"I guess, but you never know. It sure would be a big treat for Pen. She's never been to the circus." "Have you?" "Once. Grandpa and Aunt Helen took me when I was about Pen's age.
It's funny, you know. I remember being confused, because there was so much to look at. And the clowns made me cry. I thought they were sad. They had these teardrops painted on their cheeks, and their smiles were upside down. Even after Aunt Helen explained, I still couldn't laugh at anything they did. It's silly, but that's what I remember."
"Kids get some funny ideas," he said kindly. "I could never watch the trapeze artists because I was convinced they were going to fall. And I hated the wild animal tamers. I wanted the lions and tigers to eat them."
She laughed. "No kidding," he said. "Those guys going into the cages and cracking their whips, waving chairs. It didn't seem fair."
He pulled into the driveway, put the car in neutral and got out his wallet. "Here's my card," he said. "I've been meaning to give you my number but I kept forgetting. I've got an answering machine, so you can always leave a message."
"Thank you." With an impish smile, she said, "Maybe I'll call you up one night for a telephone visit." "That's the general idea," he said playfully, reaching for her hand.
Eva's shoulder ached and her thigh throbbed from the vicious kick he'd given her. But what hurt most was her self-esteem. She felt devalued, minimized by what was happening here. No one, not even in play, had ever struck her. Her mind kept recoiling from the fact of this man's having handled her so brutally.
It felt as if the three of them had been sitting in this room for days. Joe seemed to have taken up a permanent position by the windows, turning every other minute to check the driveway, the gun in his hand hanging by his side. She despised him, wanted him out of their home, out of their lives; she wanted him dead. How had Bobby managed to live with this creature for eight years? How had she survived all those weeks and months of torture? Just over an hour in this man's company had Eva thinking murderous thoughts and feeling horribly soiled. To think she'd held Bobby somehow responsible for the abuse she'd described! She looked over at her aunt, recalling the way Joe had struck her, and every muscle in her body went tight with fury.
She suspected that their lives would never again be the same because of this man, because of his invasion of their home, and she raged inwardly at this violation of their privacy, of their persons. She'd read about people like him but she'd never imagined she'd actually encounter one. Ian had been nothing like this. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe, given the proper circumstances, he'd have been precisely like this: a deranged bully, a small man whose only power lay in terrorizing women. Why was she thinking about Ian now? It didn't help.
Alma looked at Eva, watched her battling with her anger. It was ironic, Alma thought. This demented man holding them hostage was, in many ways, like the living embodiment of her stroke. The stroke had reduced her to a captive; this man now held them both captive. He was like a maverick blood clot that had exploded, short-circuiting their lives, drastically reducing their mobility, curtailing their freedom. And it had only just begun. He had come to do damage and he wouldn't leave until he'd satisfied that urge. She was filled with dread, and infuriated by her helplessness.
"Here they come!" Joe declared, peering out through a crack in the curtains. He stepped away from the window and looked first at Alma, then at Eva. To Eva he said, "You're going to go open the door and tell them to come on in, both of them." Eva opened her mouth to protest, and Joe said, "I'm going to be waiting right here with Grandma." He went over to the wheelchair and held the gun to the side of Alma's head. "Say or do anything funny and I'll take her out. Now go get them in here!"
Her body feeling impossibly heavy, Eva started for the door. She didn't want to do this. She wanted to fling open the door and scream at Bobby and Dennis to run for help. But she didn't dare. Alma's life was at stake. She knew this despicable man wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Quaking with fear and mounting anger, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Dennis was opening the passenger door for Bobby. Eva couldn't seem to make herself speak. Behind her, from just inside the living room, Joe Salton whispered harshly, "Get them here! Do it, or your mother's dead meat!"
Oh, God! Eva wet her lips. Bobby was looking over questioningly.
"Could you both come in for a moment?" Eva said, her heart seeming to sink in her chest. She felt like a traitor.
"What's the matter?" Bobby asked, quickly crossing the driveway, at once thinking something was wrong with Penny.
Dennis followed her, assuming from Eva's distressed expression that Alma quite possibly had had another stroke.
Eva backed away from the door, moving to the living room, where, peripherally, she could see Joe standing directly in front of Alma, the gun raised. Oh, God, oh, God! She couldn't bear this, wished she were dreaming, wished this were another nightmare she could shove aside through sheer willpower.
Bobby was asking, "What's wrong? What's happened?" as she came through the door, Dennis at her heels.
"Surprise, surprise!" Joe Salton exclaimed with a happy laugh, both hands holding the gun steady, assuming a classic shooter's stance, knees slightly bent, elbows close together.
Don't let this happen! Eva prayed silently, the four of them watching the man with the gun as he thumbed off the safety catch with an audible click.
Thirty-Three
Alma summoned all her strength and heaved herself up out of the chair and lunged at Joe Salton, throwing him to one side as the gun went off with a great roar. Someone screamed. Fairly deafened and completely off balance, Alma was already falling when Joe swung around, gave her a mighty kick, swung back again, the gun like a pointing finger aimed at those still standing, and shouted, "Nobody fuckin' move!"
Penny was awakened by a big noise. It was so loud that it made her heart go very fast. Slipping out of bed, she ran barefoot to the bottom of the stairs, where she stood for a second, listening. Then she ran up the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. Nobody there. She could hear a man yelling in the living room. She knew that voice and it scared her. Holding her breath, she tiptoed through the kitchen and leaned into the doorway to look across the hall. One quick look. Her heart jumped and she was even more scared. She turned and ran as fast as she could back through the kitchen toward the apartment door.
She wanted to lock the door, but if she did her mom wouldn't be able to get in, so she pushed it almost shut, then scrambled down the stairs to where it was dark, the only light coming from the open bathroom door. Her thumb automatically popping into her mouth, she looked over at the stairs, trying to think what to do, her heart beating fast fast fast, worried about her mom and Granny and Auntie Eva. Dennis too.
She looked around, saw the telephone, remembered what Granny had taught her. She darted over and snatched up the receiver, pushed the numbers. When the lady answered, she whispered, "My daddy's here and he's hurtin' everybody. I don't know what to do." The words came tumbling out almost faster than she could say them, her heart going so hard she could barely catch her breath.
"Slow down now and say that again."
Penny repeated what she'd said, her eyes on the stairway, afraid to see the door fly open and Daddy come racing down the stairs after her. He'd hurt her, the way he did that last time when he'd been making lots of noise and it woke Penny up so she went to see and it made him mad so he hit her and threw her all the way across the room.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Penny Salton."
"And how old are you?"
"I'm six. He's upstairs and he's got a gun. He hurted Dennis and my granny. He's gonna do bad things to my mom. You gotta make him stop."
"He's got a gun?"
"Yeah. He's shootin'. I'm scared." "I know you are. Just talk to me. Okay? Do you know your address? Can you tell it to me?" "Uh-hunh." Penny recited it, dancing from one foot to the other. "You gonna send policemen?"
"Yes, we are. You stay on the line with me now. Oka
y?"
"Okay."
"Where are you, Penny?"
"I'm downstairs."
"And where's everybody else?"
"They're up in the livin' room. Dennis and Granny're lyin' on the floor. Daddy hurted them. Send the policemen to make him stop!" "Who else is there, Penny?" "My mom and my Auntie Eva." Penny felt as if she was going to have an
accident and had to hold her knees very tight together. She kept her eyes on the stairway, clutching the receiver with both hands. "I don't want anything bad to happen!"
"Okay, sweetheart. I know. Just stay on the line with me. Okay? We're going to send help. Okay?"
"Okay. But hurry!"
Bobby knew she should've been terrified but somehow she wasn't. She'd gone far beyond terror, into a region of numb acceptance. From the moment she'd taken Penny and driven away from the house in Jamestown, she'd known something like this was bound to happen. It had only ever been a matter of time before Joe found her. She'd always believed he would. There was nowhere she could've gone where he wouldn't have found her. He'd warned her a thousand times that if she tried to run from him he'd kill her. She'd been a fool to think, even for a moment, that he wouldn't make good on that threat; to hope she and Penny could have a decent life somewhere new, without him. Her prime regret was that she'd caused this to happen in this house, to these people. Dennis was slumped in the doorway, shot. His hand was dripping with blood. The sight of that bloodied hand filled her with sorrow and shame. She didn't want him to die, especially not because of her. She wasn't worth anyone's dying over.
Eva moved to help Alma, but Joe, never taking his eyes from Bobby, snarled, "Stand still, bitch! She can stay there!"
"Don't hurt anybody else, Joe," Bobby said, her ears ringing from the gunshot, her voice sounding as if it came from a great distance. "They have nothing to do with us."
"Don't give me that shit! You think I don't know what you've been up to with that asshole? How long've you been sneaking around behind my back with that jerk?"
"He's just a friend," she said, knowing he wouldn't believe anything she said. All she could hope for was to get him out of the house before he did any more damage. He was going to kill her anyway. But maybe she could talk him into leaving here. If she had to die, at least she could try to spare these good people the sight of it. She glanced anxiously at Dennis, praying he wasn't too badly injured. This was all her fault; she wanted so badly to tell Alma and Eva and Dennis how sorry she was; she never meant to bring any of this down on their heads.
"What the fuck you think you're doing, taking off on me that way?" Joe raged, trying to keep track of everyone. The old broad was moaning and groaning behind him. For all he knew, she might try some other stunt. "You," he said to Eva, "get your fucking mother back in her wheelchair." He moved half a dozen feet to the right in order to keep his eye on them all. Too many goddamned people to keep track of here. He hadn't counted on that.
"He's yellin' and screamin'," Penny whispered into the receiver, wedging herself into the narrow gap between the sofa and the wall, hiding where she hoped nobody could find her. "When's somebody gonna come? You said the policemen were comin'."
"Soon, sweetheart. They're on the way now. You're doing just fine. Try to stay calm. I know you're scared, but you're doing real well. Stay on the line with me now, okay?"
"Okay, but tell them to hurry. I don't want him to hurt nobody else."
"They're on their way. They'll be there any minute. I promise."
"He's bad," Penny said passionately, "very, very bad. That's why we runned away from him." "You ran away? From where?" From Jamestown, where we used to live." "Jamestown, New York?" "Yeah. When're they comin'?” "Soon now. Don't worry. What grade're you in, Penny?" "First grade. My teacher's Mrs. Corey. Oh!" she cried, startled. "He's shoutin' again! I want it to stop!"
"Does he know where you are?"
"Unh-uh. I'm hidin'."
"Good girl. You stay where you are. Help's on the way. Now tell me
about the house, Penny. Do you think you could describe it to me?" "Uh-hunh." "Great. You're doing real well. Now tell me where the doors are. Okay?"
Alma had no strength left. The man's kick had caught her squarely in the chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Now it hurt to breathe. Eva struggled to get her back into the chair. Alma wanted to help, tried, but could-n't, and Eva couldn't manage to move her. Eva's face was dark and twisted. Rage glowed in her eyes.
"I need help," Eva said angrily. "I can't manage alone." She wanted to fly at the son of a bitch, rip him to pieces. Containing her fury required a mammoth effort of will. But she didn't dare take any chances now. All she could do was try to help her aunt and hope Dennis wasn't too badly injured.
"Go help her," Joe told Bobby, waving her over with the gun.
Whispering, "I'm sorry," Bobby bent to help Eva lift Alma back into the chair. "I'm really sorry." She smoothed Alma's hair with a cold, trembling hand.
"It's not your fault," Alma gasped.
Tears welled in Bobby's eyes. She'd brought horror into this lovely home. Everything was ruined now. "Shut the fuck up and get over here!" Joe ordered. Bobby moved away from the wheelchair but kept her distance from him,
looking over at Dennis, whose eyes were half-closed, his hand now hidden inside his coat. "Dennis needs an ambulance," she said. "Who gives a shit! It wasn't for that fucking old broad that asshole'd be dead right now. I said get over here!"
Was Penny sleeping through this? Bobby wondered. Please don't let her wake up and come trying to find out what all the noise is about. If she stayed downstairs she'd be safe. Joe wouldn't even think of her. He was always forgetting about Penny. So far as he was concerned, Pen didn't exist. Stay asleep, Pen, she prayed; please stay asleep.
"You hear me?" Joe bellowed. "I said get over here! Now! Or I'll finish off your boyfriend." He again aimed the gun at Dennis.
Resigned, lowering her head, Bobby approached him. Maybe Dennis wasn't too badly hurt. Maybe everyone would be okay if she could only somehow get Joe away from the house.
He leaped forward and smacked her across the face. "Leave her alone!" Eva shrieked. Her control was slipping away; she could feel herself on the verge of doing something wild. Her fingernails dug into
her palms. Her arms quivered with tension. She had to find some way to stop this. She couldn't just stand by while another friend died. "Mind your own goddamned business!" Joe warned, getting a handful of Bobby's hair and dragging her forward. Her head pulled painfully to one side, Bobby said quietly, "I'll go with you. Just leave these people alone. They've got nothing to do with us." "You don't tell me what to do!" he raved, threading his fingers deeper into her hair, pulling harder, dragging her down even farther.
In the brief silence there was a solid authoritative knock at the front door. For a moment Joe froze. Fuck! One of the neighbors must've heard the shot, called the cops. How the hell'd they get there so fast? All of a sudden now he was running out of time, and he couldn't decide how he wanted to handle this. He could take Bobby out right now, put the gun to her head and do it. He aimed at the top of her head, his finger sweaty on the trigger. He'd counted on it lasting longer, prolonging the whole thing. He wanted to enjoy the power. More knocking at the front door, harder this time.
"They're coming," the 911 lady said. "They're on your street."
"Somebody's poundin' on the door."
"It'll all be over soon."
"But he's still yellin'."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything's going to be okay."
Penny didn't think so. The police had come before, when they lived in the old house, and sometimes they took Daddy away, but he always came back and hurted her mom some more.
"You there, Penny?"
"Uh-hunh."
"Good girl. Just stay on the line with me. Okay?"
"Okay."
At the door a voice said loudly, "Police. Open up!"
"Back off!" Joe shouted. "Back off or I'll take t
hem all out!"
"Come on, man," the voice said through the door. "Just chill out and talk to us!"
"FUCK OFF!" Joe screamed, waving the gun at Alma, then Eva, maintaining a fierce grip on Bobby's hair. Again pounding at the door. "Come on. Open up!" Joe pointed the gun at the window and let off a round. Glass shattered. The sound of running feet moving off. Silence. Now
they all could hear the chattering of the police radio. * "He's shootin' again!" Penny cried.
"I can hear it. Stay where you are, Penny. Okay? We're sending in some special people to help. They're on their way. They'll be there any minute now."
"What special people?" Penny's heart was going too fast again, and she was really afraid she was going to have an accident. She had to go badly.
"A SWAT team. They're already on their way."
"What's a SWAT?"
The 911 lady began explaining. Penny's ear was starting to hurt from holding the receiver so hard.
Alma was getting her breath back. It still hurt when she inhaled or exhaled but at least she could catch a deep breath.
"Why not just give up?" she said quietly, in the lull.
Joe turned to look at her.
"There's no possibility of your getting away," she said reasonably. "Give up now before you do any more damage."
Joe looked astonished, as if a statue had come to life and begun speaking. "The point, Grandma, is damage," he said, half smiling, giving Bobby's hair another yank for good measure. Bobby didn't make a sound. Tears dripped off the tip of her nose.
"Let go of your wife's hair," Alma said, keeping her tone low and reasonable. "You're not proving anything by hurting someone who's smaller and weaker than you are."
His smile dissolved. "Shut the fuck up!" he said, but with considerably less than his previous energy, responding instinctively to Alma's natural authority. This old broad had guts. She reminded him of his second grade teacher, Miss Hastings.
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