take a stand, pick an attitude for myself. She must take from confusion something to cling to while clubbing away the worst of discouragement.
Slowly the car made its way. Such puddles of water as it passed through—the driver avoided some with what seemed a rather puzzling display of fear of trivialities—were negotiated with long sobbings. The sky now stood less than a fourth skullcapped by clouds, but no moonlight spilled down, although the stars were pin-pointed against the blackness beyond palm tops like clenched upheld fists. But only in half the sky.
The man spoke sourly.
“I’m taking you to the new precinct station. It’s out in the suburb a ways.”
Sarah was silent. She needed silence. Her effort, the grasping for composure, seemed to be paying a slight dividend in calm. She had always supposed that she possessed slightly more than the usual amount of self-sufficiency, but for a while back there the bottom had gone out of everything. Her thinking had frozen. But now the barrier broke and her mind sprang into action—too jerkily, though; one thought chased another in headlong fashion. The worst was on her. That was sure. Ivan Spellman Lineyack, her father-in-law, would personally, and with his attorneys, strive to crucify her. But she knew she could face the old man’s vindictiveness far easier than the loss of the boy. She was Jonnie’s mother. She would fight for her son. The old man’s vengeance would be a grim thing, and she would need everything she could gather against it. She would need her friends. Thinking of those on whom she could call for support, she listed a number—Mr. Collins, owner of the yard, would stand by her. And others. Oh, many. And Captain Most, too. The latter stood specially in her thoughts. Captain Most, a strong man, would be an asset. And such was her opinion of the man that it did not occur to her that Most might not want to involve himself….
Unexpectedly the driver wheeled the car to the curb, stopped it. He began pulling gadgets on the instrument panel, waiting in each case to learn what happened—until finally, when he had drawn the choke, he seemed to have succeeded. He held the choke out until the engine flooded and died.
“You wait here awhile, Mrs. Lineyack.” His words had an evil sound. “The engine’s flooded. But you wait, and later it’ll start for you.”
Sarah stared. She was confused. And inexplicably frightened.
“You’re not a policeman!”
He knocked the door open on his side. He got out. “Figure it out for yourself, Mrs. Lineyack.” He slammed the door.
Another automobile was overtaking them. This second car had been following them, Sarah suddenly knew. She hadn’t realized this before.
Facing the oncoming machine, plastered by its headlights, the man shot up an arm, jerked it down. The horn of the other car grunted briefly in response. The man hesitated, then turned back and yanked the door open and leaned in again to address Sarah. “You’re not the crybaby sort, Mrs. Lineyack,” he said. “I’m kind of glad of that. It don’t make me feel so bad about doing this to you.”
He was, Sarah understood numbly, showing the first and only true emotion he had displayed.
The man slammed the door and ran to the other car. It had stopped. Sarah could hear him splattering through a puddle of water, and the only thing she could think of was a triviality: He’s getting those shiny yellow shoes wet. Nothing else made sense.
The man dived into the other machine and it left at once. It chased away after the fast-moving milky smear its headlights made.
Chapter Six
S ARAH MADE AN INSTINCTIVE move. She switched on the headlights. She stared after the other machine. But she was not able to distinguish the license numerals, not even whether it was a Florida plate. Thwarted, she turned off the lights again, just as the fugitive car took a turn and was gone.
The need for action came at her and, hard-driven by it, she turned the ignition
Slowly the car made its way. Such puddles of water as it passed through—the driver avoided some with what seemed a rather puzzling display of fear of trivialities—were negotiated with long sobbings. The sky now stood less than a fourth skullcapped by clouds, but no moonlight spilled down, although the stars were pin-pointed against the blackness beyond palm tops like clenched upheld fists. But only in half the sky.
The man spoke sourly.
“I’m taking you to the new precinct station. It’s out in the suburb a ways.”
Sarah was silent. She needed silence. Her effort, the grasping for composure, seemed to be paying a slight dividend in calm. She had always supposed that she possessed slightly more than the usual amount of self-sufficiency, but for a while back there the bottom had gone out of everything. Her thinking had frozen. But now the barrier broke and her mind sprang into action—too jerkily, though; one thought chased another in headlong fashion. The worst was on her. That was sure. Ivan Spellman Lineyack, her father-in-law, would personally, and with his attorneys, strive to crucify her. But she knew she could face the old man’s vindictiveness far easier than the loss of the boy. She was Jonnie’s mother. She would fight for her son. The old man’s vengeance would be a grim thing, and she would need everything she could gather against it. She would need her friends. Thinking of those on whom she could call for support, she listed a number—Mr. Collins, owner of the yard, would stand by her. And others. Oh, many. And Captain Most, too. The latter stood specially in her thoughts. Captain Most, a strong man, would be an asset. And such was her opinion of the man that it did not occur to her that Most might not want to involve himself….
Unexpectedly the driver wheeled the car to the curb, stopped it. He began pulling gadgets on the instrument panel, waiting in each case to learn what happened—until finally, when he had drawn the choke, he seemed to have succeeded. He held the choke out until the engine flooded and died.
“You wait here awhile, Mrs. Lineyack.” His words had an evil sound. “The engine’s flooded. But you wait, and later it’ll start for you.”
Sarah stared. She was confused. And inexplicably frightened.
“You’re not a policeman!”
He knocked the door open on his side. He got out. “Figure it out for yourself, Mrs. Lineyack.” He slammed the door.
Another automobile was overtaking them. This second car had been following them, Sarah suddenly knew. She hadn’t realized this before.
Facing the oncoming machine, plastered by its headlights, the man shot up an arm, jerked it down. The horn of the other car grunted briefly in response. The man hesitated, then turned back and yanked the door open and leaned in again to address Sarah. “You’re not the crybaby sort, Mrs. Lineyack,” he said. “I’m kind of glad of that. It don’t make me feel so bad about doing this to you.”
He was, Sarah understood numbly, showing the first and only true emotion he had displayed.
The man slammed the door and ran to the other car. It had stopped. Sarah could hear him splattering through a puddle of water, and the only thing she could think of was a triviality: He’s getting those shiny yellow shoes wet. Nothing else made sense.
The man dived into the other machine and it left at once. It chased away after the fast-moving milky smear its headlights made.
Chapter Six
S ARAH MADE AN INSTINCTIVE move. She switched on the headlights. She stared after the other machine. But she was not able to distinguish the license numerals, not even whether it was a Florida plate. Thwarted, she turned off the lights again, just as the fugitive car took a turn and was gone.
The need for action came at her and, hard-driven by it, she turned the ignition
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