Honeymoon for Three

she could talk with her mouth taped.
    Penny was raging. If she had known he would make her lie on the bed, she wouldn’t have produced the roll of tape. She lay on her back and kept her legs ramrod straight. She placed her hands together in front of her, hoping he would tape them in front rather than behind her. Then he couldn’t tape her hands to her legs.
    It worked. He didn’t try to turn her over. He taped her hands in front. He covered her with a blanket, including her head. He did feel sorry about what he was doing to her. She had won a small victory.
     
    CHAPTER 31
    It was difficult for Gary to keep his concentration. After several hours, he was sure he had missed a car or two. He just hoped he hadn’t missed Penny. He had to go to the bathroom, but he was afraid if he deserted his post for even five minutes, it would be the wrong five minutes.
    He had climbed over the guardrail and now leaned against a telephone pole on the cliff side of it, mainly because he didn’t trust the drivers of the cars coming around the curve. They cut it too close. A blue house beside him sat right on the edge of the cliff. It had a square turret with large windows that overlooked the bay. He saw a man look at him from a window, but nobody approached him on foot. The road was too narrow for walking here.
    Saturday morning traffic was moderately heavy. Families were heading for the coast to enjoy a late summer camping weekend. Typical of the weekend crowd was the Volkswagen camper that had just come into view. Gary glanced at the driver, just to keep in practice. He immediately became alert. The driver looked familiar—was it Alfred? If so, there was something different about him. Something about his forehead. Nobody was sitting beside him.
    Gary spun his head around as the camper went by, trying to read the license plate. There was a sign taped to the back, so he switched his attention to that. He had time to read the word “Penny.” The word below it might be “Alfred.” Penny and Alfred. It was a signal from Penny. She was inside the camper.
    Gary ran for his car, his heart beating fast. He couldn’t lose the camper. He came up to the Beetle, breathless, fumbled with the door lock, jumped in, started it, and raced after Alfred. By now the camper was out of sight and several cars were between them. He fumed as he crawled along in the traffic, until he got out of the village of Bodega Bay and was able to speed up.
    He had to pass the cars ahead of him, and it was difficult to pass on the narrow and winding road, which was now heading inland, away from the coast. He drove more aggressively than he had ever driven. He passed cars on blind curves. He was doing this for perhaps the third time when a logging truck came around the corner in his lane, heading straight toward him.
    The truck filled his field of vision. Gary’s first thought was that the truck wasn’t supposed to be there. He instinctively braked hard, even as he had this thought. He started skidding, but he was able to duck behind the car he had been passing. He released the brake and struggled to keep his car under control. He used the experience gained from driving on icy streets in Western New York while growing up. It was touch-and-go, but he felt the tires grab just as he was afraid he would go off the road.
    He was shaking with fear and relief, but he didn’t dare stop while he calmed down. He had the camper in sight now, and he had to stay where he could see it. He realized that his instincts had saved him, not the thinking part of his brain. Thank God or Darwin or whoever for instinct.
    He became much more cautious, but after a few minutes, he had a chance to pass the car ahead of him safely. Now he was directly behind the camper. He pulled up close to it and read the sign again. Yes, it definitely said “Penny” and “Alfred.”
    He knew that Alfred had probably spotted him, but he wasn’t going to back off and take a chance on losing the camper. He would stick to it like duct tape.
    ***
    Somebody was tailgating the camper. Alfred didn’t like tailgaters. He had the rearview mirror trained on Penny, so he checked his side mirrors. It was a Volkswagen—a green Volkswagen. Shit. It was Gary. He caught a glimpse of Gary’s intent face through the windshield of the VW.
    Alfred had spotted the VW parked on the side of the road in Bodega Bay, and had felt momentary alarm, but there had been nobody inside it. He had become elated, thinking he had