Читаем The Lake полностью

Her lips found his again; she was gasping, wanting him so much. He came away, found her breasts, and freed them from her soft jersey top. She pushed a nipple into his mouth. He nuzzled hungrily. Her eyes closed…

Then snapped open.

A rap on the windshield, Deana’s side of the car, caught them off guard.

They heard a high, simpering giggle.

Deana bolted upright, taut, alert. Dragging her top across her breasts, she pulled away from Warren.

Who the hell?

Mommy Dearest…

In a trilby hat, set at a rakish angle. Wearing a dark, tailored jacket, a floppy handkerchief flowing from its breast pocket. Her hands, in shabby white gloves, poked through the open side window.

With a gasp, Deana drew back.

“Christ!” Warren muttered, staring at the apparition. “What’s she doing here?”

The hag’s eyes narrowed.

They looked different tonight. Ringed with smudgy mascara, they reminded Deana of black hairy spiders. “My God,” she breathed. “Nightmare City made flesh…”

Better say something.

Anything.

Like what?

Howdy. How’re the old folks back home?

She managed, “Where’s Harry?”

The whiskery chin jiggled at them.

“Harry died. Little runt went tits up on me. Weren’t nothin’ I could do.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that. You must miss him.”

Jesus Christ! What am I, stupid? Sitting here talking to this maniac? I should be grabbing my cell phone, calling the cops…

Mommy Dearest batted her lashes in a grotesque wink.

“Caught ya at a bad time, did I, dearie?”

“You asshole!” Deana exploded. “Y’know I could report you for abduction? Serve ya right, too. And y’know the cops could get ya for keeping those old broads locked away like that? They almost ate me alive back there…How come the authorities let you run a home, anyhow? You’re a mad, sick old fuck and should be locked away yourself!”

Mommy’s head came forward, her eyes glaring. They leveled with Deana’s. The hat slipped, tilting to one side. She looked weird, scary—like she was about to tear open the car door and drag Deana away.

Back to her abominable brood…

Deana shrank into her seat.

Warren touched the remote. The window whirred up.

Grinning like an animated zombie, the fag-hag from hell pressed her skinny nose to the glass. Quickly, Warren turned the key, revved the engine. The car leapt forward. A little way down the street, he peered into the rearview mirror.

The fag-hag was gone.

“So Harry popped his clogs.”

“ ’Bout the size of it. Smart move. Wherever he is, he’s gotta be in a better place than in that weirdo’s freaky rest home!”

Warren shot Deana a quizzical glance. He guessed all this had something to do with her experience the night she invited him to dinner. He decided not to ask.

She gave him a weak smile. “Wearing that stupid hat, she looked like that gay English guy, Quentin Crisp…God, what a hoot!”

“You’re not kidding!”

“Well, that’s Mommy Dearest,” she said faintly. “Or should I say, Daddy Dearest? What a freak! No idea she was a transvestite.” Remembering the hag’s strong, scrawny arms tight around her, Deana murmured, “What d’ya reckon? Is it a ‘she’—or a ‘he’?”

Warren gave a thin smile. “Who cares? Just make sure we avoid her in future, that’s all.”

“Agreed. Apart from that, she did interrupt something rather special. Don’t you think?”

“Mmmm. You’re right there. We started…”

“Started what, Warren?”

“We started something I’d rather like to finish later. How ’bout you?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Me, too.”

Deana went quiet for a moment. Then tears welled up. Slowly, they fell down her cheeks.

Warren stopped the car.

“What is it, Deana? Not something I did, I hope?”

“No. Nothing like that. What we did was all so…wonderful. It’s just that everything seems to be happening, is all. One thing after another. Especially tonight, coming face-to-face with that freaky old witch again. And then there’s Mace…I don’t know, I’m so scared of him. And of what he’s doing to Mom.”

She almost said, “And how he came to my room…” but stopped herself, reluctant to spoil things by discussing Mace tonight.

Warren drew her to him and kissed the tip of her nose.

Looking into his eyes, she said quietly, “You’re all right, Warren. Y’know that?”

“You, too,” he replied. “And don’t forget, whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

Leigh met Deana at the door.

“What’s up, Mom? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just did, honey. Nelson.”

Deana’s jaw dropped. She stopped in her tracks.

Oh my God. Not Nelson!

What the hell is happening to us?

FIFTY-THREE

“He’s sick, Deana. He wanted money…”

“Where is he?”

“He left. I called Mattie—I feel awful about that. He was just a pathetic human being. Real sick.”

“You called Mattie? Not Mace?”

“No, honey. Not Mace.”

Something in Leigh’s tone made Deana hesitate. There was a tension in it she didn’t like. If there’s a problem with Mace, she thought, I need to know about it. “Mom. About Mace—” she got out.