sk.cujo-第69章

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'All　right。'
He　went　slowly　upstairs。　The　bed　had　been　stripped　to　the　mattress。　He　had　done　it　himself。　He　put　two　pillows　on　his　side；　took　off　his　shoes；　and　lay　down。　The　morning　sun　shone　fiercely　in　through　the　window。　I　won't　sleep；　he　thought；　but　I'll　rest。　I'll　try　to；　anyway。　Fifteen　minutes　。。。　maybe　half　an　hour　。。。
But　by　the　time　the　phone　woke　him　up；　that　day's　burning　noon　had　e。
Charity　Camber　had　her　morning　coffee　and　then　called　Alva　Thornton　in　Castle　Rock。　This　time　Alva　himself　answered。
He　knew　that　she　had　chatted　with　Bessie　the　night　before。　'Nope；'　Alva　said。　'I　ain't　seed　hide　nor　hair　of　Joe　since　last　Thursday　or　so；　Charity。　He　brought　over　a　tractor　tire　he　fixed　for　me。　Never　said　nothing　about　feeding　Cujo；　although　I'd've　been　happy　to。'
'Alva；　could　you　run　up　to　the　house　and　check　on　Cujo）　Brett　saw　him　Monday　morning　before　we　left　for　my　sister's；　and　he　thought　he　looked　sick。　And　I　just　don't　know　who　Joe　would　have　gotten　to　feed　him。'　After　the　way　of　country　people；　she　added：　'No　hurry。'
'I'll　take　a　run　up　and　check；'　Alva　said。　'Let　me　get　those　damn　cacklers　fed　and　watered　and　I'm　gone。'
That　would　be　fine；　Alva；'　Charity　said　gratefully；　and　gave　him　her　sister's　number。　'Thanks　so　much。'
They　talked　a　little　more；　mostly　about　the　weather。　The　constant　heat　had　Alva　worried　about　his　chickens。　Then　she　hung　up。
Brett　looked　up　from　his　cereal　when　she　came　into　the　kitchen。　Jim　junior　was　very　carefully　making　rings　on　the　table　with　his　orange　juice　glass　and　talking　a　mile　a　minute。　He　had　decided　sometime　during　the　last　forty…eight　hours　that　Brett　Camber　was　a　dose　relation　to　Jesus　Christ。
'Well？'　Brett　asked。
'You　were　right。　Dad　didn't　ask　Alva　to　feed　him。'　She　saw　the　disappointment　and　worry　on　Brett's　face　and　went　on：　'But　he's　going　up　to　check　on　Cujo　this　morning；　as　soon　as　he's　got　his　chickens　tended　to。　I　left　the　number　this　time。　He　said　he'd　call　back　one　way　or　the　other。'
'Thanks；　Mom。'
Jim　clattered　back　from　the　table　as　Holly　called　him　to　e　upstairs　and　get　dressed。　'Wanna　e　up　with　me；　Brett？'
Brett　smiled。　'I'll　wait　for　you；　slugger。'
'Okay。'　Jim　ran　out　trumpeting；　'Mom！　Brett　said　he'd　wait！　Brett's　gonna　wait　for　me　to　get　dressed！'
A　thunder；　as　of　elephants；　on　the　stairs。
'He's　a　nice　kid；'　Brett　said　casually。
'I　thought；'　Charity　said；　'that　we　might　go　home　a　little　early。　If　that's　all　right　with　you。'
Brett's　face　brightened；　and　in　spite　of　all　the　decisions　she　had　e　to；　that　brightness　made　her　feel　a　Iittle　sad。　'When？'　he　asked。
'How　does　tomorrow　sound？　She　had　been　intending　to　suggest　Friday。
'Great！　But'　…　he　Iooked　at　her　closely　…'are　you　done　visiting；　Mom？　I　mean；　she's　your　sister。'
Charity　thought　of　the　credit　cards；　and　of　the　Wurlitzer　jukebox　Holly's　husband　had　been　able　to　afford　but　did　not　know　how　to　fix。　Those　were　the　things　that　had　impressed　Brett；　and　she　supposed　they　had　impressed　her　as　well　in　some　way。　Perhaps　she　had　seen　them　through　Brett's　eyes　a　little　。。。　through　Joe's　eyes。　And　enough　was　enough。
'Yes；'　she　said。　'I　guess　I've　done　my　visiting。　I'll　tell　Holly　this　morning。'
'Okay；　Mom。'　He　looked　at　her　a　little　shyly。　'I　wouldn't　mind　ing　back；　you　know。　I　do　like　them。　And　he's　a　neat　little　kid。　Maybe　he　can　e　up　to　Maine　sometime。'
'Yes；'　she　said；　surprised　and　grateful。　She　didn't　think　Joe　would　object　to　that。　'Yes；　maybe　that　could　be　arranged。'
'Okay。　And　tell　me　what　Mr。　Thornton　said。'
'I　will。'
But　Alva　never　called　back。　As　he　was　feeding　his　chickens　that　morning；　the　motor　in　his　big　air　conditioner　blew；　and　he　was　immediately　in　a　life…or…death　struggle　to　save　his　birds　before　the　day's　heat　could　kill　them。　Donna　Trenton　might　have　called　it　another　stroke　of　that　same　Fate　she　saw　reflected　in　Cujo's　muddy；　homicidal　eyes。　By　the　time　the　issue　of　the　air　conditioner　was　settled；　it　was　four　in　the　afternoon　（Alva　Thornton　lost　sixty…two　chickens　that　day　and　counted　himself　off　cheaply）；　and　the　confrontation　which　had　begun　Monday　afternoon　in　the　Cambers'　sunstruck　dooryard　was　over。
Andy　Masen　was　the　Maine　Attorney　General's　Wunderkind；　and　there　were　those　who　said　that　someday　…　and　not　too　distant　a　day；　either　…　he　would　lead　the　A。　G。's　criminal　division。　Andy　Masen's　sights　were　set　a　good　deal　higher　than　that。　He　hoped　to　be　Attorney　General　himself　in　1984；　and　in　a　position　to　run　for　Governor　by　1987。　And　after　eight　years　as　Governor；　who　knew？
He　came　from　a　large；　poor　family。　He　and　his　three　brothers　and　two　sisters　had　grown　up　in　a　ramshackle　'poor　white　trash'　house　on　the　outer　Sabbatus　Road　in　the　town　of　Lisbon。　His　brothers　and　sisters　had　been　exactly　up　…　or　down　…　to　town　expectations。　Only　Andy　Masen　and　his　youngest　brother；　Marry；　had　managed　to　finish　high　school。　For　a　while　it　had　looked　as　if　Roberta　might　make　it；　but　she　had　gotten　herself　knocked　up　higher　than　a　kite　following　a　dance　her　senior　year。　She　had　left　school　to　marry　the　boy；　who　still　had　pimples　at　twenty…nine；　drank　Narragansett　straight　from　the　can；　and　knocked　both　her　and　the　kid　around。　Marry　had　been　killed　in　a　car　crash　over　on　Route　9　in　Durham。　He　and　some　of　his　drunk　friends　had　tried　to　take　the　tight　curve　up　Sirois　Hill　at　seventy。　The　Camaro　in　which　they　were　riding　rolled　over　twice　and　burned。
Andy　had　been　the　star　of　the　family；　but　his　mother　had　never　liked　him。　She　was　a　little　afraid　of　him。　When　talking　to　friends　she　would　say；　'My　Andy's　a　cold　fish；'　but　he　was　more　than　that。　He　was　always　tightly　controlled；　always　buttoned　up。　He　knew　from　the　fifth　grade　on　that　he　was　going　to　somehow　get　through　college　and　bee　a　lawyer。　Lawyers　made　a　lot　of　money。　Lawyers　worked　with　logic。　Logic　was　Andy's　God。
He　saw　each　event　as　a　point　from　which　a　finite　number　of　possibilities　radiated。　At　the　end　of　each　possibility　line　was　another　event　point。　And　so　on。　This　point…to…point　blueprint　of　life　had　served　him　very　well。　He　made　straight　A's　through　grammar　school　and　high　school；　got　a　Merit　Scholarship；　and　could　have　gone　to　college　almost　anywhere。　He　decided　on　the　University　of　Maine；　throwing　away　his　chance　at　Harvard　because　he　had　already　decided　to　start　his　career　in　Augusta；　and　he　didn't　want　some　piney…woodser　in　gumrubber　boots　and　a　lumberman's　jacket　throwing　Harvard　in　his　face。
On　this　hot　July　morning；　things　were　right　on　schedule。
He　put　Vic　Trenton's　phone　down。　There　had　been　no　answer　at　the　Camber　telephone　number。　The　State　Police　detective　and　Bannerman　were　still　here；　waiting　for　instructions　like　well…trained　dogs。　He　had　worked　with　Townsend；　the　State　Police　guy；　before；　and　he　was　the　sort　of　fellow　Andy　Masen　felt　fortable　with。　When　you　said　fetch；　Townsend　fetched。　Bannerman　was　a　new　one；　and　Masen　didn't　care　for　him。　His　eyes　were　a　little　too　bright；　and　the　way　he　had　suddenly　e　out　with　the　idea　that　Kemp　might　have　coerced　the　woman　by　using　the　kid　。。。　well；　such　ideas；　if　they　were　going　to　e；　ought　to　e　from　Andy　Masen。　The　three　of　them　sat　on　the　sectional　sofa；　not　talking；　just　drinking　coffee　and　waiting　for　the　FBI　boys　to　show　up　with　the　trace…back　equipment。
Andy　thought　about　the　case。　It　might　be　a　tempest　in　a　teapot；　but　it　might　well　be　something　*more。　The　husband　was　convinced　it　was　a　kidnapping　and　attached　no　importance　to　the　missing　car。　He　was　fixated　on　the　idea　that　Steven　Kemp　had　taken　his　people。
Andy　Masen　was　not　so　sure。
Camber　wasn't　home；　no　one　was　home　up　there。　Maybe　they　had　all　gone　on　vacation。　That　was　likely　enough；　July　was　the　quintessential　vacation　month；　and　they　had　been　due　to　hit　someone　who　was　gone。　Would　he　have　taken　her　car　in　for　a　repair　job　if　he　was　going　away？　Unlikely。　Unlikely　that　the　car　was　there　at　all。　But　it　had　to　be　checked；　and　there　was　one　possibility　he　had　neglected　to　mention　to　Vic。
Suppose　she　had　taken　the　car　up　to　Camber's　Garage？　Suppose　someone　had　offered　her　a　lift　back？　Not　a　friend；　not　an　acquaintance；　not　Camber　or　his　wife；　but　a　total　stranger？　Andy　could　hear　Trenton　saying；　'Oh；　no；　my　wife　would　never　accept　a　ride　from　a　stranger。'　But；　in　the　vernacular；　she　had　accep