The Nightcrawler Read Online Free PDF Page A

extreme angle to the other three and the tire was as flat as day old beer. Steam swirled in the breeze as it oozed from the ruptured radiator of the battered Honda.
    “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Sarah yelled. “They could have been killed. And the guy in the truck, what did he do to deserve that?”
    “He’s fine and so are those kids,” Scott said.  
    The driver of the truck had gotten out and was surveying the damage to his vehicle. Junior was banging on the steering wheel and arguing with the teenage girl in the passenger seat. On the sidewalk, several pedestrians began to gather, chatting to each other and pointing at the Honda, then over to the Dakota.
    Scott drove up alongside of the Dakota and handed his card to the owner, a young man of about thirty give or take.
    “I saw the whole thing. We can’t wait for the authorities to come but if they need a statement, have them call the cell number on my card,” Scott told him, smirking like a child just pulling a gag on his little sister.
    Before the guy could reply, the Charger, glowing red and pristine was heading up the road to Pierre’s. In the parking lot, Scott guided the car to a stop beside a light post. Sarah remained seated as Scott walked to the passenger side and opened her door. He held out his hand but she didn’t take it.
    “What’s wrong?” He was completely oblivious to the cause of her soured mood.
    “They were just kids having some fun. They could have been seriously hurt. Shit they could have been killed.” She was already three steps toward the front door to Pierre’s before Scott closed the car door and turned to join her.
    The entrance was old and stunning. Large wooden double doors curved to a peak at the top where they met. Big bronze handles gave the patrons a sense of entering a European castle. The doors were sheltered by a long burgundy awning, “Pierre’s” in large white cursive text emblazoned on the side.
    As they approached a doorman greeted them, “Welcome to Pierre’s.”
    “Thank you,” Sarah said.
    They stopped in front of the maitre’d. “Hello my name is Serge, welcome to Pierre’s. Do you have reservations?”  
    “Scott Randall,” Scott announced.  
    Serge looked on his sheet. “I’m sorry, we have no Scott Randall booked this evening. Would you like to put your name in for a stand-by table?”  
    Scott chuckled to himself, “Stand-by, what is this Delta Airlines?”
    Sarah stepped to the front. “Try Thomas Andrews.”
    “Ah yes, now I recognize you, miss. Mr. Andrews will not be joining us this evening?”
    “No.” she said. “He wasn’t available tonight.”
    “Yes, yes.” Serge said. He led them to a table in the very back corner of the room. “Will this be suitable?”
    “This will be perfect, Serge.” Scott said. Who knows, maybe with some luck and some good wine he could get this train back on track. He really didn’t want to go back to his room alone tonight.
    They didn’t talk much before dinner, but as he hoped, both loosened up after a couple glasses of wine. Scott gave his best effort at being remorseful about screwing Junior over. They both had a few laughs at Thomas’ expense. Sarah had tapped his hand once while making a point about Thomas, and Scott felt sure she let it linger just long enough to be suggestive.  
    Soon, they relaxed into the casual banter of two people on a first date. They discussed movies, music, favorite books and TV shows.  
    “So, do you have anyone special back in LA?” she asked.
    “Does my dog count?”
    A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “Come on, there must be someone back home.”  
    Scott gave her a history of his relationships. How he lived with someone for four years but it didn’t work out. How she couldn’t get used to him spending so much time at work. How she often accused him of cheating, so they ended it. How they are still friends. How she has moved on, now married to a nice nine-to-fiver, they have a baby