know!’
‘It is a rope burn, isn’t it?’
Marty didn’t answer. Dan’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. ‘That hurts,’ she said.
He squeezed harder. ‘Who did it to you?’
‘Stop that!’
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think?’
‘He put a rope around your neck?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I got away.’
‘ When? Tonight?'
‘Yes, tonight. Forget about it, okay? It doesn’t matter.’
‘When tonight?’
‘Damn it…’
The hands clenching her shoulders suddenly jerked up and down, shaking her.
‘Damn it!’ she cried out.
‘Just before I showed up, wasn’t it?’
‘Let go of me.’
‘The motherfucking bastard. Where was he?’
‘I’m not telling you anything. He wants to kill you, you know.’
‘He was in your house, wasn’t he?’
‘No.’
‘That’s why you were out in the street. That’s why you wanted to come over here. Your parents weren’t in the house, he was.’
‘Go to hell,’ she said.
Dan climbed off her. ‘You stay here,’ he said.
Rolling over, she watched him scurry off the bed. He rushed about, snatching his clothes off the floor and putting them on. When he was dressed, he pulled open a drawer of a nightstand beside the bed. He took out a holstered revolver.
‘No, don’t,’ Marty said. ‘Put it away. Don’t go over there. We can call the cops and have them…’
‘I’ll handle this bum. What the fuck was he going to do, hang you?’
‘He’s probably gone by now.’
Dan took a box of ammunition out of the drawer, opened it, and grabbed a handful of cartridges. He dumped them into a front pocket of his jeans. Then he met her eyes. ‘What else did he do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Did he rape you?’
‘He didn’t do anything. I got away. Don’t go over there, Dan. He wanted me to call you. He wants you to come over. I think he wants to kill you.’
‘Good. Hope he tries. You stay here till I get back.’ Leaning over the bed, he hooked a hand behind her neck and drew her toward him.
She resisted for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him. ‘Be careful. Don’t let him hurt you.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, and then he was gone.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Marty listened to his footsteps.
The front door shut quietly. For a few moments, only the chirping of crickets came to her through the open bedroom window. Then she heard Dan’s footsteps by the road. The car door thumped shut. The engine whinnied and started. Gravel crunched under the wheels and the sounds of the car began to fade away.
17
Willy sat in the darkness of Hedda’s kitchen, watching. He’d been sitting there for a long time. He didn’t mind the wait.
Marty would have to come back. Wherever she’d gone after running off, she couldn’t stay away forever. Sooner or later, she’d come home.
Then he would have her.
Nice of her not to call the cops. Stupid, though. Maybe she went off to find that prick boyfriend of hers, get him to handle it.
Willy hoped so.
He got up from the table, stepped over Hedda, and went to the refrigerator. Not much inside. He grabbed a package of cheese, swung the door shut, and returned to the table. There, he unwrapped a thin slice of cheese and began to eat it.
He was working on his fifth slice when a car stopped in front of Marty’s house. A Ford. The same Ford that he’d followed to the lake last night.
Willy pulled the plastic wrapping off another slice of cheese as the headlights died and a man climbed out of the car.
The prick.
And he had something in his right hand. A gun?
Figures. Cocksucker likes to play
‘It is a rope burn, isn’t it?’
Marty didn’t answer. Dan’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. ‘That hurts,’ she said.
He squeezed harder. ‘Who did it to you?’
‘Stop that!’
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think?’
‘He put a rope around your neck?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I got away.’
‘ When? Tonight?'
‘Yes, tonight. Forget about it, okay? It doesn’t matter.’
‘When tonight?’
‘Damn it…’
The hands clenching her shoulders suddenly jerked up and down, shaking her.
‘Damn it!’ she cried out.
‘Just before I showed up, wasn’t it?’
‘Let go of me.’
‘The motherfucking bastard. Where was he?’
‘I’m not telling you anything. He wants to kill you, you know.’
‘He was in your house, wasn’t he?’
‘No.’
‘That’s why you were out in the street. That’s why you wanted to come over here. Your parents weren’t in the house, he was.’
‘Go to hell,’ she said.
Dan climbed off her. ‘You stay here,’ he said.
Rolling over, she watched him scurry off the bed. He rushed about, snatching his clothes off the floor and putting them on. When he was dressed, he pulled open a drawer of a nightstand beside the bed. He took out a holstered revolver.
‘No, don’t,’ Marty said. ‘Put it away. Don’t go over there. We can call the cops and have them…’
‘I’ll handle this bum. What the fuck was he going to do, hang you?’
‘He’s probably gone by now.’
Dan took a box of ammunition out of the drawer, opened it, and grabbed a handful of cartridges. He dumped them into a front pocket of his jeans. Then he met her eyes. ‘What else did he do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Did he rape you?’
‘He didn’t do anything. I got away. Don’t go over there, Dan. He wanted me to call you. He wants you to come over. I think he wants to kill you.’
‘Good. Hope he tries. You stay here till I get back.’ Leaning over the bed, he hooked a hand behind her neck and drew her toward him.
She resisted for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him. ‘Be careful. Don’t let him hurt you.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, and then he was gone.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Marty listened to his footsteps.
The front door shut quietly. For a few moments, only the chirping of crickets came to her through the open bedroom window. Then she heard Dan’s footsteps by the road. The car door thumped shut. The engine whinnied and started. Gravel crunched under the wheels and the sounds of the car began to fade away.
17
Willy sat in the darkness of Hedda’s kitchen, watching. He’d been sitting there for a long time. He didn’t mind the wait.
Marty would have to come back. Wherever she’d gone after running off, she couldn’t stay away forever. Sooner or later, she’d come home.
Then he would have her.
Nice of her not to call the cops. Stupid, though. Maybe she went off to find that prick boyfriend of hers, get him to handle it.
Willy hoped so.
He got up from the table, stepped over Hedda, and went to the refrigerator. Not much inside. He grabbed a package of cheese, swung the door shut, and returned to the table. There, he unwrapped a thin slice of cheese and began to eat it.
He was working on his fifth slice when a car stopped in front of Marty’s house. A Ford. The same Ford that he’d followed to the lake last night.
Willy pulled the plastic wrapping off another slice of cheese as the headlights died and a man climbed out of the car.
The prick.
And he had something in his right hand. A gun?
Figures. Cocksucker likes to play
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