Vicious

“A Coke would hit the spot nicely, thank you.”

She ducked into the kitchen and retrieved two cans of Coke from the refrigerator.

By the time she brought them into the sunroom, Mattie and Deputy Shaffer were back, shaking off their wet hands. “I rode in a police car!” Mattie announced excitedly. He wrapped himself around Susan’s leg.

“We rinsed off our hands with the garden hose, but you better give him the soap and hot water treatment,” the deputy recommended, grinning at her. “You don’t know what kind of cooties get on those salt licks.” The smile faded as he turned to his boss and gave him a set of keys. “The prowler’s back just where you parked it.”

Sheriff Fischer wordlessly took the keys and put them in his pocket.

“Um, here’s a cold drink for the road,” Susan said, handing them each a can of soda.

The deputy thanked her. Sheriff Fischer opened his Coke can, took a sip, and smiled at her. “Y’know, I can stick around—if you’re still a bit uneasy and lonely.”

Susan held Mattie against her. “Oh, I think we’ll be all right. I’d feel better if I knew you were out there looking for Allen. Besides, I’ve already taken up enough of your time. Thanks.”

They left by the back porch. Susan was glad to be rid of that sleazy sheriff, who made her skin crawl. She’d been so afraid he would insist on staying.

She led Mattie into the kitchen, propped him on a step-stool by the sink, and washed his hands thoroughly. “I think we’ll go ahead and have our lunch,” she said, with a glance out the window.

The deputy’s car pulled out of the driveway. But the sheriff’s car remained.

“Is Allen under a dress?” Mattie asked.

“What?” she asked, distracted for a moment. “Um, it’s under arrest, honey. And no, the police are just going to look for Allen, and tell him to hurry home, because we’re worried about him.” She dried off Mattie’s hands with a dish towel. “Will you be a good boy and wait for me on the back porch while I go down to the boat? I left our lunch in the little fridge there.”

Mattie nodded.

Susan looked out the window again.

The sheriff’s patrol car was still in the driveway. She couldn’t see if anyone was actually inside the vehicle. Why didn’t he go already? she thought.

Taking Mattie by the hand, she walked him out the sliding glass door to the back porch. He sat down on the bottom step, grabbed a long stick, and poked at the ground with it.

As she started down toward the dock, Susan turned back to wave at him. She saw the sheriff’s car was still parked beside the house. She noticed something else—the red Coke can sitting on the corner of the porch railing. It was odd that the sheriff would just leave it there.

Hesitating, Susan headed back toward the house—and the driveway.

The cop car finally backed out of the drive, just as she was about twenty feet away. Susan watched him use the turnaround and then continue out the driveway. She retreated toward the house.

“Bizarre,” she murmured. She glanced over at the Coke can on the railing again. “What a pig.” She reached up for the empty can, and felt it was near full. Baffled, she poured it out and then pitched the can in the recycling bin by the side of the house.

Susan shrugged it off and hurried down toward the boat. Stepping around the life vests they’d abandoned on the dock earlier, she climbed aboard, unlocked the cabin door, and went below. She’d shut off the power before, so the lights didn’t work. But the mini refrigerator was still slightly cold, so their lunch hadn’t spoiled. Susan stashed the Tupperware container of food and the Tuscan bread into the bin with Mattie’s toys. She managed to lug the bin up the stepladder to the deck and then locked the cabin door behind her. She glanced over toward the house.

For a second, her heart seemed to stop.

Mattie was gone. She didn’t see him on the back porch.

“MATTIE!” she screamed, dropping the bin. She almost tripped scurrying off the boat. It rocked back and forth, and the side banged against the dock. But Susan barely noticed. She raced up toward the house. “MATTIE, WHERE ARE YOU?” she cried. “MATTIE!”

“I’m here, Mommy!” he called, coming around from the side yard. He still had the stick in his hand, and he waved it at her.

Susan stopped and caught her breath. “Honey, I told you to stay on the porch!” she called wearily. “Now, wait right there….” Slump-shouldered, she returned to the boat to pick up the bin. She wished right now Allen would pull into that driveway “in that fancy black BMW of his.” And then, after the hugs, and screaming at him, and listening to his explanations, and more hugs, she could tell him, My God, what an afternoon I’ve had….

Susan carried the bin up to the house. Mattie was telling her how he’d seen a “reindeer” in the woods, and he’d gotten up to “look at it better.” But the animal had apparently run away when it had seen him coming. Susan figured with all the deer, elk, and antelope bait in those woods, there would be plenty more “reindeer” around, which was just fine by her—as long as she didn’t encounter that creepy hunter again.

She set the bin on the dining room table. “You can eat your lunch in front of the TV for a change, sweetie,” she announced. “So go pick out a DVD, okay?”

While Mattie ran into the sunroom to pick through the collection of Disney and Pixar DVDs she’d packed, Susan shut the sliding door. She locked it—just to be on the safe side.

Passing by the laundry basket, she noticed something. Her bra and panties had been at the top of that pile of dirty laundry. The bra was still there, but the panties were gone. Susan examined the heap of clothes, just to make sure the panties hadn’t somehow, miraculously, shifted among the rest of the things.

She thought about Sheriff Fischer touching them earlier, and how he’d asked for something to drink. But it turned out, he hadn’t really been thirsty.

He’d just needed for her to turn her back on him for a few moments—so he could take what he wanted.

“I’m opening the trunk now,” Jordan announced.

He stood in back of his Honda Civic, parked in the driveway by the cabin on Cedar Crest Way. Fortunately, Leo and Moira hadn’t come back yet. Jordan had already ducked inside the house and quickly found what he’d needed —a sharp knife, some rope, and a roll of duct tape, all of which he’d taken down to the basement. He’d been in and out of the cabin in less than five minutes.

Meeker banged on the inside of the trunk’s lid again. No one was likely to come by and hear him. The nearest neighbor was the woman Meeker claimed was his fiancee, staying at Jordan’s old family summer home a mile and a half away.

Jordan didn’t want Moira and Leo involved in this. Once he had Meeker in a secure location, he planned to pack their bags and set them out by the car. When Leo and Moira returned from their woodland walk, he’d insist they take his car and drive home. He’d claim he needed to be alone or pretend he was pissed off at them. Whatever it took, he’d get rid of them.

The skies had turned slightly overcast again. Jordan felt a chilly wind against his back as he stood by the car. In one hand, he had the car keys with the automatic opening device for the door and trunk. In the other hand he held Allen Meeker’s gun.

“I’m the only one around for about a mile,” Jordan announced over the incessant banging. Meeker wouldn’t stop hammering and kicking the inside of the trunk’s lid. “No one else can hear you, so you might as well stop all that noise and shit. Here, in case you don’t believe me…” Jordan yelled out: “I’VE GOT A MAN BOUND AND GAGGED IN THE TRUNK OF MY CAR! WON’T SOMEONE PLEASE COME HELP HIM?”

The banging and pounding stopped.

“See what I mean?” Jordan asked, staring down at the small trunk. “So like I told you, I’m going to pop the trunk now, and I don’t want you making any sudden movements.”

He paused a moment to let that sink in.

“I have your gun,” he continued. “And I won’t hesitate to shoot you or hit you over the head with it if you try anything. Got that? You want to get hit over the head again? I’m figuring you don’t. Tap once if you understand me.”

Jordan waited. A solitary thump came from the trunk.

“Okay, I’m going to open her up now,” he said. He pressed the button on the key-ring device. The trunk popped open a few inches—and stayed there.

Jordan shoved the keys in his pocket. His palm was sweating against the gun handle in his other hand. With a