the hair that looks as if she stuck her finger in an electrical outlet.” He knows that much about us. About her. And that’s way too much, to my way of thinking. If it’s an empty threat, it’s a frightening one. It has definitely got my attention with its convincing details, with its promise to harm Deborah, Franklin, the children.
“Come on,” I urge Deborah, taking her hand and tugging her up out of the chair. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“Now?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re not messing around with this nut. He may even be watching the house.” She flinches and then stares around with wide eyes. I could bite my own tongue. I hope that she won’t think to ask, How can he be watching us if he’s in prison? Trying to reassure her, I put an arm around her in big-sister fashion. “It’s probably all a bluff. But if he’s watching to see what I’ll do, let’s make a show of looking upset—”
“That’s easy,” Deb whispers.
“—and of following his directions.”
“I don’t want to!”
“I don’t, either. But for the time being, if he says jump, we’ll hold our noses and do it.” I keep her moving, urging her off the patio, into my home. I am not about to take chances with her life. I’d much rather take the chance of looking like an idiot. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to have to tell your friends and your family that I’ve fired you.”
“No!” It’s a wail. “Why? I’ll feel humiliated! And they’ll hate you!”
“But he may check up on it, Deb, and it will be better if everyone around you thinks it’s true.”
I usher her around my living room, picking up her belongings, stacking them in her arms, hanging her purse over her shoulder and then prodding her toward my front door. I’m in a hurry to get her out of here, because I don’t want her involved in this at all.
Once outside, with Deb standing with her arms loaded and her eyes brimming with tears, I touch her face. “I’m so sorry about this. I hope I’m just overreacting. Tell you what—when it’s all over, and we know there’s no danger, I’ll personally apologize to everybody you had to tell you were fired, okay? Deb, I really don’t think you have a thing to worry about so long as you stay away from me.”
In a frantic, tearful whisper, she pleads, “But how will I know what’s going on?”
“I’ll figure out a way to let you know.”
She nods, looking miserable. Then, obediently, she turns and starts to walk off toward her little white VW bug that’s parked on the street. But then she turns around and runs back to me.
“This is crazy! Isn’t it, Marie?”
“Yes, it is. But maybe he’s crazy, too.”
“What kind of book?” she asks, looking stubborn again. “What does he want you to write a book about anyway?”
I was hoping she’d forget that.
I let out a breath. Dammit. “He says he’s . . . oh, this is so stupid! He claims that I’m going to write a book about . . .”
“What? What ?”
I say it in a rush. “About my own murder.”
“Oh, my God!” Even with her arms full of stuff, she manages to clutch at me. Gently, I back away before things start falling out of her arms.
“Yeah, but it’s nonsense. He claims he’s going to murder me and I’m going to write about it. But that’s not going to happen, Deb. It is not going to happen. In the first place, this is not real. He can’t do it. And even if he could, we’ll find him first. But you can see why I say he’s nasty, and why I don’t want to mess around about this. You need to go. I’ll be all right. Truly, I will. But I will worry myself to death if you don’t leave right now.”
She looks disconsolate, young, and vulnerable as she walks away a second time. But this time she gets into her little white VW Beetle and drives away.
“Damn you,” I whisper to a stranger named Paulie Barnes.
8
Marie
There was one more page to his last communiqué, an autobiography of sorts, though it is
“Come on,” I urge Deborah, taking her hand and tugging her up out of the chair. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“Now?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re not messing around with this nut. He may even be watching the house.” She flinches and then stares around with wide eyes. I could bite my own tongue. I hope that she won’t think to ask, How can he be watching us if he’s in prison? Trying to reassure her, I put an arm around her in big-sister fashion. “It’s probably all a bluff. But if he’s watching to see what I’ll do, let’s make a show of looking upset—”
“That’s easy,” Deb whispers.
“—and of following his directions.”
“I don’t want to!”
“I don’t, either. But for the time being, if he says jump, we’ll hold our noses and do it.” I keep her moving, urging her off the patio, into my home. I am not about to take chances with her life. I’d much rather take the chance of looking like an idiot. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to have to tell your friends and your family that I’ve fired you.”
“No!” It’s a wail. “Why? I’ll feel humiliated! And they’ll hate you!”
“But he may check up on it, Deb, and it will be better if everyone around you thinks it’s true.”
I usher her around my living room, picking up her belongings, stacking them in her arms, hanging her purse over her shoulder and then prodding her toward my front door. I’m in a hurry to get her out of here, because I don’t want her involved in this at all.
Once outside, with Deb standing with her arms loaded and her eyes brimming with tears, I touch her face. “I’m so sorry about this. I hope I’m just overreacting. Tell you what—when it’s all over, and we know there’s no danger, I’ll personally apologize to everybody you had to tell you were fired, okay? Deb, I really don’t think you have a thing to worry about so long as you stay away from me.”
In a frantic, tearful whisper, she pleads, “But how will I know what’s going on?”
“I’ll figure out a way to let you know.”
She nods, looking miserable. Then, obediently, she turns and starts to walk off toward her little white VW bug that’s parked on the street. But then she turns around and runs back to me.
“This is crazy! Isn’t it, Marie?”
“Yes, it is. But maybe he’s crazy, too.”
“What kind of book?” she asks, looking stubborn again. “What does he want you to write a book about anyway?”
I was hoping she’d forget that.
I let out a breath. Dammit. “He says he’s . . . oh, this is so stupid! He claims that I’m going to write a book about . . .”
“What? What ?”
I say it in a rush. “About my own murder.”
“Oh, my God!” Even with her arms full of stuff, she manages to clutch at me. Gently, I back away before things start falling out of her arms.
“Yeah, but it’s nonsense. He claims he’s going to murder me and I’m going to write about it. But that’s not going to happen, Deb. It is not going to happen. In the first place, this is not real. He can’t do it. And even if he could, we’ll find him first. But you can see why I say he’s nasty, and why I don’t want to mess around about this. You need to go. I’ll be all right. Truly, I will. But I will worry myself to death if you don’t leave right now.”
She looks disconsolate, young, and vulnerable as she walks away a second time. But this time she gets into her little white VW Beetle and drives away.
“Damn you,” I whisper to a stranger named Paulie Barnes.
8
Marie
There was one more page to his last communiqué, an autobiography of sorts, though it is
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