Koontz, Dean - The Good Guy by Koontz Dean

Author:Koontz, Dean [Koontz, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 0553841173
Amazon: B000RG1OMK
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2007-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Thirty

Lumbering south on the coast highway, the aging Transportation Authority bus perfumed the rainy night with an agri-fuel flatulence. This month it might be running on an ethanol blend, on peanut oil, on reprocessed grease from fast-food restaurants, or on some extract of biologically engineered giant mutant soybeans.

Tim drove around the behemoth, raced five blocks, parked at a restaurant, and abandoned the Explorer, this time perhaps forever.

He had driven past three bus stops. He and Linda ran two long blocks north, returning to the nearest stop, where they waited for their fragrant new transport.

The wind blew rain under the roof of the shelter, dashed it in their faces.

Traffic had increased in the hour before dawn. The siss of tires on the storm-sluiced pavement was an icy sound, reminiscent of sled runners slicing across crusted snow.

They boarded the bus, ascertained that it went at least as far as Dana Point, and dripped along the aisle as the driver pulled onto the highway.

This was one of the first buses of the day, and it carried few passengers. Most were women on their way to hard jobs that started early.

Everyone aboard was dry. They had umbrellas. Some regarded Tim and Linda with sympathy. Others couldn’t repress smug little smiles.

She led him to seats in the back, at a distance from the nearest other passenger, where they could not be overheard.

“So what was that?”

“What was what?”

“We couldn’t park closer to a bus stop?”

“No.”

“Because you don’t want him to know we got on a bus?”

“I don’t want him leaping to the idea right away. He’ll get there soon enough.”

Her friend Teresa, currently spending a week in New York with a couple of girlfriends, lived in Dana Point. They were going to use her house briefly.

“You actually think they would track down the bus, interview the driver?”

“I actually do.”

“He wouldn’t remember us,” she said.

“Look at us. Two drowned cats.”

“Well, it’s raining.”

“He’d remember.”

“When he leaves us off, we’ll be walking several blocks to her house. They won’t have any idea where we went, just somewhere in Dana Point.”

“Maybe the nerdy nephews have instant access to phone-company computers. When did you last call Teresa?”

She frowned. “Oh. They could get any numbers I regularly call in Dana Point.”

“Yeah.”

“And from the numbers they could trace addresses.”

“Right. And the next time he gets close to us, we won’t be able to hoodwink him so easy.”

“None of that seemed easy to me.”

“It wasn’t. So we better not let him get close to us till we’re ready.”

“We’re going to be ready?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t see how you get ready for someone like him.”

Tim did not reply.

For a while they rode in silence.

She said, “I keep thinking and thinking—what did I do? I didn’t do anything.”

“This isn’t about something you did.”

“It can’t be.”

“It’s about something you know,” he said.

Those green eyes started working again, trying to open him like a vacuum-packed can.

He said, “You know something that could do serious damage to someone important.”

“I’ve been doing nothing for years but writing navel-gazing novels. I don’t know anything about anyone.

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