Andrew Klavan - Damnation Street

"She hasn't called," the whore said again. She was almost pleading.

Weiss rubbed his eyes. Weary. "She's gonna call you, though-right?"

The girl looked around as if she'd find the answer in the little room somewhere. "I guess so. I guess. I don't know. How can I know? She always does."

Weiss had his breath back finally. His heart was slowing down. "All right. I get you. It's all right."

"She just hasn't called. I'd tell you. I would."

"All right. I get you. It's all right." His eyes went around the room as he thought it over. "I saw a motel on the way in," he said. "The Frontier."

"Yeah, sure," said the whore. "I know the Frontier."

"Call me there. When she calls you, you call me there."

"Okay. Okay, I will, I swear."

"And tell her what I said, what her sister told you. She can play it either way. She can stay or go."

"I will. I'll tell her. And look, this guy…"

"He won't touch you. Just do what I tell you, you'll be fine."

"I will. I'll call you as soon as I hear. I swear." She was that afraid of the killer. She'd do anything Weiss told her.

"All right," he said. He looked at her. He couldn't keep his eyes from going down to her naked tits. She responded with a gesture. It was just a small motion of her hand, but he knew she was offering herself to him. That's how scared she was. She'd do anything.

"Just tell her," said Weiss. "She can wait for me or not. Stay or go. Either way, this is the end of it."

A few minutes later, I felt his hand on my arm. He hauled me up out of the mud. He set me on my feet. I swayed there, blinking out through swollen eyes.

"Nice going, kid," Weiss said. "You held them. Nice going."

I nodded stupidly. I swiped a handful of blood and snot off my upper lip. Threw it down onto Damnation Street.

Weiss snorted. "You all right? Can you breathe?"

I tried it. I clutched my ribs. They hurt when I inhaled.

"Yeah," I gasped.

"You're all right," said Weiss.

I grunted. I massaged my jaw. It hurt when I tried to talk.

"You gonna be all right to drive?" he asked me.

I nodded again, wincing. I rubbed the back of my head. It hurt when I did nothing.

"All right," said Weiss. "Well, listen, drive the hell out of here. Don't stay in town. Head west, for Reno. Keep to the interstate. You gotta puke or pass out or something, pull over. First motel you see, go in and wash yourself up. Sleep it off. Go home."

I clutched my ribs and then my face and then my ribs again. I began to shuffle slowly toward my car.

Weiss took my arm, held me up, helped me along. "Don't worry," he said. "It'll feel much worse in the morning."

I laughed-then cried out in pain.

He opened the Hyundai's door. He lowered me into the seat behind the wheel. I sat there, staring. After a while I turned on the ignition. Then I sat there, staring some more.

Finally, when I could, I turned. I looked up at Weiss. He looked in at me through the window.

"All right?" he said. "Yeah," I said.

"Nice going, kid," he said again. "Get out of here."

I put the car in gear and drove away, heading for the interstate.

Weiss went on alone.

He came to the middle of nowhere at midnight. He'd been driving for hours through the rain.

He'd spent a night and a day at the Frontier, the Union City motel, waiting for the hooker's call. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, staring at the water running down the windowpanes, staring at the TV news. It was a long night and a long day. He tried not to think about what was coming, but he did think about it. He thought about how it had felt to have the killer close to him in the airport. He thought about how they would be close again, soon.

Then the phone rang and it was the hooker from the House of Dreams, Kristy. It was sunset by then. Weiss sat on the edge of the bed. He held the phone to his ear. He watched the windows as the lifeless daylight went out of them and the streams of rain began to glitter in the beams of headlights passing on the main drag outside. He listened to the whore's instructions. There would be a house at the end of the drive, she said. Julie would come to him there. She wouldn't run away. She would stay, and that's where they would finish it.

Weiss put the phone back in the cradle. He sat and watched the blackness at the window, the glittering lines of water on the glass. Finally, he pushed off his knees and stood. He pulled his shoulder holster off the back of a chair, slipped it on, secured the. 38 beneath his arm. He pulled his trench coat on over it. He went out to his car.

He drove north as the whore had told him. North and then east. The roads got smaller and smaller, each smaller road coming off the larger one before it as if they were the branches of a tree. The last road was nothing but broken macadam and stretches of dirt. Rain on the pavement, mud in the spaces between. Nothing, just nothing, on either side. Nothing in front of him, nothing behind. Weiss started to wonder if the whore had sent him wrong. If the killer had gotten to her and she'd sent him out of the way.

Then there it was, just as she said it would be: a town-or a cluster of houses anyway, houses and trailers huddled together in the dirt at the base of a hill. There was no road sign to announce its presence. The place didn't even seem to have a name. The first he knew of it were the shadows at his window: an ancient gas station, an auto body shop, a small hotel-all closed up, all dark. Behind them, there was a small grid of paved lanes tapering into dust and dead ends. Weiss couldn't imagine what the place was doing here. But here it was, the middle of nowhere.

He followed the whore's directions. He drove the Taurus down a street, then down another street. He found the house midway between one corner and the next. It was small, a run-down, gray one-story with fake brick siding. There was a patch of lawn, a couple of aspens growing up around it. The aspens grew straight and stood tall above the low roof.

He parked the car in front of the house. Buzzed down the window. He could hear the aspen leaves whispering in the rain.

He sat and watched the place. It was dark. It had a big front window by the door and a smaller window off to one side. Blinds were drawn down over both windows. There was no light behind the blinds.

He sat like that while midnight came and went. His eyes moved over the area. The other houses all around were dark-dark shapes with no lighted windows. There were cars parked along the street, all empty. There was no light anywhere. There were no signs of life at all.

His thoughts went to the killer. There had been no trace of him on the roads coming here. He might've come ahead. He might already be sitting in one of the parked cars along the street. Or he might be inside the house, waiting for Weiss in the darkness.

Weiss made a noise. He was angry at himself for being so afraid. But there it was: he wanted to go on living, like anyone.

Grunting, he pushed the door open. He hoisted his big body out of the car.

The aspens whispered louder as a soft wind blew. He felt the wind on his face. He felt the rain in his hair. He walked heavily up the front path to the gray wooden door. He tried the knob. The door swung open. He stepped into the house.

He stood very still in the deep shadows just within the threshold. He scanned the unlit room, trying to pick out shapes. He saw a sofa maybe, maybe a chair, a lamp. It was very dark. He wasn't sure of anything.

After a while he realized he'd been holding his breath, waiting for the blow to fall. He let the breath out. He found the light switch on the wall beside him. He flipped it up. A dull yellow light went on in the ceiling. He looked around.