Stone Rain

back, you know.”

“You think?” Her response was laced with sarcasm.

“The police, I’m not sure they’re convinced you killed Martin Benson. They told me he’d probably been zapped by some sort of stun gun before his neck was slit. We know it was Merker, and we know he’s got stun guns. He’s been trying to sell them to the cops.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got reasons for your actions. I’m sure, you get a good lawyer, you can work things out.”

“I’ve got one,” Trixie said. “Guy named Niles Wagland. He’s pretty good.”

“Okay,” I said. “I mean, look at your situation. You were scared for your daughter’s life. Running away, making sure she was safe, it’s not totally unreasonable. And there’s got to be plenty of evidence against Merker. The note he wrote, for one thing. They’ll test it for prints, do handwriting analysis, who knows, but they’ll be able to figure out it was him. And once they’ve got him in custody, they’ll reopen those murders in Canborough. The guy’ll spend the rest of his life in jail. And then you’ll be able to get on with yours.”

“I don’t know, Zack. There’s a small matter of five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Is Merker going to tell the cops about that? Could he even prove it’s his? That you took it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Trixie, you can’t keep running. From Merker, from the police. You need to face these things, sort them out. You need to do it for Katie.”

Trixie stepped over the grass median and into my rut. “Maybe,” she said, “if I could spend my life with someone like you, I’d think about it.”

I said nothing.

“All I’ve ever known are bad men. My father was a bad man. Even Katie’s father-he tried, you know? There was a lot of goodness in him. But he was no poster boy for stability. If he hadn’t ended up getting killed by Gary, he’d have died some other way before long. You can’t live that kind of life and expect it to go on forever. My sister, she got a good one. But my luck, it doesn’t run in that direction.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. Someone who’d treat you right. Treat you with the respect you deserve.”

“What can I really expect, Zack? Look what I do. I’m a step up from a hooker. I torture men. You know why I think I do that?”

Again, I said nothing.

“I think it’s my way of taking it out on all the men who’ve treated me like shit all my life. My father, Merker, the others. When I abuse those men, when I demean them, when I hurt them, I’m getting even.”

“But,” I said, “they like it.”

“They have their fantasy, and I have mine.”

Back at the house, we could hear Katie laugh about something in the kitchen. Trixie glanced back, and the wind blew a lock of hair across her face. She looked beautiful, but in a more natural, almost innocent way.

“So what about you and Sarah? How bad is it?”

“Not so bad that I’ve given up on it,” I said. “I love her.” I took a breath. “I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone else.”

Trixie studied me. “I’ve thought about you a lot since I left you in my basement. I’m sorry. I’d like to make it up to you.” She took a step closer, and for a moment, I felt dizzy. “Did you like it when I kissed you? When you were handcuffed to the railing?”

“It took me somewhat by surprise,” I said. “A simple peck on the cheek would have sufficed.”

Trixie smiled. “Always with the joke.” The wind caught her hair again, and she reached up and tucked the lock behind her ear. “There’s something I really need to tell you,” she said.

I had a feeling this was not going to be good. At the very least, it was going to be awkward. Was she going to tell me she loved me? Was she going to ask me to leave Sarah? That seemed unthinkable. She was enticing, Trixie was. No doubt. She was beautiful. Exotic, even. She’d have no trouble fulfilling almost any man’s wildest fantasies. I’d be lying if I said none had ever crossed my mind.

But no matter how beautiful, how sexy Trixie might be, there was something she could never be.

She could never be Sarah.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “Whatever it is.”

“No,” Trixie said, her hand reaching up and touching my shirt. “I think, before we go any further, that you need to know my secret.”

I waited.

“That night,” she said. “When Zane Heighton, and Eldridge Smith, and Payne Fletcher, when the three of them got shot at the Kickstart?”

“Yes?”

“I saw it happen.”

My mouth felt very dry. “You saw it?”

“I was there.”

“Then you are a witness. If you tell the police what you saw, you can-”

Trixie touched a finger to my lips. “Zack, you don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I killed them, Zack. I killed them all.”

“Where was that place,” Leo wanted to know, “where we got pizza the other night?”

Sometimes it bugged Gary that, even though the Kickstart served food-some burgers, wings, fries, basic stuff-Leo always wanted to get something to eat from someplace else. The novelty of it, he guessed. The kid could eat, but he never got fat. Just stayed tall and stringy.

“Rocco’s,” Gary said.

“Yeah, it was good,” Leo said.

Miranda listened to all this as she counted up the night’s receipts. The Kickstart had closed half an hour ago, everyone had gone home, including the girls. Now it was just her, Gary and Leo, and Payne and Eldridge and Zane. Those three-sometimes Miranda thought of them as the Three Musketurds-were getting into the booze again. A good night would do that to them, prompt them to raid the bar’s fridge for free beers. And Payne had some coke, and was willing to share.

“We’re going out,” Gary said. “Get some fucking pizza. Anybody want some?”

The others said sure, yeah, bring back lots. Gary and Leo left. Miranda stayed at her desk, working.

She figured this would be the week. She was ready. She had enough put away. About half a mill. It seemed unbelievable, that she’d been able to skim off that much. But so much money went through that joint, and when you didn’t pay the legitimate bills, or paid just enough to keep the creditors off your back, and used the money you actually did have to pay invoices that you’d manufactured yourself, well, it all started to add up.

She’d already emptied out most of the accounts where she’d been squirreling away cash. She’d pulled together some fake identification. She’d come up with a new identity, for someone she’d decided to call Trixie.

Miranda was as ready as she’d ever be. She just had to pick her moment. To go when it felt right. Maybe just after a shift that was followed by a couple of days off. She’d have forty-eight hours’ lead time before Gary started to clue in to what was going on. By then she’d be far away, already be establishing her new life with her baby daughter. She’d change her hair color, do her makeup differently, whatever she could to distance herself from the woman known as Candace.

The guys were getting a bit rowdy. The hairs went up on the back of Miranda’s neck. Don’t let them try anything, she thought. Not now. Not when I’m so close to pulling this all off.

And then there was Payne Fletcher, standing right next to her, a beer in one hand. And touching her hair with the other.