Soon, she heard him tramping through the woods.
He came into the clearing. His arms were loaded with twigs and sticks. He gazed at Gillian and walked toward her.
But he dropped the bundle a safe distance away from her. He cleared an area surrounding it. He gathered up all the newspapers from the trunk of his car and stuffed them into the heap of wood. He found the paper that had come out of the trunk on Gillian’s rump. The breeze had tossed it into a bush, where it waited for him, snagged.
He touched a match to the pile.
I knew he’d do this, Gillian thought.
The papers had been spread in the trunk like papers at the bottom of a bird cage—to catch her debris so the cops would have nothing to find if they ever searched. Now, the papers were being burnt.
He won’t be putting me back in the trunk.
I’ll be left here.
Panic blew through Gillian like a frigid wind.
“You can’t do this!” she cried out. “Please!”
“Shut up or I’ll cut your tongue out.”
She snapped her mouth shut. She sucked air through her nostrils. The air was acrid with smoke.
Holden walked slowly to the car. He opened a rear door and pulled out Gillian’s suitcase. He carried it to the fire, set it flat on the ground, and opened it.
On top were the white shorts and plaid blouse she had worn to Jerry’s. Holden held the blouse over the fire until flames started crawling up its tails. Then he dropped it into the blaze. He picked up her shorts and tossed them onto the flames. As the white fabric curled and blackened, he looked over at Gillian. “What were you doing in my house?” he asked.
“You told me not to talk.”
“I changed my mind. Talk. What were you doing there?”
“I just break into houses,” Gillian said. “I stay in them when people are away.”
“What for?”
“It’s exciting.”
He laughed. “
“Look who’s talking.”
“You think I’m crazy?” He looked amused by the idea. “I’m not crazy. I just do what any guy’d do if he had the guts.
“Bullshit.”
“Yeah, you’d be surprised.” He lifted out her tank-top and gym shorts and tossed them into the fire. “Isn’t a man alive doesn’t take one look at a piece like you and want to rip her clothes off and fuck her brains out. They just don’t have the guts or they’d do it. Me, I do it.”
“Then you kill them,” Gillian said.
“Dead girls tell no tales. How long you think I’d last if I let them live?”
“You enjoy killing people—and hurting them?”
He grinned and threw her skirt into the fire. “Just part of the game. Have to break some eggs if you’re gonna make an omelet.”
“You could get any woman you want. You don’t have to do it this way. You’re handsome and rich.”
“Rich, huh? You’re a little snoop, aren’t you?” He tossed her heels into the fire.
My sandals are still at Jerry’s, Gillian thought. So are my panties and bra. All that he’ll find of me when he wakes up.
“You know what they say,” Holden told her. “Money can’t buy happiness.”
“It’ll buy a lot of women.”
“Whores. Riddled with disease. Who wants that? I’m real particular who I touch.” He took a plastic bag out of the suitcase, opened it, and pulled out Gillian’s bikini. The bag shrank on the fire and burst into flames. “What’d you do, use my hot tub?”
Gillian nodded. She couldn’t let him know that she’d been in Jerry’s pool.
“Wore a bikini in the hot tub. That’s a laugh. You’re a very modest young lady.”
“That’s me,” she muttered.
Holden dangled the bikini top over the flames. Steam rose off its damp fabric. He dropped it, then rubbed the pants on his face. “Mmmm, delicious.”
“You’re a pig.”
“Oink oink,” he said, and laughed. The pants fluttered down into the blaze. He took her camera out of the suitcase and held it toward her. “What’s this for?”
“Dental floss.”
“You babes are such a riot. If you aren’t screaming and weeping and pleading, you turn into wise-asses. There oughta be a bounty on you.” He opened the back of the camera and removed the film cartridge. “You got pictures of my place in here?”
“Develop them and find out for yourself.”
“You’re a real prize, you know that? Where do you get off, breaking into a man’s private domain and taking fucking
“Where do you get off, killing people?”
“Right between my legs, hon.” He dropped the film into the fire. “Seriously, you took pictures of my place?”
“I take pictures of all the places I stay. I have albums full of them.”
“No kidding. And you think
“Yeah, a madman.”
“Mad is right. But not crazy. If I was crazy, you think I could’ve done thirty-two babes without ever even getting
“If he’s smart.”
Black, greasy smoke curled off the film.
“At least you’re right about that,” Holden said. “I
“That’ll make it tough to keep your scrapbook current,” Gillian muttered.
He laughed. “Oh, I’ll manage. There’s this news-stand in Hollywood, carries papers from everywhere. What were you gonna do, give my scrapbook to the cops?”
“If you’re so smart, you shouldn’t have kept it around.”
“Shit, it’s not evidence. It sure would’ve made them look at me, though, wouldn’t it? I’m lucky I got back when I did.”
“Who’d you kill this time out?”
“Oh, a real sweetie. Linda Ryan.” He had lifted a handful of socks and panties out of Gillian’s suitcase, but he held onto them and stared past the fire. “A real beauty. Sixteen years old. Spotted her leaving a 7-Eleven and followed her home. That was what, Thursday? Friday night, her folks left her alone. She was a fighter, too. Like you.” He turned his head and smiled at Gillian. “But she cried and pleaded at the end. You will, too.”
He tossed the clothes into the fire, then gazed at Gillian for a long time. He rubbed his forearm across his mouth. “I’m gonna have real fun with you.”
He got off his knees, picked up the suitcase, and dumped the rest of its contents into the fire. For a few seconds, the flames were covered by clothing and her leather toilet kit and handbag. Then they broke through, crackling and blazing high.
