Free Among the Missing by Richard Laymon

lifted his eyebrows. "Yes?"
    "Let's not have any more of this 'magic word' shit. Know what I mean?"
    "I won't be treated like a slave."
    "That so?"
    "Yes, that's so."
    "I don't treat you like a slave." Merton grinned. "I treat you like the mother you are."
    Walter frowned, looking puzzled. As if he couldn't make up his mind whether to be flattered or insulted. After a few moments, he said, "Up yours."
    "You wish."
    Whirling around, Walter left the room. When he came back, he was carrying jeans, a plaid shirt and white socks.
    "Bring them here."
    "A little politeness?"
    "Bring them here, please."
    "I'd think you might be a bit more appreciative," he said, walking toward the bed. "After all, I'm taking an awful chance by having you here in the house."
    "How's that?"
    "I could be arrested as an accessory. I could go to prison."
    "Accessory to what?"
    "Merton, there were bloodstains on your clothes. I do know bloodstains when I see them, you know. I'm not blind."
    "That could be remedied."
    "Oh, very funny. Pardon me while I forget to laugh."
    "Did you get them out? The stains?"
    "What did you do?"
    Merton grinned. "Sit down."
    Walter sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bundle of clothes on his lap.
    "So you want to know what happened last night?"
    "I most certainly do."
    "All right," Merton said, and told him.
    Walter stared with wide, horrified eyes as Merton explained, lingering on every detail. At the end, Merton reached up and massaged the back of Walter's neck. "You wanted to know."
    Half an hour later, Merton said, "Get me your keys."
    "You're not leaving?"
    Merton gripped a handful of black hair and pulled, lifting the weight of Walter's head off his chest and looking into his eyes. "Get me your keys."
    "Where are you going?"
    "Home." He let go of the hair.
    Walter sat up. "You can't go home. What if they've identified you? The sheriff might be there waiting."
    "I'll just have to be careful, won't I?"
    "You shouldn't take such chances."
    "It's no big deal. I'll be in and out. Won't take me two minutes."
    "I don't see why you have to go home at all."
    "Just give me your keys."
    "You're being so foolish."
    "You're being a fucking nag. Get them."
    Walter climbed out of bed. When he was gone, Merton got up and dressed. He was washing his face in the bathroom when Walter returned.
    "I'll go with you," Walter said.
    "No."
    "I don't see why not."
    "Because I don't want you with me, that's why not. If you give me any more trouble, I won't be back."
    "You'll be back."
    "Don't press your luck." Merton held out his hand and took the keys. Then, without another word, he left.
    His one-room house was on Pine Street, less than five miles away. When he got there, he drove past it at the maximum thirty m.p.h. speed limit, watching both sides of the road. Long ago, he'd made a point to become familiar with the vehicles belonging to all his neighbors. With the exception of a U-Haul van in front of the Willis place across the street from his house, everything fit. The U-Haul worried him. It would provide a fine cover for a surveillance team.
    At the end of the block, he made a left turn. Then he cruised down the unpaved alley behind his house. The alley checked out. He headed up Pine again. This time, he saw Frank and Irma Willis wrestling a sofa across their front yard. The U-Haul was safe.
    He drove down the alley and parked, not directly behind his house but close to a twisted stockade fence two houses down.
    No fence, but an overgrown hedge enclosed his own back yard. He pressed through it, hands raised to protect his face. A stray branch scratched the back of his hand. It left a white mark like chalk, but brought no blood. When he was free of the bushes, he ran to the back of his house.
    He climbed four stairs to the rear porch. The screen door came open easily, silently. He unlocked the wooden door and stepped into his kitchen.
    Nothing seemed out of place.
    In the living room, he went to a book shelf above his television set.