Threat of Darkness(43)

 “You’ll look just like a cute little old lady when you’re behind the wheel,” John countered. He stood back and wiped his hands on a rag before taking another swig of the canned drink she’d brought him. “We could paint flames on the sides. That would help your image.”

 “I’ll pass. Hopefully I won’t have to drive it for long.”

 “Actually, it’s something of an antique. You might be able to sell it, if you have the title, and buy something else with that money.”

 “Now, there’s an idea. I’ll give it some thought.” She gestured at the motor. “Does it run?”

 “We’ll soon find out. I replaced the old gas and put the battery from my truck in it until we can get you a new one. The oil looks clean but the tires are all flat. Chances are they’ll have to be replaced unless they hold air better than I think they will.”

 “That’s all minor stuff, right?”

 “Yes.” He pointed to the driver’s seat. “Hop in and turn it over for me. Don’t crank on it too long, though. I need my battery back in good shape.”

 “Right.”

 The door wasn’t as hard to open as she’d expected it to be. Sliding behind the wheel brought back memories of her teen years when her benefactor had taught her to drive.

 She made sure the car was in Park, then turned the key. The engine coughed, sputtered and came to life. Samantha saw surprise on John’s face that equaled her own. “Wow. It sounds pretty good.”

 “Shut it off for now,” he shouted, waving. “I want to have the oil changed and get a lube job before you drive it. We can have a garage pick it up tomorrow and see to the tires at the same time.”

 “I really am sorry to cause you all this trouble,” Samantha said, getting out of the car and returning to his side. “But I’m also glad I have your help to figure out what’s going on. We make a pretty good team.”

 “I used to think so,” he said, sobering.

 What could she say to that? No matter how badly she wanted to argue with him, his attitude would ensure that her words fell on deaf ears. As Elvina used to say, “It’d be like talkin’ to a stump.”

 John handed her his empty soda can and backed away, clearly done with the car and with their conversation.

 “Okay. I’ll finish cleaning out the inside tonight so it’s ready to go,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

 At least he waved as he turned away and headed for his trailer, Samantha mused. She supposed she was fortunate to have received that much show of familiarity.

 What she wanted—what she really wanted—was to step into his embrace the way she had when she’d been weeping for Brutus, but she knew better than to hope for the impossible. There were some dreams that were so outlandish that no amount of wishing or even praying would make them come true.

* * *

 John slammed the tinny trailer door behind him. With the lights off he was able to watch the barn without being seen, just in case Samantha had another uninvited visitor. Chances were that no one would return. Not after all they’d already done. Even the dullest, most drug-addled mind should be able to reason that if Sam had had Bobby Joe’s stash she would have turned it over to the police by now.

 Nevertheless, he kept his vigil. Saw her go into the house then walk back to the barn carrying a bucket and an armload of rags. He wanted to be out there with her. To have her within reach, close enough to touch, to kiss…

 Disgusted, he pulled his thoughts back into the realm of reality. No way was he going to kiss Sam, or even let himself think about doing so. It was bad enough that he had to be around her so much due to this assignment. Letting his imagination take flight was worse than foolish. It was self-destructive.

 Slumping into a swivel chair and getting comfortable, he propped up his feet as he continued to monitor the activity in the barn. Sitting in semidarkness soothed his nerves and calmed his turbulent thoughts.

 Sam was who she was and he was who he was. Trying to pretend he was someone else was foolish. So was expecting her to change to please him. Either they managed to accept each other without reservations or they didn’t. It was as simple as that.

 Weariness made John’s eyelids heavy. Light from the barn threw an arc that illuminated the yard all the way to the house and overlapped the fainter glow from the small porch light that hung by the back door. It wasn’t nearly as bright out as he’d have liked, even with the nearly full moon, but it would do.