'I don't know where we'd go from here, anyway.'

'Melanie might have a few ideas about that.' She glanced around as if to make sure that her sister wasn't sneaking through the kitchen, then said, 'I suspect she might have one last move up her sleeve. It's a long time from now till morning.'

'Yeah,' Bodie said. 'Yeah, I see what you mean. She takes a nap now, and sneaks out tonight after you and I are asleep. I wouldn't put it past her. We'll have to make sure she doesn't get the chance.'

CHAPTER TWENTY.

When they finished eating, Pen and Bodie cleaned off the table. Pen wrapped the remains of Melanie's burger and put it in the refrigerator. She took out a can of coffee and began to prepare a pot.

'Good idea,' Bodie said. 'It's going to be a long night.'

'We could sleep in shifts,' Pen said.

'I didn't bring one.'

She laughed. 'You can borrow one of mine.'

'A tempting offer,' Bodie said. He excused himself and headed for the hallway.

While he was gone, apparently to use the toilet, Pen finished making the coffee. Then she carried a kitchen chair to the front door and tipped it backward, bracing its back under the k.n.o.b. Just like Friday night, she thought, and remembered her terror the next morning when she saw an arm reaching in, trying to dislodge the chair. It had been Bodie, though, and she'd stabbed him.

'I don't think that will keep Mel in,' Bodie said as he entered the living room.

She smiled at him. 'Oh, darn.'

'What's it for?'

'Just in case.'

'You afraid Harrison might try something?'

'I doubt it. But you never know.'

'You're about the most cautious person I've ever met.'

'A streak of paranoia,' she said. 'I think it runs in the family.'

Bodie sat near an end of the sofa. 'A broken clock has the right time twice a day, and even paranoids have enemies.'

'Sometimes imaginary enemies. Look how I stabbed you yesterday.'

'A mere nick.'

'Fortunately. But it shows what can happen if you lose control.'

'h.e.l.l, I was trying to force my way in. You didn't know who I was. I'd say the attack was justified.'

'Justified, maybe, but a mistake. The coffee's probably ready.'

She went into the kitchen, filled two mugs, and brought them out. She gave one to Bodie. 'Did you look in on Melanie?'

'She's zonked out.'

'Good. I need to get something.' Pen set her mug on the table and went to her bedroom. The closed curtains kept out the dim evening light. Melanie was a vague shape on the bed. Pen crept close to her. She heard the girl's long, slow breaths.

Zonked, all right.

With those Quaaludes in her, she wouldn't be waking up for a very, very long time.

Pen thought of her father in a coma.

I did this to Melanie.

She'll come out of it, Dad won't.

Yes, he will. He has to.

Crouching, Pen slipped the shotgun out from under the bed. She carried it back into the living room. Bodie's eyes widened. 'What, me worry?' Pen asked.

'Lordy lordy, I'd sure hate to get on your bad side.'

'd.a.m.n right. I'm one bad dude.'

'Can I see it?'

'Sure. It's loaded, by the way.'

'Wouldn't do much good otherwise.'

She handed it to him, then picked up her coffee mug and sat at the other end of the sofa. She turned sideways to face him, bringing her knees up against the back cushion.

'A beaut,' Bodie said. He shouldered the weapon, aimed it across the room, lowered it onto his lap and stroked its walnut stock. 'Real nice.'

'I just bought it this morning.'

'Twelve-gauge?'

Pen nodded. 'With special magnum cartridges.'

'Wicked. I guess Harrison better not mess with you.'

'I didn't have him in mind,' she said, and took a drink of coffee as Bodie turned to look at her.

'The caller?'

'Yeah.'

'I'd almost forgotten about him. All this other stuff going on.'

'I wish I could forget about him,' she said, and drank more coffee. 'I'd better put that shotgun someplace.' She set her mug on the table.

Bodie leaned sideways and pa.s.sed the weapon to her. She stood up. 'I want to keep it handy in case.'

'You don't want Melanie to spot it,' Bodie advised. 'You must be a mind reader.'

She propped the shotgun against the wall between the front door and the end of the sofa, hidden behind the curtains. Then she pulled the draw cord. The curtains skidded shut. 'A symptom of paranoia,' she said. 'You don't want people looking in.'

'An uncle of mine was killed that way,' Bodie told her. 'He was in his living room one night with the lights on and the drapes open. Someone out on the street plinked him.'

'My G.o.d, really?'

'It was just one of those random things. I guess he made an irresistible target.'

Pen shook her head. 'The things that happen in this world.'

'Can't be too careful.'

'My motto.' She turned on a lamp. 'More coffee?'

'Sure.'

She took the mugs into the kitchen, filled them and returned. She gave a mug to Bodie, then sat at her end of the sofa. 'It's all a little frightening,' she said.

' "We are here as on a darkling plain swept with confused alarms of struggle and flighta" '

' "Where ignorant armies clash by night," ' Pen said. Bodie grinned. 'Hey, how about letting me read one of your stories?'

Pen's stomach did a little flip. 'Okay,' she said. 'If you're surea'

'Sure.'

Nervously, she took another drink of coffee. Then she got up and went to the bookcase. She pulled down a copy of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and handed it to Bodie. 'Remember, William Faulkner I ain't.'

'They paid you for this, right?'

'Yep.'

'Then, Faulkner or not, it's quite an accomplishment.'

'Thanks,' she muttered. 'Page 93.'

He opened the magazine and began to read.

My story, Pen thought. She was pleased, but embarra.s.sed. She didn't know what to do with herself while he read it, so she crouched over her suitcase and took out the paperback she had started reading Friday night in the tub.

She sat on the sofa and opened it.

Bodie turned a page.

She wondered if he liked the story so far.

It was pretty shallow, really.

She tried to read the paperback, but her gaze kept straying from the page to Bodie at the other end of the sofa. His face looked solemn. He brushed a hank of light brown hair off his forehead, but it flopped down again.

Pen forgot about the book on her lap and forgot to worry about Bodie's reaction to her short story. She stared at him - his hair glossy in the lamplight, his shirt rumpled in front from the way he was slouched, one foot propped on the other knee, the old running shoe half off and dangling from his toes, a disk of pink skin showing through a hole in the heel of his sock.

She wanted to scoot over the sofa to his side.

Ah, but you won't, she told herself.

Melanie's out for the count.

Don't even consider it.

Bodie, eyes still on the story, shook his head and muttered, 'Oh, my G.o.d.' He closed the magazine. He looked at Pen and shook his head some more. He grinned. 'Man, I was worried sick about her and all the time she's the one hunting them.'

'Does that mean you liked it?'

'You reversed everything. The final line of the story, you turned it all upside-down. Yeah, I think it's terrific. Nice writing, too. I felt as if I were inside her, feeling everything she felt, going through it all. Really nice. If you turned this in to me as a student, I'd give it an A minus.'

Pen, delighted, forced herself to scowl. 'Why the minus?'

'To keep you from getting c.o.c.ky.'

She laughed. 'Thanks, anyway.'

'Do you have some more I could read?'

'That's the only published one.'

'I don't care.'

'Let's quit while I'm ahead.'

'Come on,' he said. 'We've got all night.'

And only tonight, Pen thought. I don't want to spend it all watching him read my stories.

'Well, maybe one more.'

She drank the rest of her coffee, then went into her office and turned on the light. She felt shaky and excited.