“I know. Sure, I’m scared of those creeps. But more than that, what I’m afraid of … is finding out the truth about Danny’s death. And I have a strong feeling we’ll find it in Reno.”
“I thought that was exactly what you wanted to know.”
“Oh, I do. But at the same time, I’m afraid of knowing. Because it’s going to be bad. The truth is going to be something really terrible.”
“Maybe not.” “Yes.”
“The only alternative is to give up, to back off and never know what really happened.” “And that’s worse,” she admitted.
“Anyway, we have to learn what really happened in the Sierras. If we know the truth, we can use it to save ourselves. It’s our only hope of survival.”
“So when do we leave for Reno?” she asked.
“Tonight. Right now. We’ll take my Cessna Skylane. Nice little machine.” “Won’t they know about it?”
“Probably not. I only hooked up with you today, so they haven’t had time to learn more than the essentials about me. Just the same, we’ll approach the airfield with caution.”
“If we can use the Cessna, how soon would we get to Reno?”
“A few hours. I think it would be wise for us to stay up there for a couple of days, even after we’ve talked to Bellicosti, until we can figure a way out of this mess. Everyone’ll still be looking for us in Vegas, and we’ll breathe a little easier if we aren’t here.”
“But I didn’t get a chance to pack that suitcase,” Tina said. “I need a change of clothes, at least a toothbrush and a few other things. Neither one of us has a coat, and it’s damn cold in Reno at this time of year.”
“We’ll buy whatever we need before we leave.” “I don’t have any money with me. Not a penny.”
“I’ve got some,” Elliot said. “A couple hundred bucks. Plus a wallet filled with credit cards. We could go around the world on the cards alone. They might track us when we use the cards, but not for a couple of days.”
“But it’s a holiday and—”
“And this is Las Vegas,” Elliot said. “There’s always a store open somewhere. And the shops in the hotels won’t be closed. This is one of their busiest times of the year. We’ll be able to find coats and whatever else we need, and we’ll find it all in a hurry.” He left a generous tip for the waitress and got to his feet. “Come on. The sooner we’re out of this town, the safer I’ll feel.”
She went with him to the cash register, which was near the entrance.
The cashier was a white-haired man, owlish behind a pair of thick spectacles. He smiled and asked Elliot if their dinner had been satisfactory, and Elliot said it had been fine, and the old man began to make change with slow, arthritic fingers.
The rich odor of chili sauce drifted out of the kitchen. Green peppers. Onions. Jalapenos. The distinct aromas of melted cheddar and Monterey Jack.
The long wing of the diner was nearly full of customers now; about forty people were eating dinner or waiting to be served. Some were laughing. A young couple was plotting conspiratorially, leaning toward each other from opposite sides of a booth, their heads almost touching. Nearly everyone was engaged in animated conversations, couples and cozy groups of friends, enjoying themselves, looking forward to the remaining three days of the four-day holiday.
Suddenly Tina felt a pang of envy. She wanted to be one of these fortunate people. She wanted to be enjoying an ordinary meal, on an ordinary evening, in the middle of a blissfully ordinary life, with every reason to expect a long, comfortable, ordinary future. None of these people had to .worry about professional killers, bizarre conspiracies, gas- company men who were not gas-company men, silencer-equipped pistols, exhumations. They didn’t realize how lucky they were. She felt as if a vast unbridgeable gap separated her from people like these, and she wondered if she ever again would be as relaxed and free from care as these diners were at this moment.
A sharp, cold draft prickled the back of her neck. She turned to see who had entered the restaurant. The door was closed. No one had entered.
Yet the air remained cool—changed.
On the jukebox, which stood to the left of the door, a currently popular country ballad was playing:
“Baby, baby, baby, I love you still.
Our love will live; I know it will
And one thing on which you can bet
Is that our love is not dead yet.
No, our love is not dead—
not dead—
not dead—
not dead— “
The record stuck.
Tina stared at the jukebox in disbelief.
“not dead—
not dead—
not dead—
not dead— “
Elliot turned away from the cashier and put a hand on Tina’s shoulder. “What the hell ?” Tina couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.
The air temperature was dropping precipitously. She shuddered.
The other customers stopped talking and turned to stare ai the stuttering machine.
“not dead—
not dead—
not dead—
not dead— “
The image of Death’s rotting face flashed into Tina’s mind.
Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93