Companions of the Night Read Online Free Page B

pipes are frozen. No water. We're closed."
    One of the girls kicked the door. "Says twenty-four hours right on the goddamn door," she muttered.
    But Kerry could hear them moving away, heard the car doors open and slam shut. Several times. The engine roared to life and the girls took off, squealing the car's tires to show their disdain.
    Slowly, reluctantly, Sidowski lowered his gun. He didn't put it away. He looked as though he was considering taking up again where he'd left off. Like he was evaluating pistol-whipping versus kicking.
    Roth said, "Why don't you just leave him alone? You're making the girl crazy; you're making everybody jumpy. He isn't going to say anything worth hearing till we put the fear of dawn in him."
    "But he keeps—"
    "Put the gag back on him, then," Roth snapped.
    "No," Kerry said. "He'll choke." Ethan had managed to hold back his coughing while the girls were at the door, but he'd started again. For the moment he wasn't bringing up blood, but that could change, especially if Sidowski resumed kicking him.
    "I think we should keep the two of them apart," the owner suggested.
    "I think we should keep the two of them real close by," Sidowski countered.
    The owner put his Bible back in the drawer. "I'm going out for some fresh air." He slammed the drawer shut to show he was upset at how things were going.
    Big deal,
Kerry thought.
He disapproves of Sidowski beating Ethan to death, but all he'll do is leave so he doesn't have to watch.
Surely that wasn't what all that reading had told him to do.
    Sidowski grabbed his arm. "Don't be an idiot," he said.
    "I'll be right outside," the owner told him, "waiting for Marcia."
    "Let him go," Roth said.
    Sidowski held on a moment longer, as if to show that—however the evening had started—he was taking no orders from the owner and he was taking no orders from Roth.
    Kerry waited till after the owner slammed the door behind him so that they wouldn't think she was trying to use him as a diversion. Then she got up, slowly, so they could see she wasn't trying anything, and got a cup from the dispenser and filled it at the drinking fountain.
    She suspected Sidowski was considering knocking it out of her hand, but Roth said, calmly, "Just leave them alone She'll see soon enough."
    Sidowski jammed the gun back in its holster.
    Kerry knelt beside Ethan and held the cup to his lips, her hand shaking so much he was lucky to get any water at all.
    He was watching her over the rim of the paper cup. People in movies were adept at passing along silent secret messages with their eyes, but she couldn't even be sure if he was trying to tell her something. After rinsing out his mouth, he spat the bloody water onto the floor, which was pretty much all he could do. Given the circumstances—what they were accusing him of—the last thing he should do was swallow it. But he spat to the left, in the direction of Sidowski, which couldn't have been coincidence no matter how lightheaded he was: dangerous, foolhardy provocation.
    "Later," Sidowski promised equably.
    Ethan took the rest of the water, and this time he swallowed it.
    "Do you want some more?" Kerry asked.
    He shook his head. "Thank you." His voice was a husky whisper. He leaned back wearily against the laundry tub, looking shaken. Things had probably caught up with him; he'd realized the risk he'd taken, to no possible advantage.
    Kerry picked up the wet paper towels she'd dropped when she'd attempted to stop Sidowski from beating him. She sighed, looking at Ethan's injured leg. Mom had always been good at medical emergencies—levelheaded and not the least bit squeamish. Kerry knew enough to see that his pants leg needed to be cut away, but the men were no more likely to let her have scissors or a knife than to call for an ambulance. "Motorcycle?" she asked, remembering Sidowski saying they'd pulled him off his bike and remembering a much, much less serious version of this same type of injury when she'd been about ten years