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among the high weeds with the tree to his back, scanning the area through binoculars.
    Especially the area near the deserted restaurant.
    That’s where you would head, he thought.
    You’re hurt. You’ve been lying low in the weeds for hours. You’re hungry and parched. You’re starting to want a glass of water more than just about anything in the world.
    Well, there’s the creek. You could get your drink there.
    You’d still head for the restaurant.
    You’re not just thirsty, you’re hungry, too. And this is, after all, a restaurant. You’re not from around here, you’ve got no idea it’s been closed for years. You only know that it isn’t open tonight. So it’s closed on Thursdays. You’re in luck. Get inside, you can have a feast. Take enough when you leave so you’ll be fixed up for days.
    Jake’s position on the high ground gave him a good viewof the restaurant. At least of its front and south walls. The other side and rear could be approached by an army, and he’d never know. Not from here.
    Maybe the guy’s already inside.
    Jake wished he had checked the place out before settling down for his vigil. At this point, he was reluctant to leave his cover.
    Wait for dark.
    That wouldn’t be long, now. Color was already fading from the landscape, the bright greens and yellows dimming, turning shades of gray.
    Dark in a few more minutes.
    Like waiting at a drive-in for the movie to start.
    Jake was in his Mustang. With Barbara. His window was rolled down, the speaker hooked over its edge. Almost dark. Almost time for the movie. Kids were on the swings and teeter-totter of the play area under the screen.
    Barbara. In a white knit shirt, white shorts, socks, and tennis shoes. Fresh and beautiful. Her skin dusky next to all that white.
    A walk to the refreshment stand. It was always popcorn and soda during the first feature, then back at intermission for an ice cream sandwich or red vines. Usually red vines.
    A lot of fooling around went on with the red vines. You could whip with them. Or tickle. Or tease. You could each take one end of the same vine in your mouth and chew your way toward the middle.
    Until you met Barbara’s mouth. Her cherry-flavored mouth.
    The sound of a car engine snapped Jake back into the present, and he felt as if he’d awakened from a sweet dream.
    Headlights appeared on the road to the restaurant.
    The car approached. As it passed below him, Jake saw that it was a station wagon.
    Terrific.
    So much for his warning.
    And so much for his plan to check the place out.
    He watched the red taillights rise and fall with the dips in the road. When the brake lights came on, he raised the binoculars. A door opened. The car’s interior light came on.
    Smeltzer and Smeltzer. The dynamic duo.
    Ron opened the rear door. He pulled out a double-barreled shotgun.
    The door shut. Jake lowered his binoculars and watched the couple climb the stairs. They spent a few moments on the porch, Ron at the door. Then they both went in. Moments later, light appeared in the bay windows.
    So what gives? Jake wondered. Why’d they come back?
    Forgot something? If that’s the case, they’ll be out in a minute. Unless they get jumped.
    Jake realized he was holding his breath, listening for a shotgun blast. Or a scream.
    He got to his feet. He started down the slope to the road. Still listening. He heard his own heartbeat, the foliage crunching under his boots, the normal constant sounds of crickets and birds.
    Maybe the guy doesn’t jump them, Jake thought. Maybe he hides. He would’ve heard the approach of the car. An old restaurant like that, it must have plenty of good hiding places.
    If he’s in there at all.
    He might just as easily be in the trees beyond the restaurant. Or two or three miles away. He could be anywhere. Hell, he could be lying in the weeds, dead from his injuries.
    Or he might be crouched in a dark corner of the Oakwood Inn, watching for a good chance to pounce.
    From a high spot on the