Before driving out of the motel lot, he turned in his seat and studied Melanie.
She was slumped against her mother.
Her eyes were open but vacant.
Am I right, kid? he wondered. Is It what I think It is?
He half expected her to hear the unspoken questions and shift her eyes toward him, but she did not.
I hope I’m wrong, he thought. Because if that’s what’s been killing all these people, and if it’s going to come after you when all the rest are dead, then there’s nowhere you can hide, is there, honey? Not from a thing like that. Nowhere in the world you can hope to hide.
He shivered.
He started the car and drove away from the motel.
The previous night’s fog continued to linger in the city. Rain began to fall once more. As each cold drop snapped hard against the windshield, the frigid impact seemed to be transmitted through the glass, through Dan’s clothes, through his flesh and bones, and into his very soul.
34
Dan and Laura accomplished nothing of importance that morning, though they didn’t fail for lack of trying. The renewed rainfall hampered them because it slowed traffic to a crawl throughout the city. The weather was bad, but the real problem was that the rats who could provide some answers were all deserting the ship: Neither Renseveer nor Tolbeck could be found at work or home. Dan wasted a lot of time tracking them down before he finally had sufficient reason to believe that both men had fled the city for destinations unknown.
At one o’clock, they met Earl Benton at the coffee shop in Van Nuys, as they had arranged the night before. Fortunately, the head wound that he’d suffered at the hands of Wexlersh had not appreciably slowed him down, and his morning had been more productive than Dan’s and Laura’s. The four of them sat in a booth at the back of the restaurant, as far as possible from the jukebox that was playing country music. They were beside a large plate-glass window, down which a gray film of rain rippled, blurring the world beyond. The place smelled pleasantly of french fries, sizzling hamburgers, bean soup, bacon, and coffee. The waitress was cheerful and efficient, and when she had taken their order and gone, Earl told Dan and Laura everything that he had uncovered. First thing that morning, he had called Mary Katherine O’Hara, the secretary of Freedom Now, and had arranged to see her at ten o’clock. She lived in a neat little bungalow in Burbank, a place half shrouded in bougainvillea, so typical of the architecture of the 1930s and in such good repair that Earl had half expected to see a Packard parked in the driveway.
‘Mrs. O’Hara is in her sixties,’ Earl said, ‘and she’s almost as well kept as her house. She’s a very handsome woman now, and she must have been a knockout when she was young. She’s a retired real-estate saleswoman. Though she isn’t rich, I’d say she’s definitely comfortable. The house is very nicely furnished, with several superb Art Deco antiques.’
‘Was she reluctant to talk about Freedom Now?’ Dan asked.
‘On the contrary. She was eager to talk about it. You see, your police file on the organization is out of date. She’s no longer an officer. She resigned in disgust several months ago.’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s a dedicated libertarian, involved with a dozen different organizations, and when Ernest Cooper invited her to play a major role in a libertarian political-action committee that he had formed, she was happy to volunteer her time. The problem was that Cooper clearly wanted her name in order to lend some legitimacy to his PAC, and he expected her to be manipulable. But manipulating Mary O’Hara would be about as easy as playing football with a live porcupine without getting hurt.’
Dan was surprised and pleased to hear Laura’s laughter. She had laughed so little in the past couple of days that he’d forgotten how deeply affected he could be by her delight.
‘She sounds tough,’ Laura said.
‘And smart,’ Earl said. ‘She reminds me of you.’
‘Me? Tough?’
‘Tougher than you think you are,’ Dan assured her, with the same admiration that Earl evidently felt.