You’ll be happy to know I didn’t kill her. No point. Just draw attention to myself, right? The way I did it, she maybe kept it to herself. You live in a little town like Oasis, you don’t want it getting around you’ve been raped. People figure you brought it on yourself, you’ll never live it down. So I just left her, and headed on back to the market.
Guess who’s there. Not just my old lady, but the asshole that owned the dog. He’s got himself a shotgun. And he doesn’t go away. He’s gonna blow the head off the bastard that put the dark on his pooch. So he says.
The store’s full of people. They’re all buying one or two things, just for an excuse to visit the scene of the crime. Must be eight o’clock before the joint clears out.
That’s when I go to it. Start spooking’em. The asshole almost gets me with his shotgun, though. Blows apart a coke display. Then I take his shotgun away and knock him on the head. I don’t have time to finish the job,’cause the old lady’s screaming her face off and running for the door.
I catch up to her, throw her down, and tell her who I am. It’s Sammy, her darling son, come back to give her a taste of what she’d given him.
She’s crying and pleading with me, saying she’s sorry. Man, is she sorry. Especially when I start snapping her fingers. I have to gag her to stop the screams. Then I drag her back to the meat counter.
She and the old turd taught me how to be a butcher, how to use the bone saw and cleaver. Made me sick. All that blood. But then I got to like it, and they’d catch me eating the raw meat and they’d say I was stealing and knock me around. Well, they got their way. Made me into a butcher.
So here goes the old bag, up on the chopping block. I go at her real slow, wanting to keep her alive for a while so she can see what a good butcher she turned out. I even use tourniquets on her stumps to keep the bleeding down so she’ll last a while longer.
Hope she enjoyed it.
Packaged her up real nice in cellophane, and laid her out with the rest of the beef. Then I went over to the guy. He’s still out cold. I start with his arm. Hack it right off. And then I hear the front door open.
If it ain’t my old pal, Lacey! This, I know, is gonna be a banner day. I let her snoop around some, then I go for her. Knock her out, strip her down, and do what I’d been wanting to do since I was a high school kid. Ah, she was fine, just fine. You oughta know, right? You haven’t had a piece yet, you’re missing a bet.
I don’t kill her. No way. I’ve got big plans for her. So I leave. Only one car in the lot, that and a pickup truck. I knew the pickup belonged to the dog man, so the car has to be Lacey’s. I get in, and lay down on the back floor.
It’s a long wait. The cops come. I don’t know, it’s maybe an hour before she finally comes out. She checks the car real careful, almost like she knows I’m there. Doesn’t see me, though. Course not. So she starts up the car and heads for home.
She lights up this cigarette, and I cough. God knows what she must’ve thought. Scared her plenty, though. Thinks I’m in the trunk, I guess. When she stops, she jumps on the trunk like maybe it isn’t locked. Has her face pressed up against the back window and here I am, looking right at her with her cheek mashed in.
Then she runs off, goes in her house, and I get out of the car. I’m standing there, and out she comes with a revolver. Shit, this gal’s got balls. She goes right to the trunk and opens it, planning to blast me to hell. Course, I’m not there. I’m over by her front door, now, waiting for her to come back and open it.
She gets it unlocked, and we’re about to go in when this jock shows up. He’s gonna play big hero and search around. So they go off together, and she doesn’t bother to lock the door up, so I help myself and go inside.
Pretty soon, they come in. The guy looks all over the place. He wants to stay, but Lacey won’t bite, so he runs off and she’s finally alone.
Almost alone, right?
Gets herself some wine, and makes this call. That’s how I find out she works for the paper. Cute call. Doesn’t tell what I did to her. That’s gonna be her secret. Just between her and me. Like I say, you can’t let a thing like that get around, not in a town like Oasis.
So after the call, lo and behold, she locks herself in the john and starts to run the bath. Never even suspects I’m right in there with her. I have myself a great time watching her strip, check herself out in the mirror, lay down in the tub, soap herself up, sip her wine. I just stand there enjoying it for a while. I figure, she’s mine now. I own her. I can do what I want with her, as much as I want.
Well, I finally decide it’s time to spook her, start showing her who’s running the show. So I turn off the light. I hear her splashing. Then she’s out of the tub and pointing this pistol at her door as if I’m gonna come bashing through it. I just stand behind her and enjoy it. She’s scared shitless. I can hear her gasping, making little whiny sounds. I leave her alone till she starts to get dressed, then I nail her. This time’s better than before. It’s better when they’re conscious, squirming and crying. Adds a little flavor to the proceedings, you know?
By the time I’m done, I’m beat. Busy day, right? So it’s time to hit the sack. I tie her to the bed and blindfold her. Don’t want her walking off—or limping, as the case may be. And I don’t want her learning my little secret till I’m ready to spring it on her. I want to see her reaction.
Next morning, after some asshole comes to the door, I have another go at her. She’s better than ever, squirming and fighting. That should’ve given me a clue: the bitch has a lot more guts than I counted on. But I figure, once she sees I’m invisible, she’s gonna know she can’t win. She’ll fall in line.
I let her know my plan. She’s gonna be like Robin in Iowa, gonna take care of me and keep her mouth shut, and go on about her business just like nothing’d happened. I warn her what’ll happen if she screws up. Then I go ahead and untie her and take off the blindfold.
First thing she does, when she sees she can’t see me, is give me a kick in the nuts. Then she runs. But she’s smart, gotta give her that. She doesn’t try to run away, knows she can’t get away from someone she can’t see, so instead she goes in the kitchen thinking she’ll finish me off. Throws flour on me so she can see where I am, and sticks a knife in my back.
That would’ve taken care of most guys, just like all the fuckin’ bullets you pumped in Tome. But I’m not most guys, right? I’ve drunk at the river, all that shit. Got magic powers. So she hurts me and gets away, probably thinks she’s killed me.
But she hasn’t. I’m out of there and hiding by the time the cops show up. Well, I figure she’ll come back sooner or later. I’ll just wait her out.
That’s what, Thursday? I hang around all day, and she doesn’t come back. Then I hang around Friday. When she doesn’t show up by Saturday, I figure it’s gonna be a long wait if I don’t get into action.
I know she works for the paper, right? So I figure somebody there’s gonna know where to find her. Turns out, the cops are there. Somebody got offed with a letter opener, and there’s a note makes it sound like I done it. Weird, huh? Anyway, I stick around till the cops go. There’s only me and the editor. He’s acting funny.
I get ready in case I have to follow him. Snatch a shirt and cowboy hat out of the cleaners next door. Hide the stuff out back, then I nail some bitch that’s getting in her car. I park it near the Trib’s lot, check her purse to see she’s got some blush-on for my face—better than nothing—and put my clothes in her car.
I’m all set, right? I just wait a while, and the editor shows up. He checks his car real careful. Good thing I didn’t hide in it, huh?
So I follow him to Tucson, and the rest is history. You know the rest. Except maybe how I got in the room, that second time. Lowered myself on a sheet. Man, that was hairy!
When you got away that time, I figured I’d flush you out with a fire. Used cleaning fluid. Started four fires, in all. Burned real good.
I would’ve had you and Lacey, only I got
overconfident about the gun. Well, shit, can’t win’em all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Might be good for you to listen, Lacey.”
“Why?”
“Know your enemy,” Scott said.
She nodded. She wished she could leave and avoid the presence of Hoffman—even his voice disgusted and frightened her. But she was curious. “I don’t know,” she said.
“You’ll have to hear him a lot,” he said, “if you’re going to collaborate on the book with me. Might as well get used to the idea.”
“Yeah. All right.”
Scott started the tape. “Okay,” Hoffman said. “You want me to talk, I’ll talk.”
Dukane stepped over to a front window. He knelt at its side, and peered out.
Looking at Nancy? Wondering if he could save her?
“The one I really wanted, it was Lacey.”
She tried not to listen. She thought about Nancy.
The girl had been out there for nearly an hour now. Dukane had spent most of that time looking at her. “She’s gagged,” he’d told Lacey. That explained why there were no screams.
He’d discussed shooting at the ropes or stakes that pinioned her spread-eagled to the ground. But even if he could free her that way, he supposed a fusillade would tear her apart before she could make the door—particularly since she was bound fast to Jan’s larger body. Maybe after dark…
The tape played on. Lacey found herself listening, appalled by the list of Hoffman’s victims, by the bragging and insolent tone of his voice. She listened with dread to the ghastly method of transformation, sickened by the image of the severed head, the beans being pushed through its eyes, the drinking of blood. When he described his attack on Coral, she shivered at the memory of herself in the dark bathroom of her home.
His tale of perversion and slaughter went on and on. Lacey thought about going into the kitchen, standing by the sink, running the water full blast to drown out the hideous sound of his voice. But she couldn’t force herself to leave. She felt compelled to listen, much as she might be drawn to a grisly accident, horrified and worried about the victims but curious to see their broken remains.
Scott flipped the cassette over.
Then Hoffman was in Oasis, looking for her name in the telephone directory. She remembered the series of obscene midnight calls that had made her life miserable two years ago until she took an unlisted number. Thank God for those calls. The new number had at least postponed Hoffman’s attack. If she’d only stayed away from the market…
She gagged as Hoffman described eating the dog.
Then he was in the shower room at the high school, secretly touching the girls, following one home to rape her. Lacey knew most of the people in Oasis. She wondered who the girl was. Pitied her. But it could’ve been so much worse.
When he told of breaking his mother’s fingers, Lacey knew what was coming. She didn’t want to hear about the butcher job. With a finger in each ear, she blocked the sound. But her mind saw him hacking Elsie apart, wrapping the pieces in cellophane. Scott, sitting only a few feet away, looked at her with sadness in his eyes. Then he blushed and turned away.
Lacey took the fingers from her ears. “Ah, she was fine,” Hoffman said. “Just fine.” Who did he mean? “You oughta know, right. You haven’t had a piece yet, you’re missing a bet.”
Scott glanced at her, made a shy smile, and lowered his gaze to the floor.
Lacey, suddenly understanding, felt heat rush to her skin. Bad enough that Hoffman should violate her, but to brag about it, to suggest that Scott…What could she expect from a bastard like Hoffman?
She listened to the way he hid in her car, how he sneaked into the house, how he stood close to her as she phoned James. With growing dread, she waited for his description of the attack. She watched Scott as Hoffman spoke. He sat with his legs crossed, his hands gripping his knees. “This time’s better than before. This time she’s conscious, at least till the very end.” He stared at the floor, his face dark red. “It’s better when they’re conscious, squirming and crying.” Scott raised his face. He looked at her, and she saw tears shining in his eyes.
My God, she thought, he’s crying for me.
She hesitated only a moment, then crawled across the floor to him and sat at his side. He took her hand.
“First thing she does when she sees she can’t see me, is give me a kick in the nuts.”
Scott squeezed her hand. He looked at her and grinned as Hoffman told how she stabbed him. Then they listened as he described following Carl to the hotel.
At last, it was over.
Scott turned off the machine.
Dukane turned away from the window, a strange pleased look on his face. He sat with his back to the wall. Grinning. “Listening to him…I got an idea. I know how we might save Nancy. It’s a risk for all of us. It may not even work, but it stands a decent chance. I think we owe it to her.”
“What’s your idea?” Scott asked.
“Send Hoffman out for her.”
Lacey groaned as the words clutched her bowels. She felt numb all over.
“We’d have to let him loose,” Scott muttered.
“As I said, it’s a risk. He might try to get away, or he might turn on us. In either case, he’d be hard to stop. But he’s awfully worried about Laveda. I don’t think he’d want to make a break, not with the place surrounded. By now, somebody out there might have a pair of those infrared goggles.”
“The goggles could kill his chance of getting to Nancy.”
“We’d have surprise on our side. They probably aren’t watching constantly with those things—if they have them at all. They certainly won’t expect us to send Hoffman out for the girl.”
“I don’t know.”
“Lacey?”
“I…He’s a monster. He’ll try something. He’ll try to kill us or…if he does get away, all the innocent people he’ll kill…”
“His chances of escape are remote,” said Dukane. “I think he knows that. As long as he sticks with us, he has some firepower on his side. If I were him, I’d stick with us until I’m sure we’ve had it. Then I’d chance a break.”
“He’s put Lacey through hell,” Scott said. “If he does take you and me out…God only knows what he’d do to her.” He placed a hand on Lacey’s knee, held it tightly. “I don’t want to risk that.”
“All right,” Dukane said.
“Wait.” Lacey covered Scott’s hand and squeezed it. “We can’t leave her out there. She…as Matt said, we owe her. Let’s give it a try.”
Lacey sat on the floor, her back to the couch, her legs drawn up protectively as Dukane led Hoffman in. One cuff was attached to Dukane’s left wrist; the other stood out sideways.
Scott followed, several paces behind, with Jan’s shotgun aimed toward the area above the floating cuff.
Lacey raised her revolver and aimed at the same empty space.
“If it ain’t Annie Oakley,” Hoffman said. “Don’t look so worried, huh? I’m doing you guys a favor.”
As they approached the broken front window, Dukane removed the handcuffs. He slid a small carving knife from his rear pocket. “Take this,” he said. “But leave it outside once you’ve cut her free.”
The knife left his hand. He backed away.
“I’m supposed to go out the window, right?”
“Right. We’ll open the door on your way back.”
“If I come back, huh?”
“If you don’t, you’ll end up in Laveda’s hands. Sooner or later.”
“Yeah yeah.”
“Get going.”
The knife, hovering several feet off the floor, turned toward the broken window. The end of its handle lowered against the sill.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Hoffman said. He sounded impressed. “Look at them, will you?”
“We’ve seen.”
“You just want the one underneath, right?”
“Right.”
“Other’s dead as
a carp.” The knife raised and shot through the opening. “Ha! Right on target. She can’t feel it anyway, huh?” After a pause, he said, “Look out, belowwww.”
Dukane crouched by the window.
As Scott hurried to the other one, curiosity overcame Lacey’s distaste. She joined him, pistol ready, and peered out. Immediately, she regretted it. She gagged, but managed to swallow the bitter fluid that gushed up her throat.
She forced herself not to look away. The arms and legs of both women were spread wide and bound to metal stakes, but the mangled carcass on top hid most of Nancy from her view. Flies swarmed over the tattered skin of Jan’s back and rump. The rear of her head had been scraped bald. A splinter of bone protruded from her left arm. Her left leg was dislocated and stretched far longer than the other; Lacey saw a knife embedded in its buttock.
As she watched, the knife slid out. It moved slowly over the ground to the staked foot, and sawed through the rope. Though Nancy’s foot remained bound to Jan’s, it was now free of the stake. It didn’t move.
The knife crossed the area between the spread legs, and cut the next rope.
It dropped out of sight beside the legs, and reappeared sliding along the ground near Nancy’s outstretched left arm. It cut through the rope, then returned over the ground to her side. It appeared again near the feet, crossed the space between them, and moved up the other side. It snaked the length of Nancy’s right arm, sawed through the rope.
Dukane stepped to the door.
The women’s feet wobbled slightly. Then they rose from the ground and the bodies jerked in to motion. Gunfire broke the silence. Bullets kicked up dust around the dragging bodies. Dark matter burst from Jan’s back. Her head jumped, pieces exploding away.
Dukane threw open the door.
The bodies bounced up the low stoop. More bullets smacked into Jan, splashing her like pebbles striking water.
Then they were inside. Dukane kicked the door shut. As slugs pounded through it, he lunged toward the raised feet of the women. The feet began to drop. He swung his pistol, but it swept through empty air. Scott raced to help. Dukane’s head snapped sideways. He staggered and dropped to his knees. Scott clutched his own belly. As he doubled, his shirt collar and belt jerked taut. He was lifted high off the floor.