Thirty
And then came the glare of light and the glimmer
of reflection against curved glass. She writhed in renewed rage against
her bonds. She shrieked in seething anger that a human being could be so
vile.
Her protests came to nothing. The hand splayed
against her rib cage, pinning her to the table surface. The blade swooped
between her breasts and parted flesh in its wake.
Her eyes flew wide, not so much in pain as in
mortal shock that she could be violated with such callous ease. Rape was
innocent in comparison to this act of horror. This was the desecration
and destruction of human life and the obliteration of all the years of
life she had left to her.
The blade again slipped burning through her body.
She tried to lift her shoulders from the table, her screams caught in her
throat, her consciousness blossomed into a cold arena of agony and sheer
terror.
The monster in human guise coaxed her scream. He
hungered for it, desiring it for the sake of the glass eye and posterity,
and only when she had no choice but to oblige did the real nightmare begin to unfold.
Lori folded at the waist, then bolted upright in the
middle of her bed with her mouth a gape and a scream a hair's breath away
from escaping her throat.
Daylight streamed through the windows. Wendy and
Leslie were up, bickering in the kitchen among the clatter of utensils as
they prepared their own breakfast.
The stark reality of the dream faded into the
vanquished darkness, but the race of her heart beat refused to slow its
frantic hammering in her chest. What in God's name was happening to her
to be having such terrible dreams?
She had showered after Trent had left the previous
evening, but she showered again before dressing, trying to wash away the
loathsome horror left over from the dream and perhaps a trace of guilt
lingering from the hours she had spent with Trent.
She entered the kitchen wearing a phony smile. Wendy
refused to acknowledge her greeting. She murmured something about getting
to the first day of school early, catching a ride with Mary. She hurried
out the back door clutching her books.
Leslie watched her go with a frown. "What's the
matter with her?"
"She's probably mad because I made Amy babysit you
guys all night."
Leslie accepted the explanation with a shrug. Lori
escorted him to the school bus stop and saw him off. She leaned into the
brisk wind on the way back to the house thinking that autumn was just
around the corner and that the countryside would soon be desolate and
inhospitable. She wasn't ready for winter. She hadn't been given a
chance to enjoy the summer.
She walked to Amy's house two blocks further on down
the street and tapped on a freshly painted door. Amy let her in and
hurried back to the kitchen to attend a pan of simmering noodles. Lori
followed, taking notice that the house looked cleaner. The twins beamed
up at her from the living room rug, looking happier and more robust than
she had ever seen them. Amy herself had gained weight and was looking
softer and prettier.
"I'm sorry for last night," Lori said.
Amy looked around and blushed furiously. "You were
gone so long."
"I lost track of time."
Amy put her hands over her face and giggled
childishly. "At least we know he's not gay."
Hoping she wasn’t blushing, Lori pulled a chair
around and sat at the table. “He’s not gay, believe me,” she said
softly. "Have you had a chance to speak with Karen yet?"
Amy's mood turned abruptly dark. "I talked to her
doctor. They won't let her have visitors for at least another day or
two. She's getting shock treatments."
Lori grimaced. "Doesn't sound like fun."
"But he said it's a transient episode. That means it
won't last. I heard Carol's getting out of the hospital today or
tomorrow."
"Things might get back to normal after all."
Amy shivered at the thought. "Not normal like things
were, I hope."
"Normal as things are supposed to be."
"I don't think I've ever known that kind of normal."
Amy turned, wiped her hands on a towel, and sat at the table. "There's
something I've been meaning to ask you. We haven't talked much about that
night, but I was wondering. Was that Ruben with you in the house that
night?"
The question startled Lori. "You knew?"
"I knew something was wrong, but Karen was all upset
about finding Gloria's face on Ronnie's drawings, and I couldn't just
leave her."
"It was Ruben," Lori confessed. Amy deserved a
straight answer. "He got what he wanted and he's gone."
"Then Carol's going to be okay," Amy said decisively.
"I think Carol's problems are solved, unless she
causes herself a fresh batch."
"It would help if she stopped messing around with all
those awful truck drivers." Amy gazed at her for a moment, then changed
the subject. "You visit a lot these days.”
"Don't you ever need to get out now and then?" Lori
said in a carefully neutral tone of voice.
"I go stir crazy sometimes, but you're having those
awful dreams. They must be getting worse, because you look really
terrible in the morning."
Lori was aghast. Of her three close friends, she had
always considered Amy the most naive and least trustworthy. It was
clearly time to reconsider her evaluation of the soft-spoken woman. "It's
probably just worrying about Ronnie's drawings," Lori said, hoping the
explanation would satisfy her.
"What are you going to do about them?"
"I haven't decided as yet."
Amy leaned forward confidentially. "Your dreams are
about those women," she said in a conspiring whisper. "They were
murdered, probably horribly."
Gooseflesh flooded Lori's body, but she had to take
into consideration that Amy believed in the paranormal. She was such a
gentle and innocent soul. "I’m not sure what I think,” was the only
honest answer she had to give.
"Maybe Trent can help," Amy said. "Have you asked?"
"I don't know any man well enough to tell him about
those particular dreams, and I don't think we should tell anyone about
Ronnie's drawings until we have some idea of where they come from.”
"Carol told me once that there are things about Trent
that you don't know about and that you might not like. She said she was
going to keep her mouth shut and let you find out for yourself."
Lori was again thrown off balance. "Things that I
don't know about Trent?"
"That's what she said. I thought you should know."
"I'm glad you said something."
Amy gave her a strained smile, knowing she had dumped
a worry into Lori's lap. "You're not the only one upset by those
drawings. Karen gets a little crazy sometimes, but she's a smarter woman
than I am. Something about those pictures scared her worse than you
know. She won't tell me what it is."
"I intend to find out who those women are and what
happened to them," Lori said. "It has to be done. I'm hoping we can all
have a good laugh when they turn out to be faces of superstars copied from
the cover of Vogue."
Amy gave a nervous shake of her head. "I don't think
they are. I think they're dead."
Lori decided to forgo her usual visit to the café for
fear that Carol would read trouble in her face as easily as had Amy. Even
Leslie saw through her facade of normalcy when he kept grinning at her
during dinner that evening. Wendy had given her the cold shoulder since
her return home from school. The fourteen-year-old moved about the
kitchen in total silence.
"What?” she cried out finally. “Did someone put a
big green X on my face? Spit it out, Tiger!"
"Waiting for Trent again, huh?"
Lori looked at the boy in astonishment. "Why would
you think that?"
Wendy was watching her from the corner of her eye.
"Why would he think that?" she demanded of her
daughter, mildly alarmed because it had been at the back of her mind that
Trent might pay a quick visit during the course of the evening.
"You're all dressed up with nowhere to go," Wendy
pointed out. "Leslie's just a kid, but he's not stupid, Mom."
"Damn," she murmured, having forgotten about her
choice of clothing for the afternoon, a summer dress she normally reserved
for special occasions. It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would
notice.
"Really, Mom."
Wendy's behavior irked her, but at least her veil of
silence had been broken. "You disapprove?" she said.
"You shouldn't be screwing around with Trent."
"Why shouldn’t I screw around with Trent, may I ask?”
"You have Dad," Wendy said evasively. "He might
still come back."
"Your father isn't coming back," Lori said, careful
to keep her voice free of agitation. "He'll always be your father, but he
won't always be my husband. Or do you think I should dye my hair red,
call myself Sandra, and run a red remote-controlled toy sports car up and
down the sidewalk?”
Leslie barked laughter. Wendy pouted. "I suppose
that means you think you're going to marry Trent already. I don’t want
another father, especially not him."
"Yes, and I can imagine why. I wasn’t the one who
used to light up like a Christmas tree when we saw Trent cruising around
town."
"He liked me, too," Wendy said.
"He's my age, Wendy. He'd go to jail messing with
fourteen-year-old girls, don't you think?"
"Maybe he likes younger women," Wendy said sullenly.
Leslie burst into laughter again and as quickly
stifled it.
Wendy glared at her younger brother. "Maybe we're
both wrong. Maybe he likes little boys instead!"
"Oh, yuk!"
"Let's conduct this discussion with a bit more
dignity," Lori said. "Please?"
"Well, I might," Wendy said, blushing furiously, "if
you'd quit acting like Calico in heat every time he comes around."
Lori took a moment to gather her wits. "Calico is a
tomcat, Wendy."
Wendy gave her a lopsided grin. "Look again, Mom. I
think our tomcat got herself knocked up."
Lori tried to hide the magnitude of her possible
error. "Even so, it's just a kitten. I don't think it's going to be
having babies so soon."
Wendy grinned victoriously. "An irresponsible
teenybopper kitten, maybe. She still got herself pregnant."
"Did Trent get fresh or something, Mom?" Leslie piped
up. "Wendy says she just smacks 'em when they get fresh with her, and
that I'd better watch myself when I get old enough to mess around with
girls."
Lori had no defense against Leslie's cheerful
innocence. "Please go away before I stick your head in the dishwater."
Calico tore through the kitchen in pursuit of a ball
of yarn, and Lori did notice with complete amazement at how the cat's
sides were filling out. "I thought I told you guys not to give that cat
my good yarn?"
Leslie went in pursuit of the animal. "Cat, get your
butt back in here with that!"
"Let's you and me settle our differences," Lori said
to Wendy. "Do you want me to stop seeing Trent?"
Wendy thought it over and shook her head. "No, I
like Trent a lot, too, but he is just a friend, isn't he?"
"Just a friend for now," Lori said, "and a friend can
never replace your father. I'm sorry my behavior is so transparent. If
it was anyone but Trent, I wouldn't be acting like a school girl."
Wendy shrugged. "Dad's the one who screwed up, I
guess. You would never have messed around behind his back."
"I would have been satisfied to spend the rest of my
life with your father." Lori was surprised to realize how profoundly she
meant it. "I've always taken for granted it would be that way. Now we've
got ourselves a broken home and all bets are off. I've asked myself if it
wouldn't be best if I just let Trent go his own way, but I can't see where
that would do any of us any good. I liked being a wife and mother. I
can't imagine being anything else. I wouldn't know how."
Wendy stared at the floor. "I didn't know adults
could act so..."
"Go ahead and say it. So crazy?"
Wendy gave a meek nod.
"Sorry it comes as such a shock,
but most of us are complete loonies."
Wendy wandered off to her room in a better mood.
Lori stayed up late that evening in defense against her horrible dreams,
doubting if Trent would make a reappearance, but psychologically prepared
for him if he did.
She dozed watching television at midnight and awoke
at two in the morning with no recollection of having dreamed anything at
all. She risked the comfort of a nightgown and her own bed and awoke a
second time to a sunny, but cool morning blowing in through the bedroom
window. With a sigh of relief, she bounced out of bed and began her daily
routine with a smile in as long as she could remember.
Carol phoned just after the school bus left. "Look
out your front door."
Lori peered out the picture window and saw Carol
standing on her front porch with her cordless house phone to her ear, waving at
her. Lori sighed, thinking that life would have been so much easier
with a cell phone in every pocket.
Greg's car was parked out front. Cardboard boxes were gathering on
the ground beneath the open back lid. Lori hurried outside and crossed the street. She
gave Carol a fierce hug and studied her face for any lingering evidence of
the injuries Ruben had inflicted.
"Good as new," Carol said. She touched her bruised
throat. "Do I sound okay? I was a little hoarse."
"You're a big horse now. You sound fine."
Carol flexed her right hand. "The bastard almost
crushed my windpipe. I still get needles and pins in my hand." She
gestured for Lori to follow her back inside the house.
Only a few pieces of her furniture remained. Her
belongings had been packed away in brown paper grocery bags and cardboard
boxes.
"Are you moving away?" Lori said, alarmed by the
prospect.
"I'm moving in with Greg over the diner."
Lori relaxed. "That's more like it."
"Greg wants to give it a try. If we can get along
together as well as we do in the cafe, we're getting hitched. We're not
getting any younger, or any prettier. Neither one of us wants to be alone
another few years down the road."
"Make it work," Lori said solemnly. "You two have
been a team for ages. And no screwing around on the side."
Carol blinked away a tear without embarrassment.
"You've got a level head, Lori. I always listen to you, or I should when
I don't. Like with Ruben."
Lori groaned in disgust. "If I never hear that
horrible name again, it'll be too soon."
Carol lifted a small box. "Help me? I'm still weak
as a kitten."
Lori followed with one of the larger remaining boxes
and found a place for it in the trunk.
"Have you visited Karen yet?" Carol said.
Lori wondered if she'd have the courage. "In the
morning, maybe."
Carol paused with a distant look on her face. "I'm
glad it all turned out okay. Nobody got hurt too badly."
They drove the load of boxes to the diner a few
blocks away. "Just put them by the door," Carol instructed. "Greg said
he'd carry them up the stairs. Thanks a heap for helping."
Lori abruptly turned to the woman
when she finished. "What don't I
know about Trent Scarelli that you didn't want to tell me about?"
Carol looked both shocked and embarrassed. "Amy
tattled on me!"
"She thought I should know."
Carol wrinkled her nose. "Do I have to?"
"Is it all that bad?"
Carol sat on the bottom step of the staircase leading
to the second floor apartment. "His car was parked in front of your house
last night. That must have been your fault."
"Why do you say that?"
"If Trent had paid a visit with dishonorable
intentions, he would have hidden his car."
Lori tried to hide her startled reaction. "How did
you know?"
"It's just something he does. Add it to your
collection of bones to pick with your Italian stallion. I'm afraid
there's going to be more than a few."
"Please spell a few out for me."
Carol grinned wickedly. "I knew you weren't going to
let him get away from you. I tried to warn Dave what would happen if he
didn't tend to business at home."
"Trent's a deputy sheriff," Lori said, trying to
prepare for the worse. "If he's got skeletons in the closet, they can't
be all that bad."
"He's been married, Lori."
Lori let her suppressed emotions wrestle themselves
to exhaustion. Outwardly, she only sighed. "How long ago?"
Carol looked up in quick mental calculation. "About
ten years. He was hardly more than a kid."
"Divorced?"
Carol shook her head, then shrugged her lack of
interest. "She ran off on him, I think. You'll have to speak to him
about it."
"Why did you think that was such a bad thing for me
to know?"
Carol pursed her lips and sighed. "Because it's a
small town and people talk."
"About a ten-year-old separation?"
"She was a local girl who made it big in California.
She visited one summer and brought back her new husband. There was a
fight and she up and vanished."
Which was the specific thing Carol had been trying to
hide. Lori cleared her throat and hoped that she sounded casual. "Do
people think he killed her or something?"
"Would he be a deputy sheriff if Danielson thought he
was a murderer? But old women talk, and some think he's hung around all
this time trying to find out what happened to her. He's got a reputation
for being a difficult catch, and nobody can figure out any other reason
for him to act that way. Are you two of you going to hit it off, do you
think?"
"I don't know."
There was more. Lori could see it in her face. But
she had enough to think about for now. Before more could be said, she
rose to her feet and started back home, quickly lost in unsettled
thoughts.
