Whittaker 01 The Enemy We Know (7 page)

A quick scan of the parking lot told me two things: we were alone, and I was trapped in the canyon made by the vehicles. If I decided to make a break for it, I’d be forced to scale the pile of ice at my back like a mountain goat on steroids. In high heels. Right.

I’d have been so impressed with myself if I could have managed a calm response. My voice didn’t cooperate, however; the trembling squeak betrayed my fear. “What do you want?”

Wayne shook his head in disgust. “You’re gonna keep playing these games, aren’t you? You know what I want, bitch.”

His
voice worked.

I scanned the lot again.
Where the hell was everyone?

“
You’re looking for Carrie,” I said, not bothering with pretense.

He clapped his hands together, mocking my effort. “Oh, very good. Very good. You’ve decided to cooperate.”

“
Cooperation has nothing to do with it. I don’t know where Carrie is. I can’t help you.”

I’d expected rage, and it was there but buried under a sly smirk. A fission of shock swept through my body as I realized he’d expected my response. Planned on it. “Games,” Carrie had said. Still smiling that awful smile, he pushed off the van, drawing closer. Time slowed, my heart measuring out staccato thuds.

I don’t know what he would have done if Mary Kate hadn’t exited the clinic yodeling my name just then. We froze in place.

I took one step backward, closer to the pile of ice but farther into Mary Kate’s view. Wayne, sneering at my retreat, slid the van’s side door open with a rusty screech. He climbed in, carefully keeping his face turned away from Mary Kate. He paused once, looking deep into my eyes. Again, just like in the office, a strange current passed between us. Primitive. Hunter and prey.

Then he slid into the driver’s seat, cranked the engine and pulled out, tires spitting bits of gravel and ice chunks as sharp as broken glass. Dropping to my knees, I scrambled on the still-frozen asphalt, skinning knees and knuckles until I closed my hand around the hard metal of my keys. Moans escaped my lips, and as I yanked my car door open, I cracked my shin. Stoked on adrenaline, it registered as a dull thump—sound more than pain.

I suppose I could have cried, but shaking and screaming and pounding the steering wheel came more naturally.

Mary Kate tapped on the glass, face looming up next to mine, scaring the crap out of me all over again. I’d forgotten about her, but at least I quit screaming. I clicked the locks open and pointed to the passenger seat, still gasping from my outburst.

She was babbling before her butt hit the seat. “Oh, my gosh! What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“
Didn’t you see him?”

“
See who? The guy in the van? Was that him? That Wayne guy? That was him, wasn’t it?”

“
Yeah. That was him.”

“
Did he hurt you? What did he want?”

The questions made me want to scream again, but I forced myself to answer. “He wanted to know where Carrie is.”

“
Do you know?”

“
No, I don’t know. I have absolutely no
freaking
idea. She didn’t tell me, remember?” The hysteria started to build again, alive and out-of-control. Dangerous.

“
Good thinking. On her part, I mean. But not exactly helpful for you, is it?” Mary Kate said.

“
If I knew, I couldn’t tell him anyway.”

“
Right,” she said, face scrunched skeptically.

I didn’t bother arguing. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the head rest. “I’m so sick of this,” I whispered.

“
Are you going to call the cops?”

Good question. I thought about Robert waiting for me and weighed the likelihood of the police accomplishing anything with this episode. Doubtful.

On the other hand, if I were counseling someone I would advise her to at least make a report. Document the incident. Whatever. Now that I was sober I realized how much being responsible sucked. In the past, I would just get drunk over it. Nice and simple.

“
Letty, if I hadn’t come out, who knows what would have happened? I mean, gosh!”

I didn’t want to play What If. As if on cue, my brain released its emergency response hold and alerted my shin to its recent abuse. With a gasp, I opened my eyes. “What did you want anyway?” I asked Mary Kate, aiming for distraction. Hers, not mine.

A contemplative look washed over her face as she debated letting me get away with the obvious tangent. Staring at the frantic, make-the-pain-go-away massage technique I was using on my leg, she finally answered my question.

“
We’re planning a surprise birthday party for Marshall,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about it. Obviously, this isn’t a good time.”

“
His birthday?” I persevered.

“
Yeah, well, it’s not for a while, so there’s time. I just figured I’d start collecting ideas. I had no idea what was going on out here.” She twisted around, watching the lot for Wayne’s return.

“
Why are we planning a party in the first place? We don’t usually do that.”

“
I know, but you aren’t looking to get hired after graduation. A little butt-kissing never hurt. Anyway,” she continued, “don’t worry about it now. Do you want me to wait while you call the police?”

I pondered that for a minute.
Was I going to call the police?
I didn’t want to. What I wanted more than anything was a drink. Distracted, I said, “No, you don’t have to wait. I’ll be okay.”

I stuck my keys in the ignition and started the car. Mary Kate looked disturbed. “Letty, I don’t want to leave you alone right now. Let me help.”

“
You did help, Mary Kate. You’re my hero!” I said it lightly, hoping to ease the tension, but she flushed anyway. “I just need to get going. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

She didn’t like it, but she climbed out. Before shutting the door, she leaned down, “Call me, okay?”

“
I will,” I lied. I shifted into reverse, leaving her no choice but to shut the door and back away. When I pulled out of the lot, she was still standing on the sidewalk watching.

I refused to think. I cranked the radio, but didn’t listen. My body hummed, a subliminal vibration. Nerves, dormant for four months, woke hungry, restless.

Thirsty.

Autopilot deposited me outside The Bear Cub, my old stomping ground. I sat there, sweating, car running. I smoked a cigarette, then dialed Sue. No answer. More sweat and another cigarette.

Dialed another number. Charlie picked up.

She was real clear. If I was still outside when she got to the bar, she’d pick me up. If I was inside, she’d keep driving. That’s love, AA style.

I stayed outside. When we got back to her house, she let me curl up on the puffy chair and fed me chocolate chip cookies and ice-cold milk. That’s love, too.

“
So, this guy jumps you in the parking lot and you decide to head for the bar.”

“
It sounds kind of stupid when you put it like that,” I said.

She snorted and pulled the plate of cookies closer to herself. “OK, let’s break this down. Besides scared, which makes sense, what were you feeling standing there in the parking lot?”

“
Alone.” The word popped out of its own volition. She nodded, biting into a gooey cookie. With her non-cookie hand she waggled a circle in the air in front of us, signaling “
and?”

“
And … little.”

“
Little?”

“
Helpless. Alone.
Little
.”

“
Right. Before you were attacked, when was the last time you felt alone and little?”

I sighed. “The night before I got sober. The night before I came to AA. But, Charlie, you said yourself it made sense that I was scared of Wayne today. I don’t see how the two tie in.”

“
Doesn’t it make sense to be afraid of drinking? Isn’t it just as dangerous? For us, I mean.”

Damn, she was good.

“
But Sue has me working the steps and I’ve already done Step One. In fact, I’m almost done with Step Two.” Step One said, “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable.”

“
Good for you. And good for Sue. But sometimes life has a way of bringing us back around again.”

“
I don’t want to start over!” I sounded like a child being told she had to go to bed an hour early.

Charlie snorted again, a lovely sound conveying amusement, sympathy, and “tough luck” in one economical exhalation.

“
Life on life’s terms, babe,” she said, quoting an AA cliche at me.

“
Well, crap.”

“
Look at the bright side,” she said, pushing the plate over. “At least we have chocolate.”

This time,
I
snorted.

In the end, I stayed more than three hours. It felt like home, or at least how I imagined home should be. When I finally called Robert, I expected him to be pissed, but he surprised me. We made arrangements for Charlie to drop me off at my apartment, where Robert had been waiting since just after noon.

“
He has a key?” Charlie asked.

“
Don’t start. It’s just for those nights when he gets into town before I get off work. Actually, he’s never used it before today. It’s just for emergencies.”

“
Uh-huh,” she said, leaving no doubt that we’d be revisiting this subject on a less stressful day. Couldn’t wait.

Fortunately, Robert went out of his way to prove my friends wrong. After retrieving my car, we went on to the Open Speaker meeting at the club. I always liked the Saturday night gatherings when one person told his or her story to the assembled crowd. Poignant and often hilarious, Open Speakers took the place of the bar scene for me and were a lot more laid back than their closed-to-anyone-but-AA-members counterpart.

Usually Robert preferred skipping them in favor of dinner and a movie—what he called a “real” date. Although I loved the time alone with Robert, I sometimes missed hanging out with my girlfriends, too, and it was one more thing that Sue held against Robert.

Tonight, however, Robert was tender, supportive, and attentive—everything I needed him to be. He hardly even made a face when I lit a cigarette during intermission and, wonder of wonders, came close to charming Sue. At least, she smiled at him—once—after he agreed with her that, although coming to the Open Speaker was good, after such a close call I needed to get to a real meeting. Defenseless against the united front, I agreed to go the next morning.

“
Good,” Sue said, “and we’ll meet tomorrow night. My house. Five o’clock.” Not waiting for an answer, she spun around and headed back to her seat to catch the last half of the speaker’s message.

“
Glad I won’t be there for that one,” Robert said.

“
Oh, she’s not that bad. And she’s right. We have work to do. Today was too close.”

“
Close, but you reached out. You called someone. You got help.”

Neither of us brought up that he wasn’t who I’d reached out to. I was too distracted to figure it out. Besides, Sue would be more than willing to examine that little factoid tomorrow night.

At the end of the night, Robert walked me to my door without making a big deal about coming in. I was grateful for both gestures. It’s not like I thought Wayne knew where I lived, but when the bushes lining the sidewalk rustled, I dove behind Robert with a shriek, using him as a body shield while simultaneously propelling him forward into battle. After all, what are boyfriends for? He must not have agreed, because my brave knight did a little shrieking of his own, heels digging in against my driving push. He twisted out of my grasp and caught me around the shoulders. What finally calmed me down was the realization that if it
was
Wayne, he had to be lying flat on his back and wiggling the two-foot high bushes with one hand. Not likely.

Robert parted the bushes carefully, reaching in with an exasperated sigh. As he turned toward me, I saw a cream-colored bundle mewing querulously in his arms.

“
Here’s the culprit,” Robert said. He waved the kitty’s paw at me, either not hearing or not heeding the ominous hum vibrating from the cat’s throat.

Kitty didn’t like waving.

“
Uh, Robert—”

Too late. With a frenzied yowl, the cat twisted out of Robert’s grasp, scratching and clawing its way loose.

“
Damn it!” Robert dropped the cat, which scurried back into the bushes. “Ugh! Damn thing bit me!”

“
Let me see.”

“
It
bit
me! I’ll have to get a rabies shot or something. Did you see that little bastard?”

“
Robert, let me see.” I led him into the brightly lit lobby and examined his wrist. He did have a pretty nasty scratch. “That’s not a bite; it’s a scratch. But you’ll have to wash it really good with soap and antiseptic. Come on up.”

“
No, I’ll clean up back at the rental. Maybe you should call an exterminator or something. You don’t want that little bastard running around out there where people are walking.”

“
Exterminators do bugs, not cats. And you really need to use an antibiotic on that. You’ve heard of cat scratch fever, right?”

“
Ted Nugent?”

“
Not the song, the disease. It’s a real thing. Wash up.”

He left, muttering, and I went upstairs to my apartment. Exhausted, I washed my face and crawled in bed expecting to conk out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The day had been bad enough, but it was the kitty that kept me from relaxing. It looked skinny. Maybe it was hiding in the bushes because it didn’t have a home. Such a little waif. Kind of ornery though, but maybe it was just scared.