Full dark,no stars (44 page)

Now the paw was stroking her bangs and the forehead beneath, and it couldnt be a cat because cats dont talk.

Wake up, Darce. Wake up, hon. We have to talk.

The voice, as soft and soothing as the touch. Bobs voice. And not a cats paw but a hand. Bobs hand. Only it couldnt be him, because he was in Montp Her eyes flew open and he was there, all right, sitting beside her on the bed, stroking her face and hair as he sometimes did when she was feeling under the weather. He was wearing a three-piece Jos. A. Bank suit (he bought all his suits there, calling it-another of his semi-amusing sayings-Joss-Bank), but the vest was unbuttoned and his collar undone. She could see the end of his tie poking out of his coat pocket like a red tongue. His midsection bulged over his belt and her first coherent thought was You really have to do something about your weight, Bobby, that isnt good for your heart.

Wha- It came out an almost incomprehensible crow-croak.

He smiled and kept stroking her hair, her cheek, the nape of her neck. She cleared her throat and tried again.

What are you doing here, Bobby? It must be- She raised her head to look at his clock, which of course did no good. She had turned its face to the wall.

He glanced down at his watch. He had been smiling as he stroked her awake, and was smiling now. Quarter to three. I sat in my stupid old motel room for almost two hours after we talked, trying to convince myself that what I was thinking couldnt be true. Only I didnt get to where I am by dodging the truth. So I jumped in the Burban and hit the road. No traffic whatsoever. I dont know why I dont do more traveling late at night. Maybe I will. If Im not in Shawshank, that is. Or New Hampshire State Prison in Concord. But thats kind of up to you. Isnt it?

His hand, stroking her face. The feel of it was familiar, even the smell of it was familiar, and she had always loved it. Now she didnt, and it wasnt just the nights wretched discoveries. How could she have never noticed how complacently possessive that stroking touch was? Youre an old bitch, but youre my old bitch, that touch now seemed to say. Only this time you piddled on the floor while I was gone, and thats bad. In fact, its a Big Bad.

She pushed his hand away and sat up. What in Gods name are you talking about? You come sneaking in, you wake me up-

Yes, you were sleeping with the light on-I saw it as soon as I turned up the driveway. There was no guilt in his smile. Nothing sinister, either. It was the same sweet-natured Bob Anderson smile shed loved almost from the first. For a moment her memory flickered over how gentle hed been on their wedding night, not hurrying her. Giving her time to get used to the new thing.

Which he will do now, she thought.

You never sleep with the light on, Darce. And although youve got your nightgown on, youre wearing your bra under it, and you never do that, either. You just forgot to take it off, didnt you? Poor darlin. Poor tired girl.

For just a moment he touched her breast, then-thankfully-took his hand away.

Also, you turned my clock around so you wouldnt have to look at the time. Youve been upset, and Im the cause. Im sorry, Darce. From the bottom of my heart.

I ate something that disagreed with me. It was all she could think of.

He smiled patiently. You found my special hiding place in the garage.

I dont know what youre talking about.

Oh, you did a good job of putting things back where you found them, but Im very careful about such things, and the strip of tape I put on above the pivot in the baseboard was broken. You didnt notice that, did you? Why would you? Its the kind of tape thats almost invisible once its on. Also, the box inside was an inch or two to the left of where I put it-where I always put it.

He reached to stroke her cheek some more, then withdrew his hand (seemingly without rancor) when she turned her face away.

Bobby, I can see youve got a bee in your bonnet about something, but I honestly dont know what it is. Maybe youve been working too hard.

His mouth turned down in a moue of sadness, and his eyes were moistening with tears. Incredible. She actually had to stop herself from feeling sorry for him. Emotions were only another human habit, it seemed, as conditioned as any other. I guess I always knew this day would come.

I havent got the slightest idea what youre talking about.

He sighed. I had a long ride back to think about this, honey. And the longer I thought, the harder I thought, the more it seemed like there was really only one question that needed an answer: WWDD.

I dont-

Hush, he said, and put a gentle finger on her lips. She could smell soap. He must have showered before he left the motel, a very Bob-like thing to do. Ill tell you everything. Ill make a clean breast. I think that, down deep, Ive always wanted you to know.

Hed always wanted her to know? Dear God. There might be worse things waiting, but this was easily the most terrible thing so far. I dont want to know. Whatever it is youve got stuck in your head, I dont want to know.

I see something different in your eyes, honey, and Ive gotten very good at reading womens eyes. Ive become something of an expert. WWDD stands for What Would Darcy Do. In this case, What Would Darcy Do if she found my special hiding place, and whats inside my special box. Ive always loved that box, by the way, because you gave it to me.

He leaned forward and planted a quick kiss between her brows. His lips were moist. For the first time in her life, the touch of them on her skin revolted her, and it occurred to her that she might be dead before the sun came up. Because dead women told no tales. Although, she thought, hed try to make sure I didnt suffer.

First, I asked myself if the name Marjorie Duvall would mean anything to you. I would have liked to answer that question with a big ole no, but sometimes a fellow has to be a realist. Youre not the worlds number one news junkie, but Ive lived with you long enough to know that you follow the main stories on TV and in the newspaper. I thought youd know the name, and even if you didnt, I thought youd recognize the picture on the drivers license. Besides, I said to myself, wont she be curious as to why I have those ID cards? Women are always curious. Look at Pandora.

Or Bluebeards wife, she thought. The woman who peeked into the locked room and found the severed heads of all her predecessors in matrimony.

Bob, I swear to you I dont have any idea what youre tal-

So the first thing I did when I came in was to boot up your computer, open Firefox-thats the search engine you always use-and check the history.

The what?

He chuckled as if shed gotten off an exceptionally witty line. You dont even know. I didnt think you did, because every time I check, everythings there. You never clear it! And he chuckled again, as a man will do when a wife exhibits a trait he finds particularly endearing.

Darcy felt the first thin stirrings of anger. Probably absurd, given the circumstances, but there it was.

You check my computer? You sneak! You dirty sneak!

Of course I check. I have a very bad friend who does very bad things. A man in a situation like that has to keep current with those closest to him. Since the kids left home, thats you and only you.

Bad friend? A bad friend who does bad things? Her head was swimming, but one thing seemed all too clear: further denials would be useless. She knew, and he knew she did.

You havent just been checking on Marjorie Duvall. She heard no shame or defensiveness in his voice, only a hideous regret that it should have come to this. Youve been checking on all of them. Then he laughed and said, Whoops!

She sat up against the headboard, which pulled her slightly away from him. That was good. Distance was good. All those years shed lain with him hip to hip and thigh to thigh, and now distance was good.

What bad friend? What are you talking about?

He cocked his head to one side, Bobs body language for I find you dense, but amusingly so. Brian.

At first she had no idea who he was talking about, and thought it must be someone from work. Possibly an accomplice? It didnt seem likely on the face of it, she would have said Bob was as lousy at making friends as she was, but men who did such things sometimes did have accomplices. Wolves hunted in packs, after all.

Brian Delahanty, he said. Dont tell me you forgot Brian. I told you all about him after you told me about what happened to Brandolyn.

Her mouth dropped open. Your friend from junior high? Bob, hes dead! He got hit by a truck while he was chasing down a baseball, and hes dead.

Well Bobs smile grew apologetic. Yes and no. I almost always called him Brian when I talked about him to you, but thats not what I called him back in school, because he hated that name. I called him by his initials. I called him BD.

She started to ask him what that had to do with the price of tea in China, but then she knew. Of course she knew. BD.

Beadie. 9 -

He talked for a long time, and the longer he talked, the more horrified she became. All these years shed been living with a madman, but how could she have known? His insanity was like an underground sea. There was a layer of rock over it, and a layer of soil over the rock; flowers grew there. You could stroll through them and never know the madwater was there but it was. It always had been. He blamed BD (who had become Beadie only years later, in his notes to the police) for everything, but Darcy suspected Bob knew better than that; blaming Brian Delahanty only made it easier to keep his two lives separate.

It had been BDs idea to take guns to school and go on a rampage, for instance. According to Bob, this inspiration had occurred in the summer between their freshman and sophomore years at Castle Rock High School. 1971, he said, shaking his head goodnaturedly, as a man might do when recalling some harmless childhood peccadillo. Long before those Columbine oafs were even a twinkle in their daddies eyes. There were these girls that snooted us. Diane Ramadge, Laurie Swenson, Gloria Haggerty there were a couple of others, too, but I forget their names. The plan was to get a bunch of guns-Brians dad had about twenty rifles and pistols in his basement, including a couple of German Lugers from World War II that we were just fascinated with-and take them to school. No searches or metal detectors back then, you know.

We were going to barricade ourselves in the science wing. Wed chain the doors shut, kill some people-mostly teachers, but also some of the guys we didnt like-and then stampede the rest of the kids outside through the fire door at the far end of the hall. Well most of the kids. We were going to keep the girls who snooted us as hostages. We planned-BD planned-to do all of this before the cops could get there, right? He drew maps, and he kept a list of the steps wed have to take in his geometry notebook. I think there were maybe twenty steps in all, starting with Pull fire alarms to create confusion. He chuckled. And after we had the place locked down

He gave her a slightly shamefaced smile, but she thought what he was mostly ashamed of was how stupid the plan had been in the first place.

Well, you can probably guess. Couple of teenage boys, hormones so high we got horny when the wind blew. We were going to tell those girls that if theyd, you know, fuck us real good, wed let them go. If they didnt, wed have to kill them. And theyd fuck, all right.

He nodded slowly.

Theyd fuck to live. BD was right about that.

He was lost in his story. His eyes were hazy with (grotesque but true) nostalgia. For what? The crazy dreams of youth? She was afraid that might actually be it.

We didnt plan to kill ourselves like those heavy-metal dumbbells in Colorado, either. No way. There was a basement under the science wing, and Brian said there was a tunnel down there. He said it went from the supply room to the old fire station on the other side of Route 119. Brian said that when the high school was just a K-through-eight grammar school back in the fifties, there was a park over there, and the little kids used to play in it at recess. The tunnel was so they could get to the park without having to cross the road.

Bob laughed, making her jump.

I took his word for all that, but it turned out he was full of shit. I went down there the next fall to look for myself. The supply room was there, full of paper and stinking of that mimeograph juice they used to use, but if there was a tunnel, I never found it, and even back then I was very thorough. I dont know if he was lying to both of us or just to himself, I only know there was no tunnel. We would have been trapped upstairs, and who knows, we might have killed ourselves after all. You never know what a fourteen-year-olds going to do, do you? They roll around like unexploded bombs.

Youre not unexploded anymore, she thought. Are you, Bob?

We probably would have chickened out, anyway. But maybe not. Maybe we would have tried to go through with it. BD got me all excited, talking about how we were going to feel them up first, then make them take off each others clothes He looked at her earnestly. Yes, I know how it sounds, just boys jack-off fantasies, but those girls really were snoots. You tried to talk to them, theyd laugh and walk away. Then stand in the corner of the caff, the bunch of them, looking us over and laughing some more. So you really couldnt blame us, could you?

He looked at his fingers, drumming restlessly on his suit-pants where they stretched tight over his thighs, then back up at Darcy.

The thing you have to understand-that you really have to see-is how persuasive Brian was. He was lots worse than me. He really was crazy. Plus it was a time when the whole country was rioting, dont forget, and that was part of it, too.

I doubt it, she thought.

The amazing thing was how he made it sound almost normal, as if every adolescent boys sexual fantasies involved rape and murder. Probably he believed that, just as he had believed in Brian Delahantys mythical escape tunnel. Or had he? How could she know? She was, after all, listening to the recollections of a lunatic. It was just hard to believe that-still!-because the madman was Bob. Her Bob.