until seven,” Masen said. “That’s only fifteen minutes. Give him a chance to get his face washed and wake up a little. Service managers usually clock in early. This guy’s an independent.”
Vic shrugged. This whole thing was a crazy blind alley. Kemp had Donna and Tad. He knew it in his guts, just as he knew it was Kemp who had trashed the house and shot his come on the bed he and Donna shared.
“Of course, it didn’t have to be a friend,” Masen said, dreamily watching his cigarette smoke drift off into the morning. “There are all sorts of possibilities. She gets the car up there, and someone she knows slightly happens to be there, and the guy or gal offers Mrs. Trenton and your son a ride back into town. Or maybe Camber runs them home himself. Or his wife. Is he married?”
“Yes. Nice woman.”
“Could have been him, her, anyone. People are always willing to help a lady in distress.”
“Yeah,” Vic said, and lit a cigarette of his own.
“But none of that matters either, because the question always remains the same: Where’s the fucking car? Because the situation’s the same. Woman and kid on their own. She has to get groceries, go to the dry cleaner’s, go to the post office, dozens of little errands. If the husband was only going to be gone a few days, a week, even, she might try to get along without a car. But ten days or two weeks? Jesus, that’s a long haul in a town that’s only got one goddam cab. Rental car people are happy to deliver in a situation like that. She could have gotten Hertz or Avis or National to deliver the car here or out to Camber’s. So where’s the rental car? I keep coming back to that There should have been a vehicle in this yard. Dig?”
“I don’t think it’s important,” Vic said.
“And probably it’s not. We’ll find some simple explanation and say Oy vay, how could we be so stupid? But it fascinates me strangely . . . it was the needle valve? You’re sure of that?”
“Positive.”
Masen shook his head. “Why would she need all that riga-morole about loaners or rental cars anyway? That’s a fifteen-minute fix for somebody with the tools and the know-how. Drive in, drive out. So where’s—”
“—her goddam car?” Vic finished wearily. The world was coming and going in waves now.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down?” Masen said. “You look wiped out.”
“No, I want to be awake if something happens—”
“And if something does, somebody will be here to wake you up. The FBI’s coming with a trace-back system to hook up to your phone. Those people are noisy enough to wake the dead—so don’t worry.”
Vic was too tired to feel much more than a dull dread. “Do you think that trace-back shit is really necessary?”
“Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it,” Masen said, and pitched his cigarette. “Get a little rest and you’ll be able to cope better, Vic. Go on.”
“All right.”
He went slowly upstairs. The bed had been stripped to the mattress. He had done it himself. He put two pillows on his side, took off his shoes, and lay down. The morning sun shone fiercely in through the window. I won’t sleep, he thought, but I’ll rest. I’ll try to, anyway. Fifteen minutes . . . maybe half an hour . . .
But by the time the phone woke him up, that day’s burning noon had come.
Charity Camber had her morning coffee and then called Alva Thornton in Castle Rock. This time Alva himself answered. He knew that she had chatted with Bessie the night before.
“Nope,” Alva said. “I ain’t seed hide nor hair of Joe since last Thursday or so, Charity. He brought over a tractor tire he fixed for me. Never said nothing about feeding Cujo, although I’d’ve been happy to.”
“Alva, could you run up to the house and check on Cujo? Brett saw him Monday morning before we left for my sister’s, and he thought he looked sick. And I just don’t know who Joe would have gotten to feed him.” After the way of country people, she added: “No hurry.”
“Ill take a run up and check,” Alva said. “Let me get those damn cacklers fed and watered and I’m gone.”
“That would be fine, Alva,” Charity said gratefully, and gave him her sister’s number. “Thanks so much.”
They talked a little more, mostly about the weather.