Here Comes the Night

by Linda McDonald

  “Down the hall, ma’am. You need change?”

  “No, I got it.” She took her drink with her and nearly drained it in the hall while she weighed calling him or not. Her own anxiety won out. He was more than hour late driving his car down the boulevard.

  Finally, she dropped some coins in the pay phone and dialed Buck’s cell.

  Chapter 14

  Tony steered the Mustang down Exchange Avenue with two fingers while he slithered his right hand between Erika’s thighs.

  She giggled and half-heartedly pushed him away.

  “Come on,” he teased, “tell me you don’t love it. All this.”

  “Just make sure we don’t get caught.”

  “I’m gonna take this out in the country and throw you in the back seat. That’s what—”

  A phone ring of the Boomer Sooner fight song made both of them jump. After a second Erika figured out what it was and started checking the front seat. She found the cell where it had slid under the crease of the seat back and looked at the screen.

  “Don’t answer it,” Tony warned.

  “I’m not, silly. I just wonder who it’s from.”

  “Does it say?”

  “No, it’s an UNKNOWN number, it says.”

  “Wipe it down and put it in the glove box.”

  “Okay.” Erika wiped the phone off on her uniform, then discovered the glove box was locked.

  “Now why would it be locked?”

  Tony thought about it a few moments, then pulled the car over into a parking meter spot. He killed the motor and handed her the keys.

  “Open it.”

  “I don’t know, Tony.”

  “Hey, how many people you know really lock their glove box?”

  Erika thought a second then shrugged.

  “Right. So let’s see what this fucker’s got to hide.”

  Chapter 15

  Angie stood at the pay phone, listening to it ring on the other end of the line.

  “Dammit,” she muttered to herself and gulped down the rest of her double martini before stepping back into the bar area. As she glanced toward the street, the hair on her arms shivered.

  She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Buck’s Mustang was sitting right there in front of the bar, parked not fifteen feet from the entrance. Instinctively, she ducked back. She leaned back against the hall wall, sighing with relief that at least he was there.

  Angie slowly stepped out for a quick surreptitious look. This time she froze at what she saw.

  There was a young woman talking in the passenger seat. Angie couldn’t see Buck clearly, just his silhouette on the driver’s side. The girl was doing something by the dashboard, but she couldn’t tell what.

  The ground dropped out from under Angie. She had to brace her hand against the wall to keep from sinking to her knees. She couldn’t very well go to the car and find out what was happening, so she just stood inside, trapped and immobile.

  After a minute, the Mustang fired up and drove away, leaving her more confused than ever. She knew better than to call him again. There could be something here she wasn’t getting. But she had to do something.

  After a few minutes, she headed back to the bar for another double.

  Chapter 16

  Rough hands yanked Buck out of the SUV and dragged him inside. The big man said, “Here on the cot. Leave his hood on.” They dumped him without ceremony and moved away.

  The Hispanic voice whined, “Man, what have we got here? My tooth is on fire.”

  Buck could hear a rustling, and then Meatface said, “Here, take a couple of these. You’ll feel no pain.”

  “Oxy? Shit, she’ll know.”

  “You kidding? She’ll be high herself.”

  The sound of a bottle opening and closing. Then nothing. Buck waited, totally spooked. It seemed unnaturally still.

  Then a loud voice jumped into his ear. “Don’t you fuckin’ look at me.” Buck nearly went through the roof. He could hear the man cracking up at his expense.

  The laughter dried up as a set of high heels clicked across the concrete floor. A dry as dust female voice asked, “This guy shit his pants yet?”

  Meatface sounded like a dutiful soldier with his response. “He was late leaving the bank. We just got him here.”

  “Fuck, Meatface,” the female voice said. “And you didn’t think to call me? Christ, I cancelled drinks at the Petroleum Club for this.”

  “Sorry, jefe. I was just getting ready to call.”

  “Well, let’s take a look, long as I’m here,” the female said.

  Buck felt the hood being pulled off his head. He sucked in the air as fast as he could. He was barely aware he’d been holding his breath to keep from gagging. They’d brought him to a garage stuffed with piles of boxes marked as stereo systems, plasma screens, and laptops. A thief’s paradise. A ratty sofa and a folding chair were the only furniture besides the cot, where they’d thrown Buck.

  Meatface, the man who abducted him, looked like an out-of-shape lineman with a deeply pockmarked face. Beside him was Jorge, a Latino in a black turtleneck and Elvis hair, his cheek puffy and his mood nasty.

  In back of them, and now parting her way to him, was a basketball-tall, mean-looking brunette with ancient acne scars over a thin face. She stood observing him as she scratched a rash on her arm with long plum fingernails.

  Buck was struggling to breath by now, liquid dripping through his stopped up nose. The woman made a motion to Meatface, who pulled the duct tape off Buck’s mouth. He winced at the sharp pain.

  “Hello, Mr. Dearmore. I’m Twigs.” She removed some alligator stilettos and curled her sprawling legs under her in a corner of the sofa.

  Buck’s hands were tied in front, but he was able to motion to his lips, which were so parched he could barely squawk. “I can’t–-.”

  Twigs said, “Somebody get him a drink.” Both Meatface and Jorge just stood there, neither willing to acknowledge this as their duty. This time she growled, “Christ, let’s don’t have a pissing contest over a glass of water.”

  Begrudgingly, Jorge left and returned a moment later with a bottled water. He opened it and Buck drank almost half of it in one long gulp.

  “So, Buck—may I call you Buck? I assume you know why you’re here. Have you got our money?”

  Buck swallowed hard. “I was going to get in touch this weekend. It’s just that—well, I didn’t have—”

  He was interrupted by one of her flying heels. It clipped his forehead. He felt blood running down into his eye.

  Twigs leaned forward. “You’re completely full of shit. Unbelievable. Somebody get me my shoe.”

  Jorge jumped to perform this duty. Twigs signaled Meatface, who threw the hood back over Buck’s face.

  “No, wait, I—” Buck tried to say, but a punch to his gut stopped him, nearly raised him off the cot. He could feel Jorge coming in to him as well, landing another hard shot to his face. They were both laughing, pummeling him in turn.

  Through the sound of his own grunts he heard Twigs’ heels click away on the concrete floor.

  “And don’t call me in again until the sonuvabitch is ready to talk business,” she said, and the door shut behind her.

  Chapter 17

  Austin style country music wailed at unsuspecting cattle as the Mustang roared down asphalt country roads west of Oklahoma City. Erika, just as spooked as the livestock, white-knuckled the door handle as Tony goofed around, careening from one lane to another, flirting with the sandy shoulders.

  “Tony, slow down,” she cried above the music and squealing tires.

  “I’m just havin’ some fun with Jockstrap’s car,” he laughed as he whipped the car onto a side dirt road. “Come on, loosen up.”

  “I have to pee so bad I can hardly stand it.”

  “What?”

  “I told you way back there I’ve got to go.”

  Tony jammed on the brakes, nearly throwing her into the dashboard. When she recovered, Erika sh
ot him a go-to-hell look. He shrugged and smiled. “That’s why I turned off here. Go pee.”

  Fuming, she climbed out of the car. There wasn’t a bush in sight so she had to squat by the back wheel. A few months ago when they’d hooked up, Erika had known this was a temporary bad boy thing, but she didn’t care. It had been fun at first, with great sex, just rough enough to thrill her. Something about the base way he talked got her excited.

  Then almost immediately, he had gotten possessive, controlling. He pushed her in ways that made her uncomfortable. Like asking her to chat up a cashier while he lifted a couple of things at a quick stop. Or showing her a wallet he’d lifted when they’d been together in a crowd. Stuff that could get her arrested too if she was with him. Those things ate at her conscience, but today he’d really crossed the line.

  If they weren’t out in the middle of nowhere, she’d walk away right now and go home. As soon as they got back to the city, that was exactly what she would do. He could find somebody else to get into trouble.

  While he waited on her, Tony used the opportunity to rifle through the rest of the glove compartment. In the still country air, Steve Earle wailed about how the rains had come down somewhere in Texas.

  Chapter 18

  Just over the hill above the parked Mustang, Oklahoma’s next teenage rodeo star was riding horses with her boyfriend. Only seventeen, Candy Myers had already blown everybody away by breaking a national barrel racing record at the Lazy E Arena in Guthrie. Replays of the breathless performance had made her an instant celebrity in the rodeo world.

  Now in serious training for the Grand Finals in Las Vegas, she had saved a precious hour to see her boyfriend, Mickey Mullin, the only kid from her high school who’d ever had the nerve to ask her out. His only bragging right was raising blue ribbon Angora sheep with the Future Farmers of America, yet he’d somehow found the guts to blurt out an invitation to a dance, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Except, of course, for her nonstop training schedule.

  “Slow poke,” she teased him.

  “I’m just gettin’ warmed up. Are you kidding?”

  They slowed their horses and pulled up side by side, facing one another.

  He could smell honeysuckle around them, and then her sweet gardenia perfume. That was always like a little secret between them, the fragile scent of her skin, just waiting under the smells of shined leather boots and chaps.

  Mickey wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her close. He always wanted to kiss her, but it was sweeter out here, where they were completely alone. It was a long, lingering one.

  Candy sighed as they parted. “I’m mud puddle crazy about you, you know.”

  “Yeah, you say that now,” he teased her.

  Then, all the while knowing he’d lose to her again, Mickey gamely challenged her to a sprint up the long hill that led from her house in the valley up to the paved highway. Candy patted her quarter horse’s butterscotch neck and grinned at him.

  “Sure your nag is up to it?” she grinned.

  “Been waitin’ all day to strut her stuff. We’ll see how well your little prima donna can climb,” Mickey yelled back. In an instant he managed to get a quick start, leaving Candy to make up the difference.

  Not that it would be a problem for her.

  Chapter 19

  By the time Erika got back in the car, Tony had figured out how to patch everything up. He even let her abruptness pass without comment when she said, “Let’s just go back to the city, okay?”

  “Hey, I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “Sometimes I…I know I get wild. But I really need you…so much.” Erika searched his face, wanting this to be true. Then he slipped something into her hand. “I want you to have this. It’s not much.”

  Erika opened her hand to find a delicate chain holding a pale coral cameo. She wondered where he’d stolen it. “Where’d you—?”

  Tony took her hand. “It was my grandmother’s.”

  “It’s really nice, Tony,” Erika said, slipping the necklace on. She knew it was too nice, too convenient. Besides, he had said he didn’t have any family. She smiled at him, but knew it was useless for him to bother keeping his lies straight anymore. Best if she broke it off as soon as they got back to the city.

  “We’ll head back home. Just one more drag, okay?” Tony grinned, and before she could say anything, he’d cranked up the sound system, floorboarded the accelerator, and they were screaming up the steep hill in front of them, fishtailing and kicking up gravel.

  Candy and Mickey heard the mega-volume music from the Mustang before they actually saw the car. Her horse had turned skittish and tried to slow down, but Candy was so intent on winning she kept gigging her on up to the crest of the peak.

  Behind her, Mickey noticed the dust cloud on the other side of the hill and realized what was about to happen, but Candy couldn’t hear him calling. Then, in the same instant, they both seemed to grasp it. Time froze for a split second.

  Tony was screaming happy as the Mustang almost left the ground at the top of the hill. He barely glimpsed rider or horse before the Mustang’s front fender slammed into the pale quarter horse, lifting her up and throwing her off the road.

  Candy Myers popped off the saddle and sailed even farther, flip-flopping through the air like a limp doll, landing in a wheat field with a dull thud.

  As Tony tried to veer the Mustang away, he almost clipped the second horse as well. He went ashen. Erika grabbed his arm. Though crumpled badly in front, the car still ran.

  Terrified, Tony pushed her arm off, frantically searching for a plan as the Mustang idled slowly forward.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, no,” Erika cried. “Stop.”

  “Shut up. I’ve got to think.”

  “Tony, stop the car.” Erika grabbed his arm. But Tony didn’t brake.

  She screamed, “They could be dead.”

  Strangely, this seemed to decide it for him. Tony suddenly rammed the gas and the car leapt forward.

  Erika turned to look behind them and saw the young man leap from his horse and run into the field toward the thrown rider. Stunned that they were driving away, Erika turned and glared at Tony.

  Then she looked back at the road, and they both realized at the same moment that they were caught in the rural version of a cul de sac. “Tony, this is just a big driveway leading in and out of that ranch,” Erika yelled. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

  “Cocksucker,” Tony screamed and jammed on the brakes. He stared at the pristine, rambling house for a moment, then yanked the wheel, pulling the car around in a sharp U-turn and headed back toward the hill.

  When Mickey Mullin finally reached Candy in the field, he couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead. There was surprisingly little blood, but her body lay shattered, one leg and arm twisted so unnaturally, it was as though the bones had been snapped backward.

  He felt for and found her pulse. It was light, but there. The agonized neighs of her prized quarter horse cut through the air for an excruciating few moments. Then it was over for her. Mickey counted it a blessing they wouldn’t have to shoot her.

  Then, in utter amazement, he heard the same car engine cut through the buzz of insects which had settled over the hilltop. He stood and watched it scream up the incline and flash past him.

  Mickey shook his fist at it. “Bastard,” he screamed. “You son of a bitch.” Then he covered Candy with his shirt and leaned in close, praying she could hear him. “I’ve gotta leave you for just a few seconds to go get help. I will be back.”

  Tears whipped off his face as he jumped onto his horse and raced down the hill to the Myers’ ranch.

  In the Mustang, Erika tried to grasp everything that was happening. She could not get past the fact that Tony hadn’t stopped, didn’t seem to have even considered it.

  He looked over at her, as though he knew what she was thinking.

  “Baby, I’m on parole. If I stop, I’m dead meat.”

  “But that girl…” Erika said, startin
g to cry.

  “Pull it together. Right now all we got to think about is getting rid of this car. Either help with that or shut the fuck up.”

  Chapter 20

  The night lights along Exchange Avenue blinked on when it turned to dusk. The colored lights in the front window of the Wrangler Bar & Grill framed the drunken face of Angie Wesner sitting at the bar.

  She was on her third martini, but it wasn’t working. With each warm sensation as the vodka went down, she felt more and more dejected. Angie had already tried Gordon’s office on her cell phone. That was safe enough. Just a wife checking on her late husband. But Angie knew, even through her fuzzy haze, that calling Buck from her phone was out of the question. The alcohol, however, had helped her rationalize that if she used a public phone…

  So once more, she slipped to the back of the bar, found more coins, and dialed his cell from the pay phone. The same four buzzes, then his voice mail. “Hello, you’ve reached my mobile number. Since I can’t take calls right now, you know what to do. You can also try my office number…”

  Same old yada yada. As the night came on, her anger veered toward a sick, depressed feeling. Like rocks in her stomach. That was how she had described it as a child, when she’d made the mistake of talking to a DHS case worker. The dull woman with bad dentures and a sickly sweet lavender smell had found it easier to go with her stepfather’s story of an out-of-control teen than believe a foul-mouthed kid, it turned out. It had made Angie feel like a chewed up chicken bone, tossed to the ground. So she had lived with rocks in her stomach until she ran away at fifteen.

  Disgusted, she threw money down on the bar and wandered out into the deserted street. She didn’t know whether she wanted to cry or kill somebody.

  The storefronts were dark except for one at the end of the street—the Crazy Horse Saloon. Music from there poured out onto the sidewalks.

  Chapter 21

  Under his smelly hood, Buck heard the garage door scrape open. Meatface and Jorge’s feet hit the ground as they jumped up.