Body Rides Read Free Page A

the cops getting involved in this?’
    ‘They’ll probably show up any minute.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Elise said.
    ‘Somebody must’ve reported those gunshots.’ Even as he spoke the words, he realized how naive he was being. Rarely a night went by when he didn’t hear a few distant banging noises that might be gunshots. Or might be, instead, the sounds of slamming doors, automobile backfires, firecrackers, whatever. Some of the noises had to be gunfire, but he’d never called the police about any of them.
    In this case, the shots had been fired in a strip of thick woods below the Santa Monica Freeway. Nobody passing along on the freeway was likely to have noticed them.
    The nearest homes were those shabby places across the field and railroad tracks, beyond the chainlink fence, all the way over on the other side of the road. People living there were probably used to strange noises coming from this direction. Especially backfires.
    ‘If someone called the police,’ Elise said, ‘where are they?’
    ‘On their way, maybe. It takes a while . . .’
    ‘It’s probably been fifteen or twenty minutes since the shots.’
    ‘No,’ Neal said. ‘Not even five.’
    ‘I haven’t exactly checked my watch,’ Elise told him. On the side of her face that showed above her left shoulder, the corner of her mouth seemed to rise. ‘It’s been a lot more than five minutes, though. You zoned out. You must’ve been on your knees for at least fifteen minutes.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘It’s true. I just stood here and waited. Tried to pull myself together. But I finally figured we might end up here all night if Ididn’t speak up. Looks like we’re going to be here all night, anyway, unless you go find the knife, or something.’
    ‘Not the knife,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t touch it.’
    ‘Well, find something. Okay?’ She sounded about ready to cry again. ‘I don’t like this. I want to get out of here.’
    ‘I’ll get something,’ Neal said. He stepped around to the front of the tree. He looked toward where the knife must’ve gone after flying past his face.
    It should stay where it is, he told himself. Wherever that might be. Let the cops be the ones to find it.
    He thought about making a quick return to his car. Probably something there . . . Sure. There should be a pocket knife somewhere in the console.
    ‘I could go to my car,’ he said. ‘I’ve got . . .’
    ‘No, don’t. Don’t leave me alone. Please.’
    ‘It’d just take a few minutes.’
    ‘Something might happen. Please. Maybe . . . See if he has something.’
    Pliers, Neal thought. Pliers, if nothing else.
    ‘Okay,’ he said. He walked slowly toward the body. He felt crawly inside.
    What if the guy’s not dead?
    What if he is dead?
    Either way, Neal didn’t care for the idea of going in close to him.
    He pushed a hand deep into the right front pocket of his shorts, took hold of the pistol, and pulled it out. He was fairly sure that he had fired three shots.
    No, four.
    Three quick ones, plus the head shot.
    He was almost certain he’d started off with six cartridges in the magazine, and none in the chamber. He should have two rounds left.
    It was a double-action pistol and had no safety, so . . .
    Grimacing, he raised the gun close to his face. Not enough light. With his left hand, he fingered the rear area of the slide, searching for the hammer.
    He found it all the way back.
    In the dark, after blasting the man to the ground, he’d obviouslyforgotten to use the decocking lever. He had dropped the weapon into his pocket, at full cock with a round in the chamber.
    Jesus, he thought. Could’ve blown my leg open.
    Keeping the pistol cocked, his finger light against the trigger, he stepped past the man’s feet and crouched down. The pliers lay on the ground near the man’s right hand.
    ‘Is he dead?’ Elise asked.
    ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Shouldn’t you make sure?’
    ‘You mean like shoot him again?’
    ‘No! Check his vital