Joyland(77)

"Joyland, probably. In admin."

"Not at all. I'm at the shopping center on Beach Row. The one where the rich bitches go to buy their macrobiotics. Rich bitches like your girlfriend."

A cold finger began to trace its course-its very slow coursedown the length of my spine from the nape of my neck to the crack of my ass. I said nothing.

"There's a pay phone outside the drugstore. Not a booth, but that's okay because it isn't raining yet. Just windy. That's where I am. I can see your girlfriend's house from where I'm standing.

There's a light on in the kitchen-probably the one she leaves on all night-but the rest of the house is dark. I could hang up this phone and be there in sixty seconds."

"There's a burglar alarm!" I didn't know if there was or not.

He laughed. "At this point, do you think I give a shit? It won't stop me from cutting her throat. But first I'll make her watch me do it to the little cripple."

You won't rape her, though, I thought. You wouldn't even if there was time. I don't think you can.

I came close to saying it, but didn't. As scared as I was, I knew that goading him right now would be a very bad idea.

"You were so nice to them today," I said stupidly. "Flowers . . .

prizes . . . the rides . . . "

"Yeah, all the rube shit. Tell me about the car that came popping out of the funhouse shy. What was that about?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do. Maybe we'll discuss it. At Joyland. I know Joyland





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your Ford, Jonesy. It's got the flickery left headlight and the cute little pinwheel on the antenna. If you don't want me in that house cutting throats, you're going to get in it right now, and you're going to drive down Beach Row to Joyland."

?'1-"

"Shut up when I'm talking to you. When you pass the shopping center, you'll see me standing by one of the park trucks.

I'll give you four minutes to get here from the time I hang up the phone. If I don't see you, I'll kill the woman and the kid.

Understand?"

"I. 0 0 "

"Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

'Til follow you to the park. Don't worry about the gate; it's already open."

"So you'll either kill me or them. I get to choose. Is that it?"

"Kill you?" He sounded honestly surprised. ''I'm not going to kill you, Devin. That would only make my position worse.

No, I'm going to do a fade. It won't be the first time, and it probably won't be the last. What I want is to talk. I want to know how you got onto me."

"I could tell you that over the phone."

He laughed. "And spoil your chance to overpower me and be Howie the Hero again? First the little girl, then E ddie Parks, and the pretty mommy and her crippled-up brat for the exciting climax. How could you pass that up?" He stopped laughing.

"Four minutes."

"I-"

He hung up. I stared down at the glossy photos. I opened the drawer in the Scrabble table, took out one of the pads, and





STEPHEN K I N G

fumbled for the mechanical pencil Tina Ackerley always insisted on using to keep score. I wrote: Mrs. S. If you're reading this, something has happened to me. I know who killed Linda Gray.

Others, too.

I wrote his name in capital letters.

Then I ran for the door.

?

My Ford's starter spun and sputtered and did not catch. Then it began to slow. All summer I'd been telling myself ! had to get a new battery, and all summer I'd found other things to spend my money on.

My father's voice: You're flooding it, Devin.

I took my foot off the gas and sat there in the dark. Time seemed to be racing, racing. Part of me wanted to run back inside and call the police. I couldn't call Annie because I didn't have her f*cking phone number, and given her famous father, it would be unlisted. Did he know that? Probably not, but he had the luck of the devil. As brazen as he was, the murdering son of a bitch should have been caught three or four times already, but hadn't been. Because he had the luck of the devil.

She'll hear him breaking in and she'll shoot him.

Only the guns were in the safe, she'd said so. Even if she got one, she'd probably find the bastard holding his straight-razor to Mike's throat when she confronted him.

I turned the key again, and with my foot off the accelerator and the carb full of gas, my Ford started up at once. I backed down the driveway and turned toward J oyland. The circular red neon of the Spin and the blue neon swoops of the Thunderball stood out against low, fast-running clouds. Those two rides were always lit on stormy nights, partly as a beacon for ships at joyland





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sea, partly to warn away any low-flying small aircraft bound for the Parish County Airport.

Beach Row was deserted. Sheets of sand blew across it with every gust of wind, some of those gusts strong enough to shake my car. Dunelets were already starting to build up on the macadam. In my headlights, they looked like skeleton fingers.

When I passed the shopping center, I saw a single figure standing in the middle of the parking lot next to one of the Joyland maintenance trucks. He raised a hand to me as I went past and gave a single solemn wave.