"Robert McCammon - The Collected Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)

room over to block the door. Didn't seem to help 'em any, though."
I grunted. "Guess not."
"No motive, no witnesses. You better believe those Florida cops are shakin' the bushes for some kind of
dangerous maniacтАФor maybe more than one, it says here." He shoved the paper away and patted the service
revolver holstered at his hip. "If I ever got hold of himтАФor themтАФhe'd find out not to mess with a 'Bama trooper."
He glanced quickly over at Cheryl and smiled mischievously. "Probably some crazy hippie who'd been smokin' his
tennis shoes."
"Don't knock it," she said sweetly, "until you've tried it." She looked past him, out the window into the storm.
"Car's pullin' in, Bobby."
Headlights glared briefly off the wet windows. It was a station-wagon with wood-grained panels on the sides; it
veered around the gas pumps and parked next to Dennis' trooper car. On the front bumper was a personalized
license plate that said: Ray & Lindy . The headlights died, and all the doors opened at once. Out of the wagon came a
whole family: a man and a woman, a little girl and boy about eight or nine. Dennis got up and opened the diner
door as they hurried inside from the rain.
All of them had gotten pretty well soaked between the station wagon and the diner, and they wore the dazed
expressions of people who'd been on the road a long time. The man wore glasses and had curly gray hair, the
woman was slim and dark-haired and pretty. The kids were sleepy-eyed. All of them were well-dressed, the man in
a yellow sweater with one of those alligators on the chest. They had vacation tans, and I figured they were tourists
heading north from the beach after spring break.
"Come on in and take a seat," I said.
"Thank you," the man said. They squeezed into one of the booths near the windows. "We saw your sign from the
interstate."
"Bad night to be on the highway," Dennis told them. "Tornado warnings are out all over the place."
"We heard it on the radio," the womanтАФLindy, if the license was rightтАФsaid. "We're on our way to Birmingham,
and we thought we could drive right through the storm. We should've stopped at that Holiday Inn we passed about
fifteen miles ago."
"That would've been smart," Dennis agreed. "No sense in pushin' your luck." He returned to his stool.
The new arrivals ordered hamburgers, fries and Cokes. Cheryl and I went to work. Lightning made the diner's
lights flicker again, and the sound of thunder caused the kids to jump. When the food was ready and Cheryl served
them, Dennis said, "Tell you what. You folks finish your dinners and I'll escort you back to the Holiday Inn. Then
you can head out in the morning. How about that?"
"Fine," Ray said gratefully. "I don't think we could've gotten very much further, anyway." He turned his attention
to his food.
"Well," Cheryl said quietly, standing beside me, "I don't guess we get home early, do we?"
"I guess not. Sorry."
She shrugged. "Goes with the job, right? Anyway, I can think of worse places to be stuck."
I figured that Alma might be worried about me, so I went over to the payphone to call her I dropped a quarter in
- and the dial tone sounded like a cat being stepped on. I hung up and tried again. The cat-scream continued. "Damn!"
I muttered. "Lines must be screwed up."
"Ought to get yourself a place closer to town, Bobby," Dennis said. "Never could figure out why you wanted a
joint in the sticks. At least you'd get better phone service and good lights if you were nearer to MoтАФ"
He was interrupted by the sound of wet and shrieking brakes, and he swivelled around on his stool.
I looked up as a car hurtled into the parking lot, the tires swerving, throwing up plumes of water. For a few
seconds I thought it was going to keep coming, right through the window into the dinerтАФbut then the brakes
caught and the car almost grazed the side of my pickup as it jerked to a stop. In the neon's red glow I could tell it
was a beatup old Ford Fairlane, either gray or a dingy beige. Steam was rising off the crumpled hood. The
headlights stayed on for perhaps a minute before they winked off. A figure got out of the car and walked slowly
тАФwith a limpтАФtoward the diner.
We watched the figure approach. Dennis's body looked like a coiled spring, ready to be triggered. "We got us a
live one, Bobby boy," he said.