Fifteen
Leon Biggs awoke to growling thunder. He lay awake
on the bunk in a jail cell, refusing to open his eyes to the new day. He
groaned as Rex Hogan pounded down the stairs and threw the cell door
open. "What's up?" Lean said without bothering to move and hoping he
wouldn't be required to do so.
"Doc can brief you, if you don't mind," the deputy
said sounding like a scared kid, clearly anxious to avoid dealing with the
bad temper that usually accompanied his hangover. "I’ve been up most
of the night and day. I've got to catch some shuteye."
Leon's only concern for the moment was to send the
deputy away. “Yeah, okay. You go catch some sleep." By the time he
heard Rex Hogan's car drive away, his mind had cleared and he knew it
imperative that he get up and tackle the new day and whatever crises it
held in store.
He sat up with a grimace. Angina pains had kept him
awake on and off all night. His chest still hurt, a deep, squeezing pain
that warned of his ominous state of health. Maybe the heart attack the
doctors had warned about was already in progress. They had told him that
it would be fatal, if it happened anytime soon. He had assumed that he
would have time to undo some of the damage by dieting and cutting back on
the drinking. How could he have anticipated his run-in with Caitlin and
the incredible night of the green meteor shower?
He tried the phones in the substation, but they and
all radio communication were down. He stood staring at the bare wood
floor with a frown, trying to determine what that meant on a practical
basis. Without communications, there would be very little law and order
in the county, and there would be little he could do about it, not without
outside help. At least it gave him the opportunity to tend to his own
problems first.
He drove back to the house, and came up behind Vivian
standing at the kitchen counter. He watched her grow rigid with tension
as he approached. "Where's Caitlin?" he said, his voice dry and hoarse
and his body filled with pain.
"I thought I heard her earlier," Vivian said in her
whispery voice. "She's not in the house now."
Leon grunted satisfaction. As long as she hadn't run
away or gone to the deputy for help. Neither of the worst-case scenarios
had come to pass so far. He turned away and started up the stairs to
shower and change clothes. He paused at the foot of the staircase to rest
until he could gather what strength he had to accomplish the feat.
"I made coffee," Vivian said from somewhere behind
him. "Do you want something to eat?"
Food and drink would only make the pain worse, but he
backtracked and sat at the kitchen table to catch his breath. And when
the moment of silence lingered, he looked up.
Vivian stared at him worriedly. Leon shook his head
in dismay. The woman had the backbone of an earthworm. He had never
quite determined whether their relationship was symbiotic or parasitic.
If parasitic, who was feeding upon whom? She cooked and cleaned the
house. She had cared for Caitlin and hadn't screamed rape down through
the years when he had taken advantage of her from time to time. But she
had gotten a great deal in return, including an insurance policy worth a
couple hundred thousand. Who would come out ahead in the end?
"Sorry for the fuss, yesterday," he said. "I'll make
it up to the girl."
Vivian turned away and began putting dishes in the
sink.
"Do you want to talk about it?” he said. “Do you
have anything to say to me?"
She stared into space, a slave to her cowardice and
pathological dependency. She stood bent slightly at the waist, rigid with
tension and rife with misery.
Leon sighed. "Vivian, give me a break. I'm an old
man. I had me a beautiful wife and a lovely daughter once upon a time.
My beautiful wife killed herself because I was of no importance to her,
and my lovely daughter prances around the house like some wood nymph from
a Greek fairy tale. She takes the toys I give her without a word of
thanks, and hates my guts."
"It ain't right," she said softly. "You have me,
damn you."
Leon's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "The last
time I had a go at you, Vivian, you threw up in my face. Do you remember
that?"
Vivian dipped her head even further and turned
crimson.
"You're a self-sacrificing woman. I'll give you that
and nothing more. You've loathed me from the day you followed Katrina and
her baby to this house. I've had no relationship with either of you to
speak of. I've served no purpose except to provide for you."
She finally looked around, her eyes as cold and
narrow as a snake. "Caitlin is your daughter."
"Hardly," Leon said evenly. "And you both damned
well remind me of it constantly."
Tears came to Vivian's eyes. She rushed silently by
and vanished into the bowels of the house.
Leon got a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard,
hoping to dull the pain, both physical and spiritual. The thought that
Caitlin would brave the cold and the rain rather than accept the warm
bedroom he had provided set his chest to aching even worse. It was, he
decided, time to back off and set things right before the bitterness
eating at his gut drove away the only two people in the world of any
importance to him.
Unless, of course, it was already too late. It was
easy to be repentant when he was sober, except that he couldn't stand the
misery of a clear mind for any extended period of time.
Vivian sobs echoed in the quiet house. Leon sipped
on the bottle and watched the rain fall, wishing Caitlin would come home
to him and curl up in his lap as she had as a child. When his own eyes
filled with tears, he took a hefty swig of his cheap whiskey and put a
quick end to his foolishness.
