Dean Koontz - The Servants of Twilight

"Automobiles," and began reading.

The house was small but beautifully kept. It was a Cape Codstyle structure, unusual for California, pale blue with white shutters and white window frames. The lamps at the end of the walk and those on the porch pillars were brass ship's lamps with flameshaped bulbs. It looked like a warm, snug haven against the storm and against all the other vicissitudes of life.

Charlie had a sudden longing for his own home, back in North Tkjstin.

Belatedly, he felt the terrible impact of the news that Henry had given him this morning: His house, like Christine's, had been burned to the ground. He had told himself insurance would cover the loss. He had told himself there was no use crying over spilt milk. He had told himself that he had more important things to worry about than what he had lost in the fire.

But now, no matter what he told himself, he could not dispel the dull ache that took possession of his heart. Standing here in the chilly February darkness, dripping rainwater, weary and worried, burdened by his responsibility for the safety of Christine and Joey (a crushing weight that grew heavier by the hour), he was overcome by a poignant yearning for his favorite chair, for the familiar books and furnishings of his den.

Stop it, he told himself angrily. There's no time for sentiment or self-pity. Not if we're going to stay alive.

His house was rubble.

His favorite chair was ashes.

His books were smoke.

With Christine, Joey, and Chewbacca, Charlie climbed the porch steps of the Cape Cod F, — ,use and rang the bell.

The door was opened by a white-haired, sixtyish man in a brown cardigan sweater.

Charlie said, "Mr. Madigan? I called a little while ago about-"

"You're Paul Smith," Madigan said.

"Yes," Charlie said.

"Come in, come in. Oh, you've got a dog. Well, just tie him up there on the porch."

Looking past Madigan at the light beige carpet in the living room, Charlie said, "Afraid we'll track up your carpet. Is that the station wagon there in the driveway?"

"That's it," Madigan said." Wait a moment, and I'll get the keys.

They waited in silence on the porch. The house was on a hill above Santa Barbara. Below, the city twinkled and shimmered in the darkness, beyond curtains of blowing rain.

When Madigan returned, he was wearing a raincoat, hood, and high-top galoshes. The amber light from the porch lamps softened the wrinkles in his face; if they had been making a movie and looking for a gentle grandfatherly type, Madigan would have been perfect casting. He assumed Christine and Joey were Charlie's wife and son, and he expressed concern about them being out in such foul weather.

"Oh, we're originally from Seattle," Christine lied." We're used to duck weather like this."

Joey had retreated even further into his private world. He didn't speak to Madigan, didn't smile when the old man teased him.

However, unless you knew what an outgoing boy he usually Was, his silence and solemnity seemed like nothing worse than shyness.

Madigan was eager to sell the Jeep wagon, though he didn't realize how obvious his eagerness was. He thought he was being cool, but he kept pointing out the low mileage (32,000), — the like-new tires, and other attractive features.

After they had talked awhile, Charlie understood the man's situation.

Madigan had retired a year ago and had quickly discovered that Social Security and a modest pension were insufficient to support the lifestyle that he and his wife had maintained previously. They had two cars, a boat, the Jeep wagon, and two snowmobiles. Now they had to choose between boating and winter sports, so they were getting rid of the Jeep and snowmobiles.

Madigan was bitter. He complained at length about all the taxes the government had sucked out of his pockets when he'd been a younger man."

If they'd taken just ten percent less," he said, "I'd have had a pension that would've let me live like a king the rest of my life. But they took it and peed it away. Excuse me, Mrs. Smith, but that's exactly what they did: peed it away."

The only light was from two lamps on the garage, but Charlie could see no visible body damage on the wagon, no sign of rust or neglect. The engine caught at once, didn't sputter, didn't knock.

"We can take it for a spin if you'd like," Madigan said.

"That won't be necessary," Charlie said." Let's talk a deal."

Madigan's expression brightened." Come on in the house."

"Still don't want to track up your carpet."

"We'll go in by the kitchen door."

They tied Chewbacca to one of the posts on the back porch, wiped their feet, shook the rain off their coats, and went inside.

The pale-yellow kitchen was cheery and warm.

Mrs. Madigan was cleaning and chopping vegetables on a cutting board beside the sink. She was gray-haired, round-faced, as much a Norman Rockwell type as her husband. She insisted on pouring coffee for Charlie and Christine, and she mixed up a cup of hot chocolate for Joey, who wouldn't speak or smile for her, either.

Madigan asked twenty percent too much for the Jeep, but Charlie agreed to the price without hesitation, and the old man had trouble concealing his surprise.

"Well. fine! If you come back tomorrow with a cashier's check-"

"I'd like to pay cash and take the Jeep tonight," Charlie said.

"Cash?" Madigan said, startled." Well. urn. I guess that'd be okay. But the paperwork-"

"Do you still owe the bank anything, or do you have the pink slip? "

"Oh, it's free and clear. I have the pink slip right here."

"Then we can take care of the paperwork tonight."

"You'll have to have an emissions test run before you'll be able to apply for registration in your name."

" I know. I can handle that first thing in the morning."

"But if there's some problem-"

"You're an honest man, Mr. Madigan. I'm sure you've sold me a first-rate machine."

"Oh, it is! I've taken good care of her."

"That's good enough for me."

"You'll need to talk to your insurance agent-"

"I will. Meanwhile, I'm covered for twenty-four hours."

The haste with which Charlie wanted to proceed, combined with the offer of cash on the spot, not only surprised Madigan but made him uneasy and somewhat suspicious. However, he was being paid eight or nine hundred more than he had expected to get, and that was enough to insure his cooperation.

Fifteen minutes later, they left in the Jeep wagon, and there was no way that Grace Spivey or the police could trace the sale to them if they didn't bother to file an application for registration.

Though rain was still falling, though an occasional soft pulse of lightning backlit the clouds, the night seemed less threatening than it had before they'd made their deal with Madigan.

"Why did it have to be a Jeep?" Christine asked as they found the freeway and drove north on 101.

"Where we're going," Charlie said, "we'll need four-wheeldrive."

"Where's that?"

"Eventually. the mountains."

"Why?"

"I know a place where we can hide until Henry or the police find a way to stop Grace Spivey. I'm part owner of a cabin in the Sierras, up near Tahoe."

" That's so far away. "

"But it's the perfect place. Remote. It's a sort of time-sharing arrangement with three other owners. Each of us has several weeks there every year, and when none of us is using it, we rent it out. It was supposed to be a ski chalet, but it's hardly occupied during the worst of the winter because the road into it was never paved. It was planned to be the first of twenty chalets, and the county had promised to pave the road, but everything fell through after the first one was built. So now, there's still just a one-lane dirt track that's never plowed, and getting in there in the winter isn't easy. Bad investment, as it turned out, but now maybe I'll get my money's worth."