stepped into the kitchen. She came in after him and put a hand on his back. It felt good through his shirt.
They stood motionless.
Pete realized he was sweaty all over. They hadn’t been using the air conditioning in the car, and it wasn’t on in the house. The house was warm, but not stifling. The sweat, he supposed, was mostly nerves.
“I don’t hear anything,” he whispered.
He heard plenty: his own pounding heart, Sherry breathing behind him, the hum of the refrigerator, the clicking clock, birds chirping and twittering outside, a lawn mower that sounded very far away. But no sounds of anyone else in the house.
I’ve got to remember all this, he thought. What I hear and don’t hear. The way the sweat tickles running down my sides. And how Sherry’s hand feels on my back.
Especially that.
She’s probably just using me to hold herself steady.
But it feels personal.
When I write about this, I’ll turn her into my girlfriend.
No, have her be who she is. It’d be stupid to change her. She’s better than anything I could make up.
But I can’t write about some of this. Like how we found her. People might read it. Like Mom and Dad. Everybody’ll say I write dirty stuff…
The hell with what they say.
But what would Sherry think?
I can’t have her read it!
But maybe she’d like it.
She’d probably want to kill me.
I can’t believe I’m thinking about this, Pete suddenly thought. Jeff might be dead…
That’d make the story even better.
Oh great, he thought. Real nice. Now I’m hoping my best friend’ll get killed.
I am not!
His heart lurched at the sudden thudding sounds of someone rushing through the house. Sherry’s fingers twitched against his back.
Then Jeff ran into the kitchen and smiled when he saw them.
He’s all right!
“Coast is clear.” He grinned at Sherry. “You owe me a kiss.”
Sherry’s hand went away from Pete’s back. She stepped out from behind him and said, “Come and get it.”
On his way to her, Jeff wiggled his eyebrows at Pete. Then he handed over the pistol. “Stand guard while I collect,” he said.
“Just take it easy,” Sherry warned him. “Try not to hurt me.”
Jeff barely touched her at all when he put his arms around her.
She leaned toward him. Her lips were puffy and cracked.
Jeff brushed his lips against them.
Sherry leaned closer, pressing her injured lips a little more firmly against him. The way her shirt looked, Pete was sure that her breasts must be pushing at Jeff’s chest.
It could’ve been me, he thought. I should’ve done the searching.
Too bad Toby wasn’t here.
I don’t mean that.
But it could’ve been me. Now Jeff’s the damn hero. With my gun! And Toby wasn’t even here! He’s getting to kiss her and feel her and all he did was go on a wild-goose chase.
Shit!
Next time, I’ll be the hero.
Chapter Fifty-five
For the past few minutes, Jack had been steering the car up narrow, shadowy roads in the hills. The woods on both sides looked green and peaceful, but Brenda had a jittery feeling in her stomach.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“It’s not much farther,” Jack said.
“It’s already pretty far.”
“I’d rather be here,” Fran said, “than back at the car wash.”
“Does anybody else smell smoke?” Quentin asked.
Brenda sniffed. She detected a very faint, tangy aroma of wood smoke. “Yeah. A little.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Jack said. “The fires are miles from here.”
“The wind must be blowing this way,” Baxter said.
“Maybe we’d better turn back,” Brenda suggested.
“We’re almost there. Anyway, I don’t see any cops or firemen. They’d have the streets blocked off by now if there was any real danger.”
“Guess so,” Brenda admitted.
Jack turned onto a sideroad. The heavy forest was soon replaced by driveways, lawns and sprawling, stucco houses.
“It’s just up here.” Jack drove past several homes, then slowed in front of a peach-colored house. Though only a single story, it was spread out like a hacienda. It had white trim and a roof of red Spanish tiles.
“This your place?” Quentin asked.
“Yep.”
“Not a bad-looking joint.”
“It’s fabulous,” Fran said.
“Nice,” said Brenda.
Baxter, sitting beside her, nodded in agreement. He seemed tense.
Maybe he’s just nervous about being stuck in the back seat with me, Brenda thought.
Though they’d been working together on the school newspaper for more than a year, Baxter had always been shy around her. She supposed it must be agony for him to be sitting this close to her, especially since he wasn’t wearing anything except his swimsuit.
And me in my bikini, she thought. But at least I’ve got a T-shirt and cut-offs on.