Killing Ways

by Alex Barclay

  Dainty turned toward him. Her smile was mocking. He looked down at his erection, back up at her.

  She blinked a few times.

  Fuck you, you junkie bitch.

  She reached out her arm, rolled to the edge of the bed and picked up her guitar. She slid it toward herself, sat up against the wall and began to play, began to sing.

  You have a beautiful voice. Such a beautiful voice.

  He closed his eyes. Nothing like your mama’s.

  ‘That’s real beautiful, Dainty,’ he said. ‘But I need you to take care of this!’ he said.

  Or I’m gonna come over and stuff it in your face. I’m gonna pry open your jaws and choke you with it.

  Instead, she started a new song. A four-chord song. ‘It’s a new one,’ she said. ‘Here goes: found his pills inside his pants, pops them so he’s got a chance, swore he’d never love another, he ain’t Harry, he’s my brother.’

  She ended on a flourish, broke out in a cackling laugh. ‘Harris – Harry! That was funny. You gotta admit that was funny.’

  Oh, you dumb bitch. You dumb, dumb bitch.

  Then she broke down and cried, and her guitar fell to the floor with a bang and the dull sound of tuneless strings.

  Hours later, Dainty drifted out of her terrible sleep. She could feel water pouring down on her.

  It wasn’t water. He was standing over her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said. ‘Oh my God!’

  She tried to roll out from under the flow, and it was then her body erupted in pain. She screamed. All the realizations happened at once: she was naked, she was cold, she was wet, terribly wounded, she was bleeding.

  ‘No,’ she moaned, ‘no, no, no, no.’

  And there are no drugs to numb you now.

  She started shivering violently.

  He was laughing as he zipped up his fly. He raised his foot and kicked her hard.

  She howled in pain, howled again.

  ‘Get up,’ he said.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said. Her words were slurred, but edging into hysteria. ‘Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you? I’m going to be one of your victims now? We’re family …’

  ‘Run, rabbit, run,’ he said.

  She whimpered. ‘I can’t. I’m—’

  He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up off the ground. Her legs buckled underneath her. He tried to steady her. They buckled again.

  ‘No!’ she sobbed. ‘No. Just look at me. Look at me. No.’ She tried to control her sobs. ‘Please don’t, please. I love you. You know I do. I love you, Harris! I love you.’

  Duke stared at her. ‘People like us … we don’t know what love is.’

  54

  Ren called in sick the next day. She had barely slept, and spent most of the day laying on the sofa, staring at the Wall of Horrors. She tried to stop, tried to watch a box set, tried to do anything to take her mind off her mind.

  I am jumping out of my skin.

  Her cell phone rang. Janine.

  Can’t face her. It’s the phone – no faces. Still.

  She let it go to voicemail, then listened to the message.

  ‘Hey, there – heard you’re sick. Hope you’re feeling better. If you need anything, let me know. Oh, and you’re invited to dinner at Terri’s – she’s just moved into a new place. She’d love to meet you! OK … call me. Hope you’re cozy.’

  She put down the phone and it rang immediately.

  Glenn Buddy.

  I can’t face him.

  Don’t want to talk to anyone.

  I can’t imagine speaking, having that energy.

  The world is fucked up.

  The world is fucking me up.

  She let the call go to voicemail.

  I don’t even have the energy to listen.

  Curiosity killed the cat.

  She checked the message.

  ‘Ren, I’m calling with some good news. We got the guy – the hit-and-run of your friend on Mardyke Street: two young kids on a joy ride: not the Big Bad Wolf. So, no one is out to get you.’ He ended with his big laugh.

  I’m crazier than the alien Sedalia lady.

  Ren ignored food and calls for the rest of the day, then wandered into her bedroom, sat on the bed, and picked up a novel she had started four times before. It was great, but it all felt too trivial. Bigger things were happening out there. There were bigger things to think of. She stared at her toenails – perfectly manicured in blood red. And she thought about female victims on autopsy tables, their lives cut short in all states of grooming and how one could be preserved forever, toenails in need of a pedicure, bikini line needing a wax.

  There’s a shitty motivation not to let yourself go.

  The intercom buzzer rang. Ren went over, checked the screen.

  Joe Lucchesi. What the what now?

  ‘Ren? Hi – sorry to call over like this – I know you’re sick. I just wanted to go through a few things. I hope I’m not crossing a line.’

  Of course you’re crossing a fucking line.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Ren. ‘Come on up.’ Draw me to sane considerations.

  She went over and pulled the curtain across the Wall of Horrors.

  I need to keep him contained in the micro-kitchen.

  Joe Lucchesi looked ridiculous in the kitchen. Ren had no choice but to bring him into the living room, so they could both breathe and not look like they were in Gulliver’s Travels.

  They talked through the case, but something about the conversation felt forced; the lapses into silence, the awkward pauses, the strands they struggled to politely disagree on.

  He has an agenda. I’m going to leave him so he can work himself up to getting to the point.

  ‘Can I get you more coffee?’ said Ren.

  ‘That would be great, thanks.’

  She went into the kitchen, made coffee, and came back in five minutes later. Joe was standing, with the curtain pulled all the way back, looking at the wall. He turned around.

  Whoa. Barely restrained fury.

  You heard about the Wall of Horrors! That’s why you’re here! Violation!

  ‘Why haven’t you told me some of this shit?’ said Joe. His eyes were ablaze.

  ‘This is my home,’ said Ren. ‘That was private.’ Fuck you, asshole.

  ‘This is my life!’ said Joe. ‘This is a picture of my … wife, for God’s sake.’

  ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘You have to understand this is … not for anyone else but me. That’s why it’s at home. I’m respecting your privacy, and my own. I’m putting stuff together; I’m not sure how some of these elements are connected or even if they are.’

  ‘There’s stuff up here that isn’t at Safe Streets,’ said Joe.

  Yes. My crazier ideas.

  ‘Why is Grace’s name up here?’ said Joe.

  ‘Because …’ I’m worried. I think she’s part of this. She’s a target … I don’t know. I can’t alarm you.

  ‘And Shaun’s!’ said Joe.

  ‘Their names are there because your family has been targeted before,’ said Ren. ‘And, obviously, Gary’s wife has been. Karen is up there too. This is not just about you. I’m up there myself, minus a photo. It’s about so many people. Victims …’

  ‘Why is there a question mark beside Grace’s name?’

  ‘A question mark – exactly. Because I don’t have enough information. I don’t know. I didn’t want to come to you with something I don’t know.’

  ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ said Joe. ‘Something I don’t know? Is Grace safe?’

  ‘Tell me again,’ said Ren, ‘Grace is seven or eight on her next birthday?’

  ‘Seven.’

  Ren nodded. ‘That’s good to hear. I had been wondering if her age was significant in terms of Rawlins wanting to hurt her, maybe, at the same age of that girl that Donald Riggs kidnapped the day you shot her – but she was eight years old.’

  Joe sat down.

  Exha
usted and wired, just like me.

  They sat in silence for a while.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ said Joe. He was studying the wall. ‘Who’s Devin?’

  ‘She’s my dog walker, a student from across the street from where I used to live. She’s been taking care of my dog, Misty. Devin was victim of a hit-and-run … she was dressed in my jacket. I was worried it was a case of mistaken identity. But I just got a call from DPD … they got the two kids involved – it was a regular hit-and-run. And yes, they’re a regular occurrence around here.’

  ‘Anything else about all this you want to talk to me about, any ideas you want to bounce off me?’ said Joe, calming somewhat.

  ‘To be honest, I’m tired looking at it,’ said Ren. ‘It’s all I think about.’

  Joe stood up. He looked at his watch. ‘In that case, come on … let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I could do for intruding. There’s a great bar around the corner from my hotel. Smallest bar I’ve ever been in.’

  ‘As long as the measures are big.’

  The bar was minuscule, styled like a gentleman’s club, august, austere, its atmosphere ruffled by Joe Lucchesi and Ren Bryce drinking and laughing for four hours’ straight. They ordered a final drink.

  ‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘It’s time for me to ’fess up.’

  I am now nervous. And having a slight spike of sobriety. Annnd it’s gone.

  ‘I probably should have said this sooner,’ said Joe, ‘but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

  ‘Is there a reason why you want to make me uncomfortable now?’

  He laughed. ‘Well, I think you’ll handle it. I don’t think there are a lot of things you can’t handle.’

  LOL.

  His face went a little serious. ‘Just … there’s something about you that reminds me of my wife …’

  Did NOT see that coming. And I have been looking at her photo for days.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ren. Annnd now it all makes sense. ‘Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.’ Dead-wife stuff is a minefield.

  ‘I’m sorry if that made me treat you any differently,’ said Joe. ‘It kind of freaked me out. And I think Shaun had the same reaction when he saw you – he came off as a bit rude. I’m sure you saw that. He’s not. Anna was slim like you, a little shorter maybe, but similar coloring, she had that … edge …’ He laughed. ‘But it was more “French” – fiery in a moody way. You – there’s something dangerous about you. Like, it’s what you’re looking out for. Anna wasn’t. But she got it – the world at its worst. Because of me.’

  ‘You can’t keep blaming yourself …’ said Ren.

  Joe shrugged.

  But you don’t know any other way to live.

  ‘Have you been to therapy?’ said Ren. ‘I ask with zero expectation of a positive response.’

  Joe laughed. ‘Correct. No, I have not.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate it,’ said Ren. Look how amazing I’ve turned out!

  ‘It’s not going to happen,’ said Joe. ‘Not now. I’m good. I’ve got the kids. Grace saved my life.’

  I know. You told me. We all have stories. This is your ‘story’. But I’m guessing you don’t get a chance to tell it all that often. And you probably need to.

  ‘I literally don’t know what I would have done without her,’ said Joe. ‘But I would bet that I wouldn’t have made it. I will never forget when she was born and she was whisked off to one side, and Anna was in such distress, and Grace wasn’t breathing, and I was there and it was fucking terrifying. It was like … I can’t describe it. Next thing, I hear Grace crying, and the relief, I can’t express it. But then, Anna … Anna was gone, just like that. The alarms were going off, left and right, I was pushed out of the room, and they were working on Anna. It was like … like her last breaths … went to Grace. That’s what the timing was like. It fucked with my head for a long time. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. But when they handed me Grace … I … I was blown away. She was this perfect, beautiful little thing. And, that was that, she got my heart. Right there. I was gone. She was mine, I was hers.’

  My mascara. More details this time.

  They descended into silence.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told a woman that story before,’ said Joe.

  Ren wiped away tears. ‘Jesus … maybe don’t. I mean …’ if I was on a date with you, I’d be so outta there.

  ‘I know, heavy stuff,’ said Joe. ‘You’re easy to talk to, I guess.’ He took a breath. ‘The graduation … isn’t the only reason I brought Grace; we have a doctor’s appointment. For test results. Well, he’s a pediatric gastroenterologist, the best in the country. Grace hadn’t been gaining weight for the past few months. We’re not sure why. I … I can’t bear to imagine …’

  Jesus Christ. ‘Don’t imagine,’ said Ren. ‘I know that’s probably impossible, but wait and see. Worrying won’t help anyone. Grace looks like a very healthy little girl – this could be a temporary thing, a food allergy, I don’t know.’

  Joe nodded. ‘That’s what I keep telling myself.’

  She put her hand on his arm.

  Possibly inappropriate.

  ‘Sorry I was an asshole to you …’ said Joe.

  ‘You were fine.’

  He laughed. ‘You thought I was an asshole.’

  ‘Maybe. But I don’t any more.’ Which is a total disaster. Because now I’m back to finding you as attractive as when I first saw you at the airport.

  Go home, Ren. Go home. This would be a good time to go home.

  55

  Duke Rawlins sat at the bar of the Maker Hotel, in the final flat and yellowing stages of a pint of Guinness. He rubbed his jaw – the side without the scar, which he had covered with hair sprayed from a can of tiny fake hairs. They wouldn’t last long, but from a reasonable distance you could never tell. He still had the shaved head – that was a good look, that wasn’t in the picture that was released to the public. He had walked by his face on newsstands everywhere. It was an old face. No one had done a double take yet.

  Duke watched as Joe Lucchesi walked into the lobby, loose-limbed, unsteady on his feet, searching his pockets for his key card. There was a woman behind him, dressed in black, slim, laughing. She turned toward the darkness of the bar. Duke felt his heart pound wildly – it was like the first time he saw her run down the steps to her Jeep outside Safe Streets, how it was like seeing a ghost. Or close enough. She was a little taller than Anna Lucchesi, but if he got her on all fours that wouldn’t matter. And if it was from behind, with her dark hair yanked back, balled into his fist, she could easily pass for Anna Lucchesi. Anna Lucchesi had had a powerful effect on him.

  Ren Bryce! Bipolar support drinking buddy!

  Right now, this special agent was leaning in to Joe Lucchesi, he was leaning into her. Two birds, one stone!

  Joe was guiding her to the elevators, his hand on her lower back. Something was going on with these two. They were close. And this one was wild. He’d seen her drink. He’d seen her run into that burning barn. He’d seen her discharge her weapon, over and over. She was something different.

  He laughed. There were so many ways to hurt Joe Lucchesi.

  This time, he would make him watch.

  56

  Joe opened the door of the hotel room, slid the key card into the wall slot. Ren followed him in.

  ‘Drink?’ said Joe.

  ‘Yes, please.’ Go home now.

  Joe crouched down and opened the mini-bar. ‘What do you like?’

  ‘Champagne. It’s love more than like.’ But champagne’s not very appropriate, is it? Jesus, relax. It’s a drink. What’s the worst that can happen? Ben finds a cork in my bag. That’s not the worst. You know that. Stop. Leave now. This is dangerous. Don’t be ridiculous. You’d never cheat on Ben. Again. That doesn’t count. What does count? You’d kill Ben if he did this. I would. Go. No. It’s just a drink.

  Joe had already popped the cork. ‘Champagne it is!’ he said. He poure
d them both a glass. They raised them, clinked them.

  ‘It’s a beautiful room,’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, let’s just say I have a very wealthy father who insisted, because of the shitshow that is my life, on giving me a huge chunk of my inheritance so I wouldn’t have to be “hanging around, waiting for him to die”. That’s his sense of humor. I fought against his money for years, and then, I just gave in. More for Grace than me. I make sure she appreciates every bit of it, that’s for sure.’

  ‘And just so we’re clear, I’m appreciating this room a lot. And I think I used your father’s approach on Dainty Farraday …’

  She sat against the dressing table, then slid up on top of it. Joe was sitting on the table opposite her, a little to the right. The bed was a vast, ignored space, ahead of her.

  They finished the bottle, swapping war stories, laughing. Joe went to the mini-bar and pulled out two vodkas and tonics.

  Don’t come near me.

  He walked over to her, stood in front of her, but instead of handing her the drink, he didn’t move. His thighs were touching against her legs. He looked into her eyes. She could barely focus on them.

  You are a sexy man’s man. I am weakened by sexy men’s men. Man’s men? Men. All men.

  Joe put the drinks onto the dressing table. With his right hand, he reached out, sliding it behind her neck, lifting up her hair, leaning down to kiss her neck all the way up to her mouth.

  Neck first, nice move. Very nice. I want you. But I may not mean it.

  Joe pulled her toward him.

  ‘OK … wait,’ said Ren. ‘This … isn’t right. We shouldn’t be doing this.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Joe, ‘Why not?’

  Where do I start? ‘I have a boyfriend. I—’

  Joe looked at her.

  Ren laughed. ‘You need a better reason, obviously.’ How about: I remind you of your dead wife?

  Joe retreated, sat on the bed. ‘Well, I guess telling you that you reminded me of Anna wasn’t a smooth move.’

  ‘I’m guessing at that point neither of us thought we’d wind up back here.’ She sat down beside him.

  ‘True,’ said Joe.

  ‘So let’s just keep drinking,’ said Ren. She raised her glass, and stood back up again.