Durable Goods

by Patricia Hale

  By six-thirty everyone had a heavy buzz on board. Even Isaac had come in early from the barn and downed a couple of shots, a rarity. He was upstairs changing out of his work clothes. In the living room, the girls were subdued. Rose was rattling around in the kitchen like a pretentious hostess. Since most of the food Isaac had bought was pre-cooked and pre-arranged on platters, she was doing little more than moving plates around the counter.

  “What do you want?” she asked when I came into the room interrupting her fantasy.

  “Do you need any help?”

  She laughed. “A little late for that don’t you think? You’ll be gone tonight.” She untied her apron and tossed it onto the counter. “I need to change my clothes. I’ve been stuck in this kitchen all day.”

  The martyr, I thought. “I’ll keep an eye on things out here. Go ahead,” I said, seeing my moment materialize.

  “I won’t be long. Keep the girls out of here.” She disappeared up the back staircase.

  It had to be now. There was nothing I needed to take from this place. I opened the backdoor and under a dim watted bulb slipped outside onto the porch, down the steps and across the side yard toward the barn. The only other light was on the front of the house illuminating the driveway. At the barn I stopped and leaned against the outside of the far wall, listening. Nothing. I was shaking from fear or the frigid air, either way I had to keep moving. I slipped the watch out of my shoe and onto my wrist, then headed for the trees. Two feet from the pines, I heard the backdoor slam. I dove into the shadows, tearing the skin on my forearms as I brushed heavy pine boughs out of my way. I could still barely make out the back door. Isaac was coming down the steps. He wasn’t moving fast. He seemed to be looking for something on the ground. He stooped, picked up a bucket and went back inside.

  I held onto the tree beside me until my breathing returned to normal and my heart slowed, but I couldn’t wait for long. Sooner or later Rose would be back in the kitchen asking where I was. I took off running deeper into the woods. The moonlight was both a blessing and a curse. The driveway was to my right and if I stayed in a straight line parallel to it, I’d eventually reach the road. But ducking branches and avoiding fallen trees had me unsure if I’d veered off course. I stopped again to listen. It was dead still around me and with a mix of crusty snow and brittle leaves underfoot there’d be no way anyone could sneak up. I took off again but didn’t get more than ten feet when I tripped over an exposed root and went down hard. A sharp pain shot through my forearm and I couldn’t move my wrist. Struggling to my knees, I wrapped my right hand around my left wrist holding it tight against my chest. The watch from Griff was gone. The clasp must have broken in the fall. There was no time to search for it. Back on my feet I was running again. I’d completely lost my bearings and didn’t know if I was still moving in the direction of the road or back toward the house. It was slower going having to hold my arm and the jolt of each step increased the pain.

  Ahead of me, through the trees there was a light. I stopped and watched. If it moved, it meant I’d reached the road. If not, I was back at the house. It moved toward me and became two. It was headlights. A car was coming. I felt delirious and forgetting the pain in my arm, ran headlong toward the road. I had to reach the car before it passed.

  I stepped onto the road and waved my good arm moving as far toward the center of the hot top as I dared. The car came to a stop in front of me and I bent forward at the waist ready to collapse. Tears of relief poured down my cheeks. The driver’s door opened and a man stepped out. As he came toward me I recognized Sheriff Stebbins.

  “Well, well, well, don’t you look all banged up. Come outta them trees, huh? What’re ya runnin’ from? A bear?” He started laughing and looked me up and down. “I know where you belong and lucky for you I’m heading your way. Bet Isaac will be damn pleased to see who I’m bringin’ home. Don’t you think?”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the cruiser, opened the back door and threw me in. Once in the driver’s seat, Stebbins hit a button and all four locks clicked into place.

  My arm throbbed, but I could move my wrist. Not broken. I leaned back against the seat. Stebbins had met me before, but he didn’t seem to remember. That might change once we got inside Isaac’s house and he saw my face in the light.

  Stebbins pushed me through the door ahead of him. Isaac was standing in the doorway of the living room. The look on his face when he saw me was what I’d like to call priceless, but that would indicate that I found even the slightest bit of enjoyment in the moment. I didn’t. He took a step toward me and the next thing I knew, I was on my knees from a backhand I’d never seen coming.

  “You’re gone,” he said. “Tonight. And what I’ll recommend for you will make you regret every minute of your insolence.”

  He stepped forward and raised his hand again.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Sheriff Stebbins said putting his hand against Isaac’s arm. “She might as well earn you something before she goes.”

  A slow smile spread across Isaac’s mouth. “And I know just the client. Go clean yourself up.” He nodded to Rose who was hovering in the hallway. “Go with her. Watch her.”

  I stood and moved toward the stairs.

  “Wait a minute,” Stebbins said. He took my elbow and turned me to face him. “Don’t I know you? You look awful familiar now I’m gettin’ a good look.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never seen you before. I’d remember your pencil dick.”

  He sneered, but I could see the wheels turning. I had a limited amount of time before they clicked into place.

  In the bathroom I ran cold water over my wrist and held a cloth to my cheek then I sat on the toilet and wiped dried blood from the scratches on my knees and shins. I wanted to lie down and cry, but giving in to my desperation only made it more real.

  Terror doesn’t come close to describing my feelings as I followed Rose down the stairway. If Stebbins remembered where he’d seen me Isaac would erupt realizing a raid was imminent. The doorbell rang and Rose went to answer it. I tried to blend into the furniture while I watched the girls travel up and down the stairs with an array of clients on their arms, sometimes two at a time. I glanced out the window and prayed for headlights. Someone sat beside me and I turned to see Rose.

  “Hiding?” she laughed and sucked hard on the cigarette between her lips.

  I didn’t answer.

  “That was a stupid move,” she said. “You’ll pay.”

  “Do you know these men?” I asked wanting to change the subject. I couldn’t think about what was coming if Griff didn’t show soon.

  “Most of them,” she said. “They’re Isaac’s elite.”

  “From St. Bart?”

  She pointed to a bearded, broad shoulder guy leaning across the bar toward Elizabeth. “That’s Dr. Roth. He takes care of STDs, birth control, even unwanted pregnancies when they occur. It’s rare but it happens.” Next she nodded toward a rail thin man sucking on a cigar, his eyes shifting constantly around the room. “That’s our Chief of Police.”

  “Stebbins.” “You know him?”

  “Not until tonight,” I said hoping it was a smooth recovery.

  She nodded and started to point out another, but Dr. Roth stepped in front of us and blocked our view.

  “Rose,” he said pulling her to her feet. “How about getting the old doc a drink and maybe a little something else?” He curled his palm over her butt and propelled her toward the bar. Had they been anywhere else they would have looked like an ordinary couple.

  I glanced again out the window yearning for headlights. When I turned back to the room Isaac stood in front of me. He lifted me by my hair until I was standing in front of him. “Another drink?”

  He took my elbow and steered me to the bar. Stebbins looked up and studied my face. I turned away from him. Isaac grabbed the Smirnoff’s and topped off my glass. “I have someone I want you to take care of,” he said. “Come with me.”

  I followed h
im from the living room down the hall and into the kitchen where a different sort of party was going on. A couple of the girls were naked and dancing on top of the kitchen table, slow and evocative, running their hands over their breast and between their legs. Elizabeth was straddling a fat, bald guy. Her white leather skirt hiked up around her waist. She rocked back and forth on top of him while he sucked on a cigar and watched the girls dance.

  Eve lay at the foot of the back stairway. Blood dripped from a gash on the side of her head onto the tile floor. Isaac lifted her by one arm and propped her against the wall. She pressed her palm above her ear then studied her hand as though it was something foreign. Dabbing at the rivulets on her cheekbone, she smeared the blood like a drunken face painter.

  “Sorry for the problem, Edward,” Isaac said pushing me toward the man who stood at the foot of the stairs. “I have something else for you.”

  The man Isaac spoke to was dressed in a suit, an ascot in his pocket and a gold pinky ring on each hand. His hair was dark and thick and slicked back over his head except for one stray, greasy strand that hung above his right eye.

  “Something special, Edward. Something very special and almost untouched.” He winked.

  Edward took a step toward me and slid his eyes over my body. “She’ll do.”

  I raised my glass and drained it. The tinkling ice cubes betrayed my shaking hand. This was Eve’s guy, the one who left welts. He took hold of my elbow and led me up the back stairs and into a room. It was the same one I’d been in with Isaac. I wanted to pull away and tell him he’d made a mistake. I wasn’t one of them. I could promise to get him out of there before the cops showed up. Could he keep a secret? I weighed my options.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

  As slowly as I could, I undressed. He seemed to like my lack of hurry, assuming it was purposeful and that I was building his anticipation. But I was stalling, waiting to hear the door burst open downstairs, waiting to be saved. If I offered this guy an out and Griff never showed up, he’d tell Isaac and I was as good as dead. I dropped my lace thong onto the floor.

  Edward looked me over. I wondered if he noticed the make-up on my stomach, hiding the scars. Maybe he’d return me to Isaac as damaged goods. But as I waited, hoping, he removed a whip from his pocket. The kind an animal tamer might use in a circus act, long and thin. He snapped it a couple of times in the air in front of my face. I thought of Eve. I thought of Griff. And I thought I was lucky to be getting whipped and not raped.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  I lost track of how many times the whip connected with my back. Each time it did, Edward’s breathing got harder and faster. A waterfall of tears fell onto the oriental carpet beneath me. I fell onto my side and curled into a fetal position. The whip caught my cheek and I raised my arm.

  “Stop,” my voice cracked barely above a whisper.

  “Get up.” Edward stepped toward me. As he did the door opened.

  “Get up.” It was Isaac’s voice. “I said get up.” He reached down and pulled me to standing by my elbow. His face was inches from mine. “Stebbins remembered where he saw you. You’re a fucking cop.” He shoved me hard. I landed on the floor and he kicked the side of my thigh with the toe of his cowboy boot.

  “I’m not a cop,” I said grabbing my leg.

  “Shut up and get your clothes on, now.”

  “Edward,” he said, “Get on your way.”

  Edward said nothing and left the room.

  I reached for my sequined tank top and slipped it over my head. The slightest movement brought searing pain across my back and the thin fabric of the shirt stuck tight to my bloodied skin. I fought the urge to be sick and stood, pulling the pink thong up my thighs. I zipped the black silk skirt in place and then looked at Isaac.

  “I’d like to fucking kill you right now,” he said. He grabbed me by the throat and pushed me against the wall. “When are they coming?”

  “I don’t know,” I managed as he tightened his grip.

  “You know.” He smacked my head against the wall.”

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “They’re coming tomorrow.

  He threw me out into the hallway and I slammed into the wall.

  “Get downstairs.”

  The house was empty except for one man who stood framed in the open front door. He was handsome in that lean, chiseled, five o’clock shadow way, wearing tight, black jeans and a black leather jacket. Jet-black hair was combed back from his face and he was one hell of a cut above Isaac. I cursed myself for even registering his good looks and scanned the living room. It was empty. Everyone was gone, even the girls. Isaac must have cleared them out after Stebbins remembered who I was.

  “This is Lucas,” Isaac said. “You’re going with him.” He wrapped his palm around the back of my neck and threw me toward the open door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

  My cheek connected with the narrow edge of the open front door and I staggered back from it, holding my face. My breath caught in my chest. “I can’t,” I said. “I promise…”

  Isaac took my elbow and shoved me through the doorway onto the front porch. He stepped toward me raising his arm ready to give me one last blow.

  Lucas stopped him. “Enough. You’re messing up my merchandise.” He took my arm and led me toward the stairs. I stared down the driveway willing Griff’s headlights into being, but nothing broke the darkness. In Lucas’ BMW I huddled against the door and watched in the rearview mirror as the lights faded behind us and we drove away from the house, the girls, the dormitory, Sarah and Ruth, away from my picture of Kira and my cell phone buried inside it all. We’d driven two or three miles up the road when a string of police cars passed us, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Griff was on his way to get me out and I was within six feet of him, heading in the opposite direction.

  GRIFF

  Ahead of them, a pick-up veered across the frozen pasture to their right. The two cruisers out front continued up the driveway toward the house.

  “Follow the truck,” Griff said. “That’s Bennett.”

  “You sure?” John asked.

  “I remember it from the market when he picked up Britt.”

  Officer Damon from the Fort Kent PD pulled the steering wheel hard and the cruiser swerved off the driveway and onto the snowy ground in pursuit. The car bounced over a mix of terrain. Frozen mud, snow and potholes made from pawing hooves sent the cruiser bouncing and sliding over the rough ground making their pursuit feel more like a carnival ride than a chase.

  “We blow a tire, we’re screwed,” Damon said.

  “Then don’t let it happen,” John answered.

  The cop rolled his eyes, but kept up his not too shabby driving.

  Ahead of them Isaac plowed through a barbed wire fencing, dragging wooden poles alongside his truck. In front of him stood a wall of trees.

  “He’s got nowhere to go,” John said. “He’s gonna turn back this way.”

  Isaac’s truck skidded into a three hundred and sixty degree turn and came to a stop, hesitating like a bull sizing up his matador. Then he gunned it, heading straight for them.

  “Looks like he wants a game of chicken,” Griff said.

  “This guy’s messin’ with the wrong opponent.” Damon grinned. “I was the king of chicken in high school.”

  “Don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.” John clicked his seat belt into place.

  Isaac was driving directly toward them, his speed steadily increasing. Damon did the same, not taking his eyes off the truck. They were fifty feet from each other, thirty… twenty…

  “Hold on,” Damon said and slammed his foot down on the brake turning the steering wheel hard to the right causing the tail end of the cruiser to fishtail left. The car slipped and slid, skidding sideways over the frosty ground, coming to a stop just as the F-150 rammed them broadside.

  Griff was out of the cruiser before the engine died running toward the truck. He ripped open the front door and pulled a
half conscious Isaac out by the collar, punching him in the face before dropping him onto the frozen ground.

  “What the fuck?” Isaac said, dazed.

  Griff bent over, lifted him by his coat collar and held a picture of Britt in front of his face. “She in your house?”

  Isaac shook his head and winced. “Never seen her.”

  Griff planted another one on his right cheek, splitting it open before letting him fall to the ground again.

  “Not the game to play with me,” Damon said looking at Isaac as he came up beside Griff.

  Isaac Bennett lay at their feet curled in fetal position. “Get me an ambulance,” he mumbled.

  “Fat chance.” John knelt beside him and showed him a picture of Kira. “Where is she?”

  Isaac closed his eyes and didn’t answer.

  John grabbed a handful of hair yanking his head back.

  A cry escaped Isaac’s lips.

  “I said have you seen her?”

  “No,” he whispered. “Never. Now get me an ambulance.”

  A squad car pulled alongside Damon’s crushed cruiser.

  “Looks like you could use a ride.”

  The two cops pulled Isaac to his feet and threw him into the back of the car locking the doors.

  “You find anything at the house?” Griff asked the cop.

  “No warm bodies, but plenty of shit pointing to a small prostitution enterprise.”

  Griff glanced across the field. A group of twenty or more women were being escorted from the dormitory building up the driveway toward Isaac’s house and the police vans that had arrived out front.

  “They’re not here,’ Griff said to John. “Neither one of them.”

  “But they were,” John said. “We were that close.” He held up his thumb and forefinger.

  “Close doesn’t bring them home.”

  “But close is a fucking lot better than what I’ve had for the past three years. We’ll find them.”

  “You two want a ride?” Damon asked over his shoulder as he and the other cop walked toward the cruiser with Bennett in the backseat.