behind Jim. Finley’s other hand caressed his cheek. Tilting back her head, she eased herself forward.
‘She’s kissing him,’ Vivian blurted.
Not just kissing him - writhing, sliding herself against his bare skin.
‘Damn it!’ Cora blurted. ‘Finley!’
She ignored Cora.
‘Somebody better go down and break them up.’
‘Yeah,’ Abilene murmured.
Jim’s arms went around Finley. His hands drifted up and down her back, caressing her. They slipped inside her shorts.
‘He isn’t tied,’ Cora said.
Doesn’t seem to bother Finley, Abilene thought.
‘He wasn’t tied up all afternoon,’ Vivian whispered.
‘I know, but… Finley!’
Jim’s hands came out of her shorts, caressed her back, her sides.
The fingers of his left hand wrapped her knife.
‘Watch out!’ Abilene shouted as Jim started to draw out the blade.
Finley grabbed his wrist, clamped it against her side. Her mouth broke away from his. ‘Jim!’ she gasped. ‘What’re you…?’
Jim drove her backward, right arm squeezing her tight to his Ixxly. Finley squirmed, kicked wildly.
Abilene thumbed back the shotgun hammer. But the only target was Jim’s face beside Finley’s head. She held fire and then u was too late to shoot.
They were both out of sight beneath the balcony’s overhang.
‘Fuck!’ Cora yelled.
Abilene leaned over the railing. Couldn’t see them.
Jump?
Vivian had already thought of that. She had one leg on the railing.
‘Don’t!’ Cora warned.
From below came sounds of a struggle: gasps, grunts, quick smacks of skin against skin, thuds of bodies striking the wall or floor.
‘Get down and help her!’ Cora blurted. ‘Quick! But don’t jump, for Godsake.’
Vivian swung her leg back down from the railing and started to run.
‘Take this.’ Abilene shoved the shotgun, stock first, into Cora’s hands. ‘Cover us.’ She rushed past her and raced along the balcony behind Vivian.
‘Cover you?’ Cora called.
‘Hank!’ she shouted.
Hank? If there is a Hank.
She wished she’d kept the shotgun, but she was already leaping down the stairs. Too late to go back for it. And Hank might show up.
Vivian grabbed the newel post and swung herself away from the stairs. She dashed across the lobby, the beam of her flashlight bouncing through the darkness ahead of her.
She hasn’t got any weapon at all, Abilene realized.
Remembering her own, she grabbed the handle as she jumped off the last three stairs. She couldn’t see the floor. But it found her feet, almost knocking them out from under her. She stumbled, regained her balance, then jerked the knife from her skirt and ran toward Vivian’s skittering light.
She switched the knife to her right hand.
God, what if we’re too late?
Finley’s a wildcat. Maybe she’s already nailed the bastard.
Maybe she’s dead. Split open like Helen.
A support beam rushed out of the darkness. Abilene tried to dodge it. Her left shoulder pounded it. She cried out as the blow spun her around. She staggered backward, fell. The floor hammered her rump. Then she was up again, running toward Vivian’s light.
The light was steady, now. Motionless. Casting a bright cone on Jim and Finley.
She stopped running. There was no longer any need to rush.
She halted beside Vivian. The floor under her shoes was slick with Batty’s blood.
‘What’s going on?’ Cora asked.
Vivian raised the light. Cora was looking down from the balcony straight in front of them. She had gotten up. She was leaning over the rail with her elbows on it, the shotgun in her hands.
Nobody answered her question.
The light returned to Jim and Finley.
He was on his knees behind her limp body. She lay on her back, eyes shut, her head raised off the floor, held up by Jim’s fist clenched in her hair. His other hand pressed the knife blade against her throat.
Abilene saw no blood on Finley’s skin or on the floor beside her.
He hasn’t cut her, she thought. Not yet.
But he’d done something to her. She was out cold.
Or dead.
No, not dead. Her belly was moving slightly up and down.
She’s breathing.
‘Is Finley okay?’ Cora asked.
‘I think so,’ Abilene muttered.
‘Drop yer knife,’ Jim said.
Throw it at him?
She’d tried that before, but only managed to wound his leg. If she threw it and missed, he would cut Finley’s throat.
Even if I hit him, she thought, it won’t kill him fast enough.
‘He’ll still have time to kill Finley.
‘Drop yer knife,’ he told her again. ‘Do it!’
She opened her hand. The knife fell and clattered against the floor in front of her.
‘Kick it off somewhere. Get rid a the thing.’
She stepped forward and swept the knife away with her foot. It skidded spinning across the floor and vanished in the dark. ‘Now stay put,’ he said. Tilting back his head, he glared at the underside of the balcony floor. ‘Cora, don’t ya try nothin’ or Finley gets herself cut open. Ya hear me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on over here, Vivian.’
‘What do you want?’ she asked, her voice trembling.
‘Get under here with me. Do what I tell ya.’ He pressed the knife tighter against Finley’s throat. The way it dented her skin, Abilene expected blood to pour out from under its edge. But this is Finley’s knife, she reminded herself. The one tugged from the top of the totem pole.
Dull as it might be, she thought, it’ll do the job if he tries harder.
Vivian took a step forward.
‘Don’t go,’ Cora warned from above.
‘He’ll kill Finley.’
‘He can’t get you. Not if you stay put.’
Vivian looked up at her, then started forward again.
‘Don’t!’
She didn’t halt until she was standing beneath the edge of the balcony. ‘I’ll do whatever you want,’ she told Jim. ‘Just leave her alone.’
He lowered Finley’s head to the floor and freed his fingers from her hair, but kept the knife against her throat. ‘Come here ’n gimme yer light.’
She stepped up to the side of Finley’s body, bent down, handed the flashlight to Jim, and straightened up.
