Laura Cardinal - 01 - Darkness on the Edge of Town

He closed his eyes and started to pray. As he prayed, he pictured what it would be like, the two of them, driving all over the country, going wherever they pleased…

“You don’t know how great it will be,” he said to her. “We can go all over—the Grand Canyon, Disneyland. Have you ever been to Six Flags Over Texas?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to go home. You take me home right now.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” He held his hands up, open. “It’s for your own good.”

But he was looking at those small breasts. Like tiny buds, just barely stretching the peasant top. And her skin. Golden, like honey. There were white stripes, tan lines where she’d worn a swimsuit or sundress that had tied at a knot at the back of her neck. He could see it because of the blouse’s scoop neck. And the skirt. So short, so tiny, the narrow little girl hips. The smooth long legs. Like satin.

Misty had dressed like that. His mother used to talk about how slutty she looked. How if Misty were her child she’d dress her in nice dresses. He agreed with that. They hid a girl’s wares. Even pure girls had wares. It was just the way God made them.

“Take me home or I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead. I’ve heard two screaming fights since I’ve been here.” He tweaked open the shade, the lace curtains. “See—nobody around now. They’re all at work or inside their trailers.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You’ll understand. I know it’s going to take awhile to get used to this, but we’ve got a lot of good times ahead. Just the two of us—“

If only she could understand. He felt the same way when he watched the vet shows on the Animal Planet. When he saw the frightened animals struggling against the people who would help them. They just didn’t understand that they were only making things worse by fighting.

He made himself turn away from Summer, the thin top, the smooth denim skirt.

He walked over to the closet and pulled out a dress. Girl’s size 12. He had made it last year.

He held it out to her. “Would you do me a favor?” he asked. “Would you go into the bedroom and put that on?”

He saw she was about to argue. And then he saw the intelligence, the cunning, come back over her face.

Nothing like Misty.

Had he made another mistake?

She took the dress, turned on her heel, and walked into the bedroom at the end of the short hall, closed and locked the door.

In the bedroom, Summer stood back from the door, her heart pounding.

This wasn’t happening. Where was James? What happened to James?

I’m James

She couldn’t think. Her mind was racing, but she couldn’t think. She was stuck on the man who said he was James when he wasn’t. She was stuck on what he said—God it was so creepy—“Have you ever been to Six Flags over Texas?” Like he thought if he offered that to her everything would be all right, like she was some little kid, and the idea of going anywhere with that ugly, balding, little worm—

Creepy, the way he looked at her.

He was probably her parents’ age.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be.

She became aware of the dress in her hands. It was like a little girl’s dress. She was way too old for it—why’d he want her to wear that? But when he handed it to her, she just took it.

Why didn’t I fight? Why didn’t I scream? Why didn’t I try to escape?

Instead, she just accepted the dress—maybe she even said “thanks.” What was wrong with her? How could she have gotten herself into this mess?

Because she knew this was something very bad. She knew enough about sex—three of her friends weren’t virgins anymore, and they had told her everything—she knew what this guy wanted.

He was old. He was ugly. The thought of doing it with him made her sick to her stomach. But here she was, in this smothering little room all alone. Her mom didn’t know where she was. Her dad …

He was a cop, but he lived in Bisbee. Of course they’d start looking for her, but how would they find her here? She had a pager in her purse, but what good would that do? He’d just turn it off. She wished her mom had gotten her a cell phone. She said to wait until her birthday. Now I probably won’t have a thirteenth birthday.

She had seen enough on TV to know that she was in deep trouble. He would probably rape her. And kill her.

Adrenaline poured through her, a muscular current of fear. Her hands and legs shook.

Get hold of yourself. You’re not dead yet.

Maybe, maybe if she cooperated, put on the dress, tried to talk with him. Get him to see her as a human being. Make friends with him. Maybe she could get to his phone, or his computer, or something.