* * *
-deke-
I open the door to my place and Juniper’s there.
I haven’t left, even though I’ve been telling myself that I will. I still have my truck piled up with all my possessions, and I haven’t unpacked. I’m in denial about the fact that I’m not running, I think. Or maybe I’ll summon the courage to get out of here eventually.
Of course, Juniper’s here.
“He recognized me,” Juniper says.
“What?” I say. “Who recognized you?”
“Watson,” she says. “He knew who I was. He took one look at me, and he knew everything.”
“Well, didn’t you say that you knew him? Of course he would recognize you.”
“But that was so long ago, and I look completely different. I was a gangly little kid who dyed my hair. I didn’t think I would have made much of an impression on him.”
“So, he recognized you,” I say. “So what?”
“Well, when I asked him for dinner, he hesitated,” she says. “I pushed it back to tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait, because I think he’s going to run.”
I raise my eyebrows. “He recognized you, that’s all. Doesn’t mean he suspects you’re going to murder him.”
“It’s weird,” she says. “He’s got to think it’s weird that I ended up out here. He knows what he did. He knows that anyone would be furious with him.”
“Okay,” I say. “Well, it could be.”
“I want to do it tonight,” she says. “I want to go to his house and do it, and I want it over. Will you help me?”
I suck in breath. Okay, here we are. She’s asking for my help, and she’s going to involve me in this, and this is the end for me. Stay strong, I tell myself. “I thought you hated me.”
“I do,” she says. Then she winces. “Sorry. I can’t help it. You hid in my house and watched me. You violated me. You took things from me I wasn’t ready to give you.”
When she puts it like that, she makes it sound like I’m some kind of rapist, which I don’t think is fair. All I did was look. She was taking her clothes off anyway. I didn’t “take” anything. She’s intact.
She sags against the door frame.
I realize I haven’t invited her inside. I’m about to do that, but she’s talking again.
“Why did you do it?” she says, looking sad and confused.
I can’t meet her gaze. “I think we covered this.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” she says. “You knew I was attracted to you. When you met me, it was obvious.”
“Was it?”
“You acted like you knew. You had all that cocky bravado thing going on. You acted like it was all a foregone conclusion you and me. I never thought someone like you would be spying on me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“I was going to let you see,” she says. “You knew that, but you didn’t wait. You just took.”
I don’t have an answer for this.
“What made you think you deserved it?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I say. “It was like it might be the only way I’d ever…”
“Fuck you, you’re not entitled to it. You’re not entitled to me.”
“I know,” I whisper. I still can’t look at her.
She’s quiet.
Moments pass. Finally, I do look up and she’s scrubbing at her cheek, like she was crying.
I feel like shit. “Hey, don’t. Not over some stupid thing I did.”
“It’s not you.” She glares at me. “And I’m not crying. It’s cold out here, and the wind—”
“Come in.” I step away from the door.
She pushes past me.
I close the door.
Now, we are alone inside my warm house, but neither of us are talking to each other. She turns away from me, putting her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I want to do it tonight. I want to go to his place and do it.”
“So, go ahead,” I say. “You planned this out. You were going to do it while Graham was passed-out drunk and you were going to do it on your own. What do you need me for all of the sudden? To be your fall guy? Because I already—”
“He might not let me in,” she says, turning to me. “He might put up a fight. This all hinged on the idea of the element of surprise. Now, it’s more complicated, and you’re… you’re stronger than me.” She sounds defeated, and I know what it’s cost her to admit that.
She’s incredibly physically strong. I’ve seen what she can do. It’s possible she’s selling herself short. I should tell her that, just tell her to do it on her own. But what if he’s waiting for her, and what if he has a gun, and what if something happens to her?
I don’t know if I’m going to be much help in that eventuality, because it’s not like I’m impervious to bullets, but… well, that thing that seems hardwired into me to protect her? It’s going off in my head right now, like a very loud alarm.
“Okay,” I say.
She lets out a breath, surprised. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll help. But we’re dumping the body afterward, no argument.”
She nods. “Yes, okay, that’s fine.”
“Okay,” I say. “You’re going to need to help me unload my truck.”
“Why?”
“So that we have some way to transport the body, that’s why.”
“But what is it loaded with?”
“All my stuff,” I say. “Because I was leaving. Hell, maybe I still am. I figure this is probably the first step of your plan to send me to jail.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Sure you aren’t.”
* * *
-juniper-
Being around Deke is weird.
Partly, I feel disgusted by him, and partly, I feel diminished by him. What he did to me, it stripped me of dignity, and when I’m around him, now he has this power over me that I can’t get back. I hate him for that, and I want him to suffer, if only so that I can somehow get that power back.
But… well, hell, I still feel sorry for him.
See, I believe him when he says that he didn’t actually possess any of that bravado he seemed to possess. I believe that he doesn’t feel confident at all and that he doesn’t think that he’ll attract a woman and is afraid to try. I believe it, and it makes me feel sorry for him.
Whatever the case, he’s pathetic.
But now, he’s my insurance. If I can’t take down Watson on my own, he’s going to be there to help out.
We unpack the truck together, and we pile up all his stuff in his shed and inside his house. He really was going to leave. He really does think that I’m going to turn him over to the police. I wonder if they’d believe it if I did.
Maybe he deserves to be turned over.
Maybe he’s not what he seems at all. Maybe I feel sorry for him because he’s manipulating me, and maybe he’s going to hurt me. Maybe he killed my chickens. I don’t mention it, because if he did, I don’t want him to know that I was upset about it.
“We’ll need to bring guns,” he says.
“I’m not going to shoot Watson,” I say. “I’ve spent too long getting strong enough to hit him over the head. That’s the way I kill him.”
“Yeah, that’s a great way to take someone by surprise,” he says. “But it’s all different now. Your plan is different. A gunshot’s easier.”
“Anyone can shoot someone. It doesn’t mean the same thing.”
He sighs. “Look, you said you wanted me to help.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Help. I don’t need you to take over everything.”
He finally gives up and gives in. He says I’m in charge, and to tell him what to do.
I’m glad he’s finally falling into line. And I have to hand it to him. He doesn’t once suggest that he should be the one to do the killing. He’s going to let me be the one, and I appreciate that.
When we’re finished unloading his truck, he says we should eat som
ething. This is going to be a lot of work, getting rid of the body.
I feel all the nerves coming back. It’s just like when I went to knock on Watson’s door. I say I don’t know if I can eat, but he says I need to force myself.
He gets something out of his freezer, and I ask if it’s the roadkill deer, and then I stop, because I realize that it wasn’t a fucking deer in his truck. It was Graham. He sees the understanding in my eyes, and we don’t talk about it.
It’s stew in the freezer, something he’s already made and just has to heat up on the stove.
He cooks it and we eat. We don’t talk during and he doesn’t look at me. I realize that I was used to him looking at me all the time. That his gaze has seared into me since we first met, and that when he did look at me there was a possessiveness there that electrified me. But now he understands that he doesn’t possess me at all, and he doesn’t look.
I know that it is because he did it wrong. There is a dance to be performed and he skipped steps. He could still possess me, if he had only waited until I was ready to surrender to him.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him. I don’t see how I could.
It’s as I was thinking the other night. Some things can’t be forgiven. What could he possibly do to make it right?
I appreciate the way he is ashamed of himself, though. It does a bit toward balancing the power between us. Not enough, but something.
After we eat, I help him clean up and he gets his shotgun.
We have a discussion about it, and he says that he’ll let me kill Watson however I want, but that having the gun there is just a safeguard. He says I should bring my gun too.
But I don’t.
Just the baseball bat I’ve always planned to use. It’s the same exact model and brand as his “most prized possession.” I don’t know if he’ll recognize it or not. I hope he does. I want him to know how much I’ve put into this.
We pull into Watson’s driveway, and I hear the dog barking.
Shit. What about the damned dog?
Deke looks at me, the same question all over his face.
“We can’t hurt the dog,” I say quietly.
“Of course not,” he says in a tone as if I’ve just suggested eating babies.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. He shakes his head. “He’s got to have a fucking dog.”
Then we both sit in the cab of the truck and neither one of us moves.
Finally, he gestures. “Well?”
“I guess I should go first,” I say.
“This is your show,” he says.
Right. My show. I’m doing this. I take a deep breath.
“Having second thoughts?” he sneers.
Why is he being hateful? I glower at him. “Shut up.” I throw open the door and scramble out of the truck. I stalk up to the door and bang on it.
The dog barks inside.
“Go away!” yells Watson’s voice from inside. “Get the hell out of here!”
“Let me in, Watson!” I shriek. I smash my fist against the door to his trailer.
“Go away!” he yells again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
-juniper-
I feel helplessly angry. Why couldn’t this all have gone according to plan? How could I have spent so many years thinking through every angle and have it all end up like this, with Watson inside his fortress and me outside, no way in?
Trembling in rage, I kick at the door.
Deke is behind me. He puts a hand on my shoulder.
I want to lash out at him, but I don’t. I look at him, and my teeth are clenched and bared.
He sees my expression, and something changes in his own. I see that possessive look come over him. He is attracted to me because of my fierceness, and it makes me feel bigger than I did before. It makes me feel more in control.
I raise my bat. “Open the fucking door, Watson, or I’m bashing in all your windows.”
“What?” Watson’s voice is thin and frightened.
Daisy is caught up in an ecstasy of barking. I can hear her jumping at the door. She can sense the undercurrents of emotion in this situation. She loves Watson. She shouldn’t, but she does.
“I’m going to count backwards from five and then I start smashing,” I say. “Five… four….”
The door opens. Watson’s face is red. He is terrified. “What do you want?” he breathes.
I balance the bat on one shoulder with one hand and then I push him on his chest with the other. He stumbles backward.
“I want my sister’s innocence back, you son of a bitch!” I scream.
And then Daisy tackles me.
The dog is growling and snapping her teeth, and we go backward onto the small porch on the front of the trailer, and she knocks me into Deke, who loses his balance and we all fall down.
Now, Deke is getting to his feet.
Daisy is on top of me, trying to get at me with her teeth.
I am pushing at the dog with both arms, holding her just far enough back that she can’t get at me. I have dropped the bat.
Watson is at the door, yelling, “What do you want? What do you want with me?”
Deke gets the dog by the scruff of her neck.
“Don’t hurt her!” I screech.
Deke shakes his head. “Don’t worry. There’s a pen out back. I’ll just put her in there.”
“You let go of my dog.” Watson spits as he speaks.
I pick up my bat and charge up the steps at him.
He sees me coming and his eyes widen and he backs up.
I sail through the door and bring down the bat with as much force as I can manage.
I miss Watson entirely, and the bat smashes a hole in the wall right next to his head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Watson screams.
The bat is stuck in the wall. I am struggling to free it.
Watson grabs me by the shoulders.
I let go of the bat to shake him off.
But he’s too fast for me and he pushes me.
I collide with the wall next to the open door.
“Get out!” says Watson.
I advance on him. “I’m not going anywhere. What you did to my sister, you ruined her life. You destroyed her.”
“Why do you think I moved out here?” he says. “I tried everything. I went to therapy. I did drugs. I tried chemical castration. I did it all.” His voice wavers. “But I couldn’t stop.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “You made a choice.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It was like a thing that lived in me. It was like… a monster. Like a wolf that came out at the full moon. I tried to keep it down, but it always got out. So I came here, and I can’t hurt anyone, because there’s no one to hurt.” He gestures around. “I’m sorry about your sister. I’m so sorry.” He sniffles.
Oh, holy fuck, is he going to cry?
“I have a daughter, did you know that?” He is crying. Tears are streaming down his face.
“Wait, that was true?” I say. “You really did have a daughter who died?”
He stops, confused. “What?”
“You told me, when I met you that your daughter was dead, and that was why you wanted to babysit—”
“Oh,” he says. He shakes his head, and he is still crying. “No, that was… That was just a story—”
“You bastard,” I say.
“Later,” he says. “I had a daughter after all that. After everything. I tried to have a normal life and be with a woman and…” He is flustered and trying to get his thoughts together, all the while tears are leaking out of his eyes. “That’s what made me leave. When I almost hurt my daughter. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I never loved anyone more than I loved that baby girl. I knew she’d only be safe away from me. So, I left her.” He sobs.
“Stop,” I say. “Stop crying.”
“I hate everything I’ve done,” he says. “If there was some way I could make it right—”
“There’s not,” I say.
“I know,” he says. He rubs at his nose, which is running. “I’m just so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
Deke clears his throat.
I jump. I didn’t realize that he was back. But he is standing on the porch, looking into the house.
Deke steps inside. “Just do it,” he says in a flat voice. “The longer you let him talk, the harder it’s going to be.”
“You,” says Watson, looking at Deke. “I should have turned you in to the police.”
“Yes, you’re very stupid that way,” says Deke. He takes out his shotgun and cocks it. “Juniper, you do it, or I will.”
I lick my lips. “Wait. This is my show. You said it was my show.”
“So, go for it,” he says. He lifts the gun and points it at Watson’s head.
I point at the bat across the room.
Deke reaches out and snatches Watson by the collar. He yanks the man away from the bat and slams him up against the wall. “Get the bat.”
I go to the bat. I pull it out of the wall. My hands are shaking.
Deke thrusts Watson at me.
I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought it would feel different. I didn’t think Watson would be so sad and pitiful. I thought this would feel like some kind of victory, but it just feels… sordid. Sick. Sad.
“What are you going to do?” says Watson. “Kill me?”
My whole body is shaking. “You deserve to die.”
“Please,” says Watson. “Please, I am doing the best I can.”
“No, you’re… you’re…” Oh, fuck, am I crying? I can’t cry.
“Juniper,” Deke’s voice is soft. “We can’t back out of this. We’re committed now. He has to go, one way or the other.”
“No, that’s not true,” says Watson, turning to Deke. “No, w-we can work something out. I didn’t tell about that car I saw you with, and we can bargain. You give me something, and I’ll stay quiet. I swear I will.”
“No, you won’t,” says Deke in a regretful voice. “You won’t, because you’ll never know if you’re safe while we’re out here.”
And I strike, while Watson is looking away from me. I bring down the bat the way I planned to, on the back of his head.
He crumples immediately, falling to the ground, a bag of limbs and bones.
Red-Blooded Heart Page 20