Dean Koontz - The Servants of Twilight

" No. It would just be my word against hers."

He told her about his discussion with Denton Boothe, his friend the psychologist." Boo says a psychotic of this sort has surprising strength. He says we shouldn't expect her to collapse and solve this problem for us-but then he didn't see her. If he'd been there with me and Henry, in her office, when she held up her bleeding hands, he'd know she can't hold it together much longer."

"Did he have any suggestions, any ideas about how to stop her? "

"He said the best way was to kill her," Charlie said, smiling.

Christine didn't smile.

He glanced away from the rain-swept freeway long enough to gauge her reaction, then said, "Of course, Boo was joking."

"Was he really?"

"Well. no. he sort of meant it. but he knew it wasn't an option we could seriously consider."

"Maybe it is the only answer."

He looked at her again, his brow creased with worry." I hope you're joking."

She said nothing.

"Christine, if you could somehow get her with a gun, if you killed her, you'd only wind up in prison. The state would take Joey away from you.

You'd lose him anyway. Killing Grace Spivey isn't the answer."

She sighed and nodded. She didn't want to argue about it.

But she wondered.

Maybe she would end up in prison, and maybe they would take Joey away from her, but as least he would still be alive.

When Charlie pulled the Mercedes off the freeway at the Wilshire Boulevard ramp, on the west side of L.A., Joey woke and yawned noisily and wanted to know where they were.

"Westwood," Charlie said.

"I never been to Westwood," Joey said.

"Oh?" Charlie said." I thought you were a man of the world.

I thought you'd been everywhere."

"How could I have been everywhere?" the boy asked." I'm only six."

"Plenty old enough tove been everywhere," Charlie said.

"Why, by the time I was six, I'd been all the way from my home in Indiana clear to Peoria."

"Is that a dirty word?" the boy asked suspiciously.

Charlie laughed and saw that Christine was laughing, too.

"Peoria? No, that's not a dirty word; it's a place. I guess you aren't a man of the world after all. A man of the world would know Peoria as well as he'd know Paris."

"Mom, what's he talking about?"

"He's just being silly, honey."

"That's what I thought," the boy said." Lots of detectives act that way sometimes. Jim Rockford's silly like that sometimes, too."

"That's where I picked it up," Charlie said." From good old Jim Rockford."

They parked the car in the underground garage beside the Westwood Playhouse, across the street from UCLA, and went shopping for clothes and necessities in Westwood Village, putting everything on credit cards.

In spite of the circumstances, in spite of the weather, it was a rather pleasant excursion. There were overhangs or awnings in front of all the stores, and they could always find a dry place to tie Chewbacca while they went inside to browse. The incredible downpour, which was the main topic of conversation among all the salesclerks, helped explain Joey's and Christine's rumpled and bedraggled appearance; no one looked at them askance. Charlie made jokes about some of the clothes they tried on, and Joey held his nose as if detecting a pungent odor when Charlie pretended to consider a loud orange sportshirt, and after a while it almost seemed as if they were an ordinary family on an ordinary outing in a world where all the religious fanatics were over in the Middle East somewhere, fighting over their oil and their mosques. It was nice to think that the three of them were a unit, sharing special bonds, and Charlie felt another surge of that domestic yearning that had never come upon him until he had met Christine Scavello.

They made two trips back to the car to put their purchases in the trunk.

When Christine and Joey had everything they needed, they went to a couple of stores to outfit Charlie, as well. Because he didn't want to risk returning to his own house, where he might pick up a tail, he bought a suitcase, toiletries, and three days worth of clothes.

Several times they saw people on the street who seemed to be watching them or were otherwise suspicious, but in each instance the danger proved to be imaginary, and gradually they relaxed a bit. They were still watchful, alert, but they no longer felt as if there were armed maniacs lurking around every corner.

They finished shopping just as the stores were closing, and by the time they found a cozy-looking restaurant-nothing fancy but with lots of satiny-looking dark wood and stained-glass windows, and a menu rich with fattening speciallies like potato skins stuffed with cheese and bacon-it was almost five-thirty.

It was early for dinner, but they hadn't eaten lunch, and they were starved.

They ordered drinks, and then Christine took Joey to the ladies' room with her, where both of them washed up a bit and changed into some of the new clothes they'd bought.

While they were thus engaged, Charlie used a pay phone to ring the office. Sherry was still at her desk, and she put him through to Henry Rankin, who'd been awaiting his call, but Henry didn't have much news to report. From the results of lab tests, the police believed the stolen blue Dodge van had been carrying a couple of cases of a moldable plastic explosive favored by more than one branch of the United States armed forces, but they couldn't possibly work back to the point at which the stuff had been purchased or stolen. Henry's Aunt Miriam had been reached in Mexico, was shocked at the news that her house was gone, but didn't blame Henry. She didn't seem disposed to return early from her trip, partly because there wasn't anything left to salvage from the rubble anyway, partly because insurance would cover the loss, partly because she had always taken bad news well, but mainly because she had encountered an interesting man in Acapulco. His name was Ernesto. Those were the only recent developments.

"I'll check in twice a day to see how the case is progressing and to make suggestions," Charlie said.

"If I have any news about Aunt Miriam and Emesto, I'll save that for you, too."

"I'd appreciate it."

They were both silent a moment, neither of them in a mood to carry the joke any further.

Finally Henry said, "You think it's wise for you to try to protect them all by yourself?"

"It's the only way."

"I find it hard to believe Spivey has someone planted here, but I'm putting everyone under the microscope, looking for the disease. If one of them's a Twilighter, I'll find him."

"I know you will," Charlie said. He wasn't going to mention that another operative, Mike Specklovitch, was checking up on Henry, at Charlie's orders, while Henry was checking up on everyone else. He felt guilty about that betrayal of trust, even though is was unavoidable.

"Where are you now?" Henry asked.

"The Australian outback," Charlie said.

"What? Oh. None of my business, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Henry."

"That's all right. You're playing it the only way you possibly can,"

Henry said, but he sounded slightly wounded by Charlie's distrust.

Depressed about the way this case was fracturing the muchvalued camaraderie among his employees, Charlie hung up and returned to the table. The waitress was just putting down his vodka martini. He ordered another one even before sipping the first, then took a look at the menu.

Christine returned from the ladies' room in tan corduroy jeans and a green blouse, carrying a bag filled with their old clothes and a few toiletries. Joey wore blue jeans and a cowboy shirt of which he was particularly proud. Their outfits were in need of a steam iron, but they were cleaner and fresher than the clothes they had been wearing since fleeing Miriam Rankin's doomed house in Laguna Beach. Indeed, regardless of the wrinkles in her blouse, Christine looked no worse than stunning, and Charlie's heart lifted again at the sight of her.