“I feel better when we talk.”
“I know, sweetie, but-”
“Mama-”
In two nearly silent syllables, utter terror traveled from child to mother. Karen squeezed the phone tight enough to bruise her hand. “Abby? Say something!”
There was only silence. Then she heard breathing, and she understood what was happening. Abby was sitting motionless in the dark, scared out of her mind. Huey was close. Praying that Abby still had the phone to her ear, Karen whispered, “I’m with you, honey. I’m here. Sit very still. You’re going to be fine. Remember what Daddy said.”
She listened with every fiber of her nervous system.
Out of the breathing, she heard a whimper, so soft that Abby had to be fighting a heroic battle to suppress it. Karen was about to reassure her again when a crash like breaking branches came down the line and Abby screamed.
“I found you, didn’t I?” Huey said loudly.
Karen’s heart turned to ice. “Abby?”
“I saw the light,” Huey said, his voice exultant. “Why did you run, Abby?”
“ABBY!”
“What is it?” Will shouted in her ear.
“Joey?” said Huey.
“Put Abby back on!” Karen demanded. “Please!”
“Where’s Joey?”
“Well, well,” said Hickey. He pressed his bloody palms against the carpet and stood. “The worm has turned.”
Karen grabbed the. 38 and pointed it at his chest. “MAKE HIM PUT ABBY BACK ON!”
Hickey walked fearlessly around the bed. “If you shoot me now, she’s as dead as a hammer. Give me the phone.”
“Get back!”
He brushed the gun aside and slapped her face, then stripped the phone from her hand.
“Huey? This is Joey. If you hear a shot, strangle that brat. Don’t even wait to ask me a question, because I’ll be dead. This bitch already stabbed me. She tried to kill me.”
Hickey’s face hardened as he listened to his cousin’s reply. “You goddamn retard. I give the orders and you follow them. Period.” He grabbed Karen’s wrist and squeezed until her hand opened of its own accord and she dropped the. 38. He bent and picked it up. “Tie the kid and gag her, Huey. I’ll call you back.”
Without warning, Karen snapped. She flew at Hickey’s face, meaning to claw out his eyes, but before she reached them, he slammed his fist into her sternum. The blow drove the wind from her lungs and dropped her to the floor. As she lay there gasping, he picked up the phone that had connected her to Will and spoke in a savage voice.
“Huey just found your kid, Doc. I hope you haven’t talked to anybody yet, because if you have, Abby won’t ever see second grade…Calm down. I don’t want you to stroke out on me. I just hope this wildcat you’re married to has learned her lesson.”
“Please,” Karen pleaded, struggling to her knees. “Don’t let him tie her. Don’t let him hurt her. She-”
“Shut your mouth.” Hickey hung up. “And stitch up this goddamn leg already.”
She stared up at him, panting like a winded runner. Tiny points of light danced at the centers of his eyes.
“I own you,” he said in a quiet voice. “You know that now, don’t you?”
“I just want my little girl safe. Whatever that takes.”
“That’s a good answer. But first things first.” He pointed at his lacerated leg. “Get to work.”
Karen tried to put Abby out of her mind. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to function. Bracing her hand on the bed, she got to her feet, then picked up the forceps she’d dropped earlier and opened Will’s black bag.
“No needles,” Hickey said, as she removed a vial of lidocaine and a syringe. “I don’t trust you far as I can throw you.”
“Fine with me. Forty stitches without anesthetic will burn like the hinges of hell.”
Hickey laughed. “You should enjoy it, then. But don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna pay you back for every stitch.”
ELEVEN
Huey stumbled through the dark with Abby in his arms and fear bubbling from his heart. The no-color was all around, flooding in from the edges of his sight, leaving only the glowing cabin windows swirling in the dark. Abby shrieked endlessly, so long and so loudly that he didn’t know how she was breathing. He wished to God he could put his hands over his ears, but he needed them to carry her.
Her screams were like water he had to run through. And the fear in them was the same fear he had known as a little boy. It set something vibrating in his chest, like a bell struck with a hammer. Joey had said to tie her up, but Huey didn’t want to tie her up. Joey said to strangle her if he heard a shot, and Huey thanked Jesus he hadn’t heard one. The only way he could hurt Abby was if he saw another face on top of her face, some other girl’s face. An older girl had once taken him into the woods and showed him things, then asked him to pull down his pants. After he did, she yelled to a dozen boys who came running out of the trees, laughing and jeering at him. He wanted to twist that girl’s head around and around until it came right off, like a chicken’s.
Huey had never felt so twisted up inside, but he knew one thing. He couldn’t live without Joey. Life before Joey was a fearful blur, and the idea of life without him would not even fit into Huey’s head. Creatures like Abby were like lanterns in the dark, but he could never keep them. In the end, Joey was all he had.
Midnight had passed, and the Jenningses’ Victorian house stood dark and silent on its hill. Crickets cheeped in the pine trees; a truck droned out on the interstate; but the house itself was silent.
A scream pierced the night.
Inside the master bedroom, Karen crouched over Hickey’s wounded thigh on the sleigh bed. Naked but for a towel she had lain across his midsection, Hickey held the bottle of Wild Turkey in his left hand and a halogen lamp from Will’s study in his right. He aimed the light wherever she told him to, keeping silent during most of the work, but occasionally yelling when the needle pierced his unanesthetized flesh.
Karen worked the U-shaped suture needle with almost careless speed, mating the edges of the wound, tying knots, moving on. It was amazing how much damage one slash with a good scalpel could do. Hickey hadn’t lost enough blood to threaten his life, but he’d bled enough to scare the hell out of someone unused to trauma. Karen was grateful to see that she had in fact nicked the base of his penis with her panicked stroke (a wound that required two stitches) and hoped this would discourage him from trying to force her to finish what she’d begun earlier.
“How many to go?” he asked in a taut voice.
“We’re only half done. You should have taken that lidocaine.”
He gulped another slug of Wild Turkey as she jabbed the needle through his skin. “This is all the shot I need. Just hurry it up.”
She sewed five more stitches, then paused to stretch her wrists. As she did, something that had been bothering her from the beginning slipped out. “Why us?” she said softly.
“What?”
“I said, ‘Why us?’”
Hickey reached out with the bottle and forced her chin up, so that she was looking at his face. “Are you that dumb? Are you that fucking dumb?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why not you? Huh? You think because you live out here in this suburban palace, you’re immune to pain? My mother had throat cancer. That’s the worst, man. ‘Why me?’ she’d rasp all the time. ‘Dear Jesus, why me?’ I’d ask
