Nightwitch Read online

  “ I can do it.” He rolled from his back onto his stomach, pushed himself up into a crouch, then stood and brushed himself off as Carolina was picking up the books.

  “ Are you okay?” Arty saw real concern in her eyes and appreciated it.

  “ Boy, I hate them.” He reached into his hip pocket, took out a plastic comb and ran it through his hair with two quick strokes, then put it back.

  “ Me, too.” She tucked her books under her arm.

  “ Let’s go.” He led off, with her following, up the steps and down the hall, toward their classroom.

  “ I’m gonna start taking karate lessons,” he said, turning toward her.

  “ What? Where?”

  “ Parks and Recreation are starting karate lessons in Tampico. Four o’clock on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”

  “ How are you going to get there?” She brushed hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “ Bus. It leaves from school at three-twenty.” He stopped walking and faced her. “I’m tired of those guys pushing me around. I wanna be able to fight back.”

  “ How much does it cost?”

  “ Parks and Recreation don’t charge. It’s free.”

  “ Can I come, too?”

  “ Sure,” he said with a wide smile lighting up his face. “I was hoping you would. I’d hate to go there all by myself.”

  “ I can hardly wait.” She seemed excited.

  “ There’s just one small problem.”

  “ What?”

  “ My parents would never let me do something like that, so I had to lie to them.”

  “ What did you tell them?”

  “ I told them I was going there to take Spanish lessons, so I guess I gotta learn that, too.”

  “ Excellent,” she said. “I’ll tell my mom the same thing. We’ll buy some tapes and study on Tuesdays and Thursdays when we don’t have karate lessons. No one will ever know.”

  “ My parents will never let me study with a girl. I’ll have to lie about that, too.”

  “ So, lie,” she said.

  “ I will,” he smiled.

  Sarah opened the top drawer of her teacher’s desk without looking at the class. She took out a framed photograph, glanced at the clock, then lowered her eyes back to the photograph. She looked so happy, he did too. They were staring out of the photograph, arm in arm, both in bathing suits, her hair wet, her smile real-now she wondered about his.

  She flexed her fingers and bit herself on the inside of her cheek to hold back the tears. Another quick glance at the clock told her she had a minute left. She wasn’t smiling or frowning as she pulled the picture out from the glass frame and dumped it in the wastebasket.

  The bell rang.

  She stood, faced the flag and put her hand over her heart.

  “ I pledge allegiance to the flag,” the children’s voices rang out, but for the first time since she’d begun her teaching career she wasn’t listening. Her thoughts were about last night and early this morning and the suitcase in the trunk of her car.

  He ran.

  He’d left her.

  He had every right to be afraid. Lord knows she’d been afraid. But she didn’t run when she had the chance. She couldn’t, not when John Coffee had that knife at his throat. His life was as precious to her as her own.

  “ Of the United States of America.”

  How could he do such a thing? A man that would do that, run away and leave his wife, ranks right down there with child molesters and pornographers. How could she have been so fooled by him?

  Well it was over now.

  Now she would have to face her friends.

  It was going to be so humiliating.

  “ And the republic for which it stands.”

  But infinitely better than getting up in the morning with him beside her. To have to look over at his beautiful face as the sun blessed it with its morning glow and to know it was a coward’s face.

  The true blue eyes that lied when he said he’d die for her that day on the river. The honest smile that lied when he said she was the most important thing in his life that day when they were holding hands in the park. The square Dick Tracy jaw that should have shored up the face of a strong man, but instead hung on to the bottom of a liar’s.

  All lies.

  The only thing he cared about was himself.

  “ One nation indivisible.”

  Indivisible, was that like, till death do us part? Because if it was, then the nation was in trouble. But something did die when he opened that door. Her respect for him. And she couldn’t love a man she didn’t respect. But this morning, looking down at his beautiful face while he slept, and he was beautiful, handsome didn’t describe him, she wavered. She’d thought with time she could gain that love back. She could make him be a better man than he was.

  “ Under God.”

  She’d resolved to make her new marriage work, and got out of bed to make the morning tea. She’d always liked coffee, one of the many things she’d given up to please him, but she’d learned to appreciate a good cup of tea with milk. She was dipping the tea bag for the fifth and final time, he liked his tea just so, when he came into the kitchen wearing his jogging sweats.

  “ Morning,” she had said.

  “ It was your fault,” he’d said. His blue eyes were hard, his square jaw was set.

  “ I don’t understand?” She’d said, searching for some softness in his face.

  “ I told you we shouldn’t have stopped,” he’d said.

  “ With liberty and justice for all.”

  “ It’s over,” she had said, gaining back the precious liberty she had surrendered to him when she obviously should have know better.

  “ What about my Volvo?” was his only response.

  “ You can report it stolen tomorrow,” she’d said, giving John Coffee an extra day to do what he had to do.

  “ Easy for you to say, you still have your car.”

  “ It’s not my fault.”

  “ What if I want to call the police now, today?”

  “ I think he’d probably come for you,” she’d lied.

  “ Yeah, well, if you think it’s best, I’ll call the police and the insurance tomorrow.”

  “ I do.”

  “ Have it your way,” he’d said, going out the door.

  She was packed and gone before he’d returned.

  “ Miss Sadler,” it was Carolina’s voice, she looked up. “The pledge is over.”

  “ Sorry, I had my mind somewhere else.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “I have some news for you,” she said. “I’ve never lied to you. I think it’s important to always tell the truth.”

  She was wringing her hands as she talked, glancing from student to student, trying to take them all in, but she was having a hard time this morning.

  “ I’m getting a divorce.”

  The class was whisper silent, even Brad Peters. People got divorced, sure. But not less than a week after they got married. Something must have happened. And they all wanted to know what. She had their attention like she’d never had it before.

  “ I’ve got some good news and some bad news. I asked for my job back, but it’s already been taken.”

  A few of the kids sighed, Arty and Carolina among them.

  “ That’s the bad news. The good news is that I’ll be teaching at the junior high, next year, homeroom and social studies.”

  Then Arty did something completely out of character, he started clapping. Carolina joined in followed by Lynda Bingham, then by another kid, then another, till the whole class was clapping, even Brad Peters.

  “ Thank you class. She wiped the tears away and after the applause died down she took in the whole class with the special way she had and smiled. “There is one thing, though. The first person to call me Mrs. Chase gets an F for the semester, and in case you’re wondering, Mr. Peters, you have the lowest grade in my book and it’s a C.”

  “ Alright,” Brad said. “Th
ank you Miss Sadler.”

  “ I’ll only be with you till noon today, then Miss Weber will take over for the rest of the week, while I take care of some personal business, but don’t panic and don’t despair,” she said with a little laugh, “I’ll be back first thing next Monday morning as usual and I’ll remain till the end of the term.” She smiled and looked over her class.

  “ Now, for today’s first lesson,” she said, sounding like her old self. And she felt like her old self. Her life wasn’t over, it was just beginning.

  During the course of the morning she studied Carolina, but the girl was behaving as she always did. She was alert, attentive and eager, a delightful child. She certainly showed no sign of any undue stress in her life. She wished she could ask her about the dark brooding man that was her father, but she didn’t want to be the bearer of sadness to the child.

  As the morning wound down she found herself wondering if she was doing the right thing by taking the time off. But something strange had happened last night and she was determined to find out what it was and she wanted to know more about the man who called himself a thief.

  Sarah wiped the sweat off her brow as she made her way to her yellow VW Beetle in the parking lot. She had changed in the teacher’s lounge and was wearing tight fitting Levi jeans and a loose fitting Levi jacket. She was warm, despite the overcast sky, and she walked with a brisk pace, her worn leather cowboy boots clicking on the pavement, her new hiking shoes and socks in the bag under her arm. She usually took a hike in the woods during lunch hour, but today she was just too depressed and the only thing that seemed to perk her up was thinking about the mysterious John Coffee.

  There were only two places he could be staying. The Tampico Motel across the way, or the Pine Tree Motel by the highway. She didn’t think he’d be staying in town, not with Miles’ Volvo. Besides he’d said he wanted to go out to the highway, so she figured he was out at the Pine Tree.

  She unlocked the driver’s door and flicked one of the three bells she had safety pinned to the headliner. She liked the soft music they made on bumpy roads, quick turns and going in and out of driveways. Getting in, she reached over to the passenger side and flicked another, then she started the car and flicked the third. Three tinkling rings for good luck, a ritual she never started the car without.

  She jingled out of the parking lot and thought about putting in a tape, but decided against it, instead deciding to roll down the window and listen to the sound of the surf as she drove along Across the Way Road toward Tampico. She drove straight through the town, not even thinking about Miles as she headed for Solitude River Road, that twisty, curvy road that sometimes followed the river to Highway 1.

  She sat back and relaxed once she was clear of the town. She’d driven the road so many times that the car knew the way. She loved the drive through the forest. It was so quiet and peaceful. She felt like every tree was her friend, their branches, arms waving in the breeze. It was a rare occasion that she drove straight through. What took the average driver fifteen or twenty minutes usually took her an hour or more. She loved to stop and get out of the car and inhale the forest, but today she planned on making the drive in average time.

  She was reliving the night before, telling herself that there had to be a logical explanation for the crazy things that had happened, when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Something out of place. Something that didn’t belong among her tree friends. She glanced right, but it was gone.

  Another day she might have stopped to investigate, but she was taking no foolish chances after last night. No more than the big one she was already taking. Last night John Coffee told her to leave town. She had ignored him, thinking he had to be over exaggerating, hoping he was over exaggerating.

  Then she saw the wolf, standing by the side of the road as she came around a turn. Not threatening, just there. She was past it before she had time to be afraid, but she tensed her grip on the wheel and inched the accelerator down a bit, allowing the speed to climb from twenty-five to thirty-five, until she was far enough ahead of it so that it posed no danger to her.

  She eased off the gas as she rounded another turn and saw it again. This time she felt a shiver and drove over to the left, on the wrong side of the road, to put as much distance between herself and it as she went past, and once again she put her foot down on the gas, only this time she put it to the floor.

  A horn blared and she forgot the wolf as she jerked the wheel back to the right. The roar of the tanker’s horn, mingled with the sound of its mammoth engine, shot through her and she felt the blast of wind as the truck-beast roared by, missing her car by a margin too thin to mention.

  She hung on to the wheel and slowed down, continuing on toward the highway. She heard a wolf howl in the distance when she rounded the next turn. She rolled her window up, keeping her eyes glued to the road as she let the speedometer creep up to fifty, faster than she had ever driven on the winding road before.

  Ten minutes later she jingled up the driveway into the parking lot of the Pine Tree Motel. She didn’t expect to see the Volvo backed up to one of the rooms pointing out her quarry, so she was surprised when she did. The front end didn’t seem to be damaged and that surprised her, because the force and sound of the impact when she hit the wolf had been violent and loud.

  She parked her car at the far end of the lot, not sure what to do. Should she brazenly walk up to the door pointed out by the Volvo’s rear end and knock, or sit in her car and wait. She couldn’t sit alone in the parking lot for long. She’d be noticed and someone would call the manager. She wondered how the police staked out a suspect without being seen. Surely they didn’t sit in their cars in broad daylight and wait for them to make a move.

  She didn’t have to wonder long, because the door behind the Volvo opened and John Coffee came out. He walked to the car, like it was his, unlocking the door with his head down. She would have expected him to be casting furtive glances around the parking lot, but instead he acted like he was doing nothing wrong.

  He eased himself into the car, supporting himself by holding one hand onto the back of the seat and the other on the door. She could tell it was a struggle and she winced with sympathy pains as he arranged himself behind the wheel. He was taking his time. He wasn’t concerned about being followed.

  He was wearing sunglasses, but they couldn’t hide the bruised and scabbed over face. She put a hand up to her cheek and felt her heart go out to him. He could be miles away by now, but he wasn’t. He had trusted her, believed her when she said she wouldn’t call the police. He had put his life in her hands. She wanted to know more.

  But when he drove out of the parking lot, she knew it would be useless to try and follow. She couldn’t keep up with the Volvo in her old VW Beetle, so she decided to do something for herself for once. She glanced at her watch. She had plenty of time.

  Chapter Eight

  “ Out of the way!” Steve Kerr burst through the exit, holding a backpack over his head. A small kid from the fourth grade was hot in pursuit.

  “ Give it back,” the kid wailed.

  “ Catch me,” he yelled back, pushing between Arty and Carolina like a fish swimming through water, causing hardly a ripple as he weaved between the crowd of kids going home.

  “ What a jerk,” Carolina said.

  The pursuing fourth grader, not as successful at negotiating the throng of students, clipped Arty in the side as he shouldered his way through the crowd. Arty stumbled and grabbed on to Carolina’s shoulder to keep himself from tumbling down the steps, but he dropped her books.

  “ You big jerk,” Carolina yelled at Steve’s back as he made his way across the street, running against the red light, dodging the traffic. Tires screeched, but the younger kid made it across after him, without ever knowing how close he came to never seeing the fifth grade.

  Arty grabbed onto Carolina, digging his fingers into her shoulder, windmilling his other arm, struggling to keep his balance. He would have fallen if s
he hadn’t grabbed onto him.

  “ Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, gaining his balance. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.” They were standing in front of the exit and other kids coming out of the school had to go around them.

  “ It’s not your fault. It’s that asshole, Steve Kerr,” she said.

  Arty bent over and picked up the math and social studies texts and was reaching for the English book when a foot flew by his face, kicking the book, sending it flying down the steps with the pages flapping in the wind, sailing Carolina’s English assignment on the breeze, like a paper airplane.

  “ I didn’t see it, sorry.” Relief flooded through Arty. Better the blue eyes of Lynda Bingham than the snake eyes of Brad Peters.

  “ That’s okay,” Arty said, “it was an accident.”

  “ Is not okay,” Carolina said, “my homework is getting away.” Arty, surprised at her tone, started to protest, but was cut off by Lynda.

  “ I’ll get it,” she said, darting off after the fleeing paper.

  “ She did that on purpose,” Carolina said.

  “ It was an accident,” Arty said.

  “ Maybe,” Carolina said, softening her voice as she watched Lynda catch up with the wayward homework. “If she’d done it on purpose I suppose she wouldn’t be chasing after it. I was just thinking about what a bully that Brad was this morning and then this happens, so I thought the wrong thing.”

  Hearing Brad’s name reminded Arty of why he was in a hurry. “We’re causing a bottleneck here. We can meet her halfway,” he said. He started walking toward Lynda.

  “ We don’t have to be in such a hurry,” Carolina said, but Arty didn’t slow down and every few steps he snuck a glance over his shoulder.

  “ Here it is,” Lynda said, jogging toward them. She handed Arty the English assignment. “Sorry again.” Then she said, “There’s my mom. I gotta go.”

  “ She likes you,” Carolina said.

  “ She does not.”

  “ Sure she does, that’s why she kicked my book.” Sheila moved in the backpack and Carolina shifted it a little to make the ferret more comfortable.