by Ray Garton
Another woman raped, but probably not by the serial rapist who had already attacked four women in town ... a missing corpse that apparently was not a corpse after all ... and ... an animal. Hurley released a heavy sigh as walked down the corridor.
The Pine County Rapist, Hurley thought as he pushed the button to summon the elevator. It would be nice if Emily had killed the rapist for them. But Hurley had his doubts. For one thing, nobody had reported that the rapist had such a bad odor. Emily said her attacker reeked, and everyone how’d come in contact with the John Doe confirmed it. And so far, the Pine County Rapist had killed no one, while Emily’s attacker had, according to her, been trying to kill her. The Pine County Rapist wore a mask, Hurley knew that much, a cheap Halloween mask, and Emily had said nothing about a mask. It certainly didn’t sound—or smell—like the Pine County Rapist, who was described by two of his five victims as smelling of some kind of cologne or aftershave, although they’d been unable to identify it.
* * * *
Hugh Crane pulled the RAV4 into his driveway, waited for the automatic garage door to open, then pulled into the garage. Before going home, he’d stopped at the all-night Walgreens Drugs to fill the prescription for Valium that the doctor had given Emily.
She slept beside him, her head leaning against the window at her right as she snored purringly. The kids were sound asleep in back. He reached over and put his hand on Emily’s shoulder, nudged her gently.
“Em? Em, honey? We’re home.”
She did not stir at first. Hugh hoped she’d wake up, because there was no way he could carry her into the house—she simply was too heavy.
“Emily? Honey?” He shook her carefully, not wanting to startle her.
“Mmmm?”
“We’re home. Come on, let’s go inside.”
Finally, she lifted her head and looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She smacked her lips as she sat up, then opened her door.
Once inside the house, he put his arm around her and said, “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”
She did not argue. They went up the stairs slowly, then down the hall and into the bedroom. She went to the bed, sat down on the edge, turned on the lamp on her side. She just sat there for a long moment, then started to unbutton her torn and dirty blouse. She stood and Hugh helped her undress.
“I want to take a bath,” she said.
“Of course, of course. I’ll start it for you.” He went into the attached bathroom and ran the bath. When he came out again, she was wearing her blue robe. He put an arm around her and led her into the bathroom.
“I’m fine now,” she said. “I can ... y’know ... take it from here.”
“Okay. Just call me if you need anything. I’m gonna get the kids and put them to bed.”
She nodded.
Hugh left the bathroom and closed the door. He went out to the garage and woke the kids up in the backseat, brought them inside and put them to bed, carrying Jeannie. That done, he went back to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. “Everything okay?” he said.
“Yeah, fine,” she said. The bath was thick with sudsy bubbles. Her eyes were puffy, as if she’d been crying.
“Okay. I’ll be right outside.”
He closed the door, went to his side of the bed, and turned on the bedside lamp.
Before they left the hospital, a rape counselor had come to talk to Emily, a thin, pale woman with mousy brown hair in a bun, wearing a long blue coat and carrying a large leather bag slung over her shoulder. She wore large glasses, spoke in a high, tremulous voice, and had a pinched, thin-lipped smile. She’d gone behind the curtain and she and Emily had spoken in quiet voices for awhile. She’d left a card with Emily and told her to give her a call when she was feeling better physically and wanted to talk. Emily had given the card to Hugh, and he’d put it in his pocket. He took it out now and looked at it. It read, simply, DIANE CONNIVER, with a phone number below that. He put the card on the nightstand, along with the bottle of Valium.
Hugh took off his clothes and put on his plush dark-green robe. He stretched out on the bed with his back against the headboard. He used the remote to turn on the television so Emily wouldn’t hear him talking in the bathroom, then he picked up the phone and punched in Vanessa’s number.
She sounded sleepy when she answered. “‘Lo?”
“Hi. It’s me.”
“Hey. What’s up?”
He sighed. “I got her home. She’s in the tub.”
“What happened?”
He gave her a brief version of the night’s events.
“God, that’s awful.”
“But you know what?” he whispered.
“Hm?”
“I wish I was with you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Vanessa said. “But she needs you now.”
He was silent for a long moment. Then: “I have an empty house I’m showing. Can you meet me during your lunch hour tomorrow?”
“You’re going to work tomorrow? Don’t you think you should stay home with her?”
“Yeah, I’m going to call in, say I can’t work tomorrow. But I can get away for your lunch hour. The house is on Clauson.”
“Sorry, I can’t tomorrow.”
“You can’t? Why?”
“I have plans.”
“Plans?”
“Yes.”
“Well ... what kind of plans?”
She was silent for a long moment. Finally, she took in a breath and said, “Hugh, you know, you don’t have any exclusive claim over me.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“You realize that, don’t you?” Vanessa said.
“What do you mean? Are you saying ... are you seeing someone else?”
“You’re married, Hugh. There’s no real future for us, right? On the other hand, I’m single and free, and ... well, I’m taking advantage of that.”
Hugh felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “Then you’re seeing someone else.”
“I’m not saying if I’m seeing someone else or not, I’m just saying that I’m free to see someone else if I want. Understand?”
“Are you ... am I ... am I losing you?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying that for me to devote myself exclusively to you would be a waste of my time, because our relationship isn’t going any further than it’s gone already. Understand?”
He said nothing for awhile—he didn’t like it, but he could not think of a good way to argue against it. Then: “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
“Good. Now, maybe I can see you the next day. Will that house still be available?”
“Sure.”
“Good. It’s a date. My lunch hour on Thursday, then.”
After he hung up, Hugh sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone, frowning. He imagined Vanessa with another man and felt a pang of jealousy. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then stood. He set his alarm, took off his robe, and got into bed.
They’d met in the parking lot of the Safeway grocery store at the northern end of town. She’d hit the back fender of the RAV4 when she backed out of her parking space without looking. They’d both gotten out of their vehicles, exchanged insurance information, and Hugh had found himself, quite surprisingly, flirting with her. She was very attractive—tall and voluptuous with that beautiful auburn hair, milky skin, big dark-brown eyes and luscious, rosy, kissable lips. The flirting had been innocent at first, and she’d played along, laughing with him, reaching out and touching his arm a couple of times. Then he’d said it, surprising himself even more:
“How would you like to have lunch with me today?” He’d already bought his lunch in Safeway, intending to eat his pastrami sandwich in the car. He had almost two hours on his hands until he had to meet with a couple who were interested in seeing a house on Rampart just outside of town. But when he’d asked her to lunch, that sandwich in the paper bag on the passenger seat was immediately forgotten.
“Lunch, huh?” She’d l
ooked at his wedding ring quite obviously, then into his eyes. There had been a challenge in those brown eyes then, a question: Are you sure you know what you’re doing?
“Yes, lunch,” he’d said. “We could go right over there.” He pointed to the Perko’s in the front part of the Safeway parking lot.
“Sure,” she said. “Lunch sounds good.”
That was how it had started. The lunch had been slightly uncomfortable for Hugh because he was so attracted to her, he’d found it difficult to concentrate on their conversation.
He had never been unfaithful to Emily before, but things had changed between them. Emily had gained a lot of weight since having Jeannie three years ago. She’d become lazy, sometimes going for days without doing a bit of housework. She seemed to have lost interest in sex, and when they did make love, she was sluggish and tired easily. More often than not, she turned him down with one excuse or another—usually, “I’m too tired right now.” Hugh had begun to feel neglected without even realizing it. And his eyes had begun to wander. The excess fat on Emily’s body was a turn-off to him. The jiggling hanging flesh, the long jagged stretch marks, the patches of lumpy cellulite, the rolls of fat that went around the middle of her body like gelatinous belts. He found himself noticing other women more than ever before, fantasizing about them. Vanessa had come along at precisely the right time, and he did not waste any time in getting the relationship moving.
Ever since then, they had been getting together in empty houses. They had gone to a hotel over in Seaside a couple of times, but mostly they used the houses.
The bathroom door opened and Emily stood in the doorway a moment, clutching the robe together in front. Her hair was wet, her face clean, although her left eye was swollen and bruised. She came into the bedroom and went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled something out. She took off the robe, tossed it onto a chair, and quickly put on a pair of flannel pajamas she hadn’t worn in ages—they covered her from neck to ankle. Then she came over and got into bed.
Usually, Emily slept in the nude, like Hugh.
He reached over and touched her shoulder and said, “How are you feel—”
She jerked her shoulder away and her entire body stiffened under the covers.
“Okay, okay,” he said, pulling his hand back, “I’m sorry.”
After saying nothing for a long moment, she said, “Where are the Valium the doctor prescribed?”
Hugh said, “On your night stand.” He got out of bed and went to the bathroom and returned a moment later with a glass of water, which he handed to her. She took one of the pills and drank it down. She thought about it a moment, then drank down a second pill.
“Look, I’ll call into work tomorrow and tell them I can’t come in. I can get the kids off to school in the morning. Okay? You can stay in bed as long as you want.”
She stared at the television and said nothing for awhile. Then she nodded jerkily and said, “Okay. Thank you.”
“Maybe tomorrow you’d like to call the counselor who came in to see you tonight, Diane Conniver.”
She nodded once and whispered, “Maybe.”
He offered her the television remote and said, “Here, you can watch whatever you want.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t care. Really.”
He nodded, turned off the TV. “Well, maybe we should both get some sleep, huh? It’s late.”
She reached over and turned off the lamp on her side of the bed, punched her pillow once, and lay down on her left side, with her back to Hugh. She usually went to sleep on her back.
Hugh reached over and turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He yawned as he lay back and shifted around in the bed, trying to get comfortable. He wondered what this was going to do to Emily. Would she need therapy? Would she never let him touch her again? Would she gain more weight? As he thought about that possibility, he sighed and tried to think about something else, because he realized he did not really care anymore.
4
Morning in Big Rock
Wednesday
The coastal town of Big Rock, California, was named after the enormous boulder around which it was built. The boulder jutted from the earth in a conical shape, standing a full twenty-five feet high and about sixty feet across at the base, a mottled grey, speckled with bird droppings and spotted with dark-green moss. It stood in the middle of Hallwell Park, which was in the center of town. The park was named after Nathaniel Hallwell, founder of Big Rock. A bronze statue of Hallwell stood at the entrance to the park, but it was not nearly as impressive as the big rock.
Big Rock was the Pine County seat. It was the smallest county in the state of California, encompassing Big Rock, Seaside, and a few little villages including Borden and Raven’s Port. None of these towns and villages had their own police department and all were served by the County Sheriff’s Department.
On that Wednesday morning in January—the morning after the rape of Emily Crane and the evisceration of Deputy Billy Garrett—the rain stopped, a fog rolled in before dawn, and blanketed the town in a color very similar to that of the big rock itself. The sun rose over the mountains in the east, but no one saw it through the soupy mist. The low fog would dissipate later in the morning, leaving behind a steel-grey sky thick with clouds. The weatherman on the radio predicted more rain for the rest of the week, with no sunshine in sight.
* * * *
Hugh Crane’s digital clock-radio turned on and a newscaster began to talk loudly about more troops in Iraq killed by a car bomb, and the most recent drug binge by a young, rich, air-head celebrity. Without lifting his head from the pillow, Hugh reached over and slapped the clock-radio a few times before hitting the right button and turning it off. He sat up and yawned and rubbed his eyes, smacked his lips a few times.
He looked down at Emily, and the previous night came back to him in a rush. She’d said the man reeked, that he was filthy. Something about him being like an animal. Hugh shuddered at the thought. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch her comfortingly, but he did not want to wake her.
He got out of bed, took a shower, and got dressed. He shuffled down the hall, stopping at the kids’ rooms to wake them. He went downstairs to the kitchen.
The automatic coffee maker was already brewing coffee. He called his boss at Champion Realty at home, a chipper woman named Natalie Rayburn, and explained what had happened the night before. He told her he wouldn’t be in for the next couple days because he wanted to give Emily time to get back on her feet. She expressed concern, and told him to give Emily her best.
The kids shuffled into the kitchen one at a time as Hugh cooked a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.
“Where’s Mommy?” Jeannie said.
“Mommy’s not feeling well,” Hugh said. “She’s going to stay in bed for awhile.”
“Is she gonna be okay?” Donald said.
“I think so. But maybe not for awhile. Listen. Remember last night, when I told you Mom was attacked by a strange man?”
The children fell silent and stared at him with big eyes. They slowly nodded, one after another.
“Well, to save herself,” Hugh went on, “she had to ... to hurt the man who was attacking her, hurt him very badly. It’s a terrible thing to have to do that to someone, no matter what the reason. But he beat her up pretty bad, and he would’ve hurt her a lot worse if she hadn’t. So we’re all going to have to be very understanding with Mom, okay? That means we might all have to pitch in and do some housework. Can you do that for Mom?”
Again, they all nodded, their eyes wide.
They ate quietly after that.
When breakfast was over, he got the kids dressed. He drove Donald and Annie to school. On the way back, he sang songs with Jeannie.
Back at the house, he went upstairs to the bedroom and checked on Emily. She snored gently as she slept.
On his way back downstairs, he thought of Vanessa and wished he could see her that day. He was bothered that she was doin
g something else, with someone else. And he was bothered that it bothered him so much.
5
Andrea and Jimmy
Andrea Norton made breakfast for her husband as the baby, Marnie, sat in her high chair and flapped her arms, slapping the tray before her, smiling at nothing in particular. Andrea looked over at Marnie and she smiled, too. She was hit hard with an overwhelming feeling of love for the baby. It happened every time she smiled like that. Or winked at Andrea, or giggled or ... anything, really, it would just hit her so hard all of a sudden, an almost physical punch in the stomach, only it didn’t hurt, it felt so good—to be able to feel such love about something that hardly had begun to form yet. She was such a happy baby, so well-behaved. Andrea had never before seen a baby smile so much, and each time, that sudden gut-punch of enormous affection hit her.
Jenny, Andrea’s four-year-old, sat at the table on a couple of phonebooks and ate a bowl of cereal. The footstool she used to mount the phonebooks stood beside the chair. She was a tiny girl, but Andrea had been tiny at first, too, then she’d sprouted at puberty—Andrea expected the same thing to happen to Jenny.
“How do you like the cereal, sweetheart?” Andrea asked. It was a new cereal they’d never tried before—Jenny had loved the television commercial that advertised it, and had insisted on trying it.
Jenny looked at her mother and screwed her face up tightly. “It’s too fwooty!”
“Too fruity, huh? Well, you knew it was going to be fruity. It’s called Fruit Sparkles. Right?”
Jenny looked very deep in thought as she scooped another spoonful into her mouth. She chewed slowly, then turned to Andrea again. “But ... this is too fwooty!”
Andrea laughed quietly as Marnie suddenly released a happy squeal, high and shrill and long. The baby’s cry made Andrea cringe, and she looked over her shoulder to see if Jimmy had come into the kitchen yet.