'I'm enjoying the CD.'
His tone went up. 'You got it?'
'Yeah,' she told him, forcing some cheer into her voice. 'I really like that second song.'
'It's called "Oldest Story in the World."'
'I'd know that if you'd written down the titles.'
'That's why you go out and buy the CD for yourself, you goof.' She had forgotten what it was like to be teased, and Lena felt some of the weight that had been on her chest start to lighten.
He continued, 'The liner notes are great. Lots of pictures of the girls. Ann looks so damn hot.' He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. 'I wouldn't kick Nancy out of bed, either, but you know I like dark-haired women.'
'Yeah.' She felt herself smiling, too, and wished that they could talk like this forever, that she wouldn't have to think about Terri dying in front of her, or of Terri's children being abandoned by the one person in the world who could protect them. Now, all they would have was Dale – Dale and the fear of being killed like their mama.
She forced this out of her brain, saying, 'The twelfth song is good, too.'
'That's "Down the Nile,"' he told her. 'Since when do you like ballads?'
'Since . . .' She didn't know since when. 'I don't know. I just like it.' She had pulled into the driveway behind Nan's Toyota.
'"Move On" is cool,' Greg was saying, but she didn't really follow. The porch light had turned on. Ethan's bike was leaned against the front stairs.
'Lee?'
Her smile was gone. 'Yeah?'
'You okay?'
'Yeah,' she breathed, her mind reeling. What was Ethan doing in the house? What was he doing with Nan?
'Lee?'
She swallowed hard, making herself speak. 'I need to go, Greg. Okay?'
'Is something wrong?'
'No,' she lied, feeling like her heart might explode in her chest. 'Everything's fine. I just can't talk now.' She hung up before he could respond, dropping the phone in the seat beside her, opening the door with a hand that refused to be steady.
Lena wasn't sure how she made it up the steps, but she found herself with her hand on the doorknob, her palms slick and sweaty. She took a breath, opening the door.
'Hi!' Nan popped up from the chair where she had been sitting, moving behind it as if she needed a shield. Her eyes were wide, her voice unnaturally high. 'We were just waiting for you. Oh, my God! Your ear!' She put her hand to her mouth.
'It's better than it looks.'
Ethan was on the couch, his arm across the back, his legs open in a hostile stance that managed to take up the entire room. He didn't speak, but he didn't have to. The threat of him seeped out of every pore.
'Are you okay?' Nan insisted. 'Lena? What happened?'
Lena said, 'There was a situation,' keeping her eyes on Ethan.
'They didn't say much of anything on the news,' Nan said. She was edging toward the kitchen, almost giddy from stress. Ethan stayed where he was, his jaw in a tight line, his muscles flexed. Lena saw his book bag beside his feet and wondered what he had in there. Something heavy, probably. Something to beat her with.
Nan offered, 'Would you like some tea?'
'That's okay,' Lena told her, then said to Ethan, 'Let's go to my room.'
'We could play some cards, Lee.' Nan's voice wavered. She was obviously alarmed, and she stood her ground. 'Why don't we all play some cards?'
'That's okay,' Lena answered, knowing she had to do everything in her power to keep Nan out of harm's way. Lena had brought this on herself, but Nan would not be hurt because of it. She owed that to Sibyl. She owed that to herself.
Nan tried, 'Lee?'
'It's okay, Nan.' Again, she told Ethan, 'Let's go to my room.'
He didn't move at first, letting her know he was in charge of the situation. When he got up, he took his time, stretching his arms in front of him, faking a yawn.
Lena turned her back to him, ignoring the show. She went into her room and sat on the bed, waiting, praying that he would leave Nan alone.
Ethan sauntered into her bedroom, eyeing her suspiciously. 'Where you been?' he asked, shutting the door with a soft click. He gripped his book bag in one hand, keeping his arms at his side.
She shrugged. 'Work.'
He dropped the bag with a solid clunk onto the floor. 'I've been waiting for you.'
'You shouldn't come here,' she told him.
'That so?'
'I would've called you.' She lied, 'I was going to come by later.'
'You bent the rim on my front tire,' he said. 'It cost me eighty bucks to get a new one.'
She stood, going to the bureau. 'I'll pay you back,' she said, opening the top drawer. She kept her money in an old cigar box. Beside it was a black plastic case that held a Mini-Glock. Nan's father was a cop and after Sibyl had been murdered, he had insisted his daughter take the gun. Nan had given it to Lena, and Lena had put it in the drawer as a backup. At night, her service weapon was always on the bedside table, but knowing the other Glock was in the drawer, sitting in the unlocked plastic case, was the only reason she was able to go to sleep.
She could take the gun now. She could take it and use it and finally get Ethan out of her life.
'What are you doing?' he demanded.
Lena took out the cigar box and slid the drawer closed. She put the box on top of the dresser and opened the lid. Ethan's large hand reached in front of her, closing back the lid.
He was standing behind her, his body barely touching hers. She felt the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck when he said, 'I don't want your money.'
She cleared her throat so that she could speak. 'What do you want?'
He took another step closer. 'You know what I want.'
She could feel his cock harden as he pressed it against her ass. He put his hands on either side of her, resting them on top of the dresser, trapping her.
He said, 'Nan wouldn't tell me who CD-boy is.'
Lena bit her lip, feeling the sting as she drew blood. She thought about Terri Stanley when they had knocked on her door this morning, the way she had held her jaw rigid as she talked to keep her lip from breaking open. Terri would never have to do that again. She would never again lie awake at night, wondering what Dale was going to do next. She would never have to be afraid.
Ethan started rubbing against her. The sensation made her feel sick. 'Me and Nan had a real good talk.'
'Leave Nan alone.'
'You want me to leave her alone?' His hand snaked around, grabbing her breast so hard she had to sink her teeth into the flesh of her lip to keep from crying out. 'This is mine,' he reminded her. 'You hear me?'
'Yes.'
'Nobody touches you but me.'
Lena closed her eyes, willing herself not to scream as his lips brushed against her neck.
'I'll kill anybody who touches you.' He tightened his fist around her breast as if he wanted to rip it off. 'One more dead body don't mean shit to me,' he hissed. 'You hear?'
'Yes.' Her heart thudded once in her chest, then she could no longer feel it beating. She had felt numb with fear, but just as suddenly, she felt nothing.
Slowly, Lena turned around. She saw her hands come up, not to slap him but to tenderly cup his face. She felt light-headed, dizzy, as if she were somewhere else in the room, watching herself with Ethan. When her lips met his, she felt nothing. His tongue had no taste. His calloused fingers as he pushed his hand down the front of her pants brought no sensation.
On the bed, he was rougher than ever before, pinning her down, somehow more angry that she wasn't resisting. Through it all, Lena still felt apart from herself, even as he pushed into her like a blade slicing through her insides. She was aware of the pain as she was aware of her breathing; a fact, an uncontrollable process through which her body survived.
Ethan finished quickly and Lena lay there feeling like she had been marked by a dog. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard, satisfied with himself. It wasn't until she heard the steady low snore of hi
s sleep that Lena felt her senses slowly begin to return. The smell of his sweat. The taste of his tongue. The sticky wetness between her legs.
He hadn't used a condom.
Lena carefully rolled onto her side, feeling what he had left drain out of her. She watched the clock slowly mark the time, first minutes, then hours. One hour. Two. She waited until three hours had passed before she rose from the bed. She held her breath, listening for a change in the cadence of Ethan's breathing as she crouched to the floor.
She moved slowly, as if through water, sliding open the top drawer of her bureau, taking out the black plastic case. She sat on the floor, her back to Ethan, holding her breath as she unsnapped the lock. The noise filled the room like a gunshot. She tried not to gasp as Ethan shifted in bed. Lena closed her eyes, fighting panic as she waited for his hand on her back, his fingers wrapped around her throat. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder.
He was on his side, facing away from her.
The weapon was loaded, a round from the magazine already chambered. She cradled the gun in her hands, feeling it grow heavier and heavier until she let her hands drift to her lap. A smaller version of her service weapon, the mini could do just as much damage up close. Lena closed her eyes again, feeling the mist of blood Terri had sprayed into her face, hearing her last words, almost triumphant: I got away.
Lena stared at the gun, the black metal cold against her hands. She turned to make sure Ethan was still sleeping.
His book bag was on the floor where he had dropped it. She gritted her teeth as she opened the zipper, the sound reverberating in her chest. The bag was a nice one, Swiss Army, with several large pockets and plenty of storage. Ethan kept everything in the bag – his wallet, his books for school, even some gym clothes. He wouldn't notice a couple of extra pounds.
Lena reached into the bag, unzipping the large rear compartment that snaked around the inside of the bag. There were pencils in there, some pens, but nothing else. She hid the gun inside and pulled the zip closed, leaving the bag on the floor.
Moving backward, she crawled to the bed, using her hands to lift herself up, then inch-by-inch lowering herself down beside Ethan.
He exhaled, almost a snort, and rolled over, his arm flopping across her chest. Lena turned her head to see the clock, counting away the minutes until the alarm would go off, until Ethan would be out of her life forever.
SATURDAY
SEVENTEEN
Sara tightened her hand on Bob's leash as his nose jerked toward the field on the side of the road. Being a sight hound, Bob had no control over his urge to chase anything that ran, and Sara knew if she let go of the leash, she would probably never see the dog again.
Jeffrey, who was holding just as tightly to Billy's leash, glanced into the field, too. 'Rabbit?'
'Chipmunk,' she guessed, steering Bob to the other side of the road. He gave in easily, laziness being just as much of a genetic imperative for greyhounds, and loped down the road, his slim hiney shifting with each step.
Jeffrey slipped his arm around Sara's waist. 'You cold?'
'Uh-uh,' she said, closing her eyes against the sun. They had both cursed loudly when the phone had awakened them at five till seven this morning, but Cathy's offer of a pancake breakfast had persuaded them to roll out of bed. They both had a lot of work to catch up on this weekend, but Sara reasoned they would be better prepared on a full stomach.
'I've been thinking,' Jeffrey said. 'Maybe we should get another dog.'
She gave him a sideways glance. Bob had just about died of a heart attack this morning when Jeffrey turned on the shower without first checking to make sure the dog wasn't sleeping in his usual spot.
'Or a cat?'
She laughed out loud. 'You don't even like the one we have now.'
'Well,' he shrugged. 'Maybe a new one, one we both picked out.'
Sara leaned her head back on his shoulder. Despite what Jeffrey believed, she couldn't always read his mind, but right now Sara knew exactly what he really wanted. The way he had talked about Terri and her son last night had made Sara realize something that she had never even considered. For years, she had only thought of her inability to have children as a personal loss, but now she could see that it was Jeffrey's loss as well. She couldn't exactly explain why, but somehow, knowing he had this need as deeply as she did made it feel less like a failure and more like something to overcome.
'I'm gonna keep an eye on those kids,' he said, and she knew he meant Terri's two children. 'Pat's going to come down pretty hard on him.'
Sara doubted the man's brother held any sway in the matter, and asked, 'Will Dale keep custody?'
'I don't know,' he said. 'When I was pushing on his chest . . .' Jeffrey began, and she knew that he felt sick about the fact that he had cracked two of Tim Stanley's ribs while giving the boy CPR. 'They're so little. His bones are like toothpicks.'
'It beats letting him die,' Sara said. Then, realizing how hard her words must sound to him, she added, 'Cracked ribs heal, Jeffrey. You saved Tim's life. You did everything right.'
'I was glad to see that ambulance.'
'He'll be out of the hospital in a few days,' she assured him, rubbing his back to soothe his worries. 'You did everything right.'
'It made me think about Jared,' he said, and her hand stopped moving of its own accord. Jared, the boy he had thought of as a sort of nephew all these years, only to find out recently that he was actually a son.
He said, 'I remember when he was little, I'd throw him up in the air and catch him. God, he loved that. He'd laugh so hard he'd get the hiccups.'
'I'm sure Nell wanted to kill you,' Sara said, thinking Jared's mother had probably held her breath the entire time.
'I could feel his ribs pressing against my hands when I caught him. He's got such a great laugh. He loved being up in the air.' He gave a half-smile, thinking out loud, 'Maybe he'll be a pilot one day.'
They walked, both of them silent, their footsteps and the jingle of the dogs' metal ID tags the only sound. Sara pressed her head against Jeffrey's shoulder, wanting more than anything to just be there in the moment. He tightened his arm around her, and she looked at the dogs, wondering what it would feel like to be pushing a stroller instead of holding on to a leash.
At the age of six, Sara had quite conceitedly told her mother that one day she would have two children, a boy and a girl, and that the boy would have blond hair and the girl would have brown. Cathy had teased her about this early show of single-mindedness well into Sara's twenties. Through college, then medical school, then finally her internship, it had been a long-standing family joke, especially considering the fact that Sara's dating life was sparse to say the least. They had mocked her relentlessly about her precociousness for years, then the teasing had abruptly stopped. At twenty-six, Sara had lost her ability to ever have a child. At twenty-six, she had lost her childhood belief that just wanting something badly enough made it possible.
Walking along the street, her head on Jeffrey's shoulder, Sara let herself play that dangerous game, the one where she wondered what their children would have looked like. Jared had Jeffrey's dark coloring, his mother's intense blue eyes. Would their baby have red hair, a shock of auburn that grew like springs? Or would he have Jeffrey's black, almost blue, mane, thick and wavy, the sort of hair you couldn't stop running your fingers through? Would he be kind and gentle like his father, growing into the sort of man who would one day make some woman happier than she'd ever thought she could possibly be?
Jeffrey's chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath and let it go.
Sara wiped her eyes, hoping he didn't see how silly she was being. She asked, 'How's Lena?'
'I gave her the day off.' Jeffrey rubbed his eyes, too, but she couldn't look up at him. 'She deserves a medal for finally following orders.'
'The first time is always special.'
He acknowledged the joke with a wry chuckle. 'God, she's such a mess.'
She squeezed her ar
m around his waist, thinking that the two of them weren't in much better shape themselves. 'You know you can't straighten her out, right?'
He gave another heavy sigh. 'Yeah.'
She looked up at him, saw that his eyes were as moist as hers.
After a few seconds, he clicked his tongue at Billy, getting him back on the road. 'Anyway.'
'Anyway,' she echoed.
He cleared his throat several times before he could tell her, 'Paul's lawyer should be here around noon today.'
'Where's he coming from?'
'Atlanta,' Jeffrey said, all his disgust for the city resting on that one word.
Sara sniffed, trying to get her composure back. 'Do you really think Paul Ward is going to confess to anything?'
'No,' he admitted, tugging on Billy's leash as the dog stopped to investigate some weeds. 'He shut his mouth as soon as we pulled Terri off him.'
Sara paused, thinking about the woman's sacrifice. 'Do you think the charges will stick?'
'The attempted kidnapping and shooting we've got down easy,' he answered. 'You can't argue with two cops as witnesses.' He shook his head. 'Who knows which way it'll go? I sure as shit could argue premeditated; I was right there. There's no telling with a jury . . .' He let his voice trail off. 'Your shoe's untied.' He handed her Billy's leash and knelt in front of her to tie the lace. 'They've got him for murder during the commission of a felony, attempted murder with Lena. There has to be something in there that keeps him behind bars for a long time.'
'And Abby?' Sara asked, watching his hands. She remembered the first time he had tied her shoe for her. They had been in the woods, and she hadn't been sure how she felt about him until that very moment when he had knelt down in front of her. Watching him now, all she could wonder was how she had ever not known how much she needed him in her life.
'Get back,' Jeffrey shooed Billy and Bob as the dogs tried to catch the moving laces. Jeffrey finished the double knot then straightened, taking the leash. 'I don't know about Abby. Terri's evidence put the cyanide in his hands, but she's not here to tell the tale. Dale's not exactly gonna brag about how he told Paul to use the salts.' He put his arm back around her waist, pulling her closer as they continued walking. 'Rebecca's shaky. Esther told me I could talk to her tomorrow.'
A Grant County Collection: Indelible, Faithless and Skin Privilege Page 78