Free Run Away by Victor Methos Page B

Eliza. But he wouldn’t get it with Sharon. She’d had her tubes tied years before.
    Richard stretched his back , and headed out. He waved to one of the custodians, but the man didn’t notice him.
    The air outside was clean and fresh, though it had a tint of fog to it. A light wetness in the nose. Richard ambled to his car and lay on the hood for a moment, staring at the stars. Hawaii, even Honolulu with all its bright lights, had the best view of the sky he’d ever seen, except for North Dakota. He’d worked there briefly as a floor hand in the oil fields. There, the stars and galaxies above him appeared like a magical painting in the night.
    Richard got into his Cadillac and drove home. Because of the light traffic, the drive was quick and pleasant. He checked his watch. It should be done. His heart was pounding, and his guts felt bound up tight.
    Without warning, a rush of vomit rose in his throat. He swallowed it but had to pull over to the shoulder of the highway. He stuck his head out the driver’s side window, and his lunch came spilling out. When he was through, he sat back in the driver’s seat and wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve. Then he headed home.
    Everything seemed in order as he rolled to a stop in front of his house. He parked in the driveway because he wanted to make sure all his neighbors saw that he was home. As he walked to his door, he took out his keys and glanced around. Lights were on in other homes, but no one was out. No one was ever out in his neighborhood. Before he turned around, he noticed a child’s bike on the sidewalk. No one stole anything there. He had no doubt he could leave money on the sidewalk, and it would still be there the next morning.
    As Richard slid the key into the lock, the door opened. He stood frozen, staring at the opening. He pushed it open the rest of the way. The house seemed untouched. He took a step inside. “Hello? Eliza? Sharon?”
    H e stood in the middle of the large atrium, waiting for a response. But there was complete silence. No televisions. No laptops. No iPads. He shut the door behind him and turned to his empty house.
    H e did a quick search of the house and found no one in any of the bedrooms, the den, the study, the kitchen, or the pantry. A few things were a little messy—drawers were left open and such—but all in all, the house looked the same as it always did.
    He headed upstairs and looked around. Still nothing. Richard took out his cell phone and dialed Eliza’s number. The call went to voicemail.
    “Hi, Eliza . This is your father. Please call me. I need to know whose house you’re staying in at this hour. If you’re going to spend the night, please give me or your moth—well, give me a call and let me know. We still have rules here, young lady.”
    With a sigh, he hung up. Eliza didn’t like sleeping at home, and Richard didn’t blame her. Once, Eliza had walked in on Sharon’s swingers’ party. Richard had arrived home to find people having sex on the couch, the kitchen counters, the floors, his antique chairs, the desk in his study, and even on the living room coffee table. As he searched the home for his wife, to have her kick everyone out—they paid no attention when he asked them to leave—Eliza walked in. Her eyes met Richard’s, then she walked out. She didn’t come home for three days. Richard had to track her down at one of her friend’s homes and force her to come back.
    Richard’s muscles felt tight , and his stomach was a ball of anxiety. He wanted to call Tate, but he knew he should give him some space and let the man work. It would get done. And if it didn’t, that wouldn’t be the worst thing. In fact, he already regretted acting on the urge. He’d been hurt one too many times, and the impulse just got the better of him.
    Maybe he could still call the whole thing off? Just pay Tate ten or twenty thousand to keep quiet and consider the deal a costly mistake? He decided a hot shower would help his