Cruel Winter

by Anthony Izzo

  “I think she might hurt anyone who tried to hurt Ronnie,” Jack said.

  “Did you see anything unusual in the house? Any more run-ins with the bandaged man?”

  Paul gave Jack a sideways glance, and then opened his mouth as if to say something. He closed it back up. Jack nudged him with an elbow.

  Paul leaned over, cupped his hand, and whispered something in Jack’s ear. There was a conspiracy afoot.

  “We went into the tunnels underneath the house,” Jack said.

  “Jack Harding!” Mary Harding said.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jack Harding Sr. said.

  “Don’t be too upset. Every twelve-year-old boy is a natural Magellan,” Kempf said.

  “It’s just—”

  “Mrs. Harding, I realize you’re upset. But like I said before, Paul and Jack are okay.” Kempf looked at the two boys. “I have a feeling I know what your mother wants to say, so I’ll do it for her. Stay off that estate. I’m sure the bandaged man is hiding somewhere on that property. I catch either one of you out there and I will lock you up.”

  “I guess we’re not going to Ronnie’s sleepover,” Paul said.

  “Damn straight,” Mary Harding said.

  “Double damn straight,” Jack Sr. added.

  “What happened in the tunnels?”

  Paul told them the whole story. Mary Harding looked as if she might fall off her chair.

  “I’m a terrible mother, letting them run around like this.”

  “You are not. Boys get into things. I did it and I’m sure the detective did too,” Jack Sr. said.

  “Are we in trouble? For not telling the police about this?” Paul said.

  “No. You’ve actually helped me a lot. Mrs. Harding, I’ll have a car step up patrols on your street.”

  “What will the cops do now?” Mr. Harding asked.

  “Get a warrant and find him. Thank you all for your time.”

  He pushed the chair out and stood up to leave.

  “How will you catch it? It’s not alive,” Jack said.

  He preferred not to think about that at the moment.

  Jack expected fireworks after the detective left, and right now Mom was lighting the fuses on the Roman candles.

  “When were you going to tell me about this? Or maybe you weren’t and I was going to have to identify your body at the morgue,” she said.

  “Mary, you’ll scare them worse than they already are if you keep talking like that.”

  Maybe Dad would save him. He tended to play good cop to Mom’s bad cop. The two of them circled around Jack and Paul at the kitchen table, and it felt like an interrogation session, like on Hill Street Blues.

  “They should be scared. Some maniac running around, almost dragging my son off, and I have no idea it’s happening. Don’t you know you can tell me anything?” Mom said.

  “I was afraid you’d keep me in the house,” Jack said.

  “We should have gone to the police,” Paul said.

  “Shut up, doof.”

  “Not a doof.”

  “That’s enough for tonight. We’ll finish this up tomorrow. You two need to finish getting ready for the dance,” Dad said.

  “Go,” Mom said, and they scurried away from the kitchen and headed into Jack’s bedroom. They finished putting their ties on in silence. Jack clipped on a red-and-blue-striped tie, and he hated it, but thought Emma might like to see him dressed up. Maybe enough to kiss him.

  “What are you smiling about?” Paul said.

  “Nothing.”

  “It was nice of your mom to buy me these clothes.”

  “Yeah, she’s an okay mom.”

  Mom had gone to Penney’s while they were at school and bought dress slacks, a tie, and a crisp dress shirt for Paul. Jack had thought his friend was going to cry when Mom handed him the Penney’s bag.

  “I wished my dad worried,” Paul said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They care about you. My parents wouldn’t care if I ate a dog shit sandwich for lunch every day.”

  “I would. Your breath would fucking reek.”

  “I’m serious. I can’t stay here forever.”

  “You can stay here as long as you want.”

  Paul had a lousy home situation, was the smallest kid in class, and probably the only one going to the dance without a date. But he was still Jack’s best friend, despite all that. Other kids might mock Paul, but they didn’t see the good stuff about him.

  “You ready?” Paul said.

  “Yep. Do you think the police will catch him?”

  Paul finished straightening his tie. “No. It could hide anywhere in the tunnels. It’s pitch-black down there. How come you didn’t tell them about Cassie healing your ribs?”

  “Let’s forget about it and try to have some fun,” Jack said.

  “I feel like a dork not having someone to go with.”

  “You’re going with us, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Paul said. “But you’re all too damn ugly to kiss.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Emma tied her hair into a ponytail with a lavender rubber band. It matched her dress, which to her surprise hugged her a bit, revealing the start of curves. She slipped on a pair of panty hose for the first time. How did women stand wearing these all day? They were almost as bad as those white tights Mom made her wear.

  A knock came at the door and Mom came in carrying a gray jewelry box, the kind rings came in.

  “You look beautiful,” Mom said.

  “I look like a dork.”

  “You’re just not used to being dressed up. Here.”

  She flipped open the lid on the jewelry box and revealed two white gold hoops. They glimmered in the light from the dresser.

  “Your father gave me these. They’re real gold, so be careful with them.” She ran her finger over one of the earrings.

  “What if I lose them?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Aren’t you glad I had your ears pierced?”

  Emma smiled and nodded. Her mom helped her on with the earrings. She took a peek in the mirror. Between the gold earrings and the makeup, Emma didn’t recognize herself.

  “Not too bad,” she said. Hopefully Jack would feel the same way.

  “Jack’s lucky to be taking you to the dance.”

  She bent down and kissed Emma on the cheek. Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

  “He’s early,” Emma said.

  “That’s probably Aunt Sam,” Mom said.

  “What’s she doing here? She didn’t bring toad face with her, did she?”

  “Stop it. Your aunt wanted to see you on the night of your first dance.”

  “Jeez.”

  Her mother hurried downstairs.

  Emma’s stomach tied itself in a knot. She thought of Jacob squeezing her, his rotten breath in her face, his pimples oozing like rotten tomatoes. She almost gagged.

  He wouldn’t try anything with Mom and Aunt Sam in the room, but what if they went into the kitchen? Before long, Aunt Sam and Jacob would come over, and he might get his chance to do worse things to Emma. She had no desire to see what Jacob was capable of doing.

  She glanced at her watch. It was six-fifteen. That left her forty-five minutes before Jack arrived. Enough time to snare a rat in a trap. If Mom didn’t want to help her out of the jam with Jacob, then she would do something herself. Time to bait the trap.

  Emma heard Aunt Sam chattering away downstairs, asking Mom who the boy was, and what kind of dress Emma was wearing. Emma rummaged through her dresser drawer, clawing through socks and underwear until she found a silver tube of lipstick. She took off the cap and pressed it to her lips, making them good and red. She blotted her lips on a tissue and threw it in the trash can. Then she walked downstairs.

  Aunt Sam and Mom sat at the kitchen table sipping wine. Mom sliced a piece of cheese off a hunk of Havarti she had bought at the grocery store the other day. Emma thought it tasted gross but
supposed you had to be a grown-up to enjoy foods like that. Aunt Sam sprang from the chair as if it were an ejector seat. She gripped Emma by the shoulders. From the corner of her eye, Emma saw Jacob slouched on the couch in the family room, the remote control in his hand.

  “You’re a doll, Emma.”

  “Thanks,” Emma said, looking over Aunt Sam’s shoulder and watching Jacob.

  “Your first dance.”

  What was with adults? Everything involved marking the passage of time somehow. Maybe when you got older, that’s all there was to do. Reflect on how long ago things happened and oh, how time flew.

  “You seem a little nervous,” Mom said.

  “Just wanted to show Jacob another album up in my room.”

  “Oh?” Mom said.

  “Yeah. The album he called me about the other day.”

  “Right.”

  Aunt Sam released her grip and Emma entered the living room where Jacob sat watching a National Geographic special on lions.

  “What do you want?”

  “Want to come up to my room?”

  “For?”

  “I want to show you a new album.”

  Then it seemed to click with him. She saw it in his eyes. Coming up to her room meant they would be alone.

  “Sure.”

  As they passed through the kitchen, Aunt Sam said, “Have fun.”

  Jacob followed close and Emma felt his breath on the back of her neck.

  “So where’s this album?”

  “There isn’t one,” Emma said.

  “Then why are we up here?”

  “I want to talk to you about what happened the other day,” Emma said.

  “I still owe you for kicking me in the nuts.”

  He stepped closer to her. She stood her ground despite the tension that hummed through her muscles.

  “I overreacted. My mom told me boys like to roughhouse.”

  “You told your mom? You are a stupid little girl.”

  “Just that you pinned me against the wall. Not about the other stuff you did.”

  “Oh.” He drifted over to her dresser, casually inspecting the items on it. “So, you keep your pussy pads up here or in the bathroom?”

  Here he goes again. But it was good he felt confident. She wanted him to start his disgusting little rap again.

  “Can I tell you something, Jacob? You have to promise not to tell.”

  He snorted out a laugh.

  “The other day made me sort of curious. About like sex and stuff.”

  “Bull crap.” He picked up her deodorant, worked it around in his hand. She had no problem imagining him sneaking into other girls’ rooms and stealing their bras and panties. Lord knew what he might do with them when he was alone.

  “No, really. I was scared at first—that’s why I kicked you. But maybe we could keep this whole thing between us. You could show me some things.”

  He looked up at her. “Really?” His voice cracked.

  “Why don’t you come over here?” she said.

  She felt really gross right now, but she needed to provoke him. She reached down and lifted up her dress until the tops of her thighs were exposed.

  “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

  She had heard Theresa Gardner telling Shelly Noble in class that she played that game with Brian Barnes in their parents’ garage. Why did boys like that kind of stuff?

  He approached her, the smell of his body odor almost spicy.

  “Why don’t you show me yours first? I’ve never seen one.”

  His eyes got wide. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said.

  He undid the wool pants and slid them down, revealing white underwear with yellow stains in the front. Yuck. The underwear bulged. She wanted to close her eyes and wish him away.

  “Let’s lay on your bed,” Jacob said.

  “Okay.”

  She moved around him and backed up to the bed until it brushed the back of her knees. He moved in close to her, waddling over with his pants around his ankles. She wrapped her arms around him, barely able to breathe because of his stink, and pulled hard. Throwing herself onto the bed, she held on to Jacob’s shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists. The booger fell on top of her. A look of surprise crossed his face. He flattened her on the bed and she sucked in a breath, yelling, “Mom! Mom! Help!”

  As if realizing he had been trapped, Jacob struggled to get up, but she dug hard into the shirt, determined to hold him here until Mom came.

  “You’re in big trouble, ass wipe,” she said.

  “Let me up or I’ll—”

  Jacob thrashed and bucked like a bull trying to throw off a rodeo rider.

  “Mom!”

  Steps thudded on the stairs. Mom appeared over Jacob’s shoulder, and behind her, Aunt Sam.

  “Get off her!” She grabbed Jacob by the hair and yanked. Emma let go and Jacob stumbled off Emma, crashing into the far wall. Emma cooked up some tears, and she found once the false ones started, the real ones took over.

  “What are you doing to her? Pull your pants up,” Mom said, and slapped him on the back. It sounded like someone smacking a sack of flour.

  “Jacob?” Aunt Sam said.

  Jacob pulled his pants up, turning away from the women to fasten them.

  Emma got off the bed and Mom grabbed her, hugging hard. She hugged back.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, Mom.”

  “You sure, Emmy?” Aunt Sam said.

  Mom looked at Jacob, and if looks could kill, the booger would have been stone dead. “You have some real problems, Jacob. I might even call the police about this. Do you have any idea how serious this is? She’s a little girl and your cousin on top of it.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Aunt Sam said in a soft voice.

  Jacob hung his head low, and to Emma’s amazement, broke into sobs.

  “Let’s go, Jacob. Myra, I’m so sorry,” Aunt Sam said.

  “So am I,” Mom said.

  “You, in the car. Now,” Aunt Sam said. “I’ll call you, Myra.”

  Jacob skulked past her. The trap had worked.

  Jack’s mother made him call Ronnie and say not to bring the limousine. Jack’s dad would drop them off at seven and pick them up at ten o’clock sharp. No being late and no excuses.

  Now they sat in the backseat, Jack tugging at his collar. It itched his neck and he wanted nothing more than to unfasten the top button and throw the damn tie out the window.

  “You guys nervous?”

  “No, Dad. Well, maybe a little,” Jack said.

  “I’m nervous and I don’t even have a date,” Paul said.

  “Just remember, the girls are just as nervous as the guys. And you can still ask a girl to dance, can’t you?”

  “No way, Jose,” Paul said.

  “Just try it. You’d be surprised at the answer sometimes.”

  Jack’s movements around town were limited to going back and forth to school until the police caught the killer. He was amazed his mother didn’t pass out when they told Detective Kempf the stories about the killer. All that was in the back of his mind tonight, though. He thought of Emma. How would she wear her hair? What would her dress look like? And would she have perfume on? He had developed an appreciation for the stuff when Ms. Hanretty, the young science teacher with the fiery red hair, started at Brampton. She wore the stuff and it did strange things to Jack.

  He was nervous, maybe even terrified, but still he couldn’t wait to get to the dance.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom said. She looked deflated.

  “I told you,” Emma said.

  “You tried to tell me.”

  “He’s a real creep.”

  “Aunt Sam is going to have to get him help,” Mom said.

  Mom looked down and smoothed her pants with her hand.

  “I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  “Jacob’s always so quiet. I didn’t think he was capable of something like this.�
��

  Mom looked up and Emma saw tears forming in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry, Mom.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  She had screwed up bad and she knew it.

  “I tricked Jacob into pulling down his pants. That’s why I wanted him to come up here, so you could catch him.”

  “That was very brave. I won’t let him anywhere near you, on my life.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Mom looked at her watch. “I don’t suppose you feel much like going to the dance after what happened.”

  “I’m not going to let him ruin this for me.”

  “Then let’s fix your makeup. Tears are hell on mascara.”

  Ten minutes later her makeup was fixed and her cheeks dry. The doorbell rang and Emma opened the door to find Jack and Paul standing on the front stoop. Snowflakes whipped around them.

  “Hi,” Paul said, giving her a quick wave.

  Jack smiled and said, “Ready?”

  She stepped out into the cold.

  The limo pulled up near the gym doors and John slid around to the passenger side and opened the door. Ronnie stumbled out, followed by Jessica, Chris, and Melanie Peters. They entered the gym, where the others waited for them. Emma said, “Nice wheels.”

  “Too bad Jack’s mommy wouldn’t let him ride in the limo,” Chris said.

  “If you had a brain you’d be dangerous,” Jack said.

  “Stop arguing and let’s go,” Emma said.

  Red and green streamers hung from the ceiling, and a silver cardboard sign read: CHRISTMAS DANCE 1985. Mrs. Eckerd stood at the punch bowl, spooning out the red stuff into Styrofoam cups and lining them up on the table. There were bowls of pretzels, cheese puffs, and potato chips near the punch. They had the lights down low, giving the gym a cave-like feel.

  “Let’s get some punch,” Ronnie said. “Some for you, my lady?”

  Jessica laughed and said yes.

  Jack looked around for Vinnie and his crew, but didn’t see them anywhere. Expecting Vinnie to come to a dance was like waiting for the pope to show up at a whorehouse. But he was no doubt gunning for them again, and dance or no dance, he would come around to exact revenge. Maybe he and his buddies got lost in the snow (or run over by a plow).