Night Victims

foot, the parting of his big toe from the others and the blood and bone of it. His stomach tightened and he felt sick.

His mother was over him again, almost straddling him. Gripping the ax with both hands near the end of the long handle.

“What?” she was screaming. “What?”

Aaron realized he’d asked her something and tried to snatch what it was from his spinning thoughts.

“Why?” someone with his voice asked. “Why? Why do you wanna hurt me?”

“That’s a fair question, Mrs. Mandle,” said the sheriff ‘s level voice behind her.

Aaron’s mother didn’t so much as glance back at Sheriff Lester. She was staring at Aaron in a way he’d never seen, her wide eyes picking up the light but the rest of her almost black against the sunlight and glittering webs behind her. Like an opening into another world.

“How can you believe in God,” his mother asked, “without believin’ in Satan?”

She raised the ax high, high over Aaron.

And the sheriff ‘s riot gun made thunder and blew away half her head.

“What I am,” said the SSF drill instructor ten years later in the searing Louisiana sun, “is your worst nightmare and the devil you know.”

More years later he’d remember how SSF recruit Aaron Mandle, standing rigidly in full battle gear and camouflage paint, had returned his hard stare with one of his own that sent a chill scurrying up the spine.

27

New York, 2003

Cindy Vine thought she might be going crazy. She managed the household budget, and the money was tight. Joe’s hours had been cut back, and she’d tried to get some kind of job but couldn’t. What office skills she possessed were hopelessly out of date. Computers scared the hell out of her. And nobody gave a damn if she knew how to file and could type fast. They might never have seen a keyboard attached to a typewriter.

Now this!

The hospital had made a settlement offer. Three hundred thousand dollars! Plus medical expenses for Alan.

And Joe told the lawyers no.

The apartment had never seemed so small, the furniture so threadbare, the kitchen so dated, the carpet so worn.

“Why, Joe? For God’s sake, why?”

He simply stood there in the living room looking at her, wearing the angry but faintly amused expression she was beginning to hate. You could never understand, the look said. You have no choice but to leave it to me. You have to trust my judgment. You have no choice. You have no choice.

“Joe?”

“Because it isn’t enough, Cindy. They owe us more. And I want an admission of guilt. No amount of money’s enough without that. I want them to say they were wrong, that they turned Alan into-That they did that to Alan!”

“Their position’s that they won’t admit wrongdoing even if they make a settlement offer. That’s what we were told.”

“They can change their position.”

She was struggling but staying outwardly calm. During the last six months they’d fought enough about this kind of thing. What good was any of it if it was killing you measure by measure, word by word? How did it help Alan or anyone else? And while it was all being hashed out, the bills continued to pile up. “What did our attorneys say when you told them we were refusing the offer?”

“They said it’s what they would’ve advised.”

“They?”

“Larry Sigfried. The other partners. They discussed it and that was their conclusion.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed him. The room seemed even smaller and warmer. Cindy was light-headed from the heat. She had to sit down. She took three unsteady backward steps to the couch and sat slumped in it, pressing a palm to her forehead.

“Hey, Cindy. You okay, babe?”

She couldn’t look up at him. Am I okay? A three-hundred-thousand-dollar settlement offer. No, thanks. No need to check with the wife. Does he know how much that is?

Now she met his eyes, his expression mingling concern and truculence. “We already turned down half that much money, Joe. Don’t you think there’s going to come a time when the hospital, through their attorneys, is going to say that’s it, that’s our limit, Mr. and Mrs. Vine? We doubled our offer and you foolishly refused. So we’ll see you in court.”

“No. And lawyers don’t talk that way except in movies or television cop shows. I think negotiations are just beginning. And that’s how our attorneys see it.”

She’d noticed that to Joe the hospital attorneys were lawyers, and the law firm representing the Vine family was peopled by attorneys and partners. “I’m their client, too. Don’t they understand that?”

“Cindy, you know how it is. What we told them. If they speak to either one of us, it’s like they’ve spoken to us both.”

“Then how would you feel if I turned down all that money without consulting you?”

“I’d understand.”

“Would you understand if I demanded to be consulted in the future? Would you agree with that?”

“No.” His face was flushed. He was getting angrier. “I don’t want any of your goddamn word games, Cindy. Turning down a second settlement offer was the right thing to do, whatever you believe. You don’t understand about this kinda thing. Cases like ours are usually settled out of court, but they sometimes drag on for years.”

“Years? What are we going to eat in the meantime? And what’s your plan for paying the bills?”

“We’re making it okay.”

“Says the man who doesn’t write the checks.”

“That’s right! Says the man!”

“Since you’re in charge, Joe, tell me where the money’s going to come from. You’re down to temporary hours at work, and I’ve tried and can’t get a job. Probably couldn’t work one if I did, what’s happened’s got my brains so scrambled. The checking account’s overdrawn again. So tell me, where the fuck will we get the money to buy next week’s groceries?”

“We can max out the Visa card.”

“We did that.”

“The other Visa card, the one that came in the mail last week.”

He doesn’t understand. . He doesn’t get it.. Cindy bowed her head and cupped her face in her hands, trying not to sob in frustration. “We owe thousands, Joe.”

“And we’re angling for millions.”

She looked up at him. “Do you actually believe that?”

“Other people in our position have gotten that much.”

“But it isn’t just the money with you, is it?”