“Kramer got me alone last night. He beat me up and raped me.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look beat up.” His voice came out quiet, uncertain.
“He didn’t hurt my face.”
“How do I know he did
Lane checked the area ahead. On the other side of the street was empty land, a barren hillside. Keeping her back to Riley’s home, she fumbled open three buttons. She spread the front of her blouse wide enough for him to see her breasts. “That’s just some of it,” she muttered, closing the blouse.
“Kramer did that to you?”
“And plenty more. And he had a razor with him. He said he’d use it on me if I talked. He said he’d kill me and my family. I think that’s what happened to Jessica and her parents.”
Riley slumped forward and clutched his knees. His head lowered. For a while he just sat like that on the car’s hood, staring down. Then he raised his head and met Lane’s eyes. “Jessica looked like that. After she got herself pounded. She said it was a gang of spies got her behind the mini-mart.”
“It was Kramer.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” Riley said.
“I’m gonna help you.”
Lane swung the denim bag forward. Clutching it to her belly, she reached inside and took out a revolver. “It’s my dad’s,” she said. “It’s just a twenty-two, but...”
“That’ll do just fine,” Riley said.
Lane waited in the car while Riley went back inside his home. A few minutes passed. Then he came out and climbed into the passenger seat. “I told the old lady we’re going to a matinee.”
Lane took the paper out of her blouse pocket. She checked the second address.
“What’s that?”
“It’s where Kramer lives.”
“All
She put the paper away and started to drive.
“I’ve got something for him,” Riley said. He tugged up a cuff of his blue jeans, reached down and came up with a knife. Lane glanced at it. The thing looked wicked. Its blade must’ve been eight inches long.
“Here’s how we’re gonna work it,” he said. “You keep the motherfucker covered with the gun.
“We’ll be each other’s alibis,” Lane said, her voice shaking.
“Fuck alibis. I don’t care if they get me for it.”
“I do. And I’m sure your mother does. If we’re caught, we might not get charged with anything, or end up with suspended sentences. I mean, I don’t think a jury’s going to put us away for this. But let’s try to work it so the cops don’t come looking.”
“Oh yeah? How do you figure we can manage that?”
“Why don’t we make it look like suicide?”
“Fuck that. I’m gonna cut his dick off. I’m gonna cut his head off.”
“Maybe we can make him write a suicide note. Make him confess what he did to Jessica. On paper. Then we hang him. Right there in his house.”
“You read too many fucking books.”
“It’s worth a try.”
On Kramer’s street, two blocks from where his house should be, Lane swung the car to the curb. She faced Riley. He had the knife in his right hand, rubbing its blade along the leg of his faded jeans.
“Why don’t we walk from here?” she said. “That way, nobody’s likely to connect the car with what happens to Kramer.” She paused and tried to catch her breath. She hadn’t been
“You’ll be alone in there with him.”
“Don’t I know it,” she muttered. She lifted the bag onto her lap and dropped the keys inside. After a quick look around to make certain no one was in sight, she took out the revolver. She set the bag on the floor. Leaning back against the seat, she untucked her blouse, lifted its front, and slid the muzzle under the waistband of her skirt. It only went down an inch before pushing against her pubic mound. Lowering the blouse, she held the gun against her belly. She opened the door and climbed out.
“Good luck,” Riley said.
“Thanks.” She shut the door. Facing the car, she slipped the revolver farther down until it was snug between her skirt and body. She glanced down at herself. The hanging front of her blouse concealed the bulges.
The back of the blouse was glued to her skin. She peeled it away, but as soon as she let go, it stuck again.
There was no sidewalk in this neighborhood, so she walked along the edge of the road. The barrel pressed her groin. The front sight sometimes scraped the inner side of her left thigh, so after a while she nudged the gun butt sideways. Then the muzzle was stroking her right thigh with each step she took. But it was smooth, and didn’t scratch her the way the sight did.
She remembered last night with the bottom of the crucifix stuffed in her jeans.
Last night, a cross. Today, a revolver.
It’s a weird damn world, she thought.
She glanced back. The Mustang was a block away, Riley still in the passenger seat.
She kept walking.
A mortal sin, she thought. I’ll be risking Hell, murdering Kramer. Even if it’s Riley who does the dirty work. I’ll be just as guilty as him in the eyes of God.
What am I supposed to do, let Kramer go on raping me? Let him kill Mom and Dad?
It’s self-defense. Lane didn’t know a lot about Church policy, but it seemed like allowances were made for killing people in self-defense, war, that kind of thing. She sure hoped so.
At the next corner she took the paper out of her pocket. She unfolded it. Squinting as the white paper glared sunlight, she read the address again: 838.
She looked back. Riley was out of the car.
She put the paper away. She rubbed a sleeve across her face to dry the sweat. She continued walking. The sun felt like a hot blanket on her back. She wanted to reach around and pluck at the seat of her panties, but Riley was sure to see her do it.
The house to her right was 836.
Next door was Kramer’s. A small, adobe house with a picture window. Its driveway was empty.
Gasping for breath, heart slamming, leg muscles feeling as soft as pudding, she walked up the driveway.
No garage. A carport instead.
The station wagon wasn’t in the carport.
It wasn’t anywhere in sight.
After all this, she thought, he
She mounted the front stoop. She rang the door bell, and heard quiet bells from inside the house.
She waited.
She wished she could catch her breath.
She slipped a hand under the front of her blouse and wrapped sweaty fingers around the grips of her father’s revolver. The barrel moved, nudging her groin. She thought about Kramer’s mouth down there.
“Come on, you bastard,” she muttered.
