Free Night of Demons - 02 by Tony Richards

I have on Union Square.
    “Meet you there in half an hour’s time?” he suggested.
    And I could see nothing wrong with that.

CHAPTER 9
     
     
    I called Cass and told her where we’d be, because I wanted her along. She needed to be in on this. And it turned out that she’d already heard about the Andersons. The fact that there were children involved had shaken her up. We both have that particular Achilles heel. But I tried to remain as calm about it as I could. I showered and shaved, dragged some clothes on, then went out again.
    The town sped by as I headed for its center. Its sidewalks were only very lightly populated by this hour. Most people would be indoors having breakfast, getting ready for work or school. And catching up with the morning’s news, which wasn’t going to be an awful lot of fun. Except it would look, to them, like nothing more than an unpleasant coincidence. Nobody would have a clue, as yet, that something really bad might be descending on us once again.
    The place looked as fresh as a daisy in the early morning light. At first glance, you’d think that nothing ever happened here. I went past an empty schoolyard, then a small pond with some ducks. The shoe store on Kent still had its sale in progress. And just beyond the stoplights there, a fellow in coveralls was hauling a wheeled tin-can kind of device along the pavement, refreshing the white line down the middle of the road.
    I parked in the alley behind my office building, and went the rest of the way on foot.
    Rounding the corner of Maynard, I practically bumped into Hoyt Dinsmore. He owned a store nearby, and was on his way to open it. We nodded, acknowledging each other, but he looked surprised to see me. And a little nervous too, his eyes widening behind their glasses. Like a lot of folk in town, he knew the kind of stuff I got involved in. And it makes them jumpy when I look like I’ve got something up. He seemed faintly relieved, to be quite honest, when we went our separate ways.
    The drizzle of last night was gone. Most of the puddles had dried up. It was growing brighter, sunlight flashing on the windows around me. The air was a touch crisper, but by no means properly cool. Summer was still hanging on by the ragged edges of its fingernails.
    I reached the eatery and sat down at an outside table. I didn’t come here much, favoring a different diner. Either Harriet’s Pantry had never changed its décor since it had been opened, or was going for a retro look. The awning above me was a candy-colored, stripy one. The tablecloth in front of me was checkered, red and white. There was a candle in a holder made out of a pinecone, unlit at this time of day. And posters for old musicals on the walls inside.
    A waitress—too young to be Harriet herself—took my order, bringing me another mug of coffee. Then I leant back and watched the world go by for several minutes.
    There were a few more cars than there had been before, and more pedestrians in evidence. Folk were starting to head into work. Everything looked the way it should. A fire truck went by, although slowly and without its siren on. And then a small blue-green car drew up to the far curb. Something about it captured my attention.
    I’d seen its kind on TV ads. It was called a Focus, and apparently it was a popular model in the outside world. Except that I had never seen one in this town before. Most people here drive large vehicles like my own, or station wagons, pickups. There was not much call for compacts.
    A woman got out whom I didn’t recognize. But the sight of her set off an immediate, gentle twanging in my nerves.
    The first thing I noticed was she looked exhausted. Why was that? Her bright blue eyes were red rimmed. There were squinty creases under them.
    The second thing was, however haggard she might be, it didn’t conceal her essential attractiveness. She looked to be in her early thirties, a couple of years younger than me. Stood five seven or maybe eight. Her