I AWOKE TO HEAR THEM arguing loudly. The room was darkening, so I figured I must have slept about three or four hours.
“Look, he knows what he’s doing. When they sell the old lady’s land we’ll all be rich,” said Raney, losing patience with Devon.
“I just don’t like waiting around. What if he just takes off and calls the cops on us? We’re sitting ducks.”
“Nah, then we spill our guts to the cops. Even the Pony Player would go down then, and they know it.”
Pony Player? I wondered who this new nickname referred to. Was this another name for the Goat?
“I still don’t like it,” Devon said. “I don’t care who his mother was, it pisses me off when he hits me like that. I don’t like taking crap off him all the time. ‘Devon, don’t think. I’m the Einstein around here.’ Well, what have we got to show for it? A murder rap, that’s what.”
They were quiet for a moment, apparently brooding over that possibility. I lay there, wondering about what they had said, when I heard Raney’s voice again.
“Don’t get yourself all wound up like this, Devon. What’s that you’re reading?”
“It’s about cancer. I picked it up at this clinic on my way back from the store.”
“What clinic? And why the hell are you reading about cancer?”
“Place where they take skiers who break legs, stuff like that. Old geezer runs it. Told him I knew someone with cancer and I wanted to get something to read about it. He gave me this little booklet.”
“Christ, Devon, you are un-fucking-believable! We’re supposed to be lying low. We’re not supposed to make any trouble in town or get ourselves known around here. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t contagious.”
“Shit, Devon, I could have told you that. You worry about the weirdest shit, man. You think I’d ever let you catch something like that from somebody? I look after you, don’t I? How come you didn’t just ask me?”
“‘Cause you ain’t no doctor. How would I know you were right?”
“Oh man – I can’t believe the stuff you come up with sometimes. Don’t let him know you did this. Please, Devon – I don’t like it when he hits you, but you keep pulling this kind of shit and he’ll be all over your ass.”
“I don’t care! I don’t care! There’s nothing wrong with it!”
I heard one of them storm out the front door, slamming it hard. Devon, I thought. It was quiet then.
I lay there thinking of a plan to escape. Then I thought about Frank, wishing I could send messages to him by mental telepathy, to let him know I was alive. Silly really, but I wanted to talk to him so badly, I felt a hollow ache over it. Finally, I fell back to sleep.
IT WAS DARK when they came into the room again. Light spilled from the kitchen through the doorway, where one of them stood in silhouette. I could hear the dice rattling.
“Irene.”
It was Devon. I didn’t answer.
“Irene, tell me where the journal is.”
Raney stepped in behind him carrying a propane lantern, which cast long shadows on the walls and ceiling. He had something in his other hand – I couldn’t see what it was.
“Tell me, Irene. You know I don’t want to have to do this. Don’t make me do it, please don’t. Come on, Irene, tell me who has Sammy’s journal.”
This man is not your friend, I told myself. Say anything and they will kill you. Stay alive.
Stay alive, I repeated to myself, as he squatted down next to me.
“Irene, tell me. Where’s the journal?”
I thought of them putting Sammy’s heart on my front porch.
He rolled the dice. I didn’t look.
Raney laughed. “Five.” He set the lantern down and handed something to Devon. I saw then that it was a piece of rubber hose. Devon tapped it in his hand.
Raney picked up the soup bowl and moved it by the door. The whole time, I heard the hose tapping. Raney grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head. He rolled me over.
The tapping stopped. I heard the hose whistle and then, as if coming from someone else, heard myself cry out as the first blow landed between my shoulder blades.
He waited.
Tap, tap, tap. “Come on, Irene. Tell me. Where is it?”
I didn’t answer.
By the time they left the room, I was drenched in sweat and trembling. Sleep was impossible now.
I wondered how much more I would be able to take. I also wondered if I would be able to force myself to do whatever would be necessary to escape. I remembered what Sarah had said to me – you do what you need to do to survive.
Sleep still eluded me, although I would have welcomed it. I was quickly learning the importance of keeping my mind occupied. Left to wander, it concentrated on my injuries, on emotions I was holding in check, on all that was hopeless in this situation.
So instead, I thought about a sequence of events in Las Piernas that seemed to fit together: Jack Fremont shows up in town, and is reconciled with his mother and son. Shortly after this, the coven changes under the influence of a mysterious stranger and his two assistants.
Mrs. Fremont changes her will. She’s murdered.
Sammy sees the Goat’s forearm. She’s murdered.
I’m seen taking some of Sammy’s things from the shelter – no, I’m still alive. Start over.
No matter how I looked at it, things changed when Jack Fremont came back to Las Piernas. “I don’t care who his mother was,” Devon had said. Could he mean Jack? No one had benefitted from her will as much as Jack. Murray had told me the property was worth a fortune.
“She’s mine.” I thought of the way he had flirted with me in the kitchen.
I allowed my thoughts to go back to Frank. I realized that even my pride could not sustain me much longer through this ordeal, but my desire to be with him again would. Some small article of faith was left in me: I would live. My life with him was not over. I would endure this. I slept at last.
I DON’T REMEMBER the nightmare that made me wake up screaming. Maybe the pain had just finally had its way with me.
The door opened and Raney entered with the lantern. He stood there awhile before I was awake enough to realize he was pointing a gun at me. Devon pushed past him and knelt beside me.
“She’s just had a bad dream, Raney. Put the gun away.”
Raney put the lantern down, smirking at me. He picked up the bucket and carried it out, leaving Devon with me. Gradually, I gathered my wits enough to calm myself. Devon knelt there, staring at me. “You’re so pretty,” he said.
I hadn’t seen my reflection, but I could imagine what I looked like – hair chopped off, face bruised, fat lip, and one eye swollen shut. I laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but he heard it.
He seemed offended. “I’m not making a joke. Even like this,” he said, stroking a finger under my chin, “you’re still pretty.” He kept staring at me, and I felt fear tugging at me again.
Raney came back in with the bucket and picked up the lantern. “Leave her alone, Devon, or he’ll have your hide.”
“Fuck him,” Devon muttered, but he stood up.
“Next time,” Raney said, “you get the bucket. I’ve done it twice now while you sat around getting a hard-on for that bitch.”
They left the room. My mouth felt dry and I couldn’t seem to make myself breathe normally. My mind kept burrowing down into my fears. So I concentrated on my ankle, on my back. It was easier. Pain had an edge to it, a place where it began and ended.
I HAD NOT FORGOTTEN that the Goat had said to play the dice three times a day, so it was not a surprise when they entered the room again later that night. At least, I told myself, it will be the last time until morning. Raney’s turn again. The bastard rolled double sixes.