“Nick?”

It was Beth. She had followed him down and he could see her framed in the doorway at the foot of the stairs. She had slipped into a nightgown that, in the moonlight, was more alluring than if she had been nude. She started to speak, but he hissed at her for silence.

“Come here, Beth,” he instructed, “and don’t put on a light.”

Her bare feet whispered on the rug as she came to his side in obvious bewilderment. He pointed out the car and the two men, telling her about how they had inquired after him at the gas station. She listened quietly.

“What do they want?” She asked, when he’d finished.

She was sitting on the arm of the chair, leaning against him to study the car. The soft pressure of her breasts was disturbing and conjured up memories of early in the evening.

“What do they want?” She asked again.

“I don’t know. That’s something I have to find out. Listen, give me a minute to get to the upstairs window. Then snap on the light and move around. They’re probably looking for me and I want to give them the impression I’m not here.”

“All right, Nick.”

He got up and threaded his way to the stairs and up to kneel before the bedroom window that fronted on the street. Through the gap in the curtains, he could see the car plainly. The light snapped on downstairs. For a moment, nothing happened; the men merely sat in the car and [p48]  watched the house. Finally the car began moving down the street with its lights out. Then, out of range, the driver flicked on the lights and the car disappeared. The downstairs light snapped off and a moment later Beth came into the room.

[p48]  

[p

]  

“Nick?”

“Here.”

“Perhaps they saw the crash...” she began, but he cut her off short.

“No one saw me crash.”

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