Come Out Tonight - By Richard Laymon Page 0,90

fellas like you two.”

“Thanks,” Pete said, feeling a warm mixture of delight that she appreciated them—and guilt.

She wouldn’t feel so kindly toward them if she knew the truth.

But she doesn’t, he reminded himself. Thank God.

“So what’s for lunch?” Jeff asked.

Pete looked at Sherry. “What do you feel like having?”

“Just about anything. Don’t go to a lot of trouble, though. Maybe sandwiches, or…”

“How about grilled cheese?” Pete suggested.

“Sounds great.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “I could go for that, too.”

“Why don’t you come in and give me a hand?”

“Why don’ I stay out here and keep Sherry company?”

“Why don’t you not?”

“I’ll be fine,” Sherry told him. “Go on in and help, okay? It isn’t fair to make Pete do all the work.”

“Yeah, well…if you say so.”

“Anything I can get you from inside?” Pete asked Sherry as he stood up.

“No thanks. I’m fine.”

“Another Bloody Mary?” Jeff suggested.

“Just started this one.”

“How ’bout one for the other hand?”

“No thanks.”

“Okay. Well, don’ go away.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Pete said. “If you need us for anything, just yell.”

“I will.”

He set his drink on the table, then muttered, “See ya,” and headed for the house. Jeff followed him inside.

In the kitchen, Jeff said, “Soon as she gets that nap, man, she’s gonna call the cops.”

“She should.” Pete took a skillet out of a cupboard and set it on the stove. “She probably should’ve called ’em a long time ago.”

“Fuck that. We gotta stop her.”

“We’re not gonna stop her.” He opened the refrigerator.

“They’ll take her away!”

“I don’t want her to leave, either, but…”

“The cops take one look at her, they’ll have an ambulance out here. Presto-zippo, man, that’ll be the last we ever see of her.”

A tub of butter and a pack of cheddar cheese in his hands, Pete stepped back from the refrigerator and kneed its door shut. “If she doesn’t call the cops,” he said, “that Toby guy might go after her family.”

“They’ll be okay. She warned ’em, right? Told ’em to get outa Dodge.”

“She left a message, that’s all.” Pete set the cheese and butter on the counter. “Who knows when they’re gonna come home and listen to it? Hell, maybe they’ll never hear it.”

“They’ll hear it. Why wouldn’ they hear it?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said, “but it’s not like a hundred percent sure. Maybe they’ll forget to check the machine, or…”

“You worry way too much.”

“I think we gotta let Sherry do anything she wants. Even like call the cops, you know? ’Cause what if we stop her and then Toby nails her family? It’d be our fault.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Sure. If Toby doesn’t show up and demolish them. You wanta get some plates down?” He pointed to a nearby cupboard.

“God I wish we’d get our hands on him,” Jeff said. He opened the cupboard. “Three plates?”

“Yeah.”

Jeff reached up for them. “If we just nail his sorry ass, Sherry hasn’t gotta call the cops—she can just stay with us, you know? Like overnight?”

“She doesn’t want us getting involved.”

“We’re already involved, man! We’re involved up the Grand Wazoo! You’re in love with her ’n I sorta got the hotsies for her my own self. That’s involved! Ain’t that involved!”

“Yep,” Pete said.

“Fuckin’-A.”

Pete opened a drawer and took out a paring knife. “Bring the plates over here, okay? I’ll cut the cheese and you get the bread.”

“Don’ go cuttin’ the cheese, dude.”

“Very funny.”

Jeff came over to the counter and set down the plates. “Where’s the bread?”

With the knife, Pete pointed at the loaf. Then he started trying to cut open the plastic wrapper around the cheese.

“We gotta do something,” Jeff said, “or it’s gonna all be over in a couple of hours.”

“What do you suggest?”

“We gotta make her tell us Toby’s name. Then we gotta find him and take him out.”

Pete looked around at Jeff. “Take him out?”

“Take him right the fuck out. You know?”

“I know.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Why should I have a problem with a little thing like that? Do it all the time.”

“I mean it, man.”

“You’re talking about killing a person.”

“You betcha.” Jeff’s eyes gleamed. “The fucker who did that to Sherry. You got a problem with that?”

“Like murder him?”

“Whatever. Murder him, kill him, cancel his ticket. Yeah. You betcha. You said you’d like to get your hands on him. Did you mean it?”

“I meant it.”

“So let’s do it.”

“I don’t know about actually killing someone, though.”

“He damn near killed Sherry. You saw what he did to her, man. And he raped her. You saying you don’t wanta kill him for that?”

“I want

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