*Yeah?'

*I don't likea this other side of you.' Sobbing, she waited for him to speak. But he didn't. *You tortured him, Dan. You tortured him.'

He didn't try to defend himself; he hung up.

Marty put down the phone and stood there, gazing at the wall. Then she ran upstairs to her bedroom, flopped down on her bed and sobbed into her pillow.

Soon, the pillow was warm under her face. Warm and wet. Her body, tired from crying, relaxed. Sleep washed all the pain away as it came down on her, pleasant and heavy, an old friend bringing peace.

When she woke up, she listened to the house. It was silent except for the electric hum of her alarm clock. She glanced at the clock. Almost seven.

Her face felt tight where the tears had dried. Rubbing it with both hands, she thought back to dinner. Her parents had mentioned going over to the Bransons tonight.

Seven-ish.

The house sounded empty. Apparently, they'd already left.

Marty sat up on the side of her bed, wondering what to do. She couldn't stay alone in the house - not with w.i.l.l.y out there someplace.

If he isn't in a hospital.

Or a morgue.

No, he couldn't be dead. Dan hadn't hurt him enough to kill him.

She kicked off her sandals, unfastened her belt, and slipped off her shorts. Standing, she looked out the window. The neighborhood looked deserted. No kids were playing in the street or yards. n.o.body was mowing gra.s.s. Even Hedda was missing from the chair on her front porch where she always planted herself after dinner to watch whatever might be going on within eye range.

Marty shut the drapes, then took off her blouse. As she took off her bra and panties, she thought about Dan.

Don't wear any. Give him a big surprise.

Sure thing. No way.

She put on a fresh pair of panties and a new bra. Then she put on a fresh white blouse and a bright yellow skirt that Dan liked.

Cause it's so short.

He'd have me bare-a.s.s naked if I'd let him.

I must be nuts, she thought as she picked up the phone beside her bed and tapped in Dan's number.

I'm not nuts, she told herself. Everything was fine till last night. Everything was great.

Mostly.

After the fourth ring, his answering machine picked up. The sound of his voice almost made her start crying again.

She waited for the beep, then said, *Hi. It's me. Are you there? Anyway, I'm sorry abouta everything. I don't want to lose you over a thing like this. Okay? Anyway, I'm alone and I was thinking maybe you could come over. But I guess you're not home? Anywaya give me a call or something. Bye.' She hung up.

Where are you?

She went down the hall to the bathroom. Grimacing at herself in the mirror, she muttered, *You really blew it, champ. Congratulations.'

She washed her face and brushed her hair, then headed downstairs. On the kitchen table was a note: ***

Dear, We're off for the Bransons. Won't be home till late. If you go off somewhere, be sure and leave a note.

Love, Mom ***

Marty went to the sink. Empty. The counter, too. Someone had finished the dishes for her and put them away.

She checked the kitchen door to make sure it was locked. Then she made a tour of the house. The front door was locked. She crossed the living room and checked the sliding gla.s.s door to the back yard. When she pulled, it rumbled open. No real surprise; the thing was a devil to get locked.

She pushed it with all her strength and pressed the metal switch. Then she tugged again at the handle. The door stayed shut.

After making sure the rest of the house was secure, she returned to the living room. She sat on the sofa, picked up the TV remote, and thumbed the power b.u.t.ton.

The television stayed dark.

*Great,' she muttered.

She tried a few other b.u.t.tons, in case someone had pushed something by mistake. But they didn't help.

Putting down the remote, she got to her feet and stepped over to the television. She braced herself against the walnut top of the console, bent over, and peered down behind it.

The power cord was unplugged.

*Huh?'

How the h.e.l.l could that happen?

Marty stretched herself across the top of the set and reached down for the cord.

A hand grabbed her between the legs.

13.

With his one good eye, Homer Stigg saw a girl up ahead. Seemed funny, a young gal like that walking south this time of the evening. Next town, Mawkeetaw, was a good twenty miles. Not so much as a gas station till then. Nothing but road and forest.

Well, he was heading for Mawkeetaw.

His insides seemed to twist up and quiver.

No, best leave it alone.

Such a pretty young thing. Those legs. That golden hair hanging way down her back. And that dress. That dress wasn't decent. Those colors, though.

Homer had never seen one so shiny and bright. It put him in mind of Joseph's coat of many colors.

Oh, now she was turning around, looking straight at him.

Her face so sweet and lovely. Her dress sticking to her in front. Plain as the nose on your face, she didn't have on a st.i.tch of clothing underneath that dress.

Now her thumb was out and she smiled at him.

Homer's foot lifted off the gas pedal. He felt so tight inside that he thought he might get sick. He hunched over the steering wheel.

Keep on driving, boy. It ain't right to give rides to such sweet young gals.

But what if you leave her there? If you leave her, won't be long before another fella comes along. Maybe a fiend who'll violate the temple of her body.

So he stopped.

Turning his head, Homer watched the girl hurry toward the car. Her dress, all green and red and blue and golden, rippled and shimmered as she came.

Homer leaned across the seat and opened the door for her.

*Thanks,' she said, bending down to look in. *Where you heading?'

*Down Mawkeetaw. Hop on in, if you wanta go that way.'

She nodded her head and started to climb in. Homer turned away as she reached a leg into the car and her dress started sliding up her thighs.

*That where you live?' he asked. *Mawkeetaw?'

*No.'The door thumped shut.

*Where you call home?'

*Up north,' she said. Her voice had a hard edge.

Homer pulled onto the road. *What's your name?' he asked. *Nothing.'

*Don't you defy your elders, girl.'

After a few moments of silence, she muttered, *Tina. My name's Tina.'

*Tina what?'

*Never mind.'

*Where's your manners, girl?'

*I'm sorry,' she said, sounding like a little child.

Homer looked at her. Her head was down, her face solemn, her hands folded on her lap. The dress barely covered her lap. Her legs were tawny and smooth.

He wanted to touch them.

Looking away quickly, he leaned forward to ease his tight, sick feeling.

But he was afraid she might get suspicious if he stopped talking. So he said, *You got family in Mawkeetaw?'

*No.'

*Friends?'

*I've been there a few times for the fair,' she said. Her voice was very quiet.

*You from Gribsby?'

*I never said that.'

*You running away from home?'

*Never mind.'

*I've got me half a mind, girl, to turn this buggy around and take you back. I'll bet Sheriff Diggins, he could find your folks in no time flat.'

*Don't you dare try it,' she said. Her voice was a taut whisper. Homer looked at her. She met him with steady, narrowed eyes.

Her face looked as if it expected a punch, but wouldn't budge an inch. *I'm not going back,' she said. *Never. You just try taking me back and see what happens.'

*Keep a civil tongue in your head, girl.'

*I'm not going back.'

*Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't.'

*What do you mean by that?'

His heart was suddenly pumping madly. What did he mean by that?

Lord, so confusing.

*I shouldn't have picked you up,' he said. His voice had a dry, raspy sound that frightened him.

*You didn't have to,' Tina said.

*Oh yes, I sure did. I had an obligation. A Christian obligation. It was my duty. I have to save you.'

*Save me?'