"The truth is, when I first saw your new look, it depressed me, because until that moment, I thought I might have a chance with you. But when I saw how beautiful you really were, I realized what a stupid old fart I was to not realize you were out of my class. It’s why I acted so crazy and asked you to marry me. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. You’re the kind of woman when people see us together, they’re going to think, How did an ugly toad like him get her?"
His answer floored her. The guy was really starting to look like husband material. How could such a thing come flying into her life at such a terrible moment, when she was still washed up on her emotional beach, gasping for air? Yet come it had. Was the guy for real? Or had he simply had more years to practice his line of bull than the guys she’d known before him? Was it true what they said about the older men, that they weren’t as pig-headed and selfish as their younger counterparts? Dare she hope?
"Johnson, stop lying. How many beautiful women do you know who have a huge scar running across their eye?"
"I’m sorry about your scar, but I myself find it very endearing. If you really think about it, your scar is what brought you into my life."
"You know, Johnson, I can tell you’ve spent years dealing with people and learning how to schmooze them. I don’t believe a word you just said, and don’t think by saying it, you’re going to get anywhere. Although I do admit, I like you better than I did before. And don’t go thinking I’m "in your life". We’re two people who’ve been thrown together by the actions of a criminal."
"Jackie, I don’t care how we met," he said. "I just know that I want you. All of you. Every square inch."
"Oh, hell yes," she said.
It was the moment of truth and she understood it to be such. She was ready to risk it in exchange for whatever time away from her pain his body would take her. And never mind the consequences. She stooped down and removed her ankle bracelet, dropping it on the counter. "C’mon," she said. Then stopped.
"What?"
"Johnson, I can’t be going back and forth like this. I think I’m ready and then I’m not ready. I don’t know who I am anymore. Since Bout attacked me, I have had absolutely no interest in men whatsoever. The truth is, I think I’ve become frigid. I was just going to use you to see if I might wake myself up, but the thought of doing that suddenly seems loathsome to me."
"Okay. Let’s just be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do another hug. I could use at least that."
"Johnson? Don’t you hear that?"
"Hear what, baby?"
"Heinz! He’s barking like a maniac!"
"Wait here." Johnson pulled away and moved quickly towards the front door.
Chapter 22
"This isn’t a random thing, is it?" Jackie said.
"No," Johnson said.
Jackie, Johnson, and Heinz, along with a couple of uniformed cops and Sandy, the realtor from next door, stood in the driveway examining the note left on the windshield of the Lexus.
Vzjat’ na abordaž, the note read. It was brief, but it spoke volumes in what it implied. It tapped the wellspring of fear deep within Jackie’s guts, and the fear began to vibrate its way through her system, burning off anything free, happy, or charitable it found in its path.
"He was a bold little prick," Johnson said, "what with Heinz in the car going ape shit while he placed the note under the wiper blade."
"What’s it about, Jackie?" Sandy, the neighbor said. Her normal, confident Realtor persona had faded badly in the wake of this too-close-to-home true crime event. Sandy looked lost and vulnerable, standing in the driveway in her bathrobe and slippers.
"I was going to identify the thug who attacked me in a lineup tomorrow," Jackie said. "He must have had some punk friend of his leave this note on my car to scare me off. I can tell you, it worked. I’m so scared right now, I can’t even scream."
"We’re gonna look around the neighborhood, but don’t expect anything," a uniformed cop said. The two cops returned to their black and white and slowly drove around the corner.
She was back in the dream. Destined to suffer the baptism of pain forever. "Oh my God," she prayed. "Even your precious Son suffered only once. Please take my life. Please end it here." It was not to be. The pain of the dream had become an eternal force greater than God Himself. Jackie, yesterday, today, and forever, in pain. She felt the inhuman pressure of his weight upon her chest as she plunged into a world without light, without air. "Vzjat’ na abordaž." The high, effeminate voice. The fire in her throat and eyes. The cylinder of the gun turning, turning, until the trigger released the hammer, snapping it down, vibrating through her guts. She waited for the blast which would end her life, but the blast never came. The pressure fell away from her ear. I’m still alive, she thought. She managed to get a ragged breath of air and forced one burning eye open in time to see the blurry figure overhead raising the gun like a club.
"Hail Mary," she said. She expected to feel great pain from the blow and was surprised instead by a popping sound, accompanied by a bright flash, followed by a surge of heavy darkness.
"Jackie," Johnson said.
She was lying on the living room couch, a worried Johnson pacing the floor and Sandy sitting beside her, soothing her brow with a wet washcloth.
"Help me."
"You had a flashback," Johnson said. "Just take it easy. You’re going to be okay."
"You scared us half to death," Sandy said. "I nearly called the paramedics."
"Sandy, how did you get here?"
"I saw a strange car in the driveway and I came by to peek in and see who was in the house. When I saw a strange man in the kitchen window, I went home and called the police. As soon as they arrived, I came over."
"Thanks, Sandy. I keep seeing Viktor Bout, who attacked me, and I keep reliving what he did to me. I should have expected it." Jackie sat up and quickly put her head between her knees. "I think I’m going to be sick."
"It’s only the adrenaline. Keep your head down," Johnson said. They sat together for a few moments.
"Sandy, there are some pills in my purse. Can you bring me one, with a glass of water?"
"Who is Bout?" Sandy asked, handing her the vial.
"He’s the man who is going to kill me. And there’s nothing anybody can do."
"Nobody’s going to hurt you," Sandy said.
The two cops in the cruiser pulled back to the curb. Johnson walked out and they spoke briefly before he returned to the living room. "All quiet on the western front," he said.
"Sandy," Jackie said. "This is it. I want this place sold. How much can I get if I price it for a quick sale?"
"If you want it sold fast, these are going for about 175,000 on a short sale. I know that is less than you owe, but at least it won't ruin your credit the way a foreclosure will. The government is offering first time buyers a tax credit. We should be able to move it fairly quick."
"It was worth 500 K two years ago. That totally sucks. Okay, Sandy. Do it. Here’s the key to the door. The alarm code is 20 for on and 21 for Off. You can lock up after we go. Help yourself to whatever’s left of that shaker of sours in the kitchen."
"Okay," Sandy said. If that’s what you want. I can send somebody to wherever you are staying with the listing agreement."
"Get it ready for me," Jackie said. "I’ll get hold of you as soon as I can."
"Jackie, I’m probably going to rearrange things a bit, just to stage it for the buyers. So I will be in and out quite a bit, most likely in the evening after work."
"Whatever you think best, Sandy," Jackie said.
Chapter 23
Johnson headed back to the freeway, running a couple of red lights before slowly ascending the southbound onramp. "Nobody jumped the light with me. I’d say there’s nobody following us."
"That’s sorta comforting. Is your man covering us?"
"Not when I’m with you."
The midnight hour traffic was light, what with the last of the work
ing folks in bed leaving the streets to the barflies and those whose livelihood depended on shadows and the ability to move quickly.
"We lucked out tonight," Johnson said. "If Heinz hadn’t started barking, the intruder might have tried to do more than leave his calling card. You would have had to watch me blow his brains out."
"You call it lucky? You know, Johnson, when I was first attacked, I remember how it shocked the community, not only because of the violence of the crime, but because it happened at Gelson’s in one of the so-called nicer areas of the city. But what I remember most in the first few days was everybody telling me how lucky I was. The EMT’s told me I was lucky to be alive. The neurologist told me I was lucky the swelling in my brain was under control. So apparently, by all accounts, I’m the luckiest woman alive. So why do I feel all of a sudden like somebody walked into my life and pulled my life support?"
"It’s the shock. And also the after-effects of all the booze we’ve consumed. The body can only take so much."
"It’s not the adrenaline wearing off. I feel let down because for a brief moment, for one beautiful moment, I felt safe. I was doing all the right things. I was in a well-lighted place. I was in the arms of a cop. I had a police dog in my car. And yet with all this safety surrounding me, some vicious punk walked right up to my house. It makes me sick."
"You’re suffering from post traumatic stress."
"How did you know?"
"I recognize the symptoms," he said. "I’ve suffered from it myself off and on over the years."
"You’re kidding," she said. "This is the main event of my life, and yet you talk about it like it was a common cold."
"I had it bad when I got back from the jungle. I was one of those guys who checked behind every door."
"So what happens to people who have it?"
"They eventually work through it. It’s either that, or they kill themselves. But there is no cure. I found a way to meditate that keeps it at bay."
"That's what Dr. Black said. Meditation." The revelation shocked her. To think that someone like Johnson himself could have suffered the way she was suffering was hard to grasp. Johnson? A survivor of PTSD?
"You know, Jackie, once you have PTSD, you’ll always have it. It’s a cage without bars. I went through a bad period a long time ago. At first, I couldn’t leave my house, then I couldn’t leave my room, and finally I couldn’t leave my chair. But it can get better over time."
"Johnson, are you saying you still have it?"
"I do. I still have a day now and then when I can’t leave my room. I just sit there with my dog and drink. Not the best solution, I might add."
Jackie regarded him closely. "You must have worked through it. Obviously you didn’t kill yourself."
"I’m not the suicidal type," he said. "I’m the homicidal type who’d rather kill someone else." His quick grin flashed, but added to it was just a touch of ambient evil, and she was reminded of somebody telling her once that there wasn’t a lot of difference between homicidal maniacs and cops; it was just a matter of which side of the law they were on.
"I’ve just begun to realize what a mess I’m in."
"It’s okay, Jackie. There’s things you can do to fight it. For me, it was a matter of getting angry enough to fight back. That's why I gave you the Nintendo. Playing Tetris helps."
"You’re kidding, right?"
"No. There’s something about Tetris that prevents flashbacks. If something upsets you and you think you’re going to have one, play Tetris. I play it all the time, at home and at work."
"Okay," she said. "I’ve heard enough. I hope I can come up with the courage not to kill myself."
"You will."
Johnson punched the accelerator and shot through the curving underpass to take the Ventura Freeway heading east. "The pressure’s on. We’re going after a "Three-Strike" candidate."
"Not anymore. I’m getting out of L.A. I’ve got enough money now to go back into hiding."
"Jackie. I know how you feel, but you can’t quit now. Not when you’re so close to taking back your life. There must be something I can do."
"Johnson, right now, I have only one priority in life—to be safe. And only one person can keep Jackie safe, and that’s Jackie."
The car merged onto the Hollywood freeway southbound, heading up the hill past the imposing structures of Universal Studios, leaving the celestial sprawl of the Valley behind, hurtling towards Hollywood through the gauntlet of a neon world which ran the gamut by degrees from upscale to funky before terminating at the corner of Highland and Franklin in a nexus of downright weird, a fitting landscape to ponder stalking criminals and noble ideals.
"Okay," Johnson said. "And you’re probably right. I’m not going to say something stupid like, I’ll protect you or anything like that. Hey, I understand fear. Bout should be feared. He’s a dangerous man. He’s got a crew on the street, so locking him up won’t mean you’re safe. Even if your testimony caused him to be bound over for trial, the truth is, you probably wouldn’t hold up as a witness."
"What do you mean I wouldn’t hold up? After all I’ve been through, you don’t think I could handle it in court?"
"Maybe not. The defense may argue due to the amount of stress you were under at the time of the attack, your perception was impaired, and because of the pepper spray, you didn’t see anything. They’ll argue you weren’t alert to your surroundings and your memory was interfered with because of the blow to your head. The sad thing is, Bout did everything right. He’s an intelligent thug. He deliberately left nothing behind to help anybody incriminate him."
"Now that is just plain wrong."
"The problem is, if you refuse to identify him, he is going to walk."
"What difference does it make? He’s going to come after me either way. I don’t care if he walks." But deep down she knew she did care. She knew she’d arrived at a turning point. She was one of those little faceless people behind the statistics who could make a difference. She was at a crossroads. She could run for her life or she could stand and fight. If she went forward against Bout, he’d be taken out of circulation. He wouldn’t hurt another woman the way she’d been hurt. But in the process, she might be sacrificed. An impossible position! This is why crime victims commit suicide.
"Look," she said. "Maybe tomorrow things will look different. Maybe we can do the lineup then."
Johnson pulled into the driveway at Donna’s place.
"Hey," he said, "a deer feeding in your yard."
"Get used to it. The hills are swarming with them. They work their way over from Lake Hollywood and eat everything in sight. Not to mention the coyotes who sneak into our yards whispering sweet nothings to our pet pooches. Imagine coming out to get the morning paper and finding Fifi’s coughed-up remains on the sidewalk. Face it, Johnson; wild animals are taking over everywhere you go."
"Well that takes the romance out of that."
"I’ll say good-night here," Jackie said. "And don’t worry about a good-night kiss. I’ll spare us the embarrassment."
"You’re sure."
"Johnson, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. We’re both tired. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good-night."
He stood watching as she worked her way up the three flights of flagstone ramps and onto the tree-shrouded front porch. The tree hid her from view as she opened the front door and went inside.
Chapter 24
"Jackie," Dr. Black said. "I am stunned. I don’t know how you managed it, but you have undergone a total transformation of your appearance. I wouldn’t have recognized you."
"You can thank Donna," Jackie said.
"Okay, so let’s get started. What is going on?"
"Yesterday, I responded to a woman’s touch," Jackie said. "A complete stranger, the masseuse at my hairdresser’s place. I was hungry for it. My whole body came to life. And last night, I turned Johnson down at the tail end of a semi-romantic evening. Dr. Black, I don’t know what’s happening to me. And when I am driving my car, I
never want to stop. I love that car. It makes me feel so powerful. Like I’m high on something."
"What’s happening is that since you’ve decided to seek help, your body is starting to let go of it’s tightly wound defenses. And letting it happen with another woman who was giving you a massage was just your way of safely allowing something to return that has been dormant. You’re starting to feel again. You’ve been numb up until now. "
"I must confess, though, right now it’s taking everything I’ve got just to stay in L.A. I was planning to run for it."
"Being a violent crime victim," Dr. Black said, "Requires an attitude of absolute defiance, a determination one will prevail at all costs. That’s the attitude you’ll need to stay in this fight. You have to walk out into the middle of the street and give God the finger."
"I’ll try."
"I’m glad," Black said. "Before we take our expedition to the place where you were attacked, I’ll need to work with you here for an hour or so."
Jackie had arrived at Black’s office bright and early. The office, with drapes closed and minimal lighting, took on the air of a secluded refuge from the world. Jackie had thrown away her old sweats and instead wore a pale-blue T-shirt and a faded pair of Calvin’s borrowed from her sister. Black, in her usual high-color-spectrum fashion, wore a pair of crisp, robin’s-egg-blue slacks combined with a striking metallic hot-orange tee, topped off with an amethyst ring the size of a California avocado pit. A large calico cat crouched by her chair, green eyes wide and locked onto Jackie’s like a laser sighting device.
"Nice cat," Jackie said.
Black picked up the cat and stroked her fur. "This is Kali. I named her after the Tibetan goddess of death and destruction. As a kitten, she was very fond of going on rampages before mealtimes."
"Everybody I’ve met lately seems to have a thing for animals. I had dinner last night with a friend who takes his dog everywhere, even to trendy restaurants. I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t get some kind of animal myself. A tiger, perhaps, or a rogue bull elephant."
Jackie's Week Page 10