She listened for his footsteps. She knew he would come.

Suppose he comes, and I've got Dad's gun under the covers and I blow him away? They'll find the razor on his body.

Lane's heart began hammering as she thought about it.

I'll get it She climbed out of bed. When she eased the door open, voices and laughter flooded in. They're having one hell of a party, she thought.

The hallway was clear.

She rushed to her parents' room. Leaving the light off, she made her way toward the closet where Dad kept his revolver.

In the dim glow from the hallway, she saw the telephone on the nightstand.

And felt a rush of relief.

She turned on the bedside lamp, phoned directory assistance, and got the number for Melanie Benson. She tapped out the number.

As she listened to the quiet ringing, she watched the door. "Come on, come on," she muttered.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up.

"Yeah?" Riley, sounding annoyed by the interruption.

"It's me, Lane."

"All right! What's up?"

"Kramer's here. He's at my house."

"No shit?"

"He's having dinner with us, for godsake."

"What the hell... ?"

"Never mind. Look, he's probably going to be here for a couple more hours. I can't get away, but... I don't know, I just thought I oughta let you know. He'll probably be going back to his house afterward, you know? Maybe you want to be waiting for him."

"Fuckin'-A."

"What do you think?"

"Fucker's gonna be in for the surprise of his life The last surprise of his life."

"Be careful, okay? He carries that razor with him"

When they autopsy the fucker, they'll find it up his ass.

"Good luck, Riley."

"Yeah, sure. See you around, Lane." He hung up Lane cradled the telephone. She rubbed her sweaty hands on the legs of her corduroys, turned off the lamp and hurried to the bathroom.

She locked herself in Sitting on the toilet, she hugged her belly and hunched over and tried to stop shaking.

Forty-six

"Well, here she is," Pete announced, lifting his cocktail as if toasting Lane as she came into the living room.

"Can't keep a good woman down," Hal said.

Larry felt a surge of relief, but it was mixed with apprehension.

"Feeling better, honey?" he asked.

"A lot better."

"That's terrific."

"The gang's all here," Barbara said.

Now I can relax, Larry told himself. While everyone else had been drinking and munching snacks and apparently having a good time, he'd been drinking and worrying about Lane.

But she must be okay. Thank God.

In a way, though, he'd been comforted by the knowledge that she would be staying in her bedroom away from the action when it came time to pull the stake.

The way she was dressed, she obviously intended to go out there with them. She even wore the same shirt that she'd had on the other night-the one she'd used to conceal the big crucifix from her bedroom.

Barbara seemed to notice the same thing. Smiling at Lane, she patted her belly and said, "You got it?"

Lane looked perplexed for a moment.

"You know." She patted her belly again.

"Oh, that." Lane glanced around.

"Jean's in the kitchen," Barbara told her.

"It's on my wall. I'll get it when the time comes."

"What's that?" Hal asked her.

Lane glanced at him and looked away, her face going red, as if she were embarrassed to admit such a thing to her teacher.

Barbara leaned sideways and put a hand on Hal's knee. "We're discussing our protection." With her other hand she lifted the gold chain out of her sweatshirt and showed him Lane's cross. "She loaned me this for big event. She's got a giant one for herself. Has to hide it under her shirt so her mom won't know about it. Jean's superstitious about being superstitious."

"Better eighty-six Barb," Pete said.

"I'm fine," she protested.

"Must be fine," Larry said. "Anybody can say 'superstitious' twice in one sentence without messing up..."

"You're the one who'd better watch it, buster," Barbara told Pete.

"You go pulling another stunt like last time and you'll-"

" 'This little piggie went wee-wee-wee-wee all the way home.' "

Barbara's face went crimson. "You shut up." "Chow time," Jean called from the dining room.

"Saved by the bell," Pete said.

Hal laughed. "Is that B-E-L-L-E?"

"Good one, Hal. The belle of the ball."

Barbara showed Pete her teeth. "Here's one belle you won't ball till Hell freezes over."

"Oooh, the lady's pissed. No pun intended."

"Come on," Larry said, getting quickly to his feet. "Let's put on the nose bag."

"Let's muzzle Peter."

When they were all seated at the dining room table, Pete raised his glass of wine and toasted, "To Bonnie. Will she or won't she?"

"Only her hairdresser knows for sure," Barbara said.

Larry took a sip of his wine. He felt more than a little light-headed.

We've all been drinking too much, he thought. Joking around too much.

Doesn't anyone realize... ?

Going out to fool with a dead person.

"Let me say something," he said. They all looked at him except Lane. She was sitting beside Hal, frowning at her empty plate. "Bonnie Saxon was a sweet and beautiful young woman, murdered. She was just a little older than Lane, and she would've had a whole life ahead of her if some goddamn nut hadn't-" Larry's voice started to tremble, and tears filled his eyes. "It shouldn't have happened. It was a cruel-"

He sobbed. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"You'd better lay off the stuff," Jean warned.

"Eighty-six Lar," Barbara blurted.

"I think what Dad said is right." Lane sounded upset. She looked angry. "This isn't a movie, you know. That corpse out in the garage wasn't put together by a special effects department. She was a real girl. Some damn bastard-"

"Lane!"

"I'm sorry, Mom, but really. You're all kidding around about this thing like it's fun and games. Will she or won't she sit up and say boo!

Well, it's real, and she's really dead. Just because she's got a stake in her chest, it's a Halloween party. How do you think her parents would feel if they were here listening to all this shit?"

"Watch your language, young lady."

"What if that was me out there? Would you all party it up and go out with a video camera... ?"

"Stop it!" Jean snapped.

Lane lowered her head. "I just think you should leave the poor girl alone. It's not right."

"Nothing good can come of it," Larry muttered.

"Well, I'm in agreement with that," Jean said. "I just want the body gone." "Now, hold on a minute," Pete said. "None of us are ghouls, here.

Me and Larry know this is serious business. God knows, we faced down her murderer Saturday and damn near got ourselves wasted. So maybe we're all a little edgy about this business, and maybe we're carrying on a bit too much. But that's no reason to call things off. Somebody's gonna take that stake out of her. If it isn't us, it'll be people from the cops, or the coroner's, or someone. It might as well be us. Our book depends on it, right, Lar?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"We've gone this far. We've gotta see it through." Looking at Lane, he added, "It's not like we'll be desecrating the body. The girl's already been desecrated by that lunatic Uriah. We pull out the stake, we'll be un-desecrating her. It'll be doing her a favor."

"Especially if she's a vampire," Barbara said.

Jean, groaning, rolled her eyes upward.

"What do you think, Hal?" Barbara asked.

Solemnly, he shook his head. "I'm just here as an impartial observer. But I have to say that Larry and Pete won't have much of a book if they don't go ahead with pulling out the stake."

"My man," Pete said.

"I think we should eat before the roast gets cold," Jean said.

Nobody spoke much during the meal. Larry felt ravenous. As he forked beef and mashed potatoes into his mouth, he noticed that the others were also gobbling their food as if they'd been starved.

Everyone except Lane. When the others were done, her plate looked as if it had hardly been touched.

"Are we ready, pardner?" Pete asked.

"As we'll ever be," Larry said, his heart suddenly thumping so hard he felt dizzy.

"Hang on, I'll get my camera."

"Think I'll pay a visit to Mr. Toilet," Barbara said.