The Dead Room

Ben closed his eyes for a moment, then took in a deep breath. In her mind’s eye she could see the locked door at the end of the hall – the dead room. She had replaced the beige carpet and repainted the walls. It looked and smelled new, but each time she went in she thought she could still smell blood. She remembered Michael screaming behind the duct tape covering his mouth. Ben had covered their eyes with duct tape, but she had tipped over her chair and, while she was struggling on the floor, the tape had slid down; she saw Ben take out a gun and fire at Michael but there was only a dry click and Michael looked at her and her first thought – and it shamed her to admit this – her first thought had been to protect Carter, he was younger, more vulnerable. She remembered Ben putting on a pair of bifocals and studying the gun and then saying, ‘Goddamn chamber’s empty. Imagine that.’

She remembered everything. Every moment, every sound and scream.

‘Here’s our dilemma,’ Ben said, opening his eyes. ‘I can’t think too well on account of the blood loss and the fact that you slammed my noggin against the floor. What I’m saying is I’m a little fuzzy on the details. You want your questions answered, then I suggest you start dialling now because I think I’m going to pass out.’

‘Partners,’ she said. ‘Names.’

‘You need to talk to my supervisor. I swear, with God as my witness, he’ll tell you everything you need to know.’

Please, Mrs Russo, please don’t scream or run.

Ben saying those words as he stood inside her kitchen holding Carter. Her eighteen-month-old son’s tiny fingers wrapped around the Colt’s barrel, trying to put it in his mouth.

Just do what I say, Mrs Russo, and I swear, with God as my witness, we won’t hurt you or the kids. We just want to have a little talk with Danny when he gets home, okay?

Jamie slammed Ben’s face against the side of the boot. He fell sideways, fresh blood pouring from his nose.

‘Christ, you mean business, don’t you?’ he said after he finished gagging.

‘Names,’ Jamie said.

‘Make the phone call.’

No. It was a trap. What was the person he wanted her to call going to do? Trace the call? A cop could do that with a warrant. Did the phone have some sort of GPS unit in it that could locate him? Anyone could do that with the right software and equipment – as long as the phone was turned on. Was it turned on right now?

She reached into his pocket and removed the mobile. It was something called a Palm Treo. It was turned on; a tiny green light blinked, sending out a signal. She took out the battery and stuffed everything inside her jacket pocket.

A new expression on Ben’s face now: anger.

‘Make the call,’ Ben said again. ‘That’s the only way this is going to work.’

Her eyes grew hot and tears spilled down her cheeks. In her mind she saw Carter sitting in the bathtub, saw the two hard, round, white scars the size of half dollars on his back left by the exit wounds.

Jamie placed the Magnum’s muzzle against Ben’s kneecap and fired.

Ben howled in pain, the sound tearing something free from inside her chest. Something that cooled her blood and made her limbs shake.

‘NAMES.’

Ben couldn’t answer. He was screaming, the tendons in his neck bulging underneath the skin like rope as he flopped around inside the boot.

She tucked the Magnum back inside the holster, then grabbed him by the jacket. Ben tried to fight her, struggling with his bound wrists and ankles, but he was too weak, in too much pain. She threw him on the ground.

‘N-N-N-NAMES.’

His mouth quivered, spitting up blood. He didn’t answer.

She looked at his knee, then slammed her foot down on the shredded pulp of skin and fractured bones.

Ben howled again, his face turning a deep, dark red – the same shade Dan’s face had been when she found his head resting inside the kitchen sink.

Ben made a weird gurgling sound. As if he were drowning. She grabbed him underneath the arms, lifted him up and dragged him across the damp ground. His body jerked and he vomited blood.

She threw his legs over the edge of the cliff, then pulled him up into a sitting position. She pushed his head forward so he could see the oily slick of water shimmering in the moonlight far below.

‘N-n-n-n-n-names,’ she sputtered against his bloody ear. ‘P-p-p- partner… n-n-names.’

Ben sucked in air. Vomited.

‘Tell me. Tell or… ah… ah…’

He didn’t answer.

She shook him. ‘Off ledge… throw you… water…’

Ben wouldn’t answer.

‘Drown… in… ah… drown. Water. You’ll drown.’

Ben refused to speak. She let go of him and reached for the Magnum, prepared to shoot his other knee, to shoot him into pieces until he spoke.

His body slumped against the ground. Ben didn’t cough or move – oh, Jesus, oh, Jesus, no. She dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers against his slick, bloody neck.

There, a faint pulse.

‘N-N-N-Names!’

Jamie shook him. He stared up at her, his head bobbing from side to side.

She slapped him across the face.

He groaned. His lips quivered.

‘TELL… AH… TELL ME.’

Ben didn’t answer but his lips kept moving. Blood trickled out of his ears. He was bleeding out. Dying. The answers she needed were caged somewhere inside his skull and she wouldn’t know them unless Ben woke up. He had to wake up.

She pressed her mouth against his, the slick, bloody mess sliding against her lips, and screamed air into his lungs until she was dizzy. She pulled her mouth away, gagging, then pumped his chest with her fists the way she’d been taught – three sharp pumps. Ben didn’t move or make a sound. She screamed air down into his lungs again. Ben lay still. Jamie pounded his chest with her fists and he didn’t move and she kept hitting him and screaming for him to wake up even though she knew it was too late.

14

Jamie scrubbed the blood from her face and her scraped and swollen hands using napkins and a half-full bottle of water she’d found in a McDonald’s bag tossed on the back floor of the Honda.

She checked her face in the side mirror. The left side was swollen but clean. She couldn’t do anything about the blood on her clothes and sneakers until she got home.

You better pray to God you don’t get pulled over.

She tossed the bloody napkins inside the boot. Ben stared up at her with a puzzled expression. Why so sad, hon? Did you really think I was going to tell you what you needed to know? You were going to kill me anyway, so what was in it for me?

Ben could have told her everything and she still would have killed him. She had known that the second she decided to follow him from the drugstore.

Jamie reached inside the boot, pinched his eye and came away with a bright blue contact lens. Ben’s real eyes were brown, just as she remembered.

She searched his zippered pockets and found a Tiffany key ring and wallet. She wondered if one of the keys opened the house in Charlestown. Maybe the fat guy in the Hawaiian shirt lived there. Maybe he was the man who