Free The Lost by Jack Ketchum Page A

happy.
    “What’s up, buddy?”
    “Ah, just an old ex-cop with a worry.”
    “So what’s the worry?”
    “Sally’s working at the Starlight. Today was her first day.”
    He nodded. “Jesus. Ray Pye.”
    “Right, Ray Pye. I tried to talk her out of it but you know Sally.”
    He didn’t actually. Only what Ed had told him about her. But he did know about kids.
    “They all figure they’re invincible,” he said.
    “And we know that they’re not.”
    “You tell her that Pye might be a double murderer?”
    “I told her. I think I even managed to scare her a little. But I don’t think I scared her near enough. Maybe I should have gone into all the grisly details.”
    “Maybe you should have.”
    “Christ, she’s just a kid, Charlie.”
    “You know better than that. We scare kids all the time. Helps ’em think sometimes. You just don’t want her to see what you used to do for a living every goddamn day right up close and personal. I don’t guess I blame you. You want me to talk to her?”
    He looked at him and nodded again and sipped his beer. “Yeah, Charlie, I think I do.”
    “No problem. In fact it sort of fits in with some other plans of mine.”
    It took him a moment but Ed got it. “You saying what I think you’re saying?”
    “Got a new boss, Edward. He hasn’t chewed my ass yet. I figure it’s time I gave him the chance to.”

Chapter Nine
    Jennifer and Ray
     
    “I really think this stinks, Ray.”
    “So? You think it stinks. Okay, fine. I don’t fucking feel like it, get it? End of subject, all right?”
    They were supposed to be seeing Raquel Welch and Jim Brown in 100 Rifles at the Colony tonight with Tim and Hanna and Phil and now here he was breaking the date. Just because he was pissed that this new girl, this Sally whatever, wouldn’t go out with him. Ray was the one who had the car. The Griffiths’ was in the shop again and Tim had had some kind of fight with his mother last night so she wouldn’t lend theirs to him. If Ray didn’t go, none of them went. All Ray wanted to do was drink beer and smoke dope and crank up the music in his apartment. She was getting sick of the Rolling Stones and especially sick of Their Satanic Majesties Request and she was tired of hanging around drinking. She was drinking too much these days anyhow.
    She grabbed a beer and popped it open.
    “She’s a Rainbow” was really getting on her nerves.
    “How come you listen to this psychedelic crap anyway? You hate hippies.” She practically had to shout.
    “It’s the Stones.”
    “No it’s not. The Stones is ‘Get Off My Cloud.’”
    “That’s old Stones.”
    “It’s good Stones. This is junk.”
    “Look, anything the Stones do is fine by me. The Stones are bad , man. Just like Elvis is bad and Jerry Lee.”
    “Elvis? Elvis is a goddamn mama’s boy.”
    He waved her off. “That’s all just publicity shit. Like he doesn’t smoke or drink. You tell me Elvis doesn’t smoke or drink or chase the babes. Come off it.”
    “What about all those stupid musicals? What about Girls, Girls, Girls ? Singing to little brats for godsakes.”
    “Yeah, well. They have kinda de-balled him lately. It’s still Elvis.”
    He was pacing the apartment, beer in one hand and joint in the other, singing along with the music, snatching at a line here and there, swigging the beer, pulling on the joint. She had to admit he had a real good voice. Sounded a little like Jerry Lee. But you couldn’t communicate with him when he got like this. He was pretending to be lost in the music, pretending everything was cool. When it wasn’t cool. All over some new potential piece of ass.
    Why she kept on putting up with him she didn’t know.
    She loved him, that was why .
    Even though he fucked her over constantly.
    Like now.
    But the fact of the matter was that in the long run it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t do, she was damn well doomed anyway. And doom was the right word for it—she wasn’t being