he said. 'I don't see what you're getting at.'
'You don't see it because you know who you really are,' she told him. 'And I know who you really are. But
he
thinks you're the person who did…
that,
on Wednesday night. He talked to you in the library in the first place because he thought you were a desperate man, and now he's sure you're a desperate man, and he'll do anything to keep you happy.'
He looked at her, not liking what she was saying. 'Or I'll beat
him
to death, too? Maybe all his children?'
'No.
Wayne. If you're desperate, he can't predict you, and he can't control you. I know who you—'
'Listen, wait a minute,' he said. 'Wait a minute. I don't want to talk about, you know…'
'Of course you don't, and you don't have to.'
'But just one thing,' he said. 'I didn't plan it that way, I
wouldn't
plan a thing like that, it wasn't supposed to happen Wednesday at all, not for who knows how long, and certainly not
brutal,
not, I was as, as, as surprised and scared as she was when it started. I didn't know it was going to start—'
'Wayne, stop.'
' — and then it started, and there was no way—'
'Wayne, please stop, you're crying, Wayne,
' — to stop it, I had to keep on — Oh, Jesus Christ, Susan!'
She came over and knelt and held him for a long while, until the shaking and the crying stopped, until he took a long deep breath and said, 'Okay, now.'
'All right?'
'It's over now,' he said, and he could feel that it really was, that some balled fist inside his chest had finally unclenched itself. 'I'll be all right now,' he said.
She continued to kneel beside his chair, and now she leaned back, still holding his arms, to study his face. 'You're sure?'
'I'm sure.' he said and smiled at her. 'Let's go for a drive.'
They couldn't find the house. There weren't enough clues in the stories in the newspapers nor in the photo in the
News.
They knew the house was somewhere near Bethel, but all the country roads looked the same, meandering through patches of woodland, charming in the sunlight even with their leaves down. The old low stone walls undulated with the land along the roadside, and Wayne made random turns at the intersections in the little red rental Saturn. There wasn't much other traffic, and the mere fact of driving around was pleasant.
But they couldn't find the house. The large houses and estates around here were mostly set well back from the road, in among trees, hard to see, sometimes impossible, and most of these people didn't put their names on their mailboxes. After a while, they were just looking at attractive houses for their own sake.
He only raised the taboo subject once, when they were on a rare straight stretch, black and white dairy cows in a large open field on their left, tangled brushy woods on their right. 'I'm just glad,' he said, 'I'm not dreaming about it.'
'That's kind of a surprise, really,' she said.
'And a relief. What if I had nightmares?'
'You don't think you will?'
'No. If it hasn't started by now, it won't.'
'Good.'
A little later, Susan said, 'I don't really need to see his house. I just needed to get out of the apartment for a while.'
'I'm glad you talked me into it.'
'So what do you want to do now?' He said, 'We'll go on up to Massachusetts, like we said.'
'We can go antiquing.'
'Why not?' he said. 'We'll be rich soon.'
11
The funeral was Sunday, so they flew back on the late afternoon plane Saturday, getting into Kennedy at midnight. They traveled together, because there was no reason to hide any more, no more private detectives lurking around. Everything had changed now. The burden was gone.
There was a message with a phone number from Detective Johnson on the machine when they arrived. It was a black man's voice, calm and gentle, not tough-sounding at all, which was a surprise. In the morning, before leaving for the funeral, Bryce phoned that number, spoke briefly with Johnson, and agreed to meet with him at the apartment that
'You don't see it because you know who you really are,' she told him. 'And I know who you really are. But
he
thinks you're the person who did…
that,
on Wednesday night. He talked to you in the library in the first place because he thought you were a desperate man, and now he's sure you're a desperate man, and he'll do anything to keep you happy.'
He looked at her, not liking what she was saying. 'Or I'll beat
him
to death, too? Maybe all his children?'
'No.
Wayne. If you're desperate, he can't predict you, and he can't control you. I know who you—'
'Listen, wait a minute,' he said. 'Wait a minute. I don't want to talk about, you know…'
'Of course you don't, and you don't have to.'
'But just one thing,' he said. 'I didn't plan it that way, I
wouldn't
plan a thing like that, it wasn't supposed to happen Wednesday at all, not for who knows how long, and certainly not
brutal,
not, I was as, as, as surprised and scared as she was when it started. I didn't know it was going to start—'
'Wayne, stop.'
' — and then it started, and there was no way—'
'Wayne, please stop, you're crying, Wayne,
' — to stop it, I had to keep on — Oh, Jesus Christ, Susan!'
She came over and knelt and held him for a long while, until the shaking and the crying stopped, until he took a long deep breath and said, 'Okay, now.'
'All right?'
'It's over now,' he said, and he could feel that it really was, that some balled fist inside his chest had finally unclenched itself. 'I'll be all right now,' he said.
She continued to kneel beside his chair, and now she leaned back, still holding his arms, to study his face. 'You're sure?'
'I'm sure.' he said and smiled at her. 'Let's go for a drive.'
They couldn't find the house. There weren't enough clues in the stories in the newspapers nor in the photo in the
News.
They knew the house was somewhere near Bethel, but all the country roads looked the same, meandering through patches of woodland, charming in the sunlight even with their leaves down. The old low stone walls undulated with the land along the roadside, and Wayne made random turns at the intersections in the little red rental Saturn. There wasn't much other traffic, and the mere fact of driving around was pleasant.
But they couldn't find the house. The large houses and estates around here were mostly set well back from the road, in among trees, hard to see, sometimes impossible, and most of these people didn't put their names on their mailboxes. After a while, they were just looking at attractive houses for their own sake.
He only raised the taboo subject once, when they were on a rare straight stretch, black and white dairy cows in a large open field on their left, tangled brushy woods on their right. 'I'm just glad,' he said, 'I'm not dreaming about it.'
'That's kind of a surprise, really,' she said.
'And a relief. What if I had nightmares?'
'You don't think you will?'
'No. If it hasn't started by now, it won't.'
'Good.'
A little later, Susan said, 'I don't really need to see his house. I just needed to get out of the apartment for a while.'
'I'm glad you talked me into it.'
'So what do you want to do now?' He said, 'We'll go on up to Massachusetts, like we said.'
'We can go antiquing.'
'Why not?' he said. 'We'll be rich soon.'
11
The funeral was Sunday, so they flew back on the late afternoon plane Saturday, getting into Kennedy at midnight. They traveled together, because there was no reason to hide any more, no more private detectives lurking around. Everything had changed now. The burden was gone.
There was a message with a phone number from Detective Johnson on the machine when they arrived. It was a black man's voice, calm and gentle, not tough-sounding at all, which was a surprise. In the morning, before leaving for the funeral, Bryce phoned that number, spoke briefly with Johnson, and agreed to meet with him at the apartment that
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