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man, a husky man much older than he was. He flashed back to all the disheveled-looking men who would stay with their mother for a few hours at night and during many afternoons when he was younger. What the hell do you think you re doing! he repeated. She s just a kid, asshole! Alarmed, the man shoved Allie to the floor and bent to pick up his pants. Trying to contain his rage, he flipped on the overhead light and walked up to the man. He shoved him, and the man floundered, tumbling back into bed, his pants around his hairy calves. I didn t know! he screamed. She told me she was eighteen! Eighteen? Christ, does she look eighteen? Leave him alone! Allie screamed, scrambling from her place on the floor. He s a client! 126 NEVER SMILE AT STRANGERS He noticed three wrinkled twenty-dollar bills on Allie s night- stand. Trembling, he kicked the man repeatedly, each time harder than the last. Allie s hands were around his waist now. Stop! Please stop! What s the money for, Allie? he shouted, tears stinging his eyes. She was a whore an evil, vicious, whore. She held on to him tighter, her flesh burning his. Their eyes met for a quick moment, and he could tell that she was enjoying this. Her slow kill. What s the money for? he screamed again, out of breath. What s it for, huh? He had to get away from this place, this house, from her or they would kill him. His eyes out of focus and filled with tears, he watched the man rise and fumble with his pants again. He snatched up a cowboy hat and a set of car keys from the floor, then staggered out of the room. A few seconds later, the front door slammed. 127 CHAPTER 31 AN HOUR LATER, as he sat on the narrow seat of a swing set studying the Anderson house, a boy walked up. The kid tiptoed through the yard until he reached the daughter s bedroom window. Then, seconds later, the girl poked out her head, and the boy helped her down. The two laughed quietly, then dashed across the yard and into the night. After they disappeared, he studied the girl s bedroom window. He breathed in the cool rain-cleansed air and tried to decide if it was too risky, if he d be going too far. He contemplated for a few minutes, the polished stone tumbling violently in his palm, then decided it was worth the risk. He d seen the girl sneaking out before, and she was always gone for hours. The rest of the house was dark, so the family was sound asleep. Yes, he d be safe going inside. He lifted the window a little wider and pulled himself into the house. Adrenaline flooded his veins as he stepped slowly around the room, taking in the dim surroundings. There was a bureau with a ceramic ballerina and a jewelry box sitting on its surface. A dresser, untidy with small brushes, makeup, and a large can of hairspray. He picked up the brush, his hand NEVER SMILE AT STRANGERS grazing the strands of hair embedded in the bristles. He pulled sev- eral out and rubbed them between his fingertips. The strands were coarse, probably dyed, not the natural, untainted hair her mother had. But it was the closest he d ever got- ten to his angel, so he pocketed them and placed the brush back on the bureau. He went to the unmade bed. In the murky light, he tried to guess the color of the comforter. A big pillow lay at the foot of the bed. Embroidered within the shape of a heart was the word Kelsey. Kelsey, he mouthed and felt the word roll off his tongue. A word Rachel probably said several times a day. He whispered it again and bent to smell her sheets. They smelled girlish, like Allie s. Perfumed. He lay on the bed and held the pillow. This is where her daughter sleeps. These are the things she sees just before falling asleep, the things she hears. He glared in the darkness, and his shoulders stiffened. Sud- denly, he wanted to grab the girl by the shoulders and shake her until all that was left were the whites of her eyes. Didn t she know her mother would worry if she caught her sneaking out? This girl was no good, just like Allie, just like the young girls he saw every day. He ran his fingers over the comforter. It was softer than Allie s, the sheer opposite of the government-issue wool blanket he d slept with since he was a child. He wondered how soft the mother s com- forter would be. Suddenly, he knew he d have to find out. He d have to know, or the thought would clutter his already- crowded mind. He closed his eyes and reveled in the idea. Then, he let himself enjoy a memory, one of the few good ones. 129 JENNIFER JAYNES Tiffany had been angry when he d stopped to pick her up from the side of the road. She told him she had lost her keys in the woods. Hopping in the truck, she asked him to take her away. Anywhere but here, she d said. So he threw the truck into gear, and they moved up Main Street toward his mother s house. Soon, her hand was on his shoulder, where it didn t belong. We re through, she announced. Through? Yeah, we re done for good this time. He thinks he owns me, and I hate it. Does he? She watched him in the darkness, then seemed to decide he was kidding. Hell no, she said, and a grin spread across her small face. He jammed his boot against the pedal. In the living room, she draped her slim, tanned legs over the side of the recliner as he filled two shot glasses with vodka and twisted the tops off their beers. She complained about her boyfriend as she downed the first two shots. He kept nodding, not really hearing her, but imagining what he could so easily do. Once he d daydreamed of killing her, but that had only been a daydream. Or had it? After a while, her eyes began to droop a little. She slipped off the recliner and walked to where he sat. He tried to stay calm. The closer she got, the more torment he felt. His breath quick- [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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