Cuts (25 page)

SIXTY

THE VIGIL

Albert sat by the window of an upstairs bedroom and watched the street. Every so often, a car went by, headlights pushing
through the fog and darkness.

One slowed down as it approached. Albert stopped chewing his mouthful of Swiss cheese until the car turned and pulled into
a driveway across the street. Then he continued chewing, though his mouth was suddenly dry. The cheese became a tasteless
wad and he had trouble swallowing it. He set the remaining block of cheese on the windowsill beside his knife.

A cat trotted silently across the street and disappeared under a parked Toyota.

An old man with a cane and a cigar walked by. He wore a beret like a Frenchman and swung his cane in a jaunty way.

Later, a woman in a bathrobe came out of a house across the street to let her poodle squat. The tiny dog got too close to
the Toyota and the cat sprang out. Headlights lit its side as it scampered into the street. One of its eyes flashed an eerie
yellow. Then the cat was out of danger.

The car slowed and began its turn.

Albert grabbed the cheese and knife, straightened his chair, and left the room. He hurried down the hallway to the other bedroom, the bedroom with the poster of a rock star on
its wall. The daughter’s bedroom, he supposed.

May Beth’s.

He dropped the cheese into a dresser drawer. Then he stepped between the open bedroom door and the wall.

And waited.

SIXTY-ONE

EMILY JEAN’S HOUSE

In the driveway, Janet stopped her car, shut off its lights and killed the engine. “Guess we’re here,” she said.

“Let’s make sure Lester gets inside okay,” Ian said from the passenger seat. Then he opened the door and climbed out.

“
Who
are you?” Lester asked from the backseat.

“Janet.”

“I don’t think I know you.”

“I’m a substitute teacher,” she said. “This was my first day.”

“A substitute?”

“For Mrs. Bonner.”

“Emily Jean?”

“Yeah.”

Ian, now on her side of the car, opened the door for her. As she climbed out, the back door swung open.

The three of them followed a walkway toward the house’s front porch.

“Do you know Emily Jean?” Lester asked Janet.

“No.”

“I do. We’re very close. I’m house-sitting for her while she’s away.”

“Where’d she go?” Ian asked.

“Denver.”

“To see May Beth?”

“How’d you know about that?”

“May Beth’s making a movie in Denver, isn’t she?”

“Was,” Lester said. “But not anymore, I guess.”

“She’s not?” Ian sounded upset. “What happened?”

“She got hurt, somehow. Cut up. The doctor told Emily Jean that she’s in critical condition.”

Ian looked stunned.

“She’s going to be all right,” Janet quickly added. “Emily Jean called Harrison today. The daughter’s going to be fine, but
I’m supposed to sub for Emily Jean all next week. I guess she’s planning to stay away for a while.”

Making no comment, Lester unlocked the front door.

“How did it happen?” Ian asked. He followed Lester into the dark foyer. Janet stayed close beside him.

In the living room, Lester turned on a light. “I don’t know,” he said, and dropped heavily onto the couch. “Emily Jean got
a call yesterday. They didn’t say what happened. Just that May Beth had been cut. I don’t know.”

“It was a sexual assault,” Janet explained.

Ian looked sick.

“Maybe you can call the hospital,” Janet suggested. “She’d probably like to hear from you.”

“Anybody know which hospital?” he asked.

Janet shook her head.

Lester nodded and rubbed his forehead. “General…County General, I think.”

Ian picked up the phone near the couch.

“Excuse me,” Lester said. He got up. “I’ll be right back.”

As Ian dialed for directory assistance, Lester walked to the stairway.

SIXTY-TWO

PUNISHMENT

At the foot of the stairs, Lester flicked a wall switch. A light came on at the top. His legs felt heavy as he climbed.

Terrible night, he thought. But it’s over now. I’ll never have to see any of those people again.

Helen, maybe.

Not necessarily. Maybe I’ll just disappear.

I can stay here for at least a week, anyway. That’ll be nice.

He stopped at the door toMay Beth’s bedroom. His heart quickened, making blood throb through his aching head.

May Beth.

A patch of pale glow from the hallway light fell on a corner of her bed.

He had made love on that bed, but not with her.

Maybe it’s a punishment.

Punishment for Emily Jean, for doing the daughter act.

Punishment for me.

My fault she got cut up.

He muttered, “I’m sorry, May Beth,” into the dark of the room.

Then he crossed the hallway and entered the bathroom. He turned on the light and shut the door. In the medicine-cabinet mirror,
he saw his own reflection.

Mussed hair, sallow face, eyes that looked tired and sad…and the bolo tie.

It
does
look silly, he thought. No wonder everyone thinks I’m such a loser.

“Fuck ’em all,” he muttered.

I should’ve taken ammo and blasted everyone.

But I didn’t, he thought. Because I’m a gutless, nutless wonder just like Helen says.

Worthless.

He looked down at the holster below his right hip. It was empty.

Who’s got my gun? he wondered.

Who cares. Who needs it? Wherever it is, the fucking thing
isn’t loaded, anyway.

Story of my life, he thought.
I’m
no better than an empty gun.

His image slid away when he opened the medicine cabinet. Inside, he found a green plastic bottle of Excedrin. He shook two
tablets into his palm, but decided that wasn’t enough. Not for a headache this bad. He dumped out two more tablets, then washed
them down with water cupped in his hand.

He turned off the faucet. He dried his mouth on a towel.

Then he stepped over to the toilet and urinated.

As he held his penis between his thumb and forefinger, Emily Jean came into his mind.

The feel of her fingers, of her mouth, of her slippery snug vagina.

He started to grow stiff.

Things could be a lot worse, he told himself. At least I’ve got Emily Jean. If I want her.

Maybe May Beth, too, if I get real lucky.

He managed to push his erection back inside his underwear, then zipped up his jeans and flushed the toilet. At the sink, he
washed his hands.

Maybe tonight I’ll sleep in May Beth’s bed.

He opened the bathroom door.

A naked man stood there. A boy, really. His face was distorted by a crooked grin.

Lester saw the blade for an instant before it went into his belly. A very long, wide blade.

He tried to get his hands there in time to stop it, but he wasn’t fast enough.

It disappeared completely into him and he couldn’t believe it even when he felt its white-hot stiffness inside, even when he saw it slide out dark with his own blood.

He couldn’t believe it.

Impossible.

This isn’t happening.

He reached out to stop the floor from smashing into his face, but his arms didn’t work.

SIXTY-THREE

FALLING

“Thank you.” Ian hung up.

Janet, sitting beside him on the couch, had taken hold of his hand and leaned against him so he could feel her warmth against
his arm.

Now she turned her head and met his eyes. “Sounded like good news,” she said.

He nodded. “May Beth’s off the critical list. She’s been upgraded to serious.”

“That
is
good news.”

He nodded and settled against the back of the couch. Janet eased back against it with him. “They wouldn’t let me talk to her.
Understandable, of course. It’s about midnight there. They said I should try again in the morning.”

“She must be very special to you.”

“Who? May Beth?”

Janet nodded.

“Never met her.”

“You’ve never
met
her?”

“Her mother’s a good friend. Emily Jean.”

“Ah.” Janet smiled and looked relieved.

Ian lifted her hand onto his leg and looked down at it. A small hand compared to his. Smooth and delicate. “May Beth’s an
actress. Stage, mostly. Anyway, they’re filming one of my books out in Denver, so I pulled a few strings and helped her get
a role in a film. That’s what she was doing there.” He shook his head slowly. “I almost got the girl killed.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“She’ll live, anyway. Apparently. No thanks to me.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Ian.”

“It’s not guilt, really. I just feel sorry. Hell, you can’t live without making decisions and every time you make one you
start a chain reaction. You affect lives. In ways you never figured. Or wanted.”

“Some of the effects aren’t so bad,” Janet said.

He looked at her. Her face was very close to his. He put his arm around her shoulders and she tucked her face into the curve
of his neck.

“Those strings you pulled,” she said. Her breath was warm against him. “They’re why I’m here right now, you know.”

“I guess so,” Ian said.

Janet lifted her face away from his neck and looked up at him.

With a fingertip, he traced the curves of her lips, her chin. Then he kissed her. Her mouth was moist and yielding and she
clutched him as if she wanted the kiss never to end.

He glided his hand over her doeskin shirt, found the rise of her left breast, and cupped it gently.

She untucked the back of his shirt. Then her hand went underneath it and roamed his skin.

He let go of her. “We’d better not…uh, I’ll tell Lester we’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

“Then we’ll go…I don’t know, someplace. My place?”

“That’d be great.”

As Ian got to his feet, so did Janet. “One more kiss,” she said and stepped into his arms.

Ian held her tightly, kissing her, feeling the curves of her back, feeling the urgent press of her body against his. Then
he eased her gently away. “Back in a minute,” he said.

“Hurry.”

Smiling, he went to the stairs. He climbed them two at a time until he reached the top.

There, he saw fresh wet bloodstains on the carpet.

He went cold inside.

Beyond the soggy patch of carpet was a shut door.

Ian stepped over the blood and knocked. “Lester? Lester, you in there?”

He gripped the knob.

It wouldn’t turn.

“Lester!” He pounded the door with his fist.

“What’s wrong?” Janet called.

Ian stepped away from the door and looked down the stairs at her. “I don’t know. There’s blood up here and a locked door.”

“Oh, no. You think he might be trying to…hurt himself?”

“Wouldn’t surprise…”

He turned at the sound of an opening door.

A naked, blood-soaked boy rushed out with a butcher knife.

As Ian lurched away, his foot swept empty air. He reached for the banister and missed.

He seemed to fall a long time before a stair pounded the back of his head.

SIXTY-FOUR

DOC

With a sudden shock of fear, Janet watched Ian stumble backward. She dashed up the stairs hoping to stop his fall, but she’d
hardly begun when his head slammed one of the carpeted steps. He twisted sideways, legs against the wall. His left arm, caught
between two upright bars of the railing, snapped.

Dropping to her knees, Janet fell across Ian and stopped him from falling farther. As she tried to free his broken arm, she
heard a squeak of wood above her.

She looked up.

The boy’s bare skin was splattered and smeared with blood. He grinned as he stepped silently onto the stairs. Down low at
his side, next to his erect penis, he held a butcher knife upright.

Janet felt as if her breath had been kicked out.

“Ian!” She shook him.

He didn’t react, just lay motionless on his back.

The boy came slowly down the stairs.

“Ian! Wake up!”

Still nothing.

Janet grabbed the shoulders of his black silk shirt. Hunched over and scurrying backward, she dragged him headfirst down the
stairs. Quiet ripping sounds came from his shirt. His boots dropped off the edge of each step and landed on the next with
twin thuds.

The boy didn’t hurry. All the way down, he stayed one step higher than Ian’s boots.

Smiling.

Erect.

Ian’s shirt came apart a button at a time, a seam at a time. Afraid it might tear off him entirely, Janet wanted to let go
and clutch his arms. But she didn’t dare release her grip on the shirt even for a moment; the slightest change in her own
actions might trigger an attack by the kid.

The shirt was wide open and torn around her clutching fingers by the time Janet dragged Ian off the final stair. She pulled
him across the smooth granite of the foyer.

The front door was just behind her.

I might get away if I let go of him.

But she clung to his shirt and continued to tow him.

When her rump met the door, she let go with one hand and reached back for the knob.

Squatting, the boy grabbed Ian’s right ankle and grinned at Janet.

For the first time, she realized that he wasn’t completely naked. Around his neck, he wore one of those cowboy ties…
a thick string with a polished brown stone decorating its slide, the weighted ends of the string dangling down the middle
of his chest.

Lester had been wearing a tie just like it.

“Howdy,” the boy said. “What’s your name?”

“Janet.”

“Howdy, Janet. I’m Doc Holliday.”

She nodded.

“Who did that to your face?”

“Some girl.”

“Fingernails?”

“Mostly.”

“You still look pretty, though.”

“How about letting go of my friend, Doc?” she asked. “Please?”

He reached forward and pushed the point of his knife against the inseam of Ian black trousers. “You want, I can make him a
girl.”

Janet shook her head. “Don’t. Please.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?”

“What do you want? I’ll do whatever you want. Okay? Just leave him alone.”

“We’ll see. How about you let go of him and stand up?”

“Okay.”

As she released her grip on Ian’s shirt, the boy called Doc let go of his ankle. They stood upright, facing each other.

“Now come here,” Doc said.

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

She stepped around Ian, her legs so weak she expected them to collapse.

“Closer.”

When she took another step, Doc grabbed her arm. He swung her toward the stairway. “We’re goin’ upstairs,” he said. “You first.”

She climbed, keeping her eyes forward and holding the banister to steady herself.

She could hear the quiet thumping of Doc’s bare feet on the stairs just below her.

We’re going to a bedroom, she thought. He’s going to rape me. Then he’s going to kill me.

He’s going to kill me!

And you, too.

She touched her belly through her soft leather shirt.

Both of us. Oh, God!

Her legs gave out, but she caught herself on the banister. Doc hurried up to her side, took hold of her arm and helped her
to stand.

“What…what’re you going to do?” she asked.

“Have me a good time. Maybe I’ll even
operate
on you.”

“The real Doc Holliday was a dentist,” Janet said.

“Not me. I’m a gut surgeon.” He laughed.

Keeping the grip on her arm, he led her to the top of the stairs. There, she saw the blood-soaked area of carpet. Just beyond
it, on the bathroom floor, lay the body of

Lester. He was sprawled on his back, his mouth open, a blank look in his eyes. His shirt was ripped in front, sodden with
blood and clinging to his belly.

“Operated on
him
,” Doc said. “Removed his
life
.”

The hand on her arm steered Janet to the right, then down the hallway.