Here Comes the Night by Linda McDonald

she
had to stop and rub her face to believe it was all real.
    Normally, walking by the side of the road in the middle of
the night would be too unsafe to consider, but it didn’t matter much to her
now. She sensed Tony trailing her at a distance, which made her keep pace ahead
of him, determined to somehow get home.
    At some point it hit her that it was after the truck stop
soda when she’d started feeling woozy. Then she got it. Vivian had somehow
slipped her something. Probably Rohypnol.
    Erika had to get back to her apartment and get her bearings.
She was supposed to work her usual early Saturday breakfast shift in only a
couple of hours. And she still hadn’t slept.
    A farm pickup pulled over to the shoulder close to her.
    “What are you doin’ out here on the highway by yourself,
young lady?” It was a female voice, older and kindly.
    Erika looked into the eyes of a farm woman and her husband,
who were checking her out. “I’m kind of lost,” Erika said, which was true
enough.
    “Are you hurt?” the man asked.
    Their kindness started Erika bawling so hard, that the woman
got out and put her arms around her. “There, there, you’re safe now.”
    “I’m sorry,” Erika said in gulps.
    “It’s okay,” the woman said. “My husband and I are headed to
Farmer’s Market in the city. We’ll give you a ride.”
    Erika looked carefully in their eyes and saw no deception
there. These were good, rural folks. She nodded and gratefully took a seat
between the two of them. The front seat smelled like hay and fresh bread.
    Within ten minutes, Erika was asleep.

Chapter 40
    A hundred yards back, Tony watched stone-faced as Erika got
in the pickup ahead. A part of him wanted to apologize for the disaster last
night. But she wasn’t speaking to him anyway.
    The thing he wondered now was if she would talk. There was a
time he could have been sure about her, but not any more.
    Strangely, one of the things that had drawn him to her was
that she had a conscience, and it was interesting being around someone who thought
like that. It was actually surprising, because she’d had a crappy childhood
herself. She had never known her father, and when her mother died Erika was
still young. He couldn’t remember exactly how old. But she had to figure it out
in foster homes, and he knew how some of them could fuck kids up.
    But the point now was, don’t blow the big stuff. His weekly
meet with his sad sack parole officer was scheduled for later this morning. He had to make that. No debate. He couldn’t get violated. P.O.’s never bought “shit
happens.”
    And sooner rather than later, he’d have to have a talk with
Erika.He was pretty sure he could bring her back around.

Chapter 41
    The discovery of Gordon Wesner’s 36-year old Remy Martin
premium cognac, which usually went for $90 a shot in fancy bars, had slowed
things down considerably. They had foregone his crystal brandy snifters for
fear of leaving DNA. But they were gloved up and not leery of taking shots straight
from the bottle and wiping it down. Even Twigs had relaxed a little. And
Meatface was having a heyday looting Gordon’s desk.
    Still wearing Buck’s football helmet, he was rifling through
the drawers when he noticed Gordon’s Rolex still on his wrist. Bingo! He
started singing a whispery rendition of the Sooner fight song as he freed the
watch from the dead man’s arm. “Rah Oklahoma, Rah Oklahoma, Rah Oklahomaaaaaaah…”
    He slipped it free on cue and held it up like a trophy as he
brought the song home. “Rah, Oklahomaaaa, O. K. U.”
    Twigs cautioned him, “Enough with the mugging,” but she was
enjoying herself, too. She had brought the money from Buck’s safe into the
president’s office and was counting it to see if there was any left over for
them.
    Meatface spit on the bloody face of the watch and wiped it
clean. Then he modeled it for Buck. “Some dried blood specks,” he said proudly,
“no big deal.”
    The only one not having a