Spencerville

  He shut off the lights in the living room so he wouldn't be backlighted and slid open the glass door that led from the living room to the elevated deck.

  Baxter dropped to one knee behind the deck railing and raised the rifle, sighting through the scope and adjusting the infrared image with the focus knob. His right eye was still fuzzy from where Landry had jabbed him, but the magnification helped.

  He looked out into the woods that started about a hundred yards across the open space around the house, and scanned along the edge of the pine trees, but didn't see anything.

  Baxter wasn't certain which dog barked, or why, so he walked in a low crouch around the continuous deck, looking through the variable-power scope at the woods that surrounded the house on three sides, then scanned the shoreline of the lake, which, like the woods, was about a hundred yards away across open terrain. He focused on the waters of the lake itself but didn't see any boats.

  One of the dogs, the Labrador retriever, was tethered to a dog run parallel to the lake side of the house. The second dog, a golden retriever, was on its dog run, which ran from the lake, across the front of the house, out toward the woods where the dirt road came into the clearing. The third dog, a German shepherd, was out toward the rear of the house. The shepherd wasn't on a wire run, but was on a fifty-yard-long leash, attached to a pole, that allowed it to roam at will as far as the woods and as close as the house. He was satisfied that the placement of these dogs covered the perimeter of the clearing around his house.

  They were good dogs, Baxter thought, but they barked at nearly everything. Still, when they barked, he checked it out. He went back to the front deck and, again in a kneeling stance, he raised the rifle and pointed it toward the dirt road. It sounded like the golden retriever who'd barked, and in fact the retriever was at the end of its run near the wood line. But Baxter noticed that the wind was coming off the lake now, so the dog probably couldn't smell anything upwind. But it must have heard or seen something. Baxter adjusted the focus knob again and concentrated on the infrared images as he slowly scanned from left to right.

  He focused on the golden retriever again and saw that the dog was facing toward the woods about thirty yards left of where the dirt road began. Baxter dropped into a prone firing position, rested the rifle on the deck below the bottom slat, and sighted to where the retriever was pointing. He aimed low at the base of the pine trees and squeezed off a single round.

  The shot echoed through the trees and over the lake behind him, breaking into the silence of the night. All three dogs began barking. Baxter sighted again and fired another round, then another.

  The echo died away, and the dogs quieted down. Baxter lay motionless, peering through the scope, waiting for a sound or movement in the pine, and waiting, too, for return fire. After two full minutes, he decided there was nothing out there, or if there was, it was gone or dead. Maybe a deer. They liked to feed after dark during the hunting season, but as soon as the dogs barked, they ran. So why was the dog still looking into the woods? Maybe a rabbit or squirrel. Yeah . . .

  Okay . . . He didn't want to attract attention and didn't want to kill a hunter, but he didn't think there was anyone in the few cabins around this side of the lake, and even if there were, they didn't belong out at night in the woods during the deer season; at least not this close to his house.

  He waited a few more minutes, then rolled along the deck, stood quickly, and went back into the living room through the sliding door.

  Baxter put the rifle back in the gun rack and locked it, pocketing the key chain. He had four other semiautomatic rifles on the rack, one with a twilight scope for dawn and dusk shooting, one with a standard four-power scope for daylight, one with a long-range twelve-power scope for distance shots of up to a mile across the lake, and an AK-47 assault rifle with open sights for close-in shooting.

  Aside from the armaments and the dogs, he also had six old-fashioned bear traps set around the property, out of reach of the dogs. One of them was near the fataircase that led up to the deck. He also had a few other tricks up his sleeve, in case any uninvited and unannounced visitors showed up. He wasn't expecting anyone, but somewhere in the back of his mind was the image of Keith Landry.

  Keith lay flat on the ground among the pine boughs, with Billy beside him. When the firing stopped, Keith whispered, Just probing fire.

  Billy nodded. Yeah . . . but damn close.

  I think the dog was pointing.

  Billy whispered, You had a clear shot at him when he was knee-lin'.

  I did, but I think he was wearing a vest. I'd have to go for a head shot, and that's tough at this distance.

  Hey, did you see that red-eye lookin' at us?

  I did. The infrared scope's major drawback was that you could see the red glow when it was pointing directly at you. He wasn't surprised that Baxter had a night-vision scope, but it made things a little more difficult.

  The dog, which was about twenty yards from them, made a low, rumbling sound.

  They lay quiet and motionless for another few minutes, then the dog, responding to some other sound or impulse, turned and ran off down the length of its wire run toward the lake.

  Keith waited another minute, then slowly rose up into a kneeling position. He raised the binoculars and trained them on the house.

  Baxter slipped out of his bulletproof vest but kept his pistol strapped to his side. He turned on a floor lamp that cast a soft light across the big, cathedral-ceilinged living room.

  Along the slanted walls of the A-frame room were trophy heads: elk, deer, bobcat, wild boar, two black bears facing each other on opposite walls, and above the mantel of the fireplace, a rare gray timber wolf surveyed the length of the room.

  Sitting in a rocking chair beside the fireplace was Annie, staring into the flames. She glanced at him as he came toward her.

  Baxter said, You expectin' company, darlin'?

  She shook her head.

  I think you are. He sat in an easy chair opposite her.

  She was naked but had a blanket wrapped around her to keep away the cold. Still, her feet were cold despite the fire. On her ankles were leg manacles from the jail, connected by a twenty-four-inch chain long enough for her to walk normally but too short for her to run. The chain was padlocked to a large eyebolt screwed deep into the oak floor.

  The only telephone in the house was the wall phone in the kitchen, but Cliff had locked the handset in the kitchen closet, along with all the sharp knives. When he sent her to bed at night, he handcuffed her wrists to the iron headboard and released the leg manacles, So you can spread your legs for me, darlin'.

  Cliff looked at her awhile, then said, You think he's comin' for you, but that phone call I got before was from Blake, and he tells me that your lover boy went and kidnapped Ward and tortured the guy. But Ward told him that we went off to Florida. So that's where the stupid bastard is goin', if he gets that far. He added, If he even gives a shit about you.

  Annie didn't reply.

  Baxter added, I don't think he cares, and even if he does, he don't have the balls. He laughed. I mean, he really don't have the balls. But, in a way, I hope he does show up here. You ever seen a man caught in a bear trap? It ain't pretty, I'll tell you. Most of the time they can't get it open and they die of starvation and thirst. Sometimes they cut off their foot to get out. Now, if your lover boy gets himself caught in a trap around the house, we can both watch him dyin' for a week or so. They usually yell themselves hoarse, cryin' and beggin', then at the end, they want you to shoot 'em.

  Annie kept staring into the fire.

  Cliff said, Never saw it myself, but I know someone who did. I think I'd enjoy that. He couldn't seem to get a reaction out of her, so he said, Don't know what good he can do you anyhow. Last time I saw him, his balls was sittin' in my hand. You ever seen a man's testicles out of their sack? Hell, I shoulda saved 'em and showed 'em to you. He stared at her, and she glanced back at him. He could tell she wasn't sure about this, but each tim
e he told her this story, she seemed less believing, so he decided not to repeat it again for a few days.

  Cliff went on, I hope, if he shows up, I don't have to kill him outright. If he don't get caught in one of them bear traps, then maybe the dogs'll get on him, or maybe I can wing him. Hey, I'll bring him inside here, and you can take care of him. Get him fixed up enough so I can skin him alive and tan his hide—-

  Shut up!

  He stood. What did you say?

  Stop! Stop it!

  Yeah? Stand up.

  No.

  Stand up, bitch, and get it over with, or I'll make it worse.

  Annie hesitated, then stood.

  Drop the blanket.

  She let the blanket fall to the floor. Baxter took the key chain out of his pocket, knelt, and removed the padlock, freeing the manacle chain. He stood and said, Go over there and bend over the arm of the sofa.

  She shook her head.

  He drew his revolver and aimed it at her face. Do what I say.

  No. Go ahead and shoot.

  He lowered his aim to her stomach and said, If I gut-shoot you, you're gonna take a day to die.

  Annie remained standing where she was, wanting to die, and it didn't matter at that moment how long it took. Then she thought about her children and thought of the possibility that Keith would remember what she'd told him about Grey Lake, or of Keith speaking to Terry, who she prayed understood about Atlanta.

  Annie knew that they couldn't stay in this house forever, and when someone came along, there would be bloodshed, and it would probably end with Cliff killing her, then himself.

  So she wavered between wanting him to kill her now, and living a little longer and hoping she could do something to end this nightmare. But she didn't know how long she could live like this, how long it would be before he broke her. It had been three days now since they'd gotten here, and already she was losing touch with reality, bending to his perverted will to save herself some pain. She was no match for him in this situation, she realized. He had all the power, and even her subtle resistance met with his sadism. Still, she wasn't going to be his willing victim, and she said to him, Go to hell.

  Baxter lowered the pistol, went to the fireplace, and stuck the poker in the flames.

  Annie watched. No, he wouldn't kill her. Not yet. But he would do what he was preparing to do. The poker tip glowed red, and he pulled it out of the fire, held it up, and spit on it. The spit sizzled, and he held the poker out a few inches from her right breast. He said, I don't want to do this, but you ain't givin' me any choice.

  She replied, I don't want to do this either, and you're not giving me any choice.

  He looked at her, then said, We're gonna have it my way, either way. So?

  Realizing she'd resisted as much as she could, she turned and walked to the couch, the chain dragging over the rug, and the leg manacles chafing her ankles.

  He said, Bend over.

  She bent over the upholstered arm of the couch and put her hands out in front of her on the cushions. She heard Cliff put the poker down, then unbuckle his gun belt and lay it down somewhere. He came up behind her and unbuckled his trouser belt and whipped it out of the loops. Okay, you got to pay for your smart mouth. And you got a lot of payin' to do for a lot of smart-mouthin' over the years.

  She didn't want to reply, but she knew if she didn't say anything, he'd go on and on, and she didn't want to wait for it in that humiliating position. She said, Just get it over with.

  I want you to think about what's comin' and why you're gettin' it.

  Damn you—

  He swung the belt and brought it down hard across her buttocks.

  Keith focused on one of the lit dormer windows that protruded from the sloped side of the A-frame. He caught a glimpse of something, then saw her. She was standing, and he could see her from the waist up. She was bare-breasted, and she stood motionless for a few seconds. He could see her face, but at this distance, the equivalent of about twenty-five yards with the four-power magnification, he had trouble making out her features. He thought she looked frightened, but that might have been his imagination.

  Suddenly, she disappeared, and standing where she had been was Cliff Baxter. He focused as tight as he could, then watched Baxter making some sort of odd movement. It took him a few seconds to realize that Baxter was swinging something, a whip, or a belt, or a switch, and he understood what was happening. He lowered the binoculars and felt a tightening in his stomach.

  Billy whispered, What do ya see?

  Nothing.

  You see anybody?

  Yes . . . I did. He looked at Billy and said, He's beating her. I'm going in. He grabbed his rifle and started to stand, but Billy pushed him down. No! No! You wait.

  Keith lay on the ground. He thought he could hear the sound of whatever was happening in that house, the steady slap of something against bare flesh and her crying. But, of course, he couldn't hear it, but he felt it, as if it were happening to him.

  Annie yelled out in surprised pain. Usually, she prepared herself for the first blow and hardly made a sound until the pain got to be too much. Yesterday, she'd taken ten strokes without crying, and that had given her some satisfaction.

  He said, I was gonna give you only five, but now you're gettin' a full ten. You count, and if you lose count, I start over again. Ready?

  She didn't reply.

  Ready?

  Yes.

  Cliff Baxter proceeded to deliver nine slow, steady strokes with the belt across his wife's buttocks, which still had yesterday's red welts across the flesh. He waited between each stroke for Annie to catch her breath and count. Before the last stroke, she started to sob, and he said, Well, I gave you one before we started, so I'll count that as ten. What do you say?

  She stifled a sob and said, Thank you.

  You're welcome.

  Can I get up?

  No. You can spread your legs right there.

  She spread her legs as far as the chain allowed, and Cliff Baxter unzipped his fly and took out his erect penis. He entered her from behind, but before he came, he pulled out and said, Turn around.

  She stood unsteadily and turned toward him.

  Kneel.

  She knelt down in front of him, and he pulled her face into him and said, Put it in your mouth.

  She knew that after he came, he'd calm down a little, and all she wanted at this point was to get through the night. Still, she hesitated, and he pulled her hair and shouted at her, Now!

  "Swallow it."

  She swallowed.

  Come on, Keith. We don't want to spook him. We got to back off and wait awhile. Right? Hey, man, you okay? Get it together, Keith. This ain't a trainin' exercise.

  Keith didn't reply.

  Come on. We can't stay here.

  Keith got up on one knee, then stood and raised the binoculars again, but couldn't see anything through the window.

  Billy reached up and pulled him down again. Jesus! If he's lookin' through that infrared scope, you're dead. Come on.

  The dog barked again.

  Baxter turned away and walked back to his chair, leaving her kneeling. He sat down, breathing hard, watching her. He heard the dog bark again, but he ignored it. After a minute, he smiled. You're gettin' better. You have fun?

  No.

  Bitch. Did you give your boyfriend a blowjob?

  No.

  Don't lie to me, bitch. You sucked his cock, didn't you?

  No.

  You can stay like that all night until you tell me the truth. You blow him?

  Yes.

  You fuckin' whore. He leaned forward and kept staring at her. Look at me, bitch. You lied to me about him, didn't you?

  Yes.

  You said you didn't even remember runnin' into him. And all the time you was suckin' his dick. Right?

  Yes.

  Maybe lover boy got AIDS, and now you got it, and you gave it to me, bitch. f

  She didn't reply.

  He probab
ly fucks everything and everybody. Probably fucks goats and little boys and two-dollar whores. Whatever he got, you got. He use a rubber on you?

  She didn't reply.

  How many times you fuck him?

  Do you mean in high school and college, or—?

  Shut up! You make me sick. I ought to kill you, but you ain't gettin' off that easy. You're gonna pay for what you did. You know that, don't you?

  Yes.

  And you're gonna keep payin', 'cause you can't ever make that right. I'll bet you're sorry you did it, ain't you?

  She didn't reply.

  Answer me.

  Yes.

  Yes, what?

  I'm sorry.

  You bet you are. And you ain't half as sorry as you're gonna be. When I get through with you, you're gonna be like my bitch retriever. You're gonna do what I say, when I say, eat when I tell you, curl up at my feet, lick my hand, and follow me around with your head down. Right?

  Yes.

  Yes, what?

  Yes, sir.

  Good. And I'll treat you just fine, though you don't deserve it after what you done. You'll get three meals, a warm place to sleep, and a whippin' only when you deserve it. Right?

  Yes, sir.

  Cliff sat back and watched her still kneeling, her head down, and her arms wrapped around her. He smiled. Cold?

  Yes, sir.

  Come on over here by the fire. Don't walk.

  Annie hesitated, then walked on her hands and knees over to Baxter and came to a stop at his feet.

  Straighten up.

  She rocked back on her haunches and sat up, facing him, her head still down. -

  Look at me.

  She looked him in the eye and noted with some satisfaction that his right eye still had blood in it.

  When did you fuck him? Where did you fuck him?