THE GLORY BUS 10 страница

‘Now? ’

She nodded. ‘Here. ’

For a heavy girl she moves fast. Boots pushed Norman so that he sat on his butt, taking his weight on straight arms, his hands planted just behind him. She got down on her knees, unzipped him.

‘Boots. . . ah, ah, you sure pick your times. . . ’

‘’S good, ’s nice. . . ’ She slurped.

The girl has to be crazy.

Getting horny at a time like this.

Stealing a truck.

Duke knocking on the door.

Oh. . . but it feels so good.

Boots’s bleached hair bobbed up and down in the shadow. Norman’s heart thudded. Blood roared through the veins of his neck.

His head swiveled from watching Boots. . .

. . . to watching Duke. The man’s body masked the knife. He looked cool as James Dean standing there. Oiled blond quiff shining in the sunlight. He tapped on the screen frame with his free hand.

Cooing, whispering, Boots did incredible things with her mouth.

Holy shit.

That’s good.

That’s the best.

Boots is good at this.

Must have had practise aplenty.

Dizzy with the erotic thrill of it all, Norman watched a thin guy in dungarees step into the doorway while holding the screen open.

Couldn’t hear much. But Duke was talking to the guy. A guy of around sixty in a red cap.

Duke pointed at something away in the trees. The guy stepped out onto the porch to look, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. Duke smiled pleasantly. Came across as chatty. The bony guy in the cap appeared relaxed. The young stranger turning up at his door hadn’t made him suspicious.

Boots moaned. She was aroused too. With one hand she opened her blouse, flipped her bra to expose a jiggling white boob.

Norman moaned. ‘Uh. . . ’ This was too much.

Pleasure overload.

But he had to see what Duke did next.

Duke was still talking to the guy, circling round to stand beside him, still pointing.

Saying what?

‘Hey, mister, you don’t know me but I’ve just seen a truck come off of the road yonder. Driver’s hurt bad. ’

Or:

‘Is that a helicopter that’s crashed in the trees? ’

Or:

‘Just seen the Mayor buck naked in the lake. He’s swimming there with the Chief of Police and the High School principal. ’

Whatever.

It worked.

The old guy stared good and hard toward a line of trees.

Duke moved.

Raised his knife hand.

Blade catching the sun, a hard quicksilver glitter.

Boots sucked harder.

The old guy shouted.

Norman shouted.

Boots had worked her crazy erotic magic on him all over again.

Chapter Twenty-one

‘You’ve really got to educate yourself not to shout out when I’m taking care of business. ’

Duke finished rolling the body under the crawl space of the house, then let down the trellis flap to hide it.

Boots wiped her mouth, smearing her lipstick a little. ‘My fault. I got Norman all carried away. ’

‘Gotta get smart, otherwise the cops will be snapping on the cuffs in no time at all. ’ Duke plucked his knife from a porch timber where he’d planted it for safekeeping. He wiped the blood off on the grass. ‘Like I say, I don’t do jail. ’

Boots fluttered her eyelids and in her breathy way cooed, ‘Sorry, Mister Duke. ’

‘Aw, shit. Who could stay mad at you? ’

Norman looked up at the house. Close up it wasn’t looking too healthy with its paint cracking and peeling up and its missing shingles.

‘Say. Anyone else at home? ’

‘Nah. Only old Mister Brundle. ’ Checking that the blade was clean, Duke slid the knife into his motorcycle boot. ‘And his wife. ’

‘His wife? ’

‘Don’t have a cow, Norman. She’s not going to beat us up. ’

Boots growled. ‘I’d like to see any woman try and beat me up. ’

‘Ain’t our Bootsy-girl formidable? ’

‘Yeah, ’ Norman agreed.

Half woman; half sow.

Only. . .

She was kinda exciting.

He remembered the look of joy on her face as he’d squirted his twin-pack into her sucking mouth.

Maybe, I’m becoming more like Duke, he thought. I’m seeing the world differently. Seeing babes differently.

‘Anyone hungry? ’ Duke asked.

‘You betcha. Could eat a hairy-assed goat. ’ Boots licked her lips.

‘What we gonna do with the guy’s wife? ’

Duke shrugged. He didn’t care. ‘Mister said she couldn’t move around by herself these days. ’

‘Probably tucked up in bed, ’ Boots observed. Then a thought occurred that pleased her. ‘Hey, guys. There might be a spare bedroom. We could grab some shut-eye. ’

& n

bsp; ‘And anything else that comes our way. ’ Duke winked. ‘What say you, Norm? ’

‘I’ve gotta eat first. ’ Boots crossed the porch to the door.

‘An army marches on its stomach. ’ Duke gave a little bow to Norman. ‘After you, bud. ’

‘The guy’s wife must be upstairs, ’ Norman said as they helped themselves to beers from the refrigerator in the kitchen.

‘Go tuck her in if you like. ’ Duke took a slug of beer.

‘Probably an invalid. My grandma was an invalid, ’ Boots said. ‘Welfare paid us money to keep her, but you know after a while she got—’

This is a story I don’t want to hear, Norman told himself. ‘Hey, there’s a bunch of steaks in the refrigerator. ’

‘Great choice, Norman. ’ Duke checked out a shelf. ‘Gotta skillet. Bound to be some grease for frying hereabouts. Ah, tomatoes in the basket. ’

‘I got the bread. ’ Boots held up a loaf.

‘I thought I heard something. ’

‘Probably the old lady turning over in bed. ’

‘Or coming downstairs. ’ Norman wondered what the tough guy would do to the dead man’s wife.

Duke bit into a bright red tomato. ‘Say, Norm, check out the freezer for French fries. I’m as hungry as a horse. ’

Norman went to the big chest freezer in the corner. Flipped up the lid.

‘Holy shit! ’

‘No French fries? ’

Norman backed off, staring into the cavernous interior as freezer mist rolled out into the warm air.

‘What’s wrong, babe? ’ Boots sauntered across, her white footwear clicking on the boards.

‘We gotta get out of here, ’ Norman spluttered.

‘Oooh-ee. The old guy was right about his wife being not much of a walker. ’

‘Hey. ’ Duke smirked. ‘He put the old lady on ice. ’

Norman stared at the frozen body of an old woman with blue-rinsed hair. The eyes were open.

One peered left.

The other stared right.

Her lips were as gray as her skin. She looked as if she’d snuck into the freezer for a nap.

‘Wonder why he froze her up like that? ’ Boots poked the old woman in the eye with her finger. The eyeball looked as hard as glass.

Duke pursed his lips, considering. ‘Sentimental attachment. ’

‘Or Necro-fuller, ’ Boots suggested, giving the nose an experimental prod.

‘Phrase is Necro-filler, ’ Duke corrected her.

Necrophilia! Norman would have shouted the word but seeing Boots prodding the rock-solid corpse made his insides feel strange.

‘Close the lid. ’ Norman swallowed. ‘Now. ’

‘Guy’s right. There’s no French fries I can see. Boots, peel some potatoes. ’

‘Like fun I will. ’

‘I’ll peel the potatoes, ’ Norman said. Gratefully he released a lung full of air when Boots closed the lid.

‘Ain’t he a gent? ’ Duke patted Boots’s rump. ‘He doesn’t want to see the lady spoil her nails. ’

Boots looked round at the kitchen. ‘We should check the house over. Might be money. We’re gonna need cash. ’

‘Smart as well as sexy, ’ Duke said appreciatively. ‘Ain’t she a catch? ’

‘You betcha, Duke. ’ Norman turned his eyes away from the freezer-cum-casket with an effort.

Went to the sink. Ran water. Started peeling potatoes. He did it mechanically.

Wonder what it’s like to kiss a frozen corpse on the lips?

Shit. His imagination supplied the sensations. Like pressing ice to your mouth.

‘We’re gonna take a look round, ’ Duke said. Then to Boots: ‘Coming? ’

‘Only in yer dreams, buster. ’

Then, giggling girlishly (the giggles punctuated by swinish snorts), she ran from the kitchen with Duke slapping her heavy rump. Norman heard their footsteps go clumping upstairs. Presently, he heard Boots giggling in a breathy kind of way. That was pretty muffled.

Unlike the squeak-squeak of bedsprings: he could hear the noise coming through the ceiling.

Norman forced himself to concentrate on peeling the potatoes. But every so often thoughts intruded.

Old boy dead under the crawl space.

Wife frozen like a pea in the freezer.

Dear Lord.

What kind of nightmare have I fallen into?

As he carved the skins from the potatoes, nicked out eyes with the point of the blade, he heard the creak of the bed.

Sometimes it sounded like the opening of the deep-freeze lid.

Then his head would twist round so fast that his neck muscles would hurt.

She’s climbing out the deep freeze.

Gonna get you, Normy boy.

Each time Norman looked he was convinced that he’d see the old girl’s gray face, with its gray lips, with eyes that looked out to the sides like those of a fish. He’d see her peeping out at him with the appliance’s half-open lid resting on her blue-rinse hair.

‘Come join me in the deep freeze, sweetheart. ’ He could almost hear the whispered invitation. ‘Come cuddle up with old Mother Brundle. It’s safe and dark in here. ’

Shut up!

The creak-creak of bedsprings sang down through the ceiling at him. Duke and Boots would be naked up there. Duke’d be boring into the pig-girl like he planned to come out clean through on the other side.

Then there was the old ice maiden. Norman was sure that he could hear movement in the deep freeze.

Maybe he should check on her? Make sure she was dead.

Maybe he should go upstairs. Make up a threesome.

Maybe he should grab the Datsun’s keys. Make dust.

The thought caught Norman by surprise. He looked across the kitchen to where a wooden board had been fixed to the wall. Beneath a picture of a German Shepherd were the words: LET ME GUARD YOUR KEYS.

Beneath that caption were little metal hooks where bunches of keys hung. Some were car keys.

In five seconds he’d have the keys in his hands.

Would need to go close to the deep freeze with its ice maiden, though.

Worth the risk.

Because in twenty seconds he could be driving away from here.

Alone.

Duke would still be humping Boots.

Never know he’d gone.

Until it was too late.

Sweet.

Where would I go?

Who cares, as long as I’ve dumped the crazy duo.

Norman put the knife and a part-peeled potato in the sink, dried his hands on a towel, then moved slowly toward the keys that glinted in the light bouncing through the windows. Outside, it was still in the isolated valley. The sun shone down on the trees. In the distance the open road beckoned.

Gonna be free of Duke and Boots. No more madness. No more killing.

Be away from the deep-freeze lady, too. I’m sure I can hear her running her fingernails across the metal sides in there.

He reached the key-keep. Yeah, there were the car keys. One had the word Datsun impressed on its plastic fob. He could be driving away from here within the next few moments.

Norman reached out. Touched the keys.

‘Hey. ’

The shock nearly blew his heart clean out of his chest. He spun, expecting to see the old lady standing up in the deep freeze, hands on hips, demanding to know what the game was.

Instead, he turned to see Duke standing in the doorway with a rifle in his hands. The man was butt naked.

‘What you got there, Norm? ’

‘Uh? ’

‘Those the keys? ’

‘Uh. . . sure. Just checking them out. ’

‘Good move, ’ Duke said brightly. ‘You never know when we might have to shoot out of here. Grab this. ’

He threw the rifle to Norman.

Norman caught it. Its weight nearly dislocated his fingers.

‘Found this upstairs. Thought it might come in useful if you get any surprise visitors. ’

& n

bsp; ‘Thanks. ’

‘How long until chow time? ’

‘Not long. ’

‘Just give us a yell when you serve up. That Boots is insatiable, you know? ’

‘I know. ’

With his legs shaking, his belly full of watery sensations, Norman went back to peeling the potatoes.

Upstairs the bed once more began its creak. . . creak. . . creak. . .

Okay, okay, I could just go right now.

Grab the keys.

Race the Datsun down the track to the road.

But he couldn’t do it. He’d realized when he went to get the keys just before Duke showed up in the kitchen doorway that his heart just wasn’t in it.

Have they gotten some kind of hold over me? he wondered.

Maybe it’s Boots. A sexual magnetism.

Or maybe I need Duke’s instinct for survival to protect me.

I’m a cop-killer. If I’m busted then it’s the end of everything for me.

No future.

Not even a heartbeat.

Norman thought about the dead woman lying in her ice tomb. No. Not me. I don’t do death.

Chapter Twenty-two

Duke said, ‘That was a great steak, Normy. Just how I like it. ’

Boots patted his knee. ‘Yeah – so rare that a good doctor could get it breathin’ again. ’

‘Thanks. ’

Norman had been driving two hours. The house was a long ways back in the isolated valley.

Along with. . .

The old guy stabbed by Duke.

The old gal in the deep freeze.

And. . .

Ouch!

His red Jeep Cherokee.

Duke’d released the brake so that it’d coasted down the slope into the lake where it had disappeared with a gurgle. In minutes all that remained were a few bubbles and spreading blooms of oil on the water, painting iridescent rainbow colors.

Shit.

Loved that car, man. Really loved it.

Only they’d had to ditch it and replace it with the pickup truck that had belonged to the old guy, who now lay in the crawl space with only spiders for company.

The Ford pickup was a dull blue. Ten years old. But ran well.

The old-timer must have lavished attention on it. Loved it, just like I loved my little red Jeep.

Norman imagined the old guy checking the oil, or inflating the tires with an old hand-pump, while his wife baked apple pie in the kitchen. Then one day the guy had gone indoors to find his wife dead.

Couldn’t bear to say good-bye.

So he’d emptied the deep freeze. Plonked her inside.

Norman shivered despite the heat.

The road ahead was clear of traffic and sunlit.

Now all three of the amigos sat in the single row of seats in the front of the truck, Duke nonchalantly resting his elbow on the door frame with the window rolled down inside the shell. He chewed gum, wore shades, looked cool.

Boots sat beside him, legs apart, dirty white footwear gleaming under the dash. She hummed. There was no tune. Could have been a crappy old refrigerator-motor sound for all Norman knew, or cared.

Hmmm. . . hmmm. . . hmmm. . .

Duke grinned. ‘Hey, that’s one of my favorite songs. ’

Favorite song? Christ. That noise is as flat and as tuneless as you can get!

Duke started to sing the Elvis classic ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight? ’

Boots could change the words to sing ‘Are You LOATHSOME Tonight? ’

Yeah, that’s the woman’s own personal anthem for sure.

Duke sang most of the song. He was pretty good. Maybe he could have made it as a bar singer with his cool bad-boy looks. He’d never be an Elvis impersonator, though. Norman was sure that Duke would figure that as being too cheesy, too uncool. Duke probably worshipped Elvis as a god. Though he probably wouldn’t admit that, either.

‘What we get? ’ The breeze zithered Duke’s hair.

Boots paused her hum. ‘Back at the old boy’s house? ’

‘Yeah. ’

‘Got some homemade jerky, cookies, soda—’

‘No, Bootsy-babe. The gold that folds. ’

‘Uh. . . oh. . . six hundred. . . and eight dollars. ’

‘Not bad. ’

Yeah, so we robbed the house, too.

Add it to the charge sheet, why don’t you?

In the light of me killing two cops that’s kid stuff. Bring it on, Joe Blow. . .

Norman drove one-handed. His window was down. He could smell the grass in the fields as well as the asphalt of one hot road that rolled due south. Here the countryside was flatter. There were cows. Farms. Small, drowsy towns with diners, barbers’ shops, convenience stores.

I’m turning into Duke, he thought. Here I am, driving with my elbow out the window, wearing shades, chewing gum. For the first time in my life a girl might look at me and think, ‘Hey, that guy’s cool. ’

Norman smiled.

Yeah, what I’ve done in the last twenty-four hours has buried NORMAL NORMAN. Meet the new guy: Norm, prince of cool.

‘I got something else, too, ’ Boots said. She was rooting something out of a brown paper grocery bag. ‘Normy, you think you could get these off for me? ’

Norman glanced down.

The Prince of Cool saw a pale hand with slender fingers.

Boots had short stubby fingers. Like thick pegs. Chewed nails.

This hand had a speckled back. Thin fingers. Gold wedding band. A diamond ring on the middle finger.

A fingertip touched Norman’s bare forearm.

‘Holy shit! ’

He braked so hard that the pickup screamed through three-sixty. A smell of burning rubber polluted an otherwise finely scented day.

‘Shit, shit, shit! ’ He threw open the truck door. Jumped out.

Danced.

Shouted, ‘Shit, shit, shit! ’ While wiping at that cold sensation on his arm where the finger had made contact.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you, Normy, ’ Boots said, looking out through the door. Her eyes were all innocent-looking.

‘You broke off the old woman’s hand? You broke it off? You brought it with you! ’ He was shouting the words. ‘I don’t believe you’d do such a—’

He held his breath. Jesus Christ. That’s just it. I DO believe she’d do such a thing. Boots is capable of anything. She’d choke the Pope if she took a fancy to his robes.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph. ’ He had to remove his sunglasses as a fear-sweat ran down his face. ‘You could have waited until I’d stopped the car. ’

Duke laughed. ‘Just a little Boots joke. Ain’t that right, Boots? ’

‘Yeah, I thought you’d see the funny side. ’ She held up the hand so that she could see how the diamonds caught the light. ‘I like these sparklers, though. ’

‘You keep it, Boots, ’ Duke told her. ‘You’re worth a tub full of diamonds. Isn’t that right, Norman? ’

Norman managed to grunt, ‘You betcha. ’

‘Here’s your present, Boots. ’

‘Oh! Thank you, Duke. ’

Norman watched the pair in the truck. She kissed Duke’s cheek. She was overjoyed. Tearful.

‘No one’s never given me a diamond ring before. I’m just so happy to hang out with you two. You’re the best. ’

‘Don’t mention it, girl. ’ Duke broke off the frozen finger. Threw the snapped digit out of the cab. Norman danced to avoid the white sticklike thing as it bounced on the road near his feet.

‘There you go, beautiful. ’ The ring wouldn’t even make it over the first joint of Boots’s stubby middle finger. With some spit and shoving Duke got it onto her pinkie.

Boots gushed with a mixture of tears and smiles. ‘Oh, thank you, guys. I’m never gonna take it off. Never ever. ’

‘You deserve it. Ain’t that so, Norm? ’

‘You sure do. ’ Norman backed away as Duke broke off the third finger.

Know what’s coming next.

Duke slid off the wedding band. Then threw the severed finger out of the truck where it bounced onto the road-tar near Norman’s feet. In the hot sun the fluid content of the digit began to melt. Liquid blood began to ooze from veins that trailed like soggy noodles from the raw end of the finger. Duke hurled the rest of the hand. It sailed close by Norman’s ear.

Thumped down into the long grass at the side of the road.

‘Something for the coyotes to snack on, ’ Duke said. Then, ‘Hey, Norman, you gonna start driving? ’

An eighteen-wheeler swept by. The driver laid into the horn as their pickup still blocked half the road sideways on.

Boots complained, ‘You don’t want to see us get killed out here, do you, Norman, honey? ’

Hold that beautiful thought.

As Norman returned to the pickup a police cruiser glided to a halt beside it.

The cop rolled down his window. ‘You guys in trouble? ’

Norman thought he’d crap his pants. But to his surprise his reply was cool as milk. ‘We just spun out there, officer. ’

‘Yeah? ’

‘My fault, ’ Norman said. ‘A bee flew into the cab. Tried to sting me. ’

‘You don’t say. ’

‘Guess I just panicked. ’

‘Sorry, officer, ’ Duke called from the pickup. ‘Our friend’s a bit of a wuss. ’

‘Looks like that to me, too, ’ the officer observed. ‘Y’know bees don’t bother you unless you bother them. ’

‘I’ll remember that, officer, ’ Norman said. ‘Sorry to trouble you. ’

‘No trouble for me, son. You best be on your way before another big rig comes this way, otherwise your vehicle’s gonna end up tinfoil. ’

‘Yes, sir. ’

Norman smiled. Waved. Climbed into the driver’s seat.

Just hope that the cop doesn’t glance down on the road and see those deep-frozen fingers melting there on the road-tar.

Norman keyed the ignition. The engine clunked, rolled, whirred.

Didn’t start.

‘Sure you’re not having any trouble? ’ the cop called from his car.

‘No, sir. We’re fine. ’

Fine, fine, fine. Oh God, please don’t let him recognize us. We’ve ditched the red Jeep but surely every cop in the state has been radioed our descriptions.

‘Come on, truck, ’ Norman muttered. ‘Start. In the name of God, please start. ’

He turned the key again.

Click. Whirr. No go.

‘Take it easy, ’ Duke s

aid coolly. ‘Just try a little more gas. ’

Norman tried again. The engine fired.

He waved at the cop to say everything was okay.

Yeah, as if. . .

The cop nodded, his face impassive.

Oh God, maybe he’s remembering the APB. Two guys and a girl in white boots. Cop-killers.

The cop pulled a wad of gum from his mouth, rolled it between thumb and forefinger. Then flicked it through his car’s open window.

Norman watched the gob of gray drop beside the old woman’s wedding finger sans its gold band.

Oh, Christ on an ass.

The cop stared impassively at Norman in the truck.

Norman’s artificial smile took on huge proportions.

Stop grinning, you ape, he told himself. That kind of grimace screams guilt.

Any second the cop’s gonna pull his revolver. Maybe loose off a couple of rounds into my chest for good measure.

Then the cop gave a nod, eased the cruiser past the pickup. Norman pressed the gas pedal. Not hard, so he pulled away in a smooth, law-abiding way.

No wheel spin.

No fugitive dash.

‘That’s it, ’ Duke purred. ‘Drive away nice and slow. Don’t give Mister Police Officer any cause for suspicion. ’

‘Norman’s turning into one cool customer. ’ Boots rubbed his inner thigh. ‘I like Normy more with every hour that passes. I’m gonna treat him to somethin’ nice tonight. ’

Norman gently accelerated along the road. He glanced back in the mirror.

The police cruiser was pulling away too, in the opposite direction. Norman expected at any second that its lights would start whirling and the cop would pull a tight U in the road and chase them.

But the cop had other things on his mind.

He eased his big black-and-white along the highway, receding all the time.

Norman let out a sigh and a half. ‘Phew-ee. I did okay, didn’t I? ’

‘You did just fine, Norman, old bud. Just fine. ’

As the sun started to set Norman was figuring that they’d done six hundred miles in the pickup.

Still aiming the Ford’s nose due south.

Duke said, ‘We need to eat. We need to sleep. ’

‘I’m thirsty, too, ’ said a drowsy Boots.

‘We’ve plenty of cash so we’ll stop at the next motel. ’

‘Ooh-ee, ’ Boots sighed. ‘My skin’s itchy. Could use a shower, then a big, big soft bed. ’

‘You’ve got it, babe. ’

Boots ran her fingers up Norman’s thigh. ‘Could you use a nice clean motel room? ’

In a laid-back way, Norman shrugged. ‘Yeah, cool. ’

Inside, his heart lurched.

Oh, my God. A motel room. Here we go all over again.

Chapter Twenty-three

Pamela’s life had been exploded.

Demolished.

Torn asunder, as the old phrase goes, she thought. Marriage was the foundation I’d built my life on. Rodney was a murderer who killed my husband and made me a widow. Now I’ve learned that Jim was still married when he went through the wedding ceremony with me. He’s a bigamist.

A dead bigamist.

Rodney killed him. Burned him.

But who’s the bigger rat? Rodney or Jim?

Pamela had walked out into the desert to be alone. She’d climbed into the rocky hills that seemed to glow like fire beneath the afternoon sun. Now she stood on the edge of a rock that ended in a fifty-foot drop. Below her and quarter of a mile away was Pits. She could see the diner, the old house, the line of trailers, vehicles. Even Sharpe as he crossed the road to climb into his bus full of mannequins.

Sharpe saves, she told herself. Saves people who are so down on their luck that even the bottom of a well would be a long way up for them. And then some. . .

I could end it here. Just requires one step forward. Then a fall of a few seconds through hot dry air to even hotter rocks at the bottom of this cliff.

No more hurt. No more misery.

Just the perfect forgetfulness of oblivion.

Takes one step, Pamela. . . that’s all. . .

Pamela’s head spun. Heat rising up from the white rock had the intensity of a furnace. In the desert stood saguaro cacti. Like a whole army of people stood watching her. Waiting for her to fall.

Waiting for the crunch of her flesh and bone on rocks. The hiss of her blood leaking onto stones that were thirsty after a hundred years of drought. Above. Clear blue sky. Vultures whirled.

Yup. They knew what she was gonna do.

Seen suicide before. Knew the signs.

Knew the sweet taste of self-killed flesh.

Pamela’s knees turned watery. She leaned forward. When she looked down now it was all the waaaayyy down. . .

‘There’s a better way than that, miss. ’

‘Sharpe? ’

Pamela squinted into the brilliant sunlight. There was Sharpe in silhouette. Easy to make out his flat-top haircut, the glint of his shades reflecting two perfect images of her face with the cluster of buildings that was Pits behind her.

‘This is only a fifty-foot drop, ’ he said. ‘If you go across yonder you can drop into the mine pits themselves. Don’t know how deep they are. ’

‘How’d you know I was gonna—’

‘Kill yourself? Know the signs. When someone has that defeated look in their eyes that’s so deeply rooted it goes all the way through into their soul. That’s when I know. ’

‘You know what my husband did? ’

‘Bigamy? Sure. ’

‘I could face being a widow. Not this. ’

‘Ashamed? ’

‘Wouldn’t you be? ’

‘It’s your fault? ’

‘I was gullible. I should have—’

‘Gullible don’t make you guilty. Anyways, I don’t see how you could have known. Married men don’t come with the word tattooed on their chests. ’

Pamela looked up at Sharpe’s face but could see no expression on it because the dazzling presence of the sun was directly behind him. ‘This is just so not fair. ’

‘Not fair isn’t a self-execution offence, is it? ’

A tear squeezed onto her cheek where the fierce sun stole the moisture in a second. ‘I just want to stop thinking about what Jim did. . . hell, what Rodney did, too. It hurts, Sharpe. ’

‘Sure it does. And if you want to stop the hurt there’s the pit. ’

‘Where is it? ’

‘Back that way. It’s a long drop but it’ll do the job. ’

‘Show me, will you? ’

‘So long that you might fall all the way to China. ’

Despite her misery, Pamela laughed. ‘China. Yeah, China’s just about far enough away. ’ A smile had found its way to her face. She raised her head to show Sharpe that maybe she wasn’t as deeply depressed as she’d first seemed.

There was no Sharpe.

She looked down at Pits again. Sharpe was stowing cartons into the hold of the bus.

Hey, Sharpe. . . how come you got back down there so quick?

That’s impossible.

Can’t be two places at once. Not even Sharpe.

But then he found me just as Rodney was going to shoot me. Right time, right place.

‘Gee, Sharpe, you’ve gotta be an angel in disguise. ’

Just for a moment, the shadows falling on Sharpe from the bus’s luggage-compartment doors fell across his shoulders. Dizzy, her vision blurred, Pamela saw the shadows as wings unfurling from Sharpe’s back. He straightened after stowing a box.

Even from this distance he seemed to be looking at her.

Looking directly at her through those shades of his.

Impossible.

Can’t see me way up here. Not properly, anyway.

But Sharpe is special. ‘Sharpe, you are an angel, ’ she whispered.

Light-headed from the heat Pamela tottered forward. Below, the rocks at the bottom of the cliff seemed to leap at her. Quickly, sh

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