exactlythe right size—even after Luke was born—and skin so smooth and soft you could just curl up and die.
She wouldn’t want to fuck him at first, he knew. She was probably still mad at him. That was all right. She’d come around. She always had. And if she didn’t come around he’d fuck her anyway.
Screw the restraining order. What was she going to do?
Call the police on Luke’s dad?
It might even be better if she resisted. He pictured pinning her to the bed, ripping off her clothes, holding her wrists down and sticking it to her. She was strong but he was a whole lot stronger, six foot two and not flabby—the handball saw to that—and he out-weighed the bitch by a hundred pounds
.
He could use his teeth on her.
Claire had never liked biting.
His hard-on was serious now and he wondered if he shouldn’t have fucked the hitchhiker after all as he cruised the narrow dirt road, his shocks taking a beating, his high-beams on, looking for the house that lay somewhere ahead of him in the gray shades of night.
9:41 P.M.
David was the first one out of his chair but Amy was right behind him, going to the door, the sound of someone in terrible trouble out there—a woman’s voice, scared, hurting—and he’d already reached the door and was pulling it open before she remembered that just hours ago the sheriff’s office had warned them to hold anyone off at gunpoint if they had to, not just Steven but anybody who was new to them, but by then it was too late, because the shock of the girl’s condition wiped away every impulse but the one to help her and get help fast.
She was just a teenage girl.
The door opened and she collapsed across the threshold—or would have if David hadn’t grabbed her and held on. Together they helped her inside.
You hardly knew where to touch her.
She looked as though she’d been horsewhipped, beaten for days.
Some of her wounds were scabbing but many more were fresh and deep.
She felt a sudden fear at who or what lay out there in the dark beyond that open door.
She was immediately aware of Claire beside her.
“Claire. The door,” she said.
Claire closed it, locked it. “I’ll phone the police,” she said.
“The number’s on a card over the telephone.”
“Jesus,” said David. He was easing her into a chair.
There were marks on her breasts, her tender inner thighs—everywhere.
“You’re all right now,” Amy said. “I’ll get a blanket for you and a pan and some water and we’ll clean you up, all right?”
The girl nodded, gasping for breath as though she’d been running a long way for a long time and couldn’t speak.
Amy passed Claire in the kitchen, dialing, reading the card. She hurried past the staircase to her bedroom and pulled the blanket off the foot of the bed.
She checked Melissa in her crib.
Sleeping
. She returned to the study.
“Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?” David was kneeling, asking her.
The girl just shook her head. She looked like she was about to cry
.
“I can’t get them,” said Claire. Then suddenly her eyes went wide.
“My god,” she said. “There’s no dial tone.”
Amy looked from Claire to David. Their eyes metand she knew he was frightened too as the girl leaned forward, her pale arms rising.
Embracing him
.
Like ripe fruit the children dropped silently from the trees around them as the Woman and First Stolen pulled themselves over the rail to the deck and moved toward the sliding glass doors, watching the people inside—all their attention focused on Second Stolen huddled trembling in the chair and none on the doors, even as the Woman reached out to touch the cool smooth panel of glass and then its metal edge, the door hissing like a blacksnake as she slid it open.
“Mom?”
Luke stood at the top of the stairs, looking somehow thinner and more vulnerable in his pajamas than she’d seen him in years, and Claire suddenly thought,
There’s a baby in this house
, though she didn’t know why
She wouldn’t want to fuck him at first, he knew. She was probably still mad at him. That was all right. She’d come around. She always had. And if she didn’t come around he’d fuck her anyway.
Screw the restraining order. What was she going to do?
Call the police on Luke’s dad?
It might even be better if she resisted. He pictured pinning her to the bed, ripping off her clothes, holding her wrists down and sticking it to her. She was strong but he was a whole lot stronger, six foot two and not flabby—the handball saw to that—and he out-weighed the bitch by a hundred pounds
.
He could use his teeth on her.
Claire had never liked biting.
His hard-on was serious now and he wondered if he shouldn’t have fucked the hitchhiker after all as he cruised the narrow dirt road, his shocks taking a beating, his high-beams on, looking for the house that lay somewhere ahead of him in the gray shades of night.
9:41 P.M.
David was the first one out of his chair but Amy was right behind him, going to the door, the sound of someone in terrible trouble out there—a woman’s voice, scared, hurting—and he’d already reached the door and was pulling it open before she remembered that just hours ago the sheriff’s office had warned them to hold anyone off at gunpoint if they had to, not just Steven but anybody who was new to them, but by then it was too late, because the shock of the girl’s condition wiped away every impulse but the one to help her and get help fast.
She was just a teenage girl.
The door opened and she collapsed across the threshold—or would have if David hadn’t grabbed her and held on. Together they helped her inside.
You hardly knew where to touch her.
She looked as though she’d been horsewhipped, beaten for days.
Some of her wounds were scabbing but many more were fresh and deep.
She felt a sudden fear at who or what lay out there in the dark beyond that open door.
She was immediately aware of Claire beside her.
“Claire. The door,” she said.
Claire closed it, locked it. “I’ll phone the police,” she said.
“The number’s on a card over the telephone.”
“Jesus,” said David. He was easing her into a chair.
There were marks on her breasts, her tender inner thighs—everywhere.
“You’re all right now,” Amy said. “I’ll get a blanket for you and a pan and some water and we’ll clean you up, all right?”
The girl nodded, gasping for breath as though she’d been running a long way for a long time and couldn’t speak.
Amy passed Claire in the kitchen, dialing, reading the card. She hurried past the staircase to her bedroom and pulled the blanket off the foot of the bed.
She checked Melissa in her crib.
Sleeping
. She returned to the study.
“Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?” David was kneeling, asking her.
The girl just shook her head. She looked like she was about to cry
.
“I can’t get them,” said Claire. Then suddenly her eyes went wide.
“My god,” she said. “There’s no dial tone.”
Amy looked from Claire to David. Their eyes metand she knew he was frightened too as the girl leaned forward, her pale arms rising.
Embracing him
.
Like ripe fruit the children dropped silently from the trees around them as the Woman and First Stolen pulled themselves over the rail to the deck and moved toward the sliding glass doors, watching the people inside—all their attention focused on Second Stolen huddled trembling in the chair and none on the doors, even as the Woman reached out to touch the cool smooth panel of glass and then its metal edge, the door hissing like a blacksnake as she slid it open.
“Mom?”
Luke stood at the top of the stairs, looking somehow thinner and more vulnerable in his pajamas than she’d seen him in years, and Claire suddenly thought,
There’s a baby in this house
, though she didn’t know why
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