The giant wall-mounted TV was on, a cable channel, something about a group of truck drivers attempting to cross a massive frozen lake before it melted. There were a great many remote controls spread out on the white glass coffee table, and neither of them knew how to change the channel. They endured it, watching in a distracted manner, simply trying to relax for a while following the hectic ordeal of the past two days. They tried not to think about the family tied up and gagged in Donnie's bedroom. They'd be fine in the long run; it was just a temporary necessity.
Dianne yawned theatrically and glanced over at Frank. She smiled and took a drink from her bottle. “Well, Father. I don't know about you, but I'm getting kind of sleepy. You think we ought to turn in?”
Frank withdrew a small bag from his pocket. “I thought I'd do a bit more coke, but just a little. A final taste for the day. I know you don't want any, but I'll offer anyway.”
She shook her head, her lips playing around the mouth of the bottle. “None for me. I'm pretty fucked up. I want to brush my teeth, wash my face and hit the sack.”
“What about a little more weed?” Frank asked.
Dianne laughed. “No thanks. I need a break. I'm going to go change the sheets on Mrs. Cuntface's bed.” She leaned forward and set her rum on the table, looking at Frank as she did. “Are you going to join me?”
Frank snorted a small amount of coke from his fingers. “Of course.”
“Should we... do anything about the people in there?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, should we feed them or something? Give them some water? Let them use the bathroom?”
Frank secured his baggie and tucked it away. “Do you want to do any of those things?”
“I don't know. I guess I'm feeling thankful for the use of their house. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give them a little something to eat or drink.”
“You've got a very kind heart.”
She scowled at him. “I do not.”
“You do,” he insisted. “There's no shame in that. We can give them whatever you'd like. We've just got to keep them anchored down. Give them one chance to turn the tables, and they will.”
“I just thought, you know, if it was me in there...” She shrugged. “I could see Cliff tying me up like that and leaving me to suffer.” She looked at him. “Maybe a little food and water. At least the kid. He seemed kind of nice, bringing me the tape and all.”
“He was rather well behaved. I could make a few more peanut butter sandwiches.”
Dianne laughed. “That would be perfect! Don't use up all the peanut butter on them, though. Save some for yourself.”
“I noticed they had several extra jars in the cupboard.”
“They've got everything in there.” She sat on the edge of the couch, swaying drunkenly back and forth. She realized she was happy. It almost scared her, how content she felt and how close Frank had become to her. She didn't think she'd be capable of any of this without him. It was a sobering thought, and one she knew she needed to spend more time with in the near future.
“They do indeed.” Frank leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Why don't you get the bed ready and I'll prepare them a little snack?”
“Okay.” She got to her feet and lost her balance immediately, falling onto the nearby loveseat and giggling. “God, I'm really drunk.”
Frank was smiling at her. “You're also beautiful.”
The words touched her heart. Could her life really have gotten this good so quickly? She felt better than she'd ever felt before. “I know a certain priest who's going to get lucky tonight for sure.”
“This priest got lucky the minute you walked into his church.”
Dianne stood, more carefully this time. She stepped over to Frank and bent over, kissing him softly on the mouth. “Thank you, Frank. For everything.”
“Thank you, as well. We make a good team.”
Dianne smiled. “We do indeed.”
“I'll meet you momentarily. In the master bedroom.”
She felt a thrill at the idea of sleeping in Mrs. Cuntface's bed. Of fucking Frank in that bed. But first she'd give the family a little something to eat and drink. She couldn't help feeling appreciative and didn't think having a kind heart was such a terrible trait.
She glanced around the room, at all the lovely things. It was her house now. At least for the time being. In this moment she was a queen, as affluent and deserving as anyone who'd ever lived. She loved it. As she sauntered down the hall to the bedroom she ran her fingers along the wall, loving the very house.
Her house.
Her world.
Her perfect life.
24. Prisoners
Saturday was nearly perfect. The two of them slept for as long as they could, waking up on occasion and then drifting back to sleep. Dianne made several trips to the kitchen and the bathroom, drinking lots of water to help alleviate her hangover. When they finally woke up for good, the sun just beginning to infiltrate the bedroom, she was well rested and her headache was almost completely gone.
They took turns in the bathroom, taking extra-long showers. It was a nice change from being on the road, or even being in her shitty apartment. Everything was so clean and new, right down to the bars of exotic soap and the thick bath towels. Mrs. Cuntface was obviously a good housekeeper. Dianne thought she'd mention it to her later, if she was still in the mood.
After a leisurely breakfast and several cups of coffee, Dianne threw some food together and brought a tray into Donnie's bedroom. The family, who hadn't moved since they were permitted to use the bathroom at gunpoint the afternoon before, appeared angry and sullen. The stench of urine filled the small room, dampening her good spirits and causing what remained of her hangover to intensify.
She set the tray down on Donnie's desk and waited for Frank to join her. They had to be fed one at a time with Frank holding the gun on them or they'd become emboldened. She didn't want that. She just wanted to keep them alive and then turn them loose in another day or two, whenever she decided it would be wise to leave. How she was going to go about turning them loose was still undecided.
“How can you stand it in here with that stink?” she asked. She walked to the window and slid it open, allowing a light breeze to filter in. “That's really disgusting. I hope you don't expect me to clean up after you.”
They stared at her, their eyes filled with hatred. She could sympathize with them if she tried. It was her desire not to try. It wouldn't do anyone any good.
She stood and waited for Frank, who arrived a moment later carrying his gun. He glanced at the bagels and mugs of water on the desk, and then at the family held captive on the floor. He was frowning, the smell of the stale piss obviously distressing him.
“Let's make this quick,” he said.
“Good idea. Which one first?”
“It hardly matters.” He bent over the man and tore the strip of tape loose from his mouth. His skin was red beneath it and he looked ready to kill.
“Fucking cocksucker,” he snarled. “If I ever get out of this, you're going to be the sorriest son of a bitch who ever lived.”
Dianne pressed a bagel to his mouth. “You've got one minute to eat. Hurry up.”
He used his head to knock the bagel out of her hand. “Fucking cunt! Get this tape off my hands!”
“Would you like a drink of water?” Frank asked, lifting a mug.
The man stared at him, fuming. “You probably cost me my job already. Just get this fucking tape off me and get the fuck out of here. This has gone on long enough!”
“Last chance,” Frank said. He held the mug near the man's mouth. “This is it for quite awhile.”
The man was about to protest further, but thought better of it. He was extremely thirsty. Doing his best to remain as contemptuous as possibly, he slurped several mouthfuls of water from the mug and swallowed them down. “I'll see you dead, priest. That's a fucking promise. The minut
e I get out of this tape --”
Frank tossed the mug onto the bed and used both hands to grab the man's head and wrap the tape back over his mouth. He thrashed wildly, snarling and trying to bite Frank's fingers. In the end it did no good. He was once again silenced and helpless, a failure to his family. He jerked his arms savagely, trying to break the tape as he growled through his gag.
“Who's next?” Dianne asked. She left the fallen bagel on the urine-moistened carpet and took another one from the tray.
This time Frank peeled the tape from Kim's mouth. The big woman began to gasp dramatically, as if she hadn't been able to breathe through her nose. “Please,” she pleaded. “Please just let us go. I swear I won't call the police. I swear!”
Dianne held a bagel to her mouth. It was toasted and covered in cream cheese, and Kim's teeth sank into it hungrily. She tore off a big chunk and chewed quickly, unsure whether she ought to savor it or gulp it down. She took another bite before she was done chewing the first one, demonstrating her healthy appetite and her willingness to play along.
“Very good,” Frank said. He held a mug of water out to her, and she alternated between snatching chunks of the bagel with her teeth and slurping from the mug. In no time at all she was done eating, her eyes drifting to the plate where more food still remained.
Dianne wiped her hand on the bedspread and then fed the woman another bagel half. She ate slower this time, knowing it would probably be her last meal for awhile.
“Please,” she said between mouthfuls. “Can't you just let us go? What's the big deal? We haven't done anything to hurt you.”
“We'll let you go soon,” Dianne promised. “Give us another day. We're really enjoying your house.”
Kim stopped chewing momentarily, looking a bit put out by this news. “Well, isn't that nice. I'm so glad to hear it.”
“I thought you might be.”
“You rotten little bitch!” Food sprayed from her mouth as she scolded Dianne. “You've got a lot of nerve! Who the hell gave you the right --”
Frank cut her off by reapplying her gag. She continued to rant behind it, but only for a moment. When she realized she was no longer able to communicate effectively she hung her head and began to weep.
“Last one,” Frank said, tearing the tape loose from Don's mouth. “Eat up quick, son, and don't make any trouble.”
Don did as he was told. He ate an entire bagel and drank his full mug of water without uttering a single word. He stayed quiet right up until Frank was about to fasten the tape over his mouth, at which time he tried to duck out of the way.
“Wait,” he said.
“No fucking around, Don,” Frank told him.
“Wait! Just one question!”
Frank stared at him. “What?”
He looked at Frank, and then at Dianne. He licked his lips, obviously nervous. “That was marijuana I smelled you guys smoking yesterday. Don't try to tell me it wasn't.”
“It was,” Frank admitted. “Don't tell me you're going to disallow further use of it while in the house.”
Don glanced at each of his parents in turn. “No. I just... I was going to ask you...”
“I think he wants to get high,” Dianne said.
Don looked at her. “Just a couple hits? If you have enough to spare?”
Frank smiled at the request. At the same time, Don's parents began to struggle against their bonds and reprimand him unintelligibly.
“Have you smoked before?” Frank asked.
Another nervous glance at each of his parents. “Yes. Once in awhile. I just thought... since I'm going to be strapped down here all day again... if it wouldn't be any trouble...”
Frank looked at Dianne. “What do you think?”
She smiled. “I think we can spare a little.”
Don's face lit up at the news. “That would be great! I promise, I won't make any trouble.”
Don's father bellowed mightily behind his gag, jerking his hands back and forth behind his back. He shook his head like a rabid dog, his eyes red with fury.
“I don't think your father approves,” Frank said.
“Of course he doesn't. He doesn’t approve of anything.” He looked to Dianne again. “Please? Just a few hits?”
“It's fine with me.” She turned to Frank. “Do you happen to have a joint handy, Father?”
“What do you think?” He pulled one from behind his ear, causing Don's father to begin screaming behind his muzzle.
Don, on the other hand, looked as happy as could be.
* * *
After tending to their prisoners, Dianne and Frank spent several hours just lounging around the house, snooping through drawers and cabinets and trying to amuse themselves. They ate a light lunch of cheese and crackers and then Dianne spent some time in the kitchen, preparing an enormous pan of chicken parmesan for dinner. She took her time doing it, appreciating all the quality ingredients and the wide variety of cooking utensils. It depressed her a little to know she wouldn't be staying much longer. There would be other houses, though, and other kitchens. She couldn't allow herself to get too attached to any one place.
Once dinner was made she covered it with foil and slid it into the oven, leaving it turned off for the time being. She entered the living room and sat down on the couch beside Frank. The two of them were still trying to figure out how to manipulate the remote controls.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Frank was taking a break from the TV and helping himself to a pinch of cocaine. He was getting into it on an almost hourly basis and seemed to have developed more of an affinity toward getting high, too. He put the coke away and pulled out a joint while Dianne took over with the remotes.
“Toke?” he asked, offering it to her.
She accepted happily. “Thank you. Don't mind if I do.” After taking a single hit she handed it back and tried a new combination of buttons. Abruptly, the channel changed. “Hey! Look at this!”
“I knew you'd get it.”
“It took me long enough. Let's see now. I feel like finding some news.” She flipped rapidly though the channels, pausing to take another hit when Frank passed her the joint. “They've got hundreds of channels. There's got to be some news here somewhere.”
After a few moments she managed to find the news. She turned the volume up and put the remote aside. There was a story on about a high school kid in Toledo who'd brought a small arsenal to class and killed seven of his fellow students, one teacher and the assistant principal. She settled back on the couch, getting comfortable.
They passed the joint back and forth, both of them also drinking beer. They were pretty well buzzed. When Frank felt like they'd had enough to smoke, he put the joint out and set it in a makeshift ashtray which had, until very recently, been a collector teacup. “Any thoughts on when you'd like to move on?” he asked.
She looked at him, her comfortable mood slipping just a bit. “Not today.”
“No. Of course not. I'm just curious how long you'd like to stay, that's all.”
“At least another day. Another night.” She took a drink of beer, waiting for his response.
“I'm a little concerned about the phones,” he admitted. Various cell phones had been ringing throughout the house over the course of the past 24 hours, and they'd finally answered a couple of them, disguising their voices and feigning illness. It would probably work for a little while longer, but eventually their captives would be significantly missed and investigations would ensue. They couldn't stay too much longer whether they wanted to or not.
“We're probably better off answering them and groaning with misery. That way nobody will come by.”
“Maybe. But I worry they may catch on if we say something inappropriate.”
Dianne sighed. “We'll leave tomorrow. How's that?”
“That's fine.”
“Monday at the latest.”
“I think tomorrow --”
&n
bsp; “Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow for sure.”
“I think it would be best.”
She sat mulling it over for a few minutes. As much as she liked the little house she'd chosen, it made good sense to leave. “Where will we go?”
“Anywhere you want. We don't even have to leave the state.”
She nodded. They continued to sip their beer. It took almost 20 minutes for the news station to get around to the story she was waiting for, and when they finally did she was somewhat disappointed. There were some further details regarding what had gone on in years past within St. Paul's basement, including identities of several of the children, or, more specifically, their remains. But Pastor McKenzie was still at large and the authorities had no current leads as to his whereabouts. Anyone who might see him was advised to consider him armed and dangerous and to alert the police immediately. The same picture of Frank was shown again, and once more it was pointed out that he was wanted for questioning.
“Where do you suppose your boss disappeared to?” Dianne asked, lowering the volume.
The report had a detrimental effect on Frank. He looked thoroughly depressed. “I wish I knew.”
“You're not worried, are you?”
“A little. Maybe.”
“There's no way he could know where you are. It's not possible.”
“I'm sure Stevens probably thought the same thing.”
“I wish you wouldn't let it bother you. Even if he does show up here, or anywhere else we go, we can take care of him.”
A slight smile from Frank. “We can, can't we?”
“Yes.”
“I like your self assurance.”
“I got it from you.”
He glanced around the room absently, as if looking for something.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. I'm just in the mood for a little bourbon.”
Dianne stood up. “I think it's in the kitchen. Would you mind if I had some, too?”
Now Frank looked almost happy. “That would be wonderful. Let's kill the bottle.”
25. Intrusion
Deviation Page 17