it’s time to move on and nail her kid sister.

Pretend I never heard that damn message.

But I know where Sherry is! I could go over there right now, fuck her all over again, eat her up!

The thoughts made him ache.

I’d end up with AIDS for sure.

Anyway, she isn’t alone. She’s got that guy with her. The one on the phone. Who the hell is he, anyway?

A cop?

No way. They’d have me by now.

She said they’d have me tomorrow, though. What was that about? They wouldn’t wait till tomorrow, would they?

She hasn’t told them who I am. Simple as that.

What’s she trying to pull?

Maybe nothing, he thought. Maybe it’s something really simple—like she can’t remember my name.

Is that possible?

Possible, maybe, but not likely. She’d sounded awfully coherent on the answering machine. Not at all like someone with a memory problem.

But she didn’t say my name.

“Everything but my name,” he muttered.

She has to know it, he thought. Toby Bones? Who could forget that?

Let’s say she does remember my name, he thought. She’s alive and okay enough to make that call. She remembers everything about last night, but she hasn’t sicced the cops on me. What does it mean?

She doesn’t want the cops picking me up?

Why?

Makes no sense at all.

Maybe it has something to do with where she is now—and the guy on the other end of the phone.

Maybe he won’t let her call the cops!

Toby let out a laugh.

Wouldn’t that be rich? It’s a miracle I didn’t kill her—me or the fall—and somehow she lives through it all and ends up in the hands of another guy just like me.

Laughing again, Toby shook his head.

“Far out,” he muttered.

Such things did happen. He’d heard stories of gals making narrow escapes—and fleeing straight into the arms of strangers who end up raping them.

The more Toby thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

Somebody found her. A guy, obviously. There she is, naked and helpless—maybe even out cold. He gives her a good looking over, sees she’s a great-looking babe under all the blood and stuff. Maybe he fucks her right on the spot. Or else he holds off till he can take her someplace safe.

Like his house on Chandler Court.

“Ah, yes,” Toby said.

Where he cleans her up, patches her up and keeps her for some fun and games.

“My kinda guy,” Toby said.

It would explain everything.

Whoa. Maybe not everything. What about the call she made to her parents?

That’s easy, Toby thought. He let her do it as part of a deal.

The sneaky bitch probably talked him into it.

He could just hear her. “Let me call my parents so I can warn them about Toby, and I’ll cooperate with you. Okay? Just let me make the call and I’ll do anything you want.”

That’s gotta be how it went down, Toby thought.

This is great!

If Sherry’s being held prisoner, she won’t be making any calls to the police. Not in the near future, anyway. Probably never, because the guy almost has to finish her off eventually.

If I don’t get to her first.

But there’s no big hurry, Toby told himself. The guy might keep her alive for days, maybe even weeks.

I can take all the time I want with Brenda, then go on over to Chandler Court.

And rescue Sherry.

At first glance, he didn’t see Brenda. But there were eight or ten people gathered in the parking lot at the far end of the school. Some didn’t seem to be wearing much. Most were surrounding a couple of cars. He glimpsed buckets, rags, and a hose shooting a long flashing stream of water at a car.

This has to be it.

Eyes on the car wash, Toby hadn’t caught the name of the school. But how many schools on Fairview Boulevard would be having car washes today?

He slowed almost to a stop before turning. As he drove into the parking lot, he reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the pink flier. He glanced at the inked-in remark, “Too cute!” Smiling, he crumpled the paper and stuffed it into the right front pocket of his shorts.

Chapter Fifty-one

“Their car isn’t here,” Sherry said, and steered into the driveway.

“I bet they aren’t home,” Jeff said from the back seat.

I sure hope you’re right, Pete thought. If they are home, they’re probably dead.

Sherry stopped the car and shut off its engine.

“Why don’t you wait here?” Pete

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