Free [Oxrun Station] The Last Call of Mourning by Charles L. Grant

it possible—
    "Is this a private meditation, or can anyone join in?"
    With one hand to her chest she swallowed to set her heart back in its place, was momentarily proud of the way she had not leapt screaming for the nearest tall tree.
    "I kind of thought you were out here," she said when her voice would work without trembling.
    "You came looking?"
    "Just checking," she said quickly, looking up as Ed moved to her side. "I wanted to see how the peasants had adapted to the Station's brand of cold."
    He held out his hands, buried in thick gloves, and wrapped his arms over a dark woolen jacket to mime the blizzard he felt on the rising wind. He wore no hat; she had never seen him wear one. When he exaggerated a sneeze then, she patted his arm lightly in a show of patronizing sympathy before looking around at the shadows, at the shrubs and the trees.
    "You alone?"
    "Absolutely. It was a last-minute call from your father. I had a feeling it was only because he felt guilty."
    "Well, you certainly don't have to worry about thieves tonight," she said with a pointed glance to the house. "What's in there now wouldn't tempt the devil. Strangest party I ever saw."
    "You couldn't tell by me. I'm only here to see that these behemoths don't get slaughtered at the curb."
    A pause that became a silence. The distant growling thunder of a truck on the Pike. The scurrying again that faded before the wind.
    Ed suddenly snapped rigid, lay a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back off the drive. She frowned, followed his gaze and was about to question him when she saw, faintly, a dark figure moving along the outside of the line of cars from the far end. As it kept the vehicles between it and the house it bent down at each driver's door to peer inside while one hand tugged at the handle. Quickly, silently. With increasing agitation. By the time it had reached a point opposite the front door, she felt Ed readying to call out and she nudged him into silence. Then she stepped lightly over the brick row. The last car in line was the copper sedan. She leaned against the fender with her arms folded against her breast. Waiting. The figure too intent on the cars and the house to see her until it reached the rear bumper. Sensed her and looked up. The tempting option of flight was obvious in his attitude, disappointment flaring darkly over his face framed by a black and pulled down skull cap.
    She tsked loudly. Twice.
    He sagged and stood up, a full head taller than she.
    "Looks like business is a little slow, huh, Sandy?" she said.
    "Hi, Miss Yarrow. I guess you caught me, right?"
    "Yeah, I guess I did."
    Ed moved to stand behind her, but the boy's eyes did not leave her face.
    "You guys going to call the police or something?"
    "Why?" she said. "You haven't done anything yet."
    The boy scratched at the side of his nose. "Intent, isn't that what they call it, Mr. Grange?"
    "That's what they call it, son," Ed said. "You mind letting us in on the secret?"
    From cap to shoes Sandy was dressed in flat black, and the pale cast of his face was harsh in contrast. He coughed into a fist. And the nervousness he'd been trying to control finally broke through and his hands flapped uselessly at his sides before diving into his pockets. A boot scuffed at the ground. He looked up without raising his head.
    "I wasn't going to steal one. Not for good, anyway."
    "I know that," Cyd said.
    "I just wanted to leave it out on the Pike somewheres. Make them think it was gone, at least for a while."
    Ed's voice was carefully neutral. "That would have been a lot of trouble for the Yarrows, you know, son. It would have been awfully embarrassing for them, what with the police coming around and their friends probably getting angry."
    "But that's the point, isn't it?" said Cyd. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm freezing out here. Let's go inside. As long as we're going to have confessions and police brutality, we might as well be warm in the process."
    "What? Miss