Six Times Deadly: A Lawson Vampire Story Collection (The Lawson Vampire Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

instrumental?”
    “Believe it or not, the bass player sings, too.”   He shrugged.   “You want another drink after that one?”
    “Nah.   I’ll be done by then.”
    “Change?”
    “Yours.”
    He walked away and I turned back to the band.   No one else in the bar looked even remotely like they could be a part of kidnapping posse.   Not that Hagar was a definite.   But he was a definite maybe.   And the fact that he’d been away last weekend when someone was trying to steal a kid, left me with some more questions for our lucky mystery panelist.
    I spent another twenty minutes listening to a lot of music I hadn’t heard since I’d graduated the Fixer Academy back in the mid-60s, the kind of drivel I hated even back then.   Back when I went operational for the first time and apprenticed under my former mentor Zero.
    I shrugged the bit of nostalgia off and waited for last call to creep around – a poking reminder in a joint like this that real life was just a doorjamb away.   Sleep was no solace.   Sooner or later, truth is what truth is.   And for some, they’d run right back here tomorrow night, desperate to forget the brilliance with the fog of booze.
    Gambling man that I am, I was willing to bet one of them wouldn’t be back.
    Hagar the Horrible finished the set and started breaking down the equipment with his band mates.   I got up and left.
    Outside, the night air felt thick from the earlier rain and sticky heat.   I walked toward my car oblivious to the other patrons.   I switched the ignition on and the air conditioner pumped cool air from the vents.
    It took twenty minutes for the bar to clear; a few last-minute negotiations worked themselves out with a wink and a promise of eventual horizontal satisfaction provided the players could reach the mattress without wrapping themselves around a light pole.
    The band left last.
    Hagar slid behind the wheel of a Chevy Caprice almost as old as the songs he sang.   One of the headlights shot its beam toward the sky reminding me of a person with a lazy eye you can’t stop staring at.   The car rolled out with Hagar not seeming to pay attention.
    I waited and then slid out behind the bass player’s car and kept a comfortable distance between us.   We slid into the rotary by Mashpee Commons and Hagar drifted onto route 28 heading toward Hyannis.   The bass player headed some place else – probably the afterlife.   I tucked in behind the Caprice, memorizing the way the taillights looked and let the distance between us grow.
    This time of night, traffic on 28 was slight.   We eased through the turnoff to Cotuit and further on at the fork that led right to Hyannis or left to Chatham, Hagar went left.   But Chatham didn’t make sense.   It was out of his league.   Just driving a Caprice in that town could have scored him a ticket for being dreadfully out of style.
    A pair of lights in my rearview reminded me that not everyone on Cape Cod slept at night.   I had a fast-mover coming up on my six, probably a young kid out to impress her girlfriend.   But 28 was a single-lane highway.   He’d have to get used to slowing down.   I wasn’t about to get burned so he could get laid.
    The Caprice slowed.   I eased off the gas and looked back in the rearview.
    Saw something and frowned.
    Was that a hand coming out of the driver’s window?

    ***

    “Get him out of there.”
    I heard the voices.   Two of them, but for some reason, I saw only darkness.   I blinked a few times but it didn’t clear my vision.   The scent of gasoline filled my nostrils.   The crash must have severed the gas line somehow.
    “Why don’t we just leave him and let him burn?”
    “Don’t be stupid.   We need him alive.   For now.”
    I put a hand to my face.   “Smart plan.”
    Someone punched me in the side of my head for my effort.   I winced and shook it off.   I felt rough hands claw at me, yanking me free of the steering column and my seat belt.   They