Dark Terrors 5: The Gollancz Book of Horror

DENNIS ETCHISON My Present Wife

The road was wide and well-lighted for the first mile or so, then narrowed to a single lane and led into the foothills, where the signs were impossible to read even with her high beams. That was almost enough to make Lesley turn around and go home, especially when the other car sped up and began to close the distance. It had been on her tail since she left the freeway.

She tried to ignore the headlights and stopped under the first streetlamp in several long blocks, took the invitation out of her purse and looked at it one more time.

The hand-drawn map on the back was useless. It might have been a child’s sketch of a tree made with black crayon, the branches leading off the page into unknown territory. The lines were not labelled and there was only an X at the top, a house number and the words Saddleback Circle.

When the headlights glared in her rearview mirror she had to glance up.

The other car slowed, pulling even and hovering for a moment. Her side window was milky with frost. She reached for the button and rolled the glass down.

‘Richard,’ she shouted, ‘leave me alone or I’ll call the police! I mean it this time!’

Then she got a good look at the other car. It was a brand new Chrysler, shiny black and heavy with chrome fittings, so dark inside that she could not see the driver. Embarrassed, she held up the invitation and waved it, accidentally brushing the controls by the steering wheel.

‘Sorry, I–I thought you were someone else. Do you know where —?’

But now her wipers were on, skittering back and forth across the windshield, drowning out her own voice. The tinted passenger window on the other car remained closed.

‘Wait, please! I think I’m lost. ’

The Chrysler glided silently past her to the next corner, a plume of white exhaust billowing up behind it.

She spotted the same car a few minutes later, its turn signals winding uphill in a pattern that vaguely resembled part of the hand-drawn map. Then there was an entire row of red taillight reflectors ahead, stopped along both sides of the road, so many that there could be no doubt she had finally found the party. It took a few minutes more to locate a parking space next to the split-rail fence on Saddleback Circle.

A sharp wind blew out of the canyon, gathering force and turning back on itself as if chilled by the cul-de-sac at the end. Lesley walked towards the glow of a big house, while heavy steps sounded beyond the fence and white breath condensed in the air between the trees. A riderless horse, pale and steaming against the darkness, stood snorting and pawing the earth. She closed her collar and hurried on.

The house shone like iced gingerbread, all the doors and windows sparkling with colour and movement. The gravel driveway was still full of cars. Someone stepped forward from the shadows and she put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of Christmas lights over the porch.

‘Hello?’ she called out, shivering.

‘Les, you made it.’

‘Coral? It feels like it’s going to snow!’

‘Don’t say that in LA. It’s bad luck.’

‘Am I too late?’

‘Come on in, for God’s sake.’ Coral led her up the wooden steps. ‘Get yourself some eggnog and I’ll introduce you around.’

A dozen people were jammed around the coatrack in the foyer, the faces of the taller ones blurring as they moved aside for their hostess. The air was warm with body heat but Lesley’s fingers trembled as she undid the button at her throat and smoothed her collar.

‘I can’t stay.’

‘You have a late date?’

‘Right, Coral.’

‘Then stick with me. I’ll fix you up.’

‘No, really, I’ll just mingle…’

Lesley squinted in the sudden brightness, gazing through crepe paper and popcorn strung from the vaulted living room ceiling. The party was close to breaking up but a few tanned women in satin and denim stood talking to men with cowboy boots and silver belt buckles, while long-legged teenagers whispered behind a table full of empty pie tins and half-eaten cookies. When she turned around Coral was not there.

She rubbed her hands together and wandered into the hall, past matted photographs of her friend in a black hunt cap and coat jumping a chestnut mare over hurdles. A man’s voice droned from one of the bedrooms, describing how he had broken his ankle during a flying dismount the previous year. Only his broad shoulders and pressed Levi’s were visible through the doorway. Three women sat on the edge of the bed, listening with lips parted. Lesley continued down the hall before he could roll up the leg of his jeans to show them the scar.

In the den, Coral took her arm and led her to a balding man on the sofa.

‘Ed, you remember Les, from the Tri-Valley meet. We went out for dinner after.’

‘Oh, right,’ he said, half-standing, the top of his head a pink smear. ‘Did you ever sell that Hermes saddle?’

‘Not yet,’ said Lesley.

‘How much do you want for it?’ asked a drunk woman on the other end of the sofa.

‘I haven’t decided.’

‘Where’s your friend?’ said the balding man.

‘Who?’

‘Big guy, longrider coat. What’s his name?’

Coral said in a low voice, ‘Honey, that was last summer.’

‘Richie, that’s it.’ He looked around. ‘Is he here?’

Coral rolled her eyes. ‘They’re not together anymore.’

‘Oh. Too bad. Nice fellow.’

‘Sit down, Ed.’ When they were back in the hall, Coral whispered, ‘I’m so sorry. I told him, but he doesn’t listen.’

‘It’s okay. I’m over it.’ They passed the bedroom, now empty. ‘Who was that man?’

‘You know my husband!’

‘I mean in there, with those women.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘I couldn’t see his face. Tall, black hair…’

‘Sounds familiar.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t you?’ Coral steered her toward a table of hors d’oeuvres in the dining room. ‘Do yourself a favour. Try a different type, for once?’

Lesley blinked and lowered her head, fumbling for a paper plate. The first chafing dish contained a few wieners floating in water. Before she could open the next one small feet thundered behind her and five or six children ran to the table and filled the last of the hot dog buns. When they were gone she set her plate aside, reached for a cut-glass cup and dipped some punch out of the bowl.

‘Do you have any vodka to go with this?’ she asked, but Coral had already gone on to the living room.

Lesley explored the rest of the downstairs.

She passed several couples. There were a few single men leaning in doorways or working the halls, their faces indistinct as she squeezed by them with her head down. In an enclosed back porch the teenaged girls were busy rehearsing a skit of some sort. The yard was illuminated by floodlights and the trees shook silently beyond the glass, teasing a view of absolute darkness. She listened to the girls for a minute, then found her way to the TV room.

A young mother held her sleepy son on her lap, stroking his forehead as they watched a tape of The Man from Snowy River, and a woman in a short black cocktail dress stood in the corner talking to a slim, sandy-haired man. Lesley was about to move on when the woman spotted her.

‘Les?’

‘Hi, Jane.’ Lesley started out of the porch, but the woman was already at her side.

‘I haven’t seen you in so long!’

‘I don’t ride any more.’

‘Why not?’

‘I moved.’

‘So where are you taking lessons?’

‘Nowhere. I can’t, till my arm heals.’

Jane seemed not to hear her and turned to the man in the corner. ‘Do you know —?’

‘I was looking for Judy,’ said Lesley as he came over to join them. ‘Is she…?’

‘This is Les,’ the woman told him. ‘Ask her. She has a fabulous horse.’

Lesley avoided his eyes. ‘I used to.’

‘What happened?’ the man asked.

‘I had to sell him.’

‘You should have seen her in the Tri-Valley Finals,’ said Jane.

‘That was one of Suzie’s horses. She let me take him out for the day.’

‘Who paid?’ he said. ‘Or did you go Dutch?’

Jane laughed too loudly and said, ‘Have you met-?’

‘Michael.’

‘I don’t think so.’ His fingers were soft, smooth and unknotted. She withdrew her hand and reached for her purse, but it was not at her side. She had left it on the coatrack in the foyer.

‘Where do you ride?’

‘Shady Acres. I mean, I did.’

‘How do you like it?’

‘Beautiful!’ said Jane. ‘You’ll have to come out sometime.’

‘I should. My wife wants to ride, but I’m afraid I’ll get rug-burns.’

Jane cracked up.

Lesley could not quite meet his eyes, which stood out in an otherwise ordinary, almost uncompleted face. ‘Hunters and jumpers?’

‘Not that advanced. She’s only been on a horse a few times.’

‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘I can show you some easy trail rides. It’s right by the State Park.’

‘Great. I’ll tell her all about it.’

‘Where is your wife?’

‘She’s on her way. She had to work late.’ He turned his attention to Lesley again. ‘What does a decent horse go for?’

She averted her gaze. ‘That depends on what you’re looking for, I guess.’

‘Well. ’ Jane pulled at her lip as she waited for his eyes to fall on her again. ‘I’m not supposed to talk about it, but Suzie told me about a steal up in Ventura County. An eight-year-old, A-circuit champion, for — ’

Just then a bell clanged.

Lesley went to the hall, following the sound.

Coral held up a metal triangle and beat it with a soup ladle as though calling ranch hands to a chuckwagon dinner. When the remaining guests had assembled in the dining room she announced a special treat, a one-act play written and performed by the Junior Class girls. Lesley saw the teenagers through the open kitchen door, waiting with handwritten notebook pages, practising their lines one last time. She took a position along the wall nearest the living room, as a pretty blonde girl stepped in front of the buffet table and began speaking.

‘Kind ladies and gentlemen, I pray you, do not judge me! I was but a poor maid who lost her way…’

The girl held out her arms, palms up, in a gesture of supplication. From the foyer came the rustling of coats as a few more couples took this opportunity to slip away. Lesley watched the girl, not looking at the hall to see if Jane and the fair-haired man had followed her.

‘… so when he came to Sparta and offered me such a fine mount, how could I resist?’

Now a crude horse’s head bobbed out of the kitchen, followed by a second half made of brown paper with a real horsehair tail. A high-pitched whinnying came from under the paper and the two halves of the horse reared up and bumped the girl, who fell onto her back.

Next to Lesley, a woman nearly spilled her glass of wine.

The audience giggled and applauded. The horse took a premature bow. The woman held her husband’s arm to keep from losing her balance.

‘Is this R-rated?’ she said, convulsed with laughter. ‘Her mother’s going to die!’

‘It’s all right,’ said her husband behind the brim of his Stetson. ‘I think it’s Equus.’

‘I think it’s the Trojan Horse,’ said another voice.

Lesley raised her eyes and saw that a man wearing a camel’s hair sportcoat and a bolo tie had squeezed in next to her.

‘Don’t you?’ he asked her, leaning closer.

‘I really don’t know.’

‘What are you drinking, little lady?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing, thank you.’

She let herself out onto the wide front porch and felt for her purse, but it was still inside. Couples walked down the steps to the gravel, blowing on their hands, jingling keyrings, unlocking cars in the driveway. Headlights flashed and for a second the blonde girl from the play was silhouetted against the split-rail fence, imprisoned by the arms of a teenaged boy. The headlights moved on and there was the sound of laughter in the dark. Lesley leaned on the railing as footsteps passed behind her from the other end of the porch.

‘Excuse me,’ she said without turning, ‘but do you have a cigarette, by any chance?’

‘Well, let’s just see here once.’ It was the one Jane had introduced as Michael. He checked his shirt pocket and came up with a crushed pack of Marlboros. ‘Hey, you scored.’

‘I don’t want to take your last one.’

He straightened the cigarette for her. ‘My wife says I should quit, anyway. You can help me get rid of the evidence.’

She cupped her fingers around the flame, careful not to touch his hand. ‘Did she finally make it?’

‘She’ll be here. She promised.’

‘What does she do?’

‘Legal work,’ he said.

‘I’d like to meet her.’

‘You need a lawyer?’

She inhaled and blew out a cone of smoke. ‘Oh, I guess not.’

‘Sexual harassment, or a quickie divorce? Let’s see, you keep the house and car…’

‘I’m not married.’

‘Palimony? That’s easy. But first you have to stop calling and hanging up. Leaving notes on his car.’

‘It’s not me.’

‘You found a dead horse in your bed?’

‘Not yet.’ She smiled at him and coughed.

‘Smooth, huh?’

‘This is the first one I’ve had in a long time.’

‘Why did you stop?’

‘Someone I know — knew — didn’t like it.’

‘He should meet my present wife.’

‘How many times have you been married?’

‘Only once. It’s a joke. I used to call her my first wife, but she didn’t like it. So now I introduce her as my present wife. She doesn’t think that’s funny, either.’

‘I wonder why.’

‘You’re a lot like her.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Sometimes I forget,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye.

A burst of whistles and applause from inside the house.

‘I’d better go in,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

‘The first one’s free.’ His eyes shone out of the shadows. ‘Seriously. She can get you a restraining order.’

‘Who, your present wife?’

‘If that doesn’t work, we’ll tie him up and dump him on a trail somewhere. State Parks are always good.’

They laughed.

Mothers hugged their shiny-faced daughters, who made desperate hand signals to each other across the dining room. Lesley touched the blonde one’s arm.

‘You were wonderful.’

‘Thanks!’ the girl said in a sweet, breathless voice.

‘You’re Tara, aren’t you?’

‘Um, yeah.’ The girl looked over her head, scanning the room with restless green eyes. She had a broad forehead and skin that almost glowed.

‘You probably don’t remember me,’ said Lesley. ‘I helped you train for your first Junior Class meet.’

The girl pretended not to hear and swept by her to the hall, where the two halves of the horse, now in riding clothes, led her away. They were all legs and gangly arms, their silken hair pinned to the backs of long necks above collarless dressage shirts, their clean faces mouthing words that could almost be read from across the room. Lesley smiled after them and went into the kitchen.

Coral and three other women were putting food into stainless steel bowls.

‘Well, it’s about time,’ said the one with the short haircut.

‘Judy? I was looking for you!’

‘We had a bet you wouldn’t show.’

‘Michelle! And Jeannie…’ Lesley embraced them. ‘Sorry I’m late. I saw Tara — she’s adorable. What a great Helen.’

‘Next week she’ll be Joan of Arc,’ said Michelle. ‘All she does is watch that movie over and over.’

‘Does she still ride?’

‘She will, if I get her some chain-mail.’

‘Judy has a bone to pick with you,’ said Jeannie, covering a bowl with plastic wrap.

‘What about?’

‘When’s the last time I saw you at Shady Acres?’ asked the one with short hair.

‘A few months.’

‘Try six. Right?’ she asked Jeannie, pouring the leftover eggnog back into a carton.

‘I had to sell Kahlua when I moved out.’

‘That’s no excuse. You’re the best rider I’ve ever seen.’

‘No, I’m not. ’

‘And you know darn well you can ride Jack any time. All you have to do is ask.’

Lesley blushed. ‘That’s really, really nice of you, Jude. I will, as soon as my arm’s healed.’

‘It’s healed now, and so are you. Got it? You dumped the jerk and you’re back in the mix. What are you doing Saturday?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘The Grand Prix at Oak Ridge. Box seats.’

‘I’ll call you.’ Lesley glanced over Judy’s shoulder at the kitchen window, as a tall dark figure passed in the yard outside. She put her hand to her throat. ‘Who else did you invite?’

‘Friends only.’

‘I mean tonight,’ she said to Coral.

‘Is it cold in here?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Then why are you shivering?’ Coral put the last bowl away and closed the refrigerator door. ‘Come on. I can’t let you leave like this.’

There were plates, half-eaten hot dog buns and torn wrapping paper on every surface. A few sportcoats and plaid Pendletons still prowled the edges of the living room. Coral led her upstairs, past small children bundled like teddy bears for the ride home. She thanked the mothers and fathers for coming, then steered Lesley into the master bedroom.

‘I’ll help you clean up.’

‘No, you won’t.’ Coral rummaged in the closet, pulled out a suede jacket with sheepskin lining. ‘Here. Put this on.’

‘I’ll bring it back.’

‘Saturday. The old gang will be there.’ She helped Lesley get her bad arm into the jacket and looked at her. ‘I know it’s been a rough year for you. But it’s over.’

‘I guess so.’

Lesley turned away and opened the curtains above a table that held Coral’s trophies and ribbons, just enough to see down into the backyard.

‘Did you ever find out who she was?’ said Coral.

Below, the yard was empty, the gate latched. There was no one on the side of the house next to the kitchen. In the distance taillights wound slowly up the canyon road like blood cells through a clogged artery. She let the curtains fall closed.

‘He never admitted it. He told me I was paranoid, and after a while I almost believed him. But I know I did the right thing. It’s just that sometimes…’

‘You don’t call him, do you?’

‘He calls me.’

‘What does he say?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then how do you know?’

‘Well, if it’s not him, then that means he was right. And I am paranoid.’

‘My God, Les.’

‘Sometimes I think he’s following me. Like tonight.’

‘I definitely did not invite Richard!’

‘There was a car behind me, on the way.’

‘If he’s stalking you — ’

‘It wasn’t even his car. But when I saw it I thought. ’

Coral sat her down on the bed.

‘Listen. There are plenty of men out there. You could have met a few tonight, if you’d take those damned blinders off.’

‘I don’t want another relationship.’

‘Who’s talking about that? Take them for what they are: fun and games. I’ll tell you a secret. The rest of it isn’t that great.’

‘Then why did you get married again?’

‘Ed’s a good man. And I love our new house. But there’s only one first time.’ She pressed Lesley’s fingers. ‘You’re lucky. Everything’s still right there in front of you, like a candy store — all you have to do is enjoy. Like the song says, love the one you’re with, right? What’s the first thing you do when you get thrown? Pull yourself together and get back on! So give yourself a chance. For me?’

At the foot of the stairs her husband was busy picking loose popcorn out of the rug. His body was thick around the middle and when he got up he had to hold the banister for support. Coral helped him stand.

‘Leave that,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘You’re such a neatness freak.’

He kissed her with a noisy smack. His pink face was detailed in this light, with kindly lines etched around the eyes.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Lesley. She found a paper cup and began collecting the popcorn.

‘It can wait till morning.’

Michelle and Judy came in from the dining room.

‘Who’s here?’ Coral asked them.

‘Just some guys,’ said Judy. ‘The kind that never give up.’

‘Jeannie’s in the kitchen,’ said Michelle. ‘She drank too much eggnog.’

‘Put her in the guest bedroom. She can sleep it off.’

‘The junior girls are there.’

‘What are they doing?’

‘Talking about boys and horses.’

‘Are there any boys?’

‘Only that trainer, with the story about his leg. He has one boot off.’

‘Pervert,’ said Ed and headed for the back of the house.

Lesley crossed the dining room. There were candy canes and sugared peanuts on the carpet, cookie crumbs folded in napkins by every chair. As she gathered them up colourful holiday sweaters and turquoise watchbands flashed beyond the arches. The faces of the men who had stayed were no longer blurred but easy to see now, weathered and tan or pale but interesting, professionals and jocks from the city or the country, each with a story to tell. Easy laughter lilted from every direction. It would take a few more minutes for them all to say their goodbyes. She grabbed as much trash as she could and took it to the kitchen.

As she emptied her arms, a low moaning came from the floor by the butcher block table.

‘Jeannie, what are you doing down there?’

‘Sitting.’

Michele and Judy came in with a crumpled paper tablecloth. They stepped around Jeannie and found the trash can.

‘How are we going to get her on her feet?’

‘Tell her Hap Hanson’s in the other room.’

‘He’s too old.’

‘He’s not, is he?’ said Lesley.

‘Too old?’

‘No, in the other room.’

‘Sure.’

‘Who is?’ Lesley asked.

They both turned from the sink and looked at her. Michelle winked at Judy. ‘There might be a couple of single guys out there.’

‘Like?’

‘Chris, from the barn. And Jason the baby doctor, and that guy from Westlake Village, the lawyer — ’

‘His wife’s the lawyer,’ said Lesley.

‘Which one is he?’ asked Judy.

‘Curly hair, five-eight or nine…’

‘That’s him. He’s definitely married.’

‘To his first wife!’

‘I know. I was just wondering.’

‘If he fools around?’

‘No. He’s nice, though. Funny. Is he a friend of Coral’s?’

‘She didn’t invite him.’

‘His wife, then,’ said Michelle. ‘She rides.’

‘Not yet,’ Lesley told them. ‘She wants to take lessons.’

‘I heard she works for a TV station.’

‘She’s a vet,’ said Judy.

‘They just moved here,’ Michelle said. ‘From Phoenix.’

‘Texas,’ said Judy.

‘He told me San Diego… ’Jeannie mumbled from the floor.

‘Maybe he crashed the party.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘Looking for his present wife!’

‘Remember, he’s off-limits.’

‘I know,’ said Lesley, ‘okay?’

She made coffee and helped her friends walk Jeannie to a sofa in the living room, then left them and joined Coral and her husband. The front door was open just enough to show the blonde girl at the edge of the porch, kissing someone goodnight in the shadows. It was not the same boy she had been with earlier. Lesley lingered in the foyer as the last guests put on their coats. Michelle made her promise to meet for lunch next week, then went outside to find her daughter.

‘You finally stopped shivering,’ said Coral.

‘I feel better now.’

‘Good.’

‘Glad you could make it,’ said Ed.

Lesley met his eyes without flinching. ‘Thanks for inviting me. You don’t know.’

‘Any time,’ said Coral and held her. ‘I mean it,’ she whispered. ‘See you Saturday?’

‘I’d love to.’

She went back to the living room. Judy would take Jeannie home and bring her back to pick up her car in the morning. Then Lesley remembered her purse. It was on the rack, behind a long black leather coat.

‘Whose is this?’

‘Mine,’ said Ed.

‘It was my present to him,’ Coral said. ‘Because he’s my sweetie.’

‘Oh.’ Lesley hooked her arm through the strap of the purse.

‘You drive carefully, now,’ Ed told her.

Lesley started out, then came back and hugged him, too.

‘I will,’ she said.

She closed the door. Now the moon shone down like a huge streetlamp, illuminating the fence and the tops of the trees beyond the front yard. There were no more cars or shadows in the driveway. She started down the steps.

Behind her, the boards squeaked and a man’s voice said, ‘Need a ride?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Sure?’

‘I have a car.’

‘Where? I’ll drive you.’

She noticed a black Chrysler still parked by the curb at the end of the driveway and walked faster, digging for her keys. She shook her purse but nothing jingled. When she stopped to open it he bumped into her and the purse fell to the ground.

‘Let me get that, little lady.’

‘I can do it.’

She knelt before a pair of snakeskin boots. They belonged to the one with the camel’s hair coat and bolo tie.

‘Wonder what happened to those keys?’ he said with a grin.

‘How did you know…?’

‘I got it, honey,’ said another voice.

‘Over here,’ she called as the sandy-haired man came down from the porch. ‘Where were you, Michael?’

‘Looking for you.’ To the tall man he said, ‘We’re okay here, pardner.’

When the other man left she said, ‘You have wonderful timing.’

‘You, too.’

‘I feel so stupid. Now I can’t find my keys.’ She kept sifting through the gravel with her fingers. ‘I left my purse for a while. You don’t suppose that man…?’

‘Let’s just see here once.’

He put his hand in his pocket and clinked his own keys. Then he leaned down and raked the gravel, and suddenly her keyring glinted there in the moonlight.

‘Oh, God, thanks!’

‘Where are you parked?’

‘All the way at the end.’

‘I’ll walk you.’ He helped her up. ‘Do you have a long way to go?’

‘A few miles. Once I get to the freeway I’m okay.’

‘Left at the first street, then follow it till you see the on-ramp.’

‘Got it.’ When he patted his pockets she reached into her purse. ‘How about a menthol?’

‘Just like my wife.’

‘I thought she didn’t smoke.’

‘She used to.’

‘I hope she’s all right. Did she call?’

In the flare of the lighter his hair was red and his smile ironic. He cupped his hands over the flame, enclosing her fingers.

‘She wouldn’t know the number here.’

‘Does she have a cell phone?’

‘No. She doesn’t want people bugging her when she’s away from the clinic.’

Lesley lit her own cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke, white as frost from the chill in the air. ‘I thought she was a lawyer.’

‘The office, I mean.’

They came to the end of the driveway. Ahead the trees were so tall that the rest of the canyon was black.

‘Do you mind if I follow you?’ she said.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

‘In case I get lost again.’ She fingered her keys, took a deep breath, held it and finally let it out. ‘Look, would you like to have coffee or something? It’s so cold. I was thinking about stopping, before I get on the freeway.’

‘There’s a Denny’s by the underpass.’

‘Is that the only place open?’

‘Something wrong with Denny’s?’

‘I just meant. ’

A car drove out of the canyon and he turned to her, the headlights blazing in his eyes. ‘Not good enough for you?’

‘What?’

‘Nothing’s ever good enough, is it?’

She tried to step back but he had hold of her wrist, the one that was almost healed.

‘You’re hurting me!’

‘Sometimes I wonder why I married you in the first place,’ he said, his breath steaming until his face was only a blur again. ‘Well, listen up, bitch. Tonight you’re going to do exactly what I tell you and like it! Got that? I might even take you to the State Park afterwards. There’s never anybody around…’

Then, jerking her so violently that her feet left the ground and her toes scraped the dirt and the rocks, he dragged her the rest of the way down into the cul-de-sac.