Except for the Bones Read Free Page A

dogs, barking, bounding, circled the figures, a man and a woman. Across the dunes, toward town, a forbidden campfire glowed behind the dunes.
    Dropping the second capsule in the pocket of his shirt, Jeff touched her bare forearm, let his hand linger. At the touch, she leaned toward him, sighed, rested her head on his shoulder. Whenever he was ready, she was ready.
    He moved closer, used his right forefinger to trace her profile, forehead to chin, then down the curve of her jaw to the top of her blouse.
    “Hmmm …” Languorously, she let her head fall back against the crook of his arm. Her blouse was cut wide and deep. With the little finger of his right hand, he felt the first swell of her breasts.
    Summertime at Carter’s Landing …
    Tight jeans and scoop-necked blouses and a BMW that still smelled new. The last time they’d done it, started like this, he’d smelled her musk mingled with the BMW’s musk, a turn-on that had made him smile. When she’d asked him about the smile, he’d—
    A bright white light suddenly caught them: a cop with his goddamn spotlight, cruising. Joe Farnsworth, fat old Joe, getting his kicks. If Cindy Jensen, thirteen years old, had decided to testify against him, Joe would be on the other side of the badge now.
    Slowly, the police car cruised by as the spotlight switched off. But Joe would be back. On a quiet Sunday night in July, with the weekenders gone, Joe would have plenty of time for them.
    “Fucking pervert,” Diane muttered. “He’s played grab-ass with about every girl in town.”
    “Tell me about it.” He popped open a fresh can of beer, drank, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
    “Give somebody a gun and a badge, and then watch out.” As she spoke, she drew away from him, reached for the ignition key.
    “Where’re we going?”
    “We’re going to Daniels’s place. I already told you that.”
    “But someone’s there.”
    “No one’s there. Believe me, no one’s there.” She started the car, put it in gear, began to drive. She drove slowly, carefully.
    “Two or three hours ago, I was making a delivery out there. I saw a light at your place. And their Cherokee was in the carport.”
    “Bullshit. He’s in Atlanta this weekend. Business. And my mother’s in New York. I just left her there.”
    “Okay. See for yourself.” Leaning back in the seat, feeling the soft, easy warmth of the Quaaludes begin to flow, he was aware of his own cool, controlled power: the man with the right words, the right moves, everything covered.
    “How long were you in Europe?” he asked. “A month?” Yes, his timing was perfect: low-down and lazy, Bogey on the late show, so calm, so cool.
    “A month. Right. Give or take.”
    “Yeah, well, the reason I asked, your dad—your stepfather, excuse me very much—he’s got a girlfriend. Did you know that he’s got a girlfriend?”
    Bitterly, she laughed. “That’s new? Christ, just read the gossip columns, why don’t you? Read the fucking National Enquirer.”
    “But this girlfriend isn’t in the National Enquirer. This girlfriend is out at your place.” Still watching her, he let the words hang there, power plus power, old Bogey, bringing them along. Then, easy and slow and soft: “I’d bet fifty dollars she’s at your place. Right now. Right this minute. I bet fifty dollars she and your dad—your stepfather, excuse me very much—I bet they came in Saturday night, in his airplane. And I bet—”
    “Jesus—” Suddenly smiling at him, the heat turned up high, she pressed down on the accelerator, sent the car surging ahead.
    “Now what?”
    “Now what?” It was a hot, tight question. Her smile was wide, her eyes suddenly wild. “Now it’s trick-or-treat time, that’s what. It’s Halloween in July.”
    He smiled, settled back, let himself go slack. Diane could hit the high spots, no question. Drunk or sober, up or down, there wasn’t anything Diane wouldn’t do, even before someone dared her.

11:45 P.M.,