Cliff Baxter strapped on his holster and put on his bulletproof vest. He went to his gun rack and took down his Sako, model TRG-21, which was his night rifle, with an Army-surplus infrared scope mounted on it. The rifle, made in Finland, had cost the taxpayers of Spencerville four thousand dollars, and the scope another thousand, and in his opinion, the rifle and scope together made about the most accurate and deadly night-sniper system in the world.
He shut off the lights in the living room so he wouldn't be backlighted and slid open the glass door that led from the living room to the elevated deck.
Baxter dropped to one knee behind the deck railing and raised the rifle, sighting through the scope and adjusting the infrared image with the focus knob. His right eye was still fuzzy from where Landry had jabbed him, but the magnification helped.
He looked out into the woods that started about a hundred yards across the open space around the house, and scanned along the edge of the pine trees, but didn't see anything.
Baxter wasn't certain which dog barked, or why, so he walked in a low crouch around the continuous deck, looking through the variable-power scope at the woods that surrounded the house on three sides, then scanned the shoreline of the lake, which, like the woods, was about a hundred yards away across open terrain. He focused on the waters of the lake itself but didn't see any boats.
One of the dogs, the Labrador retriever, was tethered to a dog run parallel to the lake side of the house. The second dog, a golden retriever, was on its dog run, which ran from the lake, across the front of the house, out toward the woods where the dirt road came into the clearing. The third dog, a German shepherd, was out toward the rear of the house. The shepherd wasn't on a wire run, but was on a fifty-yard-long leash, attached to a pole, that allowed it to roam at will as far as the woods and as close as the house. He was satisfied that the placement of these dogs covered the perimeter of the clearing around his house.
They were good dogs, Baxter thought, but they barked at nearly everything. Still, when they barked, he checked it out. He went back to the front deck and, again in a kneeling stance, he raised the rifle and pointed it toward the dirt road. It sounded like the golden retriever who'd barked, and in fact the retriever was at the end of its run near the wood line. But Baxter noticed that the wind was coming off the lake now, so the dog probably couldn't smell anything upwind. But it must have heard or seen something. Baxter adjusted the focus knob again and concentrated on the infrared images as he slowly scanned from left to right.
He focused on the golden retriever again and saw that the dog was facing toward the woods about thirty yards left of where the dirt road began. Baxter dropped into a prone firing position, rested the rifle on the deck below the bottom slat, and sighted to where the retriever was pointing. He aimed low at the base of the pine trees and squeezed off a single round.
The shot echoed through the trees and over the lake behind him, breaking into the silence of the night. All three dogs began barking. Baxter sighted again and fired another round, then another.
The echo died away, and the dogs quieted down. Baxter lay motionless, peering through the scope, waiting for a sound or movement in the pine, and waiting, too, for return fire. After two full minutes, he decided there was nothing out there, or if there was, it was gone or dead. "Maybe a deer." They liked to feed after dark during the hunting season, but as soon as the dogs barked, they ran. So why was the dog still looking into the woods? "Maybe a rabbit or squirrel. Yeah..."
"Okay..."He didn't want to attract attention and didn't want to kill a hunter, but he didn't think there was anyone in the few cabins around this side of the lake, and even if there were, they didn't belong out at night in the woods during the deer season; at least not this close to his house.
He waited a few more minutes, then rolled along the deck, stood quickly, and went back into the living room through the sliding door.
Baxter put the rifle back in the gun rack and locked it, pocketing the key chain. He had four other semiautomatic rifles on the rack, one with a twilight scope for dawn and dusk shooting, one with a standard four-power scope for daylight, one with a long-range twelve-power scope for distance shots of up to a mile across the lake, and an AK-47 assault rifle with open sights for close-in shooting.
Aside from the armaments and the dogs, he also had six old-fashioned bear traps set around the property, out of reach of the dogs. One of them was near the staircase that led up to the deck. He also had a few other tricks up his sleeve, in case any uninvited and unannounced visitors showed up. He wasn't expecting anyone, but somewhere in the back of his mind was the image of Keith Landry.
Keith lay flat on the ground among the pine boughs, with Billy beside him. When the firing stopped, Keith whispered, "Just probing fire."
Billy nodded. "Yeah... but damn close."
"I think the dog was pointing."
Billy whispered, "You had a clear shot at him when he was kneelin'."
"I did, but I think he was wearing a vest. I'd have to go for a head shot, and that's tough at this distance."
"Hey, did you see that red-eye lookin' at us?"
"I did." The infrared scope's major drawback was that you could see the red glow when it was pointing directly at you. He wasn't surprised that Baxter had a night-vision scope, but it made things a little more difficult.
The dog, which was about twenty yards from them, made a low, rumbling sound.
They lay quiet and motionless for another few minutes, then the dog, responding to some other sound or impulse, turned and ran off down the length of its wire run toward the lake.
Keith waited another minute, then slowly rose up into a kneeling position. He raised the binoculars and trained them on the house.
Baxter slipped out of his bulletproof vest but kept his pistol strapped to his side. He turned on a floor lamp that cast a soft light across the big, cathedral-ceilinged living room.
Along the slanted walls of the A-frame room were trophy heads: elk, deer, bobcat, wild boar, two black bears facing each other on opposite walls, and above the mantel of the fireplace, a rare gray timber wolf surveyed the length of the room.
Sitting in a rocking chair beside the fireplace was Annie, staring into the flames. She glanced at him as he came toward her.
Baxter said, "You expectin' company, darlin?"
She shook her head.
"I think you are." He sat in an easy chair opposite her.
She was naked but had a blanket wrapped around her to keep away the cold. Still, her feet were cold despite the fire. On her ankles were leg manacles from the jail, connected by a twenty-four-inch chain long enough for her to walk normally but too short for her to run. The chain was padlocked to a large eyebolt screwed deep into the oak floor.
The only telephone in the house was the wall phone in the kitchen, but Cliff had locked the handset in the kitchen closet, along with all the sharp knives. When he sent her to bed at night, he handcuffed her wrists to the iron headboard and released the leg manacles, "So you can spread your legs for me, darlin'."
Cliff looked at her awhile, then said, "You think he's comin' for you, but that phone call I got before was from Blake, and he tells me that your lover boy went and kidnapped Ward and tortured the guy. But Ward told him that we went off to Florida. So that's where the stupid bastard is goin', if he gets that far." He added, "If he even gives a shit about you."
Annie didn't reply.
Baxter added, "I don't think he cares, and even if he does, he don't have the balls." He laughed. "I mean, he really don't have the balls. But, in a way, I hope he does show up here. You ever seen a man caught in a bear trap? It ain't pretty, I'll tell you. Most of the time they can't get it open and they die of starvation and thirst. Sometimes they cut off their foot to get out. Now, if your lover boy gets himself caught in a trap around the house, we can both watch him dyin' for a week or so. They usually yell themselves hoarse, cryin' and beggin', then at the end, they want you to shoot 'em."
Annie kept staring into the fire.
Cliff said, "Never saw it myself, but I know someone who did. I think I'd enjoy that." He couldn't seem to get a reaction out of her, so he said, "Don't know what good he can do you anyhow. Last time I saw him, his balls was sittin' in my hand. You ever seen a man's testicles out of their sack? Hell, I shoulda saved 'em and showed 'em to you." He stared at her, and she glanced back at him. He could tell she wasn't sure about this, but each time he told her this story, she seemed less believing, so he decided not to repeat it again for a few days.
Cliff went on, "I hope, if he shows up, I don't have to kill him outright. If he don't get caught in one of them bear traps, then maybe the dogs'll get on him, or maybe I can wing him. Hey, I'll bring him inside here, and you can take care of him. Get him fixed up enough so I can skin him alive and tan his hide..."
"Shut up!"
He stood. "What did you say?"
"Stop! Stop it!"
"Yeah? Stand up."
"No."
"Stand up, bitch, and get it over with, or I'll make it worse."
Annie hesitated, then stood.
"Drop the blanket."
She let the blanket fall to the floor. Baxter took the key chain out of his pocket, knelt, and removed the padlock, freeing the manacle chain. He stood and said, "Go over there and bend over the arm of the sofa."
She shook her head.
He drew his revolver and aimed it at her face. "Do what I say."
"No. Go ahead and shoot."
He lowered his aim to her stomach and said, "If I gut-shoot you, you're gonna take a day to die."
Annie remained standing where she was, wanting to die, and it didn't matter at that moment how long it took. Then she thought about her children and thought of the possibility that Keith would remember what she'd told him about Grey Lake, or of Keith speaking to Terry, who she prayed understood about Atlanta.
Annie knew that they couldn't stay in this house forever, and when someone came along, there would be bloodshed, and it would probably end with Cliff killing her, then himself.
So she wavered between wanting him to kill her now, and living a little longer and hoping she could do something to end this nightmare. But she didn't know how long she could live like this, how long it would be before he broke her. It had been three days now since they'd gotten here, and already she was losing touch with reality, bending to his perverted will to save herself some pain. She was no match for him in this situation, she realized. He had all the power, and even her subtle resistance met with his sadism. Still, she wasn't going to be his willing victim, and she said to him, "Go to hell."
Baxter lowered the pistol, went to the fireplace, and stuck the poker in the flames.
Annie watched. No, he wouldn't kill her. Not yet. But he would do what he was preparing to do. The poker tip glowed red, and he pulled it out of the fire, held it up, and spit on it. The spit sizzled, and he held the poker out a few inches from her right breast. He said, "I don't want to do this, but you ain't givin' me any choice."
She replied, "I don't want to do this either, and you're not giving me any choice."
He looked at her, then said, "We're gonna have it my way, either way. So?"
Realizing she'd resisted as much as she could, she turned and walked to the couch, the chain dragging over the rug, and the leg manacles chafing her ankles.
He said, "Bend over."
She bent over the upholstered arm of the couch and put her hands out in front of her on the cushions. She heard Cliff put the poker down, then unbuckle his gun belt and lay it down somewhere. He came up behind her and unbuckled his trouser belt and whipped it out of the loops. "Okay, you got to pay for your smart mouth. And you got a lot of payin' to do for a lot of smart-mouthin' over the years."
She didn't want to reply, but she knew if she didn't say anything, he'd go on and on, and she didn't want to wait for it in that humiliating position. She said, "Just get it over with."
"I want you to think about what's comin' and why you're gettin' it."
"Damn you..."
He swung the belt and brought it down hard across her buttocks.
Keith focused on one of the lit dormer windows that protruded from the sloped side of the A-frame. He caught a glimpse of something, then saw her. She was standing, and he could see her from the waist up. She was bare-breasted, and she stood motionless for a few seconds. He could see her face, but at this distance, the equivalent of about twenty-five yards with the four-power magnification, he had trouble making out her features. He thought she looked frightened, but that might have been his imagination.
Suddenly, she disappeared, and standing where she had been was Cliff Baxter. He focused as tight as he could, then watched Baxter making some sort of odd movement. It took him a few seconds to realize that Baxter was swinging something, a whip, or a belt, or a switch, and he understood what was happening. He lowered the binoculars and felt a tightening in his stomach.
Billy whispered, "What do ya see?"
"Nothing."
"You see anybody?"
"Yes... I did." He looked at Billy and said, "He's beating her. I'm going in." He grabbed his rifle and started to stand, but Billy pushed him down. "No! No! You wait."
Keith lay on the ground. He thought he could hear the sound of whatever was happening in that house, the steady slap of something against bare flesh and her crying. But, of course, he couldn't hear it, but he felt it, as if it were happening to him.
Annie yelled out in surprised pain. Usually, she prepared herself for the first blow and hardly made a sound until the pain got to be too much. Yesterday, she'd taken ten strokes without crying, and that had given her some satisfaction.
He said, "I was gonna give you only five, but now you're gettin' a full ten. You count, and if you lose count, I start over again. Ready?"
She didn't reply.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Cliff Baxter proceeded to deliver nine slow, steady strokes with the belt across his wife's buttocks, which still had yesterday's red welts across the flesh. He waited between each stroke for Annie to catch her breath and count. Before the last stroke, she started to sob, and he said, "Well, I gave you one before we started, so I'll count that as ten. What do you say?"
She stifled a sob and said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Can I get up?"
"No. You can spread your legs right there."
She spread her legs as far as the chain allowed, and Cliff Baxter unzipped his fly and took out his erect penis. He entered her from behind, but before he came, he pulled out and said, "Turn around."
She stood unsteadily and turned toward him.
"Kneel."
She knelt down in front of him, and he pulled her face into him and said, "Put it in your mouth."
She knew that after he came, he'd calm down a little, and all she wanted at this point was to get through the night. Still, she hesitated, and he pulled her hair and shouted at her, "Now!"
"Come on, Keith. We don't want to spook him. We got to back off and wait awhile. Right? Hey, man, you okay? Get it together, Keith. This ain't a trainin' exercise."
Keith didn't reply.
"Come on. We can't stay here."
Keith got up on one knee, then stood and raised the binoculars again, but couldn't see anything through the window.
Billy reached up and pulled him down again. "Jesus! If he's lookin' through that infrared scope, you're dead. Come on."
The dog barked again.
"Swallow it."
She swallowed.
Baxter turned away and walked back to his chair, leaving her kneeling. He sat down, breathing hard, watching her. He heard the dog bark again, but he ignored it. After a minute, he smiled. "You're gettin' better. You have fun?"
"No."
"Bitch. Did you give your boyfriend a blowjob?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me, bitch. You sucked his cock, didn't you?"
"No."
"You can stay like that all night until you tell me the truth. You blow him?"
"Yes."
"You fuckin' whore." He leaned forward and kept staring at her. "Look at me, bitch. You lied to me about him, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"You said you didn't even remember runnin' into him. And all the time you was suckin' his dick. Right?"
"Yes."
"Maybe lover boy got AIDS, and now you got it, and you gave it to me, bitch."
She didn't reply.
"He probably fucks everything and everybody. Probably fucks goats and little boys and two-dollar whores. Whatever he got, you got. He use a rubber on you?"
She didn't reply.
"How many times you fuck him?"
"Do you mean in high school and college, or?.."
"Shut up! You make me sick. I ought to kill you, but you ain't gettin' off that easy. You're gonna pay for what you did. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes."
"And you're gonna keep payin', 'cause you can't ever make that right. I'll bet you're sorry you did it, ain't you?"
She didn't reply.
"Answer me."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"I'm sorry."
"You bet you are. And you ain't half as sorry as you're gonna be. When I get through with you, you're gonna be like my bitch retriever. You're gonna do what I say, when I say, eat when I tell you, curl up at my feet, lick my hand, and follow me around with your head down. Right?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. And I'll treat you just fine, though you don't deserve it after what you done. You'll get three meals, a warm place to sleep, and a whippin' only when you deserve it. Right?"
"Yes, sir."
Cliff sat back and watched her still kneeling, her head down, and her arms wrapped around her. He smiled. "Cold?"
"Yes, sir."
"Come on over here by the fire. Don't walk."
Annie hesitated, then walked on her hands and knees over to Baxter and came to a stop at his feet.
"Straighten up."
She rocked back on her haunches and sat up, facing him, her head still down.
"Look at me."
She looked him in the eye and noted with some satisfaction that his right eye still had blood in it.
"When did you fuck him? Where did you fuck him?"
"In his house."
"You fuck him in our house?"
"Yes."
He seemed surprised and asked, "How the fuck did you manage that? You're lyin'! You never could've fucked him in our house."
"If you say so."
"You're a fucking slut. You know that? You're a fucking whore, so I'm gonna treat you like a whore."
She noticed the gun belt on the small end table to the right of his chair. She thought she could grab it, roll away, and draw the pistol before he reacted. She could make him chain himself with the leg irons, and she could get away. That's all she wanted — to be away from him and this house. She'd only shoot if he made her, and then she'd only try to wound him. She waited for her chance.
Reluctantly, Keith moved away from the house, Billy behind him. About a hundred yards from the edge of the clearing, some two hundred yards from the house, they stopped.
Billy sat with his back against a pine tree and said, "The son-of-a-bitch could have nailed our ass with that infrared scope."
Keith nodded and looked at him in the dim light. "You don't have to stay. Go back to the truck."
"Hey, we got a deal. Right?"
"Yes, but..."
"Cool out, Keith. I know you saw somethin' that got to you, and I didn't see it. But I don't have to see it. I know him better than you know him. I been in his jail."
Keith got himself under control. "Okay. Thanks."
"We just sit here awhile. Let the dogs calm down. Let Baxter get settled in. We got him fixed. Remember that... how'd that go? Find 'em, fix 'em, and finish 'em." He added, "Fuck him."
Keith nodded to himself. He thought perhaps he should have taken the shot. But there were good shots and bad shots, sure shots and long shots. That definitely would have been a bad, long shot, and if he'd missed, or just hit Baxter's body armor, there was no taking the shot back. You just never knew. They told you in class that the first shot was not always the best you were going to get, but it might be the only one you'd get. You had to make a quick calculation, had to decide when to maintain fire discipline and when to go for it. Maybe if he had seen or foreseen what Baxter was going to do to Annie... but at least he knew she was alive and would stay alive as long as Baxter was getting some pleasure out of her. "Bastard."
"Yeah. But more than that. This guy needs a whole new word invented for him."
"I've got a word for him. Dead."
"I like that word."
Baxter went on verbally abusing her for a minute or two, and she kept eye contact with him as he'd ordered her to do, kneeling at his feet, but she wasn't listening, she was waiting for an opportunity to move. The gun was only about four feet away, but she had to distract him. She said, "I'm cold. May I get the blanket?"
"No, you can freeze your tits is what you can do." He went on to another subject and asked, "How many other guys did you fuck since we been married?"
"None."
"Don't lie to me. You got a hot twat, sweetheart. I see how you look at other men. All you think about is cock. Well, you're gonna get plenty of cock here, darlin'." He asked again, "How many guys did you fuck since we been married?"
"None."
"Bullshit. Before I'm through with you, you're gonna name every guy you fucked behind my back. There was other guys, wasn't there?"
She nodded.
"How many?"
"Just two."
"Oh, yeah? Just two?" He suddenly seemed interested. "Who?"
"You'll get angry."
"Angry? I'm pissed off now. Who?"
"Promise you won't hit me."
"I ain't promisin' you nothin', except another beatin' if you don't tell me. Who?"
She took a deep breath and said, "Reggie Blake and your brother, Phil."
He stood. "What?"
She put her hands in front of her face, mostly to keep him from seeing the smile on her lips.
"You... you're lyin'! You bitch, you're lyin'! Look at me!"
She lowered her hands and looked at him.
Cliff kneeled down on one knee and put his face to hers. "You think you're gonna fuck with my head, don't you?"
"Cliff, please, this isn't fair. I did everything you asked me to do. I answered all your questions about other men a hundred times. What do you want me to tell you?"
"I want the fuckin' truth."
"I never had sex with another man since we've been married... except him."
"You never fucked Blake?"
"No... but he comes on to me."
"Oh, yeah? That fuck... and my brother?"
"He comes on to me, too."
"That... I don't believe you."
"I'm sorry."
Cliff stared at her, then nodded. "Okay, we're gonna have the real truth. Maybe not today, but little by little, you're gonna tell me everything about other men. Right?"
She knew he was obsessed with this and other subjects like this, so as long as he was interested in the subjects, she was relatively safe. "Yes."
He didn't speak for some time, then, still kneeling on one knee in front of her, he took her chin in his hand and turned her face to him. He said softly and slowly, "You always knew you'd wind up here like this, didn't you?"
She looked into his eyes and thought about that. In one way, she thought she knew him, knew how crazy he was, but never did she think he was capable of this. Yet the thought haunted her that she did know.
"You knew, didn't you? I knew, so you must've known. So if you knew this was gonna happen someday, you must've wanted it to happen."
"No!"
"You love it..."
"No! You bastard..." She swung her fist at him, but he caught her by the wrist and slapped her across the face. She rocked back, then slumped on the floor.
He stood. "Get up!"
She buried her face in her hands, curled up into a ball, and began sobbing.
"Get up!"
"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
Baxter didn't like it when she became hysterical because he couldn't get her to do anything he wanted, couldn't get her to listen to him, so he just had to wait it out.
Annie lay on the floor, curled into a protective ball, her face still buried in her hands. After a few minutes, Baxter said, "If you're through with your bullshit, I'll let you wrap the blanket around you, and I'll let you get something to eat. I'm waitin', but I'm not waitin' much longer before I get the horse whip. Fact, you got ten seconds. Nine." He began counting backward.
Annie uncurled herself on the floor, then slowly got up into a kneeling position again.
"That's good. Listen, darlin', this can be as hard or easy as you want to make it. The quicker you understand that I'm in charge here and that you got to learn to shut your wise mouth, and that you got to do everything I say just like I say it, the easier it's gonna be on you. There ain't no way out for you, sweetheart. You're gonna cook, clean, wash me, suck cock, fuck, and kiss my feet. The better you get at that, the better it is for you. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"You know, all you Prentis girls has always been stuck-up. You think I don't know you look down on me and my family? Who the hell do you think you are? What I'd really like is to have your bitchy sister here, too. She needs some lessons in cocksucking. Look at me, whore. I'm talkin' to you. How's that sound to you? The two bitches waitin' on me hand and foot with no clothes on..."
"Please, Cliff... I'm not feeling well... I'm going to pass out... I don't want to get pneumonia... I have to have something to eat... I'm going to faint..."
He looked at her closely, then said, "Yeah, we don't want you gettin' sick. I don't want to take care of you. You can't live on suckin' cock, can you? Can you?"
"No."
"Okay, first you get that medical kit and change my bandage. Don't bother to stand, sweetheart. You're a St. Bernard now."
Annie moved on all fours across the room and got the medical kit from a wooden storage chest, then, without him reminding her, she hung the canvas bag around her neck by its strap and went back to where he was now standing beside the sofa.
Baxter lowered his pants and his undershorts, then lay down on the couch.
Annie opened the canvas bag and took out a pair of blunt nose scissors made for cutting surgical tape. She put the lower blade beneath the tape that was wrapped around Baxter's left thigh and cut through it. She noticed that there was still blood on the tape, and when she peeled the gauze away, she saw that the wound wasn't healing properly, but it wasn't infected. She wondered if there was a way she could infect it.
She took alcohol and cotton and washed away the blood around the wound. He winced. She put iodine on the two-inch cut, and this time he let out a small groan. He lifted his thigh, and she ripped off the old bandages, which also caused him pain, then she reapplied fresh gauze and began rewrapping the wound. He never said a word, she noticed, about the wound, or about his eye. His silence on the subject was his way of trying to convince her and himself that everything in the motel room had gone his way. In fact, she knew that Keith had put up a good fight and had almost succeeded in cutting Cliff's femoral artery. At first, she'd almost believed Cliff when he said he'd castrated Keith, but it was obvious, by his unresolved rage, that he hadn't.
She noticed that he had his eyes closed, and she glanced over her shoulder at the end table beside his chair where the holster lay.
He said, "Lookin' for somethin'?"
She turned back to him.
"Now here I am, layin' down with my drawers around my ankles, and you're wonderin' if you can get to that gun belt before I do. Well, darlin', you can. But when you get there, you're gonna be surprised, 'cause..." he drew the pistol out from where he'd stuck it between the cushions."...I got it here." He tapped the barrel on her head and said, "We got a long way to go, don't we? When I'm finished with you, you're gonna go fetch my guns for me and not even think about usin' them on me."
She nodded, but she knew, and he knew, that time would never come. It occurred to her that he enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game; it gave him some amusement during the days and nights. It was important for him to show her he was smarter than she was, or at least more cunning and better able to survive in this world that he'd created. In one way, he wanted to break her, but in another way, he liked her spunk, liked her to present him with challenges. If she broke too easily, or too fast, he might get bored and depressed, then become more sadistic, until finally he'd just end it all for both of them. On the other hand, if she showed too much resistance, or if he believed that she was clever enough to actually get the drop on him, then he'd kill her out of rage, or out of his instinct for self-preservation. This much she'd figured out in the last three days, but she hadn't fine-tuned the balance between spunk and submission. There were moments when she didn't care, when the humiliations were so grotesque that she just wanted to give up. But each time she felt that way, she rallied herself and promised to go on for another hour, then another, until finally he would handcuff her to the bed and let her sleep.
Baxter said, "Wash the Baxter family jewels, darlin'. Use alcohol. I like that."
She poured alcohol onto a gauze pad and washed his genitals.
"Ahh! That feels good. Put some Vaseline on 'em."
She took a tube of petroleum jelly and squeezed it on his penis and testicles, then rubbed it in, noticing he was getting semi-erect, so she stopped.
He said, "You know, I can fuck three times a day. I'd fuck one or two women in a day, then come home and fuck you. How about that? And you thought you was the only one foolin' around."
She never once thought he was faithful, and she didn't know why he thought this revelation was going to hurt her. But his brain was working hard to find things to do to her and say to her that would hurt, humiliate, and cause her to question her own worth and integrity. He thought if he called her bitch, whore, and slut long enough, she'd start to believe it. If he told her he'd castrated Keith, she might believe it. When he told her he wanted to fuck her sister, it did make her angry and anxious. When he used the belt on her, she felt defeated and powerless, but through the agony, she maintained whatever dignity she could, and the beatings strengthened her resolve to keep her sanity.
She said, "Can I get my blanket now and get something to eat?"
"You was naked when I found you in the motel, and you can stay naked." He got off the sofa and pulled up his shorts and trousers.
"Please, Cliff, I'm cold and hungry. I have to go to the bathroom."
"Yeah? Okay, you can stand."
She stood and, without him giving her permission, she wrapped the blanket around her.
"Let's go," he said.
"Can't I go alone?"
"No way, sweetheart. Go on."
She walked past the kitchen, down a short hallway, and turned into the bathroom.
Baxter sat on the rim of the tub, while she sat on the toilet seat and urinated, avoiding his eyes. She wiped herself with tissue paper, stood, and walked back into the hallway, the chain keeping her from taking the long strides she wanted to take. She turned into the kitchen, but he moved past her and stood in front of the refrigerator. He asked her, "What's a whore eat besides strange cocks?"
She took a deep breath and replied, "I'd like something hot. I can get it."
"You eat what I give you. Sit down, if your butt don't hurt too much, or you can stand, or get on the floor, and I'll get the dog dish like last time."
She went to the small table and lowered herself gently onto the wooden chair, with the blanket draped around her shoulders.
He opened the refrigerator and put two slices of bread on a paper plate, then a few slices of mixed cold cuts, and threw it on the table. "Eat."
She began eating the bread and cold cuts while he watched. She didn't eat fast, but took her time, though she was so hungry, she felt faint.
He took a beer for himself from the refrigerator and put a container of milk in front of her with no glass. He sat across from her and said, "You ain't gettin' no more, so don't ask."
Annie thought it was time to engage him in some normal conversation. He seemed calmed down, self-satisfied, and he might give her some information. She tried to adopt a pleasant tone of voice, as if nothing unusual had happened, as if he hadn't just beaten and raped her. She asked, "How much food do we have, Cliff?"
"Enough for two or three months. Ain't gonna be much fresh stuff left after a week. But I got cans and dried food. Plenty of beer."
"Then what?"
"Then I can go into town and get more. Why? You got someplace you got to be?"
"I just want to know how long it's going to be before we can go home."
"You are home, honey buns."
"I mean to our house in Spencerville."
"Why do you want to go there?"
"I just thought we'd spend some time there."
He smiled. "Yeah? I don't think so. We're retired now, sweetheart. Gonna get that house sold."
"All right. I guess that's a good idea." She didn't want to drink from the container, but she did, then asked casually, "When can I make a few phone calls?"
He looked at her. "When you start feelin' sorry for what you did."
"I am sorry, Cliff. I'm sorry it happened. When will you forgive me?"
"Never. But I might decide someday to go easy on you. But we got a long way to go before that day gets here."
She nodded, knowing that day would never come. It was dangerous, she knew, to remind him that their children couldn't be put off too much longer, that they'd want to come to Grey Lake for Thanksgiving, or Christmas at the latest. Then there was her family, her sister, her parents, and his family. But to remind him that there was an outside world that had to be reckoned with might send him off the deep end. However, she'd already broached that subject by mentioning phone calls, and she could tell he was brooding over this. She said, "If I can call a few people, they wouldn't wonder where we were. I'll say we're back from Florida, and..."
"You let me worry about that. Maybe next week, or the week after. Far as anybody is concerned, we're on a second honeymoon in Florida. I don't have to report to nobody. I'm on extended leave of absence, and it's my fucking business where I am, not nobody else's. The kids ain't kids no more, and they got their own lives and don't give a shit about us. I'll call them now and then."
She nodded. "Okay." She looked at him and said, "Cliff, you really made me pay for what I did, and I got everything I deserved. So why don't we just pretend that nothing happened and go back to Spencerville? You know that you want to go back to the job, to finish out your next few years. I promise you that I've learned how to treat you, and I'm very... sorry for what I've done, and it will never happen again. You're all the man I need." She watched him closely, and she could see that she was actually getting through to him and that he was thinking about it. She continued, "There's no reason to stay here too long. Whatever I learned here, how to satisfy you and make you happy, I can do in Spencerville. If we go back in a few weeks, we don't have to answer a lot of questions. Okay?"
He stayed silent for a full minute, then stood but said nothing. He looked at her, and she stood also, drawing the blanket tightly around her. They faced each other, and she could see he was fighting some inner battle. She didn't know how much of his behavior was a result of rage and how much was psychopathic. But the fact that he hadn't gotten any calmer, and in fact had gotten worse in the last three days, frightened her.
Finally, he smiled and said in a pleasant voice, "Sounds like you want to go back to the way we were, except better."...
"I do."
"That must mean you love me. You wouldn't want to do all those nice things for a man you didn't love."
"No, I wouldn't."
He asked her, "Do you love me?"
She didn't reply.
"Say you love me."
She knew she should say it, just to say it, otherwise he'd know for certain that everything she'd already told him was a lie.
"Tell me you love me."
"I don't."
"I didn't think so. But I love you."
"If you loved me, you wouldn't do this to me."
"I haven't done nothing to you that you didn't have coming. Did I ever treat you like this before you went and spread your legs for somebody else? Did I?"
"You... no, you didn't."
"See? You just don't like payin' the price. You don't like takin' responsibility for your own actions. That's what's wrong with you women. Always lookin' for a free ride, a pass, a way out with no sweat on your part. You pulled that shit in Spencerville. You ain't gettin' off so easy here."
"Neither are you."
"What the fuck do you mean by that?"
She didn't reply.
"You want another strappin'?"
"No."
"I'll bet not. So you don't love me. But you will. And when you finally say it, you're gonna mean it. Really mean it, from deep down inside of you. You're gonna say, 'Cliff, I love you.' And I'll tell you what — if I had my lie detector machine here, it would tell me that you're tellin' the God's honest truth. But I don't need the machine, sweetheart, 'cause when the day comes, I'll know it, and so will you."
"Never."
"Remember you said that. Meantime, be thankful I still love you, 'cause the minute I don't, you're dead. When you say your prayers tonight, pray that I still love you in the mornin'."
"When I say my prayers tonight, I'll pray for your soul, Cliff, and ask God to forgive you. I can't."
He didn't like that and said to her, "Go lock yourself to the floor."
She turned and walked out of the kitchen, into the big living room, and knelt near the rocker by the fire. He came in behind her and watched as she put the shackle of the padlock around the chain and through the eyebolt and snapped the lock shut. She wrapped the blanket around her and under her buttocks and sat.
He poked the fire and added another log, then stood watching the flames awhile. One of the dogs barked again, but he didn't seem to notice. Finally, he turned around and looked at her. He said, "I told you, when I'm through with you, you ain't gonna be you. When that happens, you won't want to go back to Spencerville. Get used to this, sweetheart. This is it, forever." He pointed to the gray timber wolf head, mounted above the mantel. "Just me, you, and these guys for company."
Annie turned away from him and looked into the fire. A tear ran down her cheek.
He turned on the small table lamp beside his chair, then shut off the floor lamp. He sat down and began reading a hunting magazine. After a few minutes, he looked up and spoke in a normal, almost conversational tone of voice. "Tell you what, though. There's a guy out there someplace who fucked you, and if my boys get him and bring him here, or if he somehow comes here and I get him, then after he's dead, I might reconsider things. But meantime, you're stayin' here with me. You can think about that cock all you want, but you're never gonna see it again unless I got it in my hand and I'm feedin' it to the dogs."
Annie wiped the tears from her face with the blanket.
"Don't cry, sweetheart. I know you're worried about me, darlin', but I can take care of myself. You found that out, didn't you?" He laughed and went back to his magazine. "Bitch."
Annie sat in the rocker, feeling cold, hungry, violated, in pain, and exhausted. It had been a bad day, and there would be more of them. She looked at him, then closed her eyes and thought of Keith. She felt his presence inside her and tried to imagine that he was close by. She remembered what he'd said... even if we're separated for a short time, remember that I love you, and know that we'll be together again ... "I promise."
"What?"
"Nothing."
He went back to his magazine. He said, "I bet I know what you're thinkin' about, and it might surprise you that I'm thinkin' the same thing. I hope he comes, too."