Twenty-two
They couldn't keep up their guard indefinitely. For
a time, it no longer seemed necessary. Ronnie refused to deliver Lori's
groceries when she phoned in a test order. Carol and Karen and Amy left
in Lori's hands the decision on how to proceed with their discovery of
Ronnie's drawings and his voyeurism. Going to the sheriff would put
Ronnie in a supervised home and forever block any avenue of investigation
into their origin. Lori wanted badly to know where they came from.
A day or two of concern for Dave came and went along
with the official closing of the Denton tractor factory. Lori brushed
away annoying tears as she watched a local television documentary describe
the catastrophic financial impact the Denton factory closing was having on
Clayton and surrounding communities. A way of life had ended. The future
loomed dark and foreboding.
The uneasy respite that followed in the wake of the
raid on Ronnie's apartment ended within the week. Carol pounded at her
door one late afternoon looking thoroughly rattled. "Someone's broken
into my house and ransacked it."
"Anything missing?"
"Nothing. Things were just moved around."
"Ronnie, do you think?"
"I'm going to call the sheriff in on this, Lori. I
can deal with a disturbed boy. I can't deal with Karen. I hear at the
diner that she's recommending castration for child molesters at those
meetings of hers. If she catches Ronnie breaking into her house, she
could do worse than fracture an arm with Leslie's baseball bat."
"Carol, I don't want Ronnie in
jail. He's not responsible for Virginia's death. I don't think
he would have hurt Gloria. But we do need to know who those women
are." And then, softly, "You can't just blow off the coincidence.
Please don't do that to me."
"Your dreams," Carol said in
horror. "My God..."
"We need to discuss
this with Karen before we go over her head. Maybe she'll listen to
reason."
"Fat chance." Carol looked up hopefully. "Maybe we
can talk to Ronnie instead. Maybe he found a picture in a magazine and we
can throw the magazine away and threaten to tattle if he doesn't behave
himself."
Lori considered the option. "Pictures like that
don't come from a magazine. From a photograph, maybe.”
“Why can’t you confide in Trent? It’s his job!”
Lori shrugged. “Not until
I know why he's always so close by when we need him. Do you know him well enough to trust
him with your life?”
Carol backed away. "You sound more paranoid than
Karen."
"Fine. Let's dump it in Karen's lap and see if it's
enough to shut her up."
Carol gave a thoughtful nod of agreement. "Just so
you and Ms. Godzilla understand that I'll spill my guts to Sheriff
Danielson in a heartbeat if she ever does anything stupid."
Lost in the dark thoughts Lori had stirred up, Carol
turned away and went out the front door. Lori phoned Karen and outlined
the need for discretion. "I concur," Karen said bluntly, without taking
offense. "I want to know who those women are, and I have no intention of taking the law into my own hands... as
long as Ronnie Bates is brought to eventual justice."
"It was your idea to handle our problems as a team,"
Lori reminded her. "Let's keep it that way. We swim together, or we sink
like lead weights.”
Deputy Trent Scarelli stopped by for a visit that
evening. He leaned against the wrought iron railing of the front porch
and tried to seduce small talk from her. His behavior seemed calculated,
reinforcing Lori's suspicion that he haunted Sorrel for reasons that
ultimately had nothing to do with petite, abandoned housewives.
Lori grilled Carol the next day and discovered that
Trent was from California and had a degree in law enforcement. No one
seemed to know why he had taken a back woods job in the Midwest as a lowly
deputy. Carol seemed oddly reluctant to discuss the details of Trent's
past. Regardless, Lori had no choice but to hold the temptation of Trent
Scarelli at bay. The sparks that flew between them were horrendous, but
to fall prey to those dark eyes would be to lose the independence she had
gained during the course of the summer. He'd be a distraction, perhaps a
dangerous one.
Indeed, her thoughts were on Trent that afternoon
when Wendy leaped from her place at the dining room where she had been
reading. "Wow, Mom. Here comes Dad's girlfriend."
Lori shot to her feet and ran to the window in time
to watch long, slender legs emerge from the low-slung sports car.
Sandra's auburn hair blazed like raw copper in the sun, and her hourglass
figure swung in rhythm to her walk. She stopped at the foot of the porch
stairs when she noticed her audience at the screen door. "May I speak
with you, Mrs. Malcolm?"
"Wendy, Leslie, turn off the television and go to
Karen's."
The two protested, but neither took their objections
beyond Lori's icy repetition of her command. They did as they were told
and vanished out the back way.
Lori held the screen door open for the woman. "Come
in."
Sandra entered the living room smelling of expensive
perfume. She couldn’t imagine what this elegant creature saw in Dave.
Surely there had been an unlimited selection of men to choose among those
working at the now extinct Denton plant. How had Dave managed to win out
over the entire bunch of them?
"Sit down," Lori offered. "I can make coffee."
"It's not necessary. I won't be long." She looked
around and seated herself on the couch.
Lori pulled a chair out and sat facing the woman,
trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "What can I do for you?"
"I feel so guilty coming here. I don't know what to
say."
Lori shrugged irritably. "You must have had
something to say. It's a long drive out this way."
"Dave and I visited Mexico, hoping things would calm
down. I convinced him that it would be best not to try to contact you
until after we returned. It was best that you not be involved in our
affairs. Last week, I spoke with my husband and tried to reason with
him. All I want is a divorce and my freedom, but Henry threatened to have
me killed in a fit of anger. He claims he has hired private agents to
locate us, that he'll do what he must to flush us into the open."
Sandra waited for a response. Lori stared at the
woman in confusion, unsure of what she was feeling, or how she was
supposed to react.
"A car tried to run us off the road at an airport in San
Francisco. We were separated. Dave is frightened and may try to contact
you. You must deliver a message for me."
"Sure. What else are wives for?"
Sandra ignored the sarcasm. "Tell him to go back any
way he can. He'll understand what I mean by that. Warn him that your
house may be under surveillance. There's a chance that your phone may
have been tapped. Remember that if he calls."
Lori felt a chill of apprehension. "You've got to be
kidding."
"My husband is Henry Kahn, founder and sole owner of
Optometric Industries. He’s worth about a half billion dollars. If he wants
something done, he pays to have it done, and it gets done. I know how he operates."
"I would imagine so," Lori said, just beginning to
warm to the anger building within her.
Sandra stood. "I'm not here because of our
problems. I'm here to protect you and the children. We have no right to
endanger you. I wouldn't have involved Dave had I known about his
family. He lied to me. He said he was divorced."
Sandra looked distraught. Tears came to her eyes.
"I know my apologies are worthless. I wish I could at least explain
myself. My ten dollar an hour job at the Denton plant and my relationship
with Dave has been the happiest time of my life. I'd give anything I’ve
ever had to trade places with you."
And with that, the woman turned and fled, slamming
the screen door against the front porch and rushing to her sports car in
tears.
Lori was too stunned to know what she was feeling, or
how to react. As the sports car pulled away with a squeal of tires, Wendy
and Leslie slipped in from the kitchen and stood beside her with pale and
sober expressions.
"Wendy, Leslie, eavesdropping is below contempt."
"I don't understand what she meant," Wendy said. "Is
Dad in some kind of trouble? Will he go to jail?"
Lori sat down on the couch and pulled them both
close, suspecting any message Dave might leave would allude to a meeting
place and time where they could talk in private. "If your father calls, I want you both to be sure you remember any
message he may give you. It's very important to remember exactly what he
might say. But he might not be able to talk, so don't get upset if
he hangs up right away. Okay?"
Leslie nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. Wendy
returned to her book in the dining room, staring at a page without
reading. That evening, Lori put Leslie to bed with the simple assurance
that things would work out for the best. Leslie nodded eagerly, willing
to believe what he was told. Lori felt guilty offering counterfeit
assurances, but the boy was young. Time would heal the shallow wounds of
youth.
Wendy, in contrast, was hopeless. As the days
passed, she no longer protested Lori's occasional pep talks. Neither did
they have any impact. She no longer sulked, but she moved about the house
like a ghost, without energy or purpose. Lori vowed that her hatred for
Dave would be bottomless if his desertion scarred the children.
They all threw a barbecue at the park the following
Saturday in an attempt to brighten their moods and renew their
camaraderie. Karen borrowed a station wagon from a friend for the
occasion. Everyone came, including Carol and a trucker named Bert who
stood a foot shorter than her own impressive height and talked with a
Texan drawl.
"There's real gold in them teeth," Carol bragged.
"He's colorful," Lori conceded. "It's his most
impressive attribute. On a scale from one to ten, he gets one for color."
"Well, he was the best I could do on such short
notice. You know how truckers just keep coming and going."
"Around you," Karen retorted, "they mostly come, I
would imagine."
That evening, the phone rang an hour or two before
she generally began her nightly vigil. She awakened to find herself lying
face down on the couch and fumbled for the extension on the end table.
"Where we went the first time," Dave murmured. "If
there's a car anywhere in sight, don't stop."
Lori went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her
face, then phoned Karen. There was no response. She tried Carol and got
a busy signal. Amy answered on the second ring. "Can I send Wendy and
Leslie over for the night?” Lori said. “I've got an emergency."
"What's wrong?" Amy asked breathlessly.
"I haven't the time to explain now. I will later, I
promise."
"Lori, I'll do anything you want, no questions
asked."
She awakened Wendy and Leslie and escorted them
zombie-like to Amy's, then hurried back to the house to fetch her purse
and a light jacket. The Volkswagen ran well in the cool evening air,
accelerating briskly down the deserted streets of Sorrel, rattling across
the railroad tracks, and squeaking to a stop at the highway. She swung
left and began a long, forty mile drive.
Dave's instructions had been clever. Where we went
the first time. That had been fourteen years ago, shortly before they had
moved to Sorrel. Wendy had been conceived in the back seat of their first
car at that location, and it would be there that she and Dave would
discuss the termination of their marriage.
She drove thirty miles of country road, then ten
miles of Interstate. She turned onto another county road that
deteriorated to gravel. There, she stopped on the crest of a hill, pulled
the parking brake, and stepped from the idling car.
There were no headlights behind her and nothing in
the distance ahead. The stars shone brilliantly overhead. Clayton glowed
as a dome of light on the southern horizon.
She drove the remaining distance. The old country
schoolhouse still stood beneath a scraggly weeping willow. The yard was
overgrown in weeds, but it hadn't rained in ages, and the ground was
solid. She turned off her headlights, pulled onto the precarious drive
bridging a deep drainage ditch and drove around back.
Dave stood beside his truck between the rotting
building and a dark wall of corn. Lori shut off the bug's engine and
stood alongside the car.
"I'm listening."
"Did you hear?" he said.
"Hear what?"
"About Bill Cornell. He killed himself.”
She sighed in commiseration. "Dave, I'm sorry."
"How have you and the kids been doing?"
"We're all just fine. Sandra stopped by and left a
message. Go back any way you can. She said you'd understand."
Dave thought about it and swallowed hard. "Lori, I'm
sorry."
"This is where we part company, Dave, here and now.
We didn’t know one another as well as we thought. Either that or we just
grew apart. I can’t imagine who’s to blame. It seems to be just
something that happens to people. I can’t imagine what else needs to be
said about it.”
"I still love you and the kids," he said, his voice
broken.
Lori thought it irrelevant. She climbed into the
Volkswagen and started the engine. If she had given it careful
thought beforehand, their face to face meeting was pointless. Too
much damage had been inflicted. She had established her
independence, relegating her marriage to the status of a past event.
"Wait! Lori, we've got to talk about things!"
She rolled the window down part way.
"There is nothing to talk about! No obligations, Dave!
We were in it fifty-fifty, one hundred percent committed. You want
out, you're out!"
Dave gave chase when she backed the car away.
Swinging around in a slide, she accelerated quickly out of reach and drove
away without looking back. Only when she reached the hill three miles
away did she stop to see what Dave would do. He pulled out of the drive
and paused as well, then turned away and roared off toward the lights of
town. Only if he would have come after had would there have been
some glimmer of hope left. Lori wept quietly to herself until his taillights disappeared in
the distance.
Lori had a shopping appointment with Amy in Clayton
the following morning. She dropped Amy and the twins off at their house a
few hours later. Amy pounded on her back door fifteen minutes later.
"Someone's broken into my house!"
Lori went with her to investigate. The back door
stood open, forced with a crowbar. They searched the house together, but
found nothing missing.
Karen phoned when she returned home from work.
"Lori, someone broke a front window."
Lori’s nerves jangled. "Nothing stolen?"
"I had an envelope with two hundred dollars lying on
my desk in the living room. Whoever it was couldn't have missed it, but
they didn't take it. It has to be Ronnie looking for his pictures. I've
tried to warn you about that boy time and time again."
"Karen, you promised not to jump to conclusions."
"I don't care about punishing him. I'm over that. I
just don't want anyone else hurt."
"Karen, we have to deal with this together."
Karen's breathing sounded harsh over the phone.
"I've depended upon you to be reasonable in the past. I'll wait a day or
two for you to find a way to resolve this, but we have to put a stop to
it. This is going too far.”
Lori didn’t know what she could hope to accomplish in
another day. She spent the night pacing, convinced that they would have
to go to Sheriff Danielson for help with more than just Ronnie Bates. She
had no way to defend herself against Henry Kahn, and no way to defend
Ronnie Bates against Karen's intensifying paranoia.
At dawn the next morning, an hour before Wendy and
Leslie awoke, she heard a car with a throaty roar pass the house. It
passed as quickly from her memory, until it went by the house a second
time, and then a third. She went to the front window to watch an old blue
sedan circle the block a fourth time and then park a half block away.
She ignored the car during the course of the day,
waiting to consult with Carol after work on the ominous development. She
phoned when she saw the light in the window across the street at dusk, but
the phone rang on and on, and an unanswered phone struck a wrong chord.
Carol wasn't apt to leave a light burning in an unattended house. It was
an idiosyncrasy she could count on. With mounting concern, she phoned
Greg at the diner.
Greg was oddly silent when she explained the
mystery. "Lori, Carol hasn't been in to work today. I called her house
this morning and stopped over this afternoon. She didn't answer. Her
doors are locked."
It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the
room. "I'll see if she's home and get back to you," Lori told the man,
and she hung up. "Wendy! Keep an eye on the house!"
Leslie never bothered to look up from the television
illuminating his face in blue-white illumination. Wendy acknowledged the
order from behind her closed bedroom door with a distracted, “okay.”
Lori rushed out the front door, but paused on the
porch. A car passing the house stopped alongside the blue sedan. The
drivers talked for a moment and looked her way. The blue car then roared
on past the house, relieved for the night. The newcomer made a U-turn and
boldly parked directly in front of the house to begin its night long
vigil.
Henry Kahn had made his first move.
Ruben's friends would never have been so bold. Maybe they were
just watching for Dave's return. Maybe it had already come to more than
that.
And then she saw it. The glow of a table lamp in
Carol's window flickered out, then on again.
Off and on.
Lori bolted. She raced across the street and yanked
at Carol's locked front door hard enough to wrench her shoulder. With a
low moan of impatience, she stepped off the porch and selected a brick
from the flower garden. She broke the glass from the front window and
reached inside to unlock the door and pull it open.
Carol lay gagged on the floor against the back wall,
dressed in panties and bra. Her wrists were bound behind her back with
clothesline. She had the cord to the table lamp gripped in one hand
behind her back and writhed with a frantic effort to find the wall socket
and signal again for help.
The lamp went on, and then off again.
Lori rushed to Carol's side and dropped to her
knees. Carol's eyes were swollen shut by bruising. She thrashed from
side to side, aware of a presence and quietly panicking. "It's me," Lori
said. She fought with the knot of the gag. "Honest, Carol, I don't know
what we do to deserve this".
The gag came off to reveal a cut and swollen lip.
"God damn!" Carol wailed. "Get these damned ropes off me! I've got to go
to the bathroom!"
Once freed, Carol managed to climb her feet. She
staggered halfway across the room, then toppled to one side, unconscious
long before she struck the floor in a spreading yellow-tan stain of urine.
