The Lake

SIXTY-THREE

The door opened.

Deana flinched, twisting away from the blast of light.

She stumbled, tripped. Fell backward onto the mattress.

“That pleased to see me, huh?”

“Mace. I need water. Please lemme me have some water…”

“Hey. That’s nice. I like to hear my li’l girl saying pretty ‘please.’”

“Screw you, Mace.”

“Now, now. Don’t you go blottin’ your copybook. Say sorry, Deana—or do I have to smack your butt?” He put down his holdall and swaggered slowly toward her. A vague gray light snaked in through the dirt-streaked window, lifting the gloom, filtering across the grimy mattress. Deana crouched back in the shadows, hands clasping her drawn-up knees. Hugging them tight to her chest.

Mace bent down. He peered at her, smiling, his teeth a white slash against the dark of his face.

“Saw your mom today.”

Her eyes widened. Her breath quickened.

“Wanna know how your mother is, sweetheart?”

She gulped back a sob.

“How is my mother, Mace?”

“Frightened, sugar. Your mom’s one very frightened lady.”

Tears welled up. Hearing him say “mom” like that made her want to cry.

Mom, oh Mom… You gotta come an’ get me. Please!

Despair, and a seering desolation swept over her. She broke down, blurting shuddering sobs into her hands.

“Come, come. Here, I got you somethin’.”

She glared at him with red, swollen eyes.

He held up a film-wrapped sandwich. Shook it in her face. “C’mon. Eat. Don’t want y’dyin’ on me now. Eat like a good girl.”

“I want water. Gimme some water, Mace!”

“You’ll get your water when you’ve had this.”

She reached out, grabbed the sandwich, peeled the film from the bread, and stuffed one end into her mouth. She started chewing, then choking, her throat was so dry.

“Hold it!” He held up his hand. “Now, wouldn’t that make a pretty picture for your everlovin’ mom to see? Her little girl eating up her food?

“Stay like that, sweetheart. Don’t ya move, now.” He rummaged inside the holdall, bringing up the Nikon.

Lifting it to his eye.

Playing around with the lens.

Adjusting the flash.

Squinting into the viewfinder, firing off a few shots.

Done with that, Mace straightened his back. A wide beam lit his face. “Y’take a good photo, sugar, I’ll say that for ya. Your mom’s gonna be real pleased to see these.”

“Where d’you get off, Mace? If y’think Mom’s gonna break down before your eyes, you better think again, shit-face. She’s one tough lady, and don’t you forget it.”

“Mmm-huh. Know what? Y’could be right, honey. But let me tell you one thing… You’re bad blood. Y’know that? Only one thing to do with bad blood, an’ that’s git rid of it.” He dropped the Nikon into the holdall and zippered it shut.

Deana shuddered. The bread stuck in her gullet. She began to choke again.

Careful, now. Don’t rile him any more…

“Yeah, you’re bad blood, sweetheart,” he went on in a calm, conversational tone. “Pa wanted you dead, Mom saved you and then hacked him, killed him, for doin’ what he knew was right. After that, y’could say most of us Paynes came to a bad end. Pa murdered. Me farmed out to those good, God-fearin’ folk in Duluth… Charlie dead after fornicatin’ with that whorin’ slut. An’ you…” His eyes accused her. His face was a dark, wild mask. Spittle hung from the side of his mouth.

Terrified, still coughing, Deana edged back into her corner.

Change the subject. Attract his attention. Anything—just make him stop this crazy goddamn crap… It’s driving me nuts…

“Mace. I want some water, please. I need water.” She coughed some more.

“Water? WATER? I ain’t got no water.” Mace shook his head, trying to clear it, shut out the memory of his mother’s face, the superstitious fears… The dark, desperate feelings of anger.

He’d avenge Pa’s murder, all right.

Rid his soul of Tania.

He glared at Deana. His eyes taking in her long dark hair. Her white shoulders. Remembering how she’d looked half-naked, that day in her room. How her breasts heaved and wrestled, tumbling out of that too-tight bra of hers.

Tania…

Taunting him.

Laughing at him.

Bawling at him to go away.

You BASTARD, she’d screamed.

Yeah. Tania has ta go… She brought a curse on us Paynes… Pa shoulda killed her right at the start…

“Mace… What’re you gonna do?”

Stupid damnfool question, but she had to keep him talking. Keep his mind on the straight and narrow. Keep it from wandering. She’d seen this film—what was it called? She couldn’t remember now, but the girl in it kept talking to this crazy guy, to stop him from throwing her over the cliff. She’d talked and talked till the cops came an’ took the crazy guy away.

In her mind, she pictured this happening to her.

Mace’d have his hands around her throat, squeezing the life outta her… Then she’d start talking. Maybe arguing. For hours on end. Mace’d give up, go away, an’ then Warren an’ Mattie and a gang of cops’d show up and take her home…

As if…

Her blood ran cold.

“Do?” Mace asked, surprised. “Why, go a-callin’ on that whorin’ slut, sugar. After I’ve rid me of sister Tania…”

Reaching down into the holdall, he drew out a hunting knife.

Drawing it from its sheath, he held it up to the window. Then, smiling softly, he wiped it on the seat of his pants.