NINE

There’s a squad car parked – parked – outside Bessie’s house. I thought at first it was just one of their older cars, just parked there to scare me – as if – but I used my binocs to look in the windows and I saw some asshole in uniform sitting at the old bitch’s table filling his pie hole!! They think this is going to keep me from her??? They’re crazy! All of them. Bessie is mine and she’ll be with me while the others rot in hell!

Having never lived with Elena Luna, there were things that I didn’t know about her, even though I’ve known her for ten years. Things like the fact that she actually wears rollers in her hair to sleep, plays with her toenails when she watches TV, and thinks atlases are great bedtime reading material. And, if anyone had asked me, I would have said without thinking and without a doubt that Elena Luna of the Codderville Police Department wore a T-shirt to sleep in. I would be wrong. To Willis’s chagrin he discovered, as he headed to the kitchen for a midnight snack, that Luna, on her way to the kitchen for the same purpose, wore a black lace teddy to slumber land.

My first thought upon hearing this was that Luna, alone now for fifteen plus years while her husband whiled away his time in Leavenworth, was going after my husband. And who could blame her? Even in his mid-forties, my Willis was seriously hot. Shortly after Mr Hot Stuff left for work, I bounded – OK – I trudged up the stairs to Bessie’s room, now designated the guest room, and burst in. Luna was awake, sitting up in bed, feet on the floor, and wearing the seductive teddy. Except it wasn’t all that seductive. Except maybe to a man who never saw his own wife – EVER – in a black lace teddy. The one that adorned Luna was probably twenty years old or older, had rips in the lace and bleach stains on the faded black body, and was obviously entirely too tight for the good detective.

‘Hey,’ she said, looking up at my abrupt entrance to the room. ‘Sorry about last night. Did Willis swear off women forever?’

‘I think he thought you were hot,’ I said, sitting down beside her on the bed.

She hooted with laughter. ‘Why in God’s name would he think that?’

I shrugged. ‘I doubt he’s ever seen a real live woman in a teddy before. I don’t own one. Never have.’

‘Hum,’ she said, looking down at herself. ‘Eddie bought this for me on our last anniversary before he was arrested. It was like a week before. When he got convicted, he asked me to wear it every night so he could go to sleep seeing me in it and knowing we were connected. I started to give it up when I started showing with Ernesto, but Eddie would comment on it and so I kept wearing it. I don’t know now if he envisions me in it as I look now, or if he still sees me the way I looked when he gave it to me.’ She shrugged. ‘Leavenworth doesn’t give conjugal visits, so he doesn’t know.’

Impulsively I hugged her. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ I said. ‘I think maybe you’re a better wife than I could ever be.’

‘Yeah? You think if Willis was away for twenty years you’d dump him? Start sleeping around?’ She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t. You’d just bitch about it.’

I laughed. ‘Yeah, I would. I’d bitch about it a lot.’

BLACK CAT RIDGE, TEXAS, 1999

I called the church office. Instead of getting the secretary, Berry Rush himself answered the phone.

‘Reverend Rush,’ he said.

‘Hi, this is E.J.’

‘Hello, E.J. How are you holding up, dear? I was happy to see how the congregation rallied round yesterday.’

‘Fine. I’m fine. And yes, they were wonderful. Look, I’m at a pay phone. I need to see your sermon before tomorrow.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

‘I’ll be by in a few minutes to get a copy. Bye.’ I hung up. I had my reasons. I didn’t want any reference made to the erroneous assumption that Roy Lester had killed his family. I didn’t feel I could trust Berry Rush not to do that. I stopped by the church on the way home and walked into Reverend Rush’s office. He stood up upon seeing me, his hands outstretched. I shook one briefly.

‘Do you have that copy for me?’ I asked.

‘E.J., please sit down,’ he said, expansively waving toward a chair.

I shook my head. ‘I really don’t have time. I have a million things to do. Do you have that copy?’

‘E.J., you must admit that’s a rather unusual request. I don’t believe in my twenty-one years of serving the Lord I have ever been asked by a member of my congregation to view any sermon I’m to give. Wedding vows some couples feel are open to interpretation, but of course, you know I don’t allow that in weddings I perform. I certainly don’t feel I need a critique on a sermon for a funeral. Even the most liberal of the clergy don’t allow their sermons to be rewritten by members of their congregation.’

Nothing to it but to do it, I thought. I sat down. ‘Berry,’ I said, too tired to play the little games he liked so well, ‘let’s cut to the chase.’

His response was total silence. I don’t think that’s ever happened before. He sat down in his large, throne-like chair.

I continued. ‘I don’t want any references at all to the general assumption that Roy killed his family. He didn’t. It will soon be proven he didn’t, and I don’t want the family going to their final reward with gossip and innuendo at their funeral.’

‘I see,’ he said.

‘I have no idea, of course, what you intend to say at the service, but I’d prefer it if you kept it to mostly Biblical readings and short personal remembrances. Willis has agreed to do the eulogy. At what point do you feel that should take place?’

‘I’ll discuss that with Willis.’

‘When?’

‘Tomorrow, right before the service.’ He stood up. ‘If that’s all . . .’

Dismissal is a nasty thing, but I was ready to leave anyway. ‘You understand about the sermon, Reverend Rush?’

‘I had no intention of saying what a naughty boy Roy was for killing his family,’ he said, sarcasm apparent and not a pretty sight on a preacher.

I’d hurt his feelings. ‘I know that. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It’s just that I don’t want any references made to that . . .’

He nodded. ‘I understand. Good day.’

He sat back down at his desk, his head bent toward the papers spread before him. Well, I wouldn’t be winning any Member of the Year awards, that’s for sure.

GRAHAM, THE PRESENT

Because of Lotta, I haven’t been seeing a lot of my boys this summer, but all this shit going down made me think now would be the right time to let them know what’s been going on. Together we could go after the pervert, find him, and come up with a clever idea of what to do to him. I called them all up and, because I’m the only one with my own wheels, went and picked them up. Hollister’s dad, a half-assed alcoholic, always had a lot of beer in the fridge, so Hollister grabbed a six pack of cold ones and we headed to the stadium.

Surprisingly the high school stadium’s fairly crowded in the summertime. Used to be a place where couples could sneak off and do the nasty without getting caught, but now so many kids hang out there, it’s kinda not private anymore. Right now there were some guys playing drunken tackle down about the fifty-yard line, some girls drinking wine coolers at the top of the stands and laughing like idiots – or girls, same thing – a mixed bunch of boys and girls smoking pot under the bleachers, and a guy sitting by himself at the tip-top of the bleachers, looking like he was gonna jump. He reminded me of the stalker. Not that I recognized anything specific, just the general demeanor. And, I hate to admit it, I kinda wished he would jump. That he was the stalker and he’d take himself out of the equation. Then one of the pot-smoker girls crawled up the stands, yelling, ‘Gaaaarrrry! Come on, baby! I’m sorry!’ After some mumbled words, he followed her back down the stands to the underbelly.

My guys and me took the stands opposite the girls with the wine coolers and at the opposite end of the field from the drunken football game. Hollister, of course, wanted to go meet the girls, but I told him and the rest of ’em how important this was so he shut up. I’ve known Hollister since freshman year and we’ve been running buddies since maybe the middle of sophomore year. He’s a big guy with curly hair and when he laughs he sounds like a snake. Seriously. Tad, on the other hand, has a serious case of short-guy syndrome. It’s not his fault, he says, it’s society. Whatever. He’s like five-five and skinny – like he’s so skinny if he turned sideways and stuck out his tongue, he’d look like a zipper! I’ve got a million of ’em! His short-guy syndrome is responsible, I think, for him talking like and acting like an African-American most of the time. It’s annoying to us and it seriously pisses off the black guys at school. Anyway, I’ve known him since junior high and been running with him about that long. The last guy was Leon, my best bud since first grade. Leon’s not one to pull in the chicks, but he’s a good wingman. He’s a serious geek – keyboard for a brain, I swear to God – but he only hangs with the other geeks in school or extra-curricular, the rest of the time he hangs with us.

So I told them what had been going on. Tad went to the same church as me and knew about Myra, but not the details.

‘Christ on a crutch, man!’ Tad said. ‘That was that guy? The one who stole Liz that time?’

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘Dressed like a girl?’ Hollister said. ‘Damn, that’s some shit! What serious hetero stalker-dude dresses up like a girl?’

‘Most transvestites are heterosexual,’ Leon said.

Hollister gave him a look. ‘TMI, geek-breath.’

‘Why I’m bringing this up,’ I said, giving them all a look, ‘is this shit’s got to stop. Liz is in her room in the fetal position and has been for days. Meg’s roaming the house like a ghost, Mom’s totally freaked and Dad, as usual, is out of town. So it’s up to me, and, I hope, you guys. The police aren’t doing shit. I wanna find this guy and turn him over.’

‘After we beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of him, right?’ said Hollister, punching a fist into an open palm over and over.

I smiled. ‘We might take a few minutes with him,’ I said, liking the sound of it.

ELIZABETH, THE PRESENT

I don’t know why this is happening to me. Haven’t I had enough horror in my life? Oh, Jesus, Elizabeth, woman-up! Are you going to just sit around feeling sorry for yourself? This asshole killed Myra! Killed her!!! Slit her throat! I heard Mom telling Dad on the phone that there was blood everywhere. And the person who did this wasn’t my friend Christine. There never was a Christine. And that THING was never my friend! Why couldn’t I see that it was that THING that grabbed me last spring? I don’t know, maybe it was the make-up, the glasses, the wig. I don’t know. I’m too trusting. I see a girl, I believe it’s a girl! So shoot me! OK, never mind, I didn’t say that. I have to do something! I have to find this THING!! But not by myself. I’m beginning to form a plan.

E.J., THE PRESENT

Well, Elizabeth came out of her room this morning. Surprise, surprise. And she hugged me. Out of nowhere. I’m suspicious but inclined at this moment to accept things at face value. I caught her and Megan in the living room whispering to each other, but they stopped when I walked by. Six months ago I would figure they were up to no good, but now I’m just happy to see them communicating again. If it’s secrets they want to share, that’s fine by me.

About noon, there was a knock on the front door. When I went to answer it I found Alicia standing there, mousy brown hair all but covering her face, wire-rimmed glasses the only thing keeping her eyes uncovered. Even in the heat of a Texas July, she was wearing long sleeves, a jumper, and tights. ‘Hi, Alicia! Aren’t you hot in that outfit?’ I asked.

‘Yes, ma’am. Is Elizabeth here?’

I sighed. ‘Sure, honey, she’s upstairs in her room.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ she said, and scurried in the house and up the stairs. Every time I saw that girl, she reminded me more and more of a mouse.

ELIZABETH, THE PRESENT

I called Alicia and went outside to find Megan. She, of course, was on the front porch, sucking face with skater-boy. He is such a geek-freak. I just can’t understand what she sees in him. Megan’s really pretty, I say grudgingly, and can do a lot better.

She looked up and saw me, her eyes wide. I guess it’s because she hadn’t seen me in a few days. My tan has faded some, but I know I didn’t look bad enough for her to stare at me like she did. I motioned for her to come to me and she actually did, leaving her asshole boyfriend with his tongue literally hanging out. I was totally creeped.

‘You OK?’ she asked me.

‘I called Alicia. She’s on her way over. I’ve called a meeting in my room. I’d like you there.’ I turned to walk off and she grabbed my arm.

‘What about?’ she asked.

‘What do you think?’

‘Should we include Graham?’

I laughed bitterly. ‘Why? Do you really think we need a man to help us?’

She looked over her shoulder at lover boy, who’d finally pulled in his tongue. So gross. ‘No,’ she said emphatically.

‘OK then,’ I said, again turning my back on her to go to the door. She grabbed my arm again.

‘What about Lotta?’ she said.

I thought about it. ‘We have to make her promise not to tell Graham she’s even coming over.’

‘What about Mom? She’ll see her,’ Megan said.

I sighed. Then had an idea. Graham’s birthday was coming up in mid-August. ‘We’ll tell Mom we’re plotting a big birthday surprise for Graham and he can’t know Lotta was here or he’d figure it out.’

‘Cool!’ Megan said. ‘She’d go for that.’

‘I’ll call Lotta, you go tell Mom.’

And with that, we were on our way.

ELIZABETH, APRIL, 2009

Friday dragged on and on, the girls spending much of their time holed up in Elizabeth’s room, going over scenarios of the following evening. Each scenario ended with Megan jumping out of the bushes and pulling a mask off Tommy/Aldon’s face to reveal . . . well, whoever they decided at that moment was the culprit – everyone from their brother Graham to Brandon Gregory, the cutest boy in school.

‘Why would Brandon Gregory be doing this?’ Elizabeth demanded.

‘Because he’s secretly in love with me,’ Megan said.

‘Oh. So he’s harassing me?’ Elizabeth said, with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Of course. He wouldn’t harass me – he loves me. Secretly.’

‘Which is why he’s dating Heather McDonald, to further hide his desire for you?’ Elizabeth inquired.

‘Duh. Anyway, he’s harassing you to get my attention. He knows I’m the kind of girl to proteck her sister—’

‘Pro-tect me,’ Elizabeth said slowly.

‘Duh. And he knows I’ll be there when you meet him. Then we’ll get rid of you—’

‘Do you mean that figuratively or permanently?’ Elizabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘We’ll let you drive Dad’s car back—’

‘Then you two will make out in the bushes?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Of course not. We’ll have a meaningful dialog, at which point he’ll ask me to marry him. After we both graduate college, of course. Then we’ll go together all the way through high school, both go to UT together, then get married, move to Houston where he’ll go to med school and I’ll support him as a fashion buyer for Neimans.’

Elizabeth looked at her sister with admiration. ‘Wow,’ she said, ‘you don’t mess around with your fantasies, do you?’

‘Uh uh,’ Megan said. ‘You wanna know the color of our bedroom?’

‘No,’ Elizabeth said and sighed. ‘I wanna know who this creep really is.’ Sighing again, and wrapping her arms around herself, she said, ‘Half of me wants to believe it’s Aldon. But that would mean that Mom and Dad have been lying to me all these years, and I don’t want to believe that. The other half of me knows this creep is full of crap. That he’s after something else.’

‘And I know what that something else is,’ Megan said.

‘What?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Your virtue,’ she said.

BLACK CAT RIDGE, TEXAS, 1999

I had an hour before I needed to pick up the kids, starting with Bessie at Grandma Vera’s house in Codderville. I went to the window and looked out at the lawn. Clouds were gathering in the east, big, black nasty-looking ones. Another spring storm. I looked past the lawn to the Lesters’ house next door, sitting forlorn and abandoned. I hadn’t been in there since Friday morning, when I’d gone to get Bessie’s stuff. I should check on it, I thought. Make sure everything’s OK. Somewhere deep in my being, I knew that wasn’t the real reason. The house compelled me. Beckoned me.

I stepped out of my back door and crossed the side-by-side driveways, large drops of rain pelting my head and shoulders. Using my key, I unlocked the Lesters’ back door, stepping inside the dark kitchen. My foot hit something grainy and I almost slipped, grabbing the kitchen counter for support. I flipped on the light switch.

The kitchen had been ransacked. Totally trashed. All the cupboard doors stood open, plates and glasses smashed on the floor, staples and condiments – the only foodstuffs still there after I’d cleaned up on Friday – smeared the counters, floor and tabletop.

I stood still and listened. Not a sound. No one could be repeating this performance in other parts of the house without making quite a racket. A week ago I would have run like a jackrabbit on seeing this kind of mess. But I was tired of running and being afraid. Now I was pissed. That somebody could do this with me right next door! When had it happened? In the middle of the night, while we slept? Luna wanted something concrete? Well, by God, this was pretty damned concrete!

I went to the wall phone in the kitchen and dialed Luna for the second time in an hour.

‘What?’ she said, her voice clipping dangerously at the ‘t.’

‘You want concrete?’ I asked.

‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m at the Lesters’ house. It’s been trashed. Totaled. You wanna come have a look?’ I hung up the phone, almost grinning at my triumph.