When Darkness Falls(51)
Fluorescent lights glared in the grocery store. Blinking, Devon peered around, trying but unable to read the signs over the aisles. He stopped a clerk who was wheeling in a row of carts.
“Sunglasses?”
“Aisle Thirteen,” the clerk said. “Against the wall.”
Devon strode across the store, squinting.
After he found a pair of sunglasses, he wandered the aisles. The amplification of his senses, whatever had caused it, had dimmed. The store seemed ordinary again, though still too bright. Devon wanted something substantial to eat, but he wouldn’t be able to cook at the motel. He looked at the cold cuts, packaged and hanging on hooks, but they didn’t appeal to him. The cheeses even less so. A case in back held precooked chickens in foil oven bags. He stood in front of those a long time. They looked good, smelled good, but didn’t seem like what he wanted. Which seemed strange. To go to the store hungry usually meant you wanted to buy everything. Finally, he took one out of the warming case and put it in the basket he was carrying.
He picked out five perfectly round oranges. Three limes. Two lemons. He stopped in front of the grapefruits. Vitamin C was good for you, helped keep away colds, and a lot of people made a point to eat a lot of it. Others took megadoses in vitamin form. So there was nothing wrong with wanting to eat citrus, nothing unusual at all. He chose two grapefruits.
His craving also could be psychological. If Lydia had told him he’d crave milk for some strange reason, he’d probably be standing in front of the dairy case now, thinking there was something wrong with him for wanting it.
Three people stood in line at the closest checkout. As Devon waited, he watched the checkers. All of them, all the employees in fact, seemed to have come right off a movie set. Aspiring actors, probably. Beautiful people. He guessed it was a requirement to work here that you have flawless skin, an engaging smile, and no excess body fat. The young woman who rang his order smiled at him. Her nametag said Amanda. Amanda’s eyes were dark brown, her hair platinum blond. Her perfume had a musky undertone.
“You new here?” she said.
“Why?” Devon said.
She touched his hand as she handed him his change. “Your clothes. More East than L.A. And you’ve got no tan.”
“I’m visiting,” he said, not sure what she meant about his clothes. He wore straight-legged jeans, black combat boots, and a T-shirt.
Amanda’s lips were lined in a deep rose shade and her skin was milky white. “I moved here last fall,” she said. “I go to UCLA.”
“What are you studying?”
“Literature. I haven’t met many people yet.”
“You must meet them in your classes.”
“No one interesting.” Amanda brushed her hair back from her face. “Where are you staying?”
“About a mile from here.” He imagined bringing her back to the motel, slamming her down on the floor. The image became Haley.
“My shift’s over at three,” she said.
Devon put his change back in his wallet, hoping she didn’t see his hand shaking. “I’m married.”
She laughed. “I guessed.” She gestured toward his left hand and the gold wedding band. “But the question is, is your wife staying with you?”
“No. But I need to go anyway.” Devon tried to smile at her as he left, but his thoughts were on Haley. Within seconds, he’d forgotten meeting Amanda.
He dropped his bag of groceries in the parking lot, not noticing when it hit the ground.
He needed to see Haley, talk to her, touch her. Everything was unraveling. He couldn’t tell anymore what was real and what wasn’t, but she would know. She would help. If she weren’t too angry with him for leaving the way he had. Her hotel was only a mile or two from his, he could easily see her for a little while, and be back to his motel by the time the sun rose.
In the back of his mind, he remembered that before he’d believed he ought to stay away from Haley, but he couldn’t recall why. The idea seemed ludicrous.
? ? ?
Haley lay on her side, motionless, with her back to the door, eyes open, afraid someone was in the room with her. She knew she’d finally fallen asleep, because she’d dreamed she was breathing the coconut scent of Devon’s shampoo. She’d felt surprised when she woke up by herself in an unfamiliar bed. The nightstand clock said 3:43. A few feet beyond the nightstand was the sliding glass door to the balcony. She had the feeling that a sound had awakened her, but now there was only the hiss of cars driving past on Riverside Drive. A breeze ran like cold fingers along the back of her neck. The air conditioning wasn’t running, and she hadn’t left any windows open. Haley swallowed, mouth dry. Strained her ears.
A click, so soft she might have imagined it, came from behind her, from the direction of the door that led to the street side of the hotel. With the click, the breeze cut off.
Heart thumping, Haley forced herself to breathe evenly. If someone had come to rob her, better that the person think she was sleeping. Rustling, like footsteps on the nylon carpeting, approached the bed. Perhaps it was the room settling. The hotel had to be at least sixty years old, so its floorboards might creak on occasion. Haley peered into darkness, trying to make out the shape of the telephone on the nightstand, but she didn’t see it. It was on the other side of the bed. Her cell phone was in her purse, which sat on the armchair near the balcony. She’d left it on in case Devon called, but she doubted she could get to it before the intruder, if one existed, attacked.