In a Lonely Place by Dorothy B. Hughes Read Free Book Online Page A

Marriage could be happy.
    He realized there was music when the brown girl and her partner began to dance. He should ask Sylvia to dance. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to get out of here, to go home. He couldn’t leave abruptly, not two nights in a row. However, he didn’t think the Nicolais would stay much longer, off guard their faces returned to somberness. He could nudge them. He said abruptly, “You’re tired, Brub.”
    Brub nodded, “Yeah. But I’ve got to go back to work.”
    “No, Brub,” Sylvia cried.
    “I shouldn’t have left when I did.”
    “You’re worn out now. You can’t, darling. It’s an hour’s drive downtown—”
    He interrupted, “I don’t have to go downtown, Sylvia. To the Beverly Hills station is all. That isn’t fifteen minutes. Why don’t you keep Dix—”
    Sylvia shook her head.
    Dix said, “I ought to get back to work myself. So don’t be polite.”
    Sylvia said, “I couldn’t stay. You understand.”
    He gave her an appreciative smile. “I understand.”
    “It’s been a punk evening for you, Dix,” Brub was apologetic. “We’ll make it up to you.”
    They almost hurried from the dining room into the lounge. As if, once it had been admitted, all three could make up with haste for the spent time. Sylvia said, “I’ll get my coat.” She hesitated, “You are on the case, Brub?”
    He admitted ruefully, “Just a little bit, honey.”
    She didn’t say anything, simply turned and went to the cloakroom. Brub watched her go.
    “Why is she afraid?” Dix asked.
    Brub started, “Wha—” He realized Dix’s question. “I guess it’s pretty much my fault. Ever since this thing started, I’ve been afraid for her. She’s lived in the canyon all her life. She never had any fear, wandered all over it, any time of day. But the canyon at night, the way the fogs come in—it’s a place for him.” His face was again angry, helplessly angry. “I’ve scared her. She’s alone so much. I never know what hours I have to keep. We have good neighbors, a couple of our best friends are right across the road. But you know our street. It’s dark and lonely and the way our house is set up there—” He broke off. “I’m the one who’s scared; I’ve infected her. And I can’t help it. I can’t pretend, until we’ve caught him—”
    Sylvia was coming into the hall. She looked herself again, tall and lovely and unruffled, her gilt hair smooth, her movements unhurried.
    Brub said under his breath, “If we could only find the why of the pattern—” He didn’t finish because she was there, and the three were moving out of the club into the sea-fresh darkness. The swish of the breakers was liquid against the night.
    “I could take Sylvia—” Dix began.
    “No, I’ll run her home, get her settled. Unless you’d like to sit with her until I—”
    “Dix has to work,” Sylvia said. “And I’m tired.” She put out her hand. “Another time we’ll do better, Dix.”
    “We certainly will,” Brub vowed.
    He watched Brub wheel the car out of the drive. In a hurry, hurried to get back to the Beverly Hills police station. He would take Sylvia into the house, make sure there was no shadowy stranger lurking. They would cling together for a moment, fear in both of them. The woman fearing to have her man sniffing the spoor of a murderer, fearing lest he catch up with evil. Fearing less for herself; only the unease she must feel, infected by Brub’s fear for her. Brub fearing for her because she was a woman, because she was his woman, and women were being stalked in the night. Fearing, he would yet leave her, and quickly, because he was a hunter and this was a big hunt. For wild game.
    Dix circled back to his car, Terriss’ car. The plain black coupe. He warmed the engine. It was a good car and he kept it functioning smoothly. He released the brake. Fifteen minutes at the outside and Brub would be gone. He could go there then; she’d let him in. Brub’s friend. He could