"Pike, Christopher - Whisper Of Death.(1991)TXT" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pike Christopher)

stirred once since we'd left Foster.

"Hey, sleepyhead," I said. "We're almost home."

He opened his eyes and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight. We need gas. Do you have any
money?"

He closed his eyes again. "The clinic has all my
money."

I got out. "Thanks."

"Just stating the facts, miss."

Like I said, I knew the station. It was always open.
You could pump your gas before paying. I dug a
mangled five-dollar bill out of my blue jeans. I
wouldn't be filling up, after all. Pepper was snoring
again before I got my four point three gallons in the
tank. I walked up to the window to pay. A faint breeze
played with my hair. The sky was as blue as summer. I
knew it was going to be a cooker of a day.

There was no one at the window, although it was
open.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

No answer. The garage doors were pulled down, but
the cash register was lying open. That was odd, I
thought. Even if the guy on duty had had to go to the
bathroom, he would have closed the cash register.
Immediately I thought the place was being held up.
The help was in the back with a bullet in the brain and
the villain was this very moment returning for the
cash. I backed away from the window three steps, then
whirled around and ran for the car.

"Pepper," I said quietly. "Wake up. We have to get
out of here."

He didn't open his eyes or sit up. "The car runs just
as well with me asleep as it does with me awake."

I opened the car door. "I think this place is being
held up."

He bolted upright and glanced at the window.