“Laura told me you’d mentioned Diana had threatened Mary. That Diana called your house harassing you, saying she would harm Mary. Is that true?”
Cindy felt a great relief wash over her. Somebody wanted to believe her! “Yes,” she’d said, closing her eyes. “She said the most horrible things.”
“What did she say?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do.”
So Cindy had told him. And as Cindy related the numerous threats Diana had made, how she’d threatened to whip Mary and record her screams and sell them to pedophiles, how she’d threatened to torture her daughter and whip her with a riding crop, she heard Jerry’s voice gasp. Then she told Jerry that she’d had to move out of the apartment she’d been living in because Diana had kept calling there and whenever her boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now—tried to call the cops, they didn’t believe her. She related the numerous incidents when the police were called. Jerry listened in stunned silence. When she was finished, Cindy said, “I told Laura, but I don’t think she believes me.”
“I believe you. Don’t worry about that. I don’t like Diana and I know Laura doesn’t, but you have to look at this from her side too. She’s caught in the middle. Diana is with Ronnie now and she feels this...I don’t know...this need to be civil with her because of the situation. Do you understand?”
Cindy nodded, then realizing Jerry couldn’t see her, she said, “Yes.”
“Just be patient,” Jerry said. “We’re working on the situation from our end.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I want to talk to Ronnie, but “
“He won’t listen. I’ve already tried to talk to him.”
“Well, if I talk to him “
“Do you think he’ll listen to you? No offense Jerry, but Ronnie’s as hardheaded as you can be. When he gets a notion to do something, he does it and damn the consequences. Diana’s got him wrapped around her finger, and everything she tells him is the gospel truth in his eyes. And he doesn’t see Mary enough to know what’s going on.”
“What is going on, Cindy?” Jerry asked, that tone of desperation in his voice. Cindy’s heart went out to him. He was confused and he was scared; of what, Cindy didn’t know, but she had an idea.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Cindy said, trying to keep her voice calm. “All I know is that Diana is an evil woman and she’s been threatening Mary for over a month. She’s been increasingly disgusting with the level of threats, too and I’ve had it.”
“Do you think Diana is abusing Mary?”
The thought had occurred to Cindy, and in the past few weeks when she’d seen Mary she’d tried to search for the telltale signs of physical abuse but had seen none. It was hard to talk to the girl about it since the visits were always supervised. She couldn’t very well ask Mary if her father’s new girlfriend was abusing her when the woman was in the same room with them, and the few times Cindy had tried tip-toeing around the issue when Laura was present, her former mother-in-law told her to stop it. Mary had looked at her mother with something like fear in her eyes, and Cindy could tell that the girl wanted to tell her something, that she was hiding some dark secret but was either afraid to tell her or felt awkward in opening up when there were other people around. The few times she’d talked to Mary on the phone when she knew it was safe, she’d asked Mary if everything was okay at her father’s house. “Everything’s fine,” Mary had said. Cindy had pressed her on the issue but Mary insisted everything was okay. One time Cindy had asked her if she liked Diana and Mary had hesitated briefly, then said, “I guess.” It wasn’t a very convincing answer.
“I don’t know,” Cindy had said, because she honestly didn’t know if Diana was abusing her daughter. “I don’t know, but we have to do something.”
“If she’s abusing Mary, Ronnie won’t stand for it,” Jerry said. “I know that.”
“You’re right,” Cindy said. Ronnie wouldn’t stand for anybody laying a hand on his little girl. Cindy doubted Ronnie was aware of anything malicious happening in his own house, and with his new sex slave to suck his dick every night he wasn’t going to pay attention.
Cindy’s conversation with Jerry had left her confused, frightened, angry and desperate. She’d spent the afternoon replaying the last two months’ events and trying to connect the scenarios together. It was possible Diana’s phone calls were just that: harassing phone calls. It was possible she was making shit up about hurting Mary just to yank her chain. Ray had thought that was the case as the phone calls continued, and Cindy had been too blind with anger to listen to reason then. For a while she was seriously considering that fact.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
Mary’s behavior hadn’t been the same in the last two months. The little girl had become withdrawn, forlorn, and shy. When Cindy had her visits with her, Mary acted like she was afraid of her—her own mother! For a while Cindy thought that Mary was ashamed of her; she’d just gotten fired from her last job and had gotten into that fight with Karen Murphy at the Cocalico, and she knew Laura and Jerry were clucking in disapproval at her lifestyle, and there was no doubt that news had floated back to Ronnie and Diana and, finally, to Mary. That bitch Diana probably chortled about it at the house in Mary’s presence, said disparaging things about her. It probably embarrassed Mary, made her feel ashamed of her own mother. Maybe that was why she’d been acting that way lately.
But then why did she have this feeling that Diana really was trying to hurt Mary?
Call it a mother’s intuition, but she really felt her daughter’s life was in grave danger.
She knew she couldn’t go to the police. They wouldn’t believe her, especially with all that had gone on before. And she really had no hard solid proof that Mary was being abused at all.
She just had a hunch it was happening.
And she felt powerless to do anything about it.
She couldn’t go to the police. Jerry and Laura would drag their feet before anything was done. Ronnie had them wrapped around his finger, too. He didn’t know what the hell was going on in his own house, of that she was certain. He didn’t believe her when she told him Diana was threatening Mary, and he wouldn’t listen to her if she told him that Mary had sprouted a second head, a third arm, and a pair of gills. So she couldn’t talk to her ex-husband rationally about the welfare of their daughter.
But she had to do something.
Towards the end of the afternoon she thought about kidnapping Mary and driving off with her somewhere, but she knew she’d be tracked down and caught immediately and Mary would be placed right back into that abusive house.
It was then that the phone rang.
Cindy sat in the car, replaying that phone call in her mind. She could hear the timbre of Diana’s voice in her ear as clearly as if she were sitting next to her. Cindy had answered the phone and the first thing Diana had said was, “The little bitch is with her grandmother and Aunt now, but when she comes home I’ve got a surprise for her.”
Cindy had felt her knees go wobbly. She’d been drinking coffee all day and hadn’t had the slightest urge to have a drink, but at that moment the need pulsed through her. “Please leave me alone,” she’d said.
“Himmler’s horny,” Diana had said, her voice menacing, throaty. “When he gets in this mood he’ll fuck everything. The sofa, your leg, whatever’s handy. You’ve seen Himmler, so you know a dog his size is pretty well hung, and Himmler’s got a big cock. Shit, he’s bigger than most guys. When Mary gets home from her lovely weekend with grandma twat-face and her book-loving cunt of an Aunt, I’m going to strip Mary naked and hog-tie her in the basement and let Himmler have a go at her. A slut like you will agree that Mary’s the right age, don’t you think? I mean, you started whoring around when you were seven, right?”
Cindy had fought hard to control her voice. “If you hurt her—”
“Who said anything about hurting her? All I said was that I was going
to let my dog fuck her.”
“You are a sick woman,” Cindy had said.
“I’ll let you come over and watch.”
And with that Cindy had picked up the phone and thrown it against the wall, where it crashed against a shelf that held Scott’s beer mugs. They crashed and splintered, spilling thick glass shards all over the floor. Cindy had stomped her booted foot into the phone repeatedly, screaming “You fucking bitch, I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you!”
The next thing she remembered she was rummaging in the bedroom she shared with Scott. She had slipped on the gloves, which she’d gotten from her leather jacket, and she’d found the Colt in an old shoebox at the bottom of the closet. It had been unloaded, but she found shells for it in one of Scott’s drawers and loaded it easily. She’d been trembling with fear and rage, and as she worked at formulating her hastily-made plan, she told herself, I didn’t imagine that, the bitch fucking threatened to have her dog rape my daughter and if I report that to the police those fuckers won’t believe me, nobody will believe me, Jerry and Laura won’t believe me, and Ronnie won’t believe me and doesn’t he care that his daughter is being cared for by that psycho bitch?
Now she was sitting in Scott’s car while he was in Philadelphia with his friends, not knowing his new girlfriend was about to commit a felony.
It was the only way she could protect her daughter. She might be a fuck-up, she knew that’s what her old friends and her family thought of her lately, but one thing she’d always maintained was a strong love for her daughter. She’d do anything for Mary, and right now she felt a strong instinct to protect her from Diana. She’d already explored all legal avenues; if the police had taken her seriously two months ago, the calls would have stopped. Maybe Ronnie would have seen Diana for what she really was and left her, but that hadn’t happened. She’d tried reasoning with Diana, tried talking to her in-laws about it. Nobody believed her. Thus she was left to do the only thing she could think of.
She’d been sitting in Scott’s car for two hours now. She’d driven out earlier and watched the house from four houses away, noting movement within. Then she’d pulled away from the curb and gone back to Scott’s apartment, trying to talk herself out of it, trying to come up with reasons why she shouldn’t do what she was going to do.
She couldn’t think of any so she’d come back.
She had watched the house for the past two hours and noted when the lights were finally extinguished: one-thirty a.m. The porch light was on. There wasn’t even faint light emanating from behind the curtains from a television set, at least none she could detect.
When the dashboard clock read two-twenty she picked up the Colt, put it in her jacket pocket, and smoothed the knit cap she was wearing over her head, drew the ski mask over her face and opened the car door. She got out, quietly closing the door. She paused at the curb. The neighborhood was silent. The houses within the immediate vicinity of Ronnie’s were dark.
The plan was simple. She had seven rounds, with one already chambered. It might take two or three rounds to take the dog down, and she was positive they let that fucking mutt loose all over the house. She didn’t think a dog like that was trained to attack stealthily—it would probably bark the minute it sensed her outside. If it didn’t, if she was able to gain access to the house, it would still give away its location with its growling. Hopefully she’d have time to shoot the fucker before it sprang on her. Besides, she’d been in the house a few times and knew the dog was more clumsy than anything. She also knew that Diana constantly stepped out on the back porch to smoke and always left the sliding glass door unlocked. And if Diana was as stupid as Cindy thought she was, she probably forgot to lock that door all the time. If the door was locked, she’d shoot herself inside; one round would shatter the glass to pieces and it might scare the dog off too. Then she could slip inside quickly and flip on a light. If she hadn’t shot the dog by then she’d do so at that time, then she’d head to the bedroom and shoot Diana. There was no need to make any dramatic entrance or utter some witty proclamations. People only did that in movies. She’d go in quickly, blow away Diana and the dog, and then get the hell out. She didn’t want to hurt the kids, but if they got in the way, or if the redheaded brat tried to stop her, she’d blow him away, too. She didn’t think anybody would see her, and she didn’t think the kids would recognize her with the ski mask on. And as for an alibi, well...
She’d worry about that later.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the sidewalk and headed toward Ronnie’s.
The closer she got, the heavier her heart felt. The air was cold, damp with a rainstorm that had blown in earlier in the day and was still lingering. The feeling of dread solidified in her belly. The Colt felt like it weighed a ton.
She crossed the lawn and began heading up the side of Ronnie’s house
As she walked along the side of the house she listened for any sounds from within.
There was nothing.
She paused in the backyard, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. She couldn’t make out movement at all. If that dog was there it was probably hiding in the dining room, watching her. She’d just have to take her chances. She moved slowly toward the porch, and when there was no barrage of furious barking from within the house, she placed one gloved hand against the glass of the sliding door and peered inside.
She saw the dining room table and chairs directly in front of her. To her right was a kitchen, arranged in a horseshoe pattern. Beyond the kitchen and dining room was a large living room with a sofa, easy chair, and an entertainment unit flanking the right-side wall. Just past the kitchen was a computer desk with a computer on it. Down the hall beyond the computer desk was the master bedroom, where Diana was probably sleeping. Towards the left was a hallway that led to the two bedrooms where the kids slept.
The dog was nowhere to be seen.
When her eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness of the house, she peered under the table. The dog wasn’t hiding under there, either. She tried peering around the kitchen to see if there were any blind spots. The dog could be hiding anywhere if it had sensed her, but the only place she could think it could hide was either around the corner, close to where the master bedroom was, or in one of the kids’ rooms, or the hallway that led to them. Of course, it could be in the basement or the garage as well.
Cindy’s heart was pounding. She felt hot and sweaty beneath her leather jacket and the ski mask. Realizing it was now or never, she reached out and tugged at the handle to the sliding glass door. It slid noiselessly in its track as it opened.
She almost lost her nerve then. For a brief moment she thought, what am I doing?
Then Diana’s voice, menacing and hateful, came back to her. I didn’t say I was going to hurt her! I’m just going to let my dog fuck her.
Over my dead body, bitch, Cindy thought as she stepped into the house.
Once inside, she reached toward where she thought the light switch was and couldn’t find it. Cursing under her breath, she glanced around the dining room. Seeing the light switch on the other side of the room, she drew the Colt out of her jacket pocket and headed over to it and, with one fluid motion, flipped it on. The dining room was bathed in light and with the Colt gripped firmly in her gloved hand, she headed down the hall toward the master bedroom, her body primed and tense, her adrenaline flowing.
She was so tightly wound up that if anything came at her now she’d shoot first and ask questions later.
The door to the master bedroom was closed. She pushed the door open and raised the barrel of the gun, pointing it at the bed as she burst into the room, her adrenaline compelling her to get it over with, shoot the bitch, shoot her and the dog then get the hell out of here now!
The master bedroom was empty.
“Hello Cindy.”
Cindy whirled around, her heart in her throat. Her finger squeezed the trigger and there was a deafening boom and the force of the Colt going off threw her right arm back.
She didn’t even hear the bullet strike the wall; she was too busy trying to keep her balance and her eyes on the figure in front of her, keep her mind fixed on the single purpose she had come here for.
Diana stood at the threshold of the hallway that led to the master bedroom. She was naked. Cindy’s mind was still frozen in shock from the surprise and the unexpected realization that Diana had tricked her, and the underlying compulsion that had screamed at her to break into the house and kill her now pulsed through her brain. Do it now! Shoot her! Shoot her!
Cindy raised the Colt and aimed.
Diana smiled, and then her face melted.
The moment Diana’s face melted, Cindy’s reflexes froze. She watched with eye-widening, mind numbing horror, her finger frozen on the Colt’s trigger. Time seemed to slow down incredibly. Diana’s flesh seemed to slough and drip off the bones of her skull; from the neck down, her skin had taken on a muddy appearance and a thick scent wafted up, overwhelming her. It smelled like meat left in the refrigerator for too long, which caused another block to her senses. What the fuck? She thought, confused now as to what to do. What the fuck is happening?
Who cares what’s happening, just shoot her! Shoot her!
Oh my God, she’s not normal, she’s not—
She felt light-headed and fuzzy, and her body felt warm. She felt like she was floating, like she was caught in some bad acid trip. Diana stepped forward and smiled. When she spoke her voice sounded like it was being processed through one of those special effects systems that make your voice sound demonic. “Put the gun down, Cindy.”
Cindy raised the weapon again. “Don’t come near me!” she screamed.
“You really don’t want to do this,” the Diana-thing said, its voice chortling. Now Diana’s face was morphing into something else. Her eye sockets had sunk deep into her skull and her eyes became black pits. Her mouth widened, becoming a shapeless maw of ragged teeth.
“Don’t come any closer you bitch!” Cindy screamed. Her blood pounded; she could feel her nerves tingling. She had never been so scared in her life.
The Beloved Page 14