The Edge of Sleep

Chapter 12

When Bobby awoke on the third day of his capture, he knew that he was being watched even before he opened his eyes. He could sense another face close to his, he could hear the hushed, too deliberate movements of someone trying to be quiet that did not make noise so much as they displaced space in a way that he could feel. He kept his eyes closed, pretending to sleep, clinging for a moment to the hope that the hovering someone might be his mother. Perhaps today when he opened his eyes the long nightmare would be over and he would be home in his own bed. He knew it wasn’t so even as he ardently wished for it.

It could only be Dee leaning in close to him, studying him the way she did with that intense look of hers as if she was trying to memorize every detail of his face and body. Sometimes the look would take on tones of puzzlement as if she were trying to square his appearance with the image she had stored in her mind, but she would always come out of it, the wrinkle of skin between her eyebrows relaxing as she reconciled what she saw with what she wanted to see.

From the direction of the door, Bobby heard Ash repositioning himself, then the sibilant hush of Dee telling him to be quiet.

“Don’t wake him,” she whispered. “He’s asleep.”

Ash made a noise in his throat, perhaps laughter. Then Bobby heard sudden sounds of movement from both of them, the door protesting in its frame as Ash pushed off of it, the sound of tiptoed steps, and just as quickly all was silent. Bobby held very still, listening, straining to hear them, but all sounds seemed to have been swallowed up. Had they gone? It seemed inconceivable that they would have left him alone at last, and yet… nothing, he could hear nothing at all.

He tried to open his eyes just a slit, feeling the eyelids quiver as he eased them apart. He could make out only the sheet under his cheek, the carpet between the bed and the wall where his face was pointed. Pausing, not daring to hope, Bobby let his eyes open farther. He saw nothing before him but the motel wall, the sunlight streaming through the slats of the Venetian blinds to make a pattern of lines on the floor. Ash was not by the door. Dee was not hovering over him.

He lifted his head, almost not daring to move. The room was empty, no sounds came from the bathroom, whose door was open. Bobby sat upright in the bed, then slid his feet to the floor, still not daring to believe. He looked around the room again, wild-eyed.

“Dee?” he whispered. “Ash?”

There came a low, rumbling sound, like the growl of an animal, and Bobby held his breath. It came again, a growl of something large and fierce and close and then Dee popped up from behind the bed, laughing, her hands over her head in a parody of a ravening beast.

“Grrrarrr!” she roared, still laughing. She swept upon Bobby, embraced him, lifted him.

“We fooled you! We fooled you, didn’t we? Admit it, admit it! We fooled him, Ash!”

She bundled him in her arms and buried her face in his neck, kissing and growling. Ash sat up from the floor behind the bed, grinning proudly.

“We fooled you,” Ash declared.

“Oh, look at him. You weren’t really scared, were you? Were you scared. Tommy?”

Bobby pulled away from her, angry and embarrassed.

“We didn’t mean to really scare you.”

Dee hugged him again, but he put his hands against her chest and pushed her away.

“Don’t,” she said.

Bobby ignored the warning in her tone and struggled against her grip.

“Don’t pull away from me,” she said.

Bobby tried to yank his arms free, but she held him firmly in her grip.

“Let go!” he cried.

He kicked at her with his naked feet. His toes barely touched her shin.

“No!” Ash called, aghast.

Bobby didn’t see the blow coming and he was shocked as much by its unexpectedness as by its force. It had to have come from Dee, but when he looked at her with eyes filling with tears, both of her hands still gripped his arms.

“Don’t ever pull away from me,” she hissed. She lowered her face to his, her fingers squeezed his arms so tightly they hurt, but it was her look that frightened Bobby most. Something had happened behind her eyes, something that Bobby could see but not identify. It looked as if someone other than Dee was behind her eyes now. Someone or some thing, crouching behind the deep blue, glaring out at Bobby. Hating him.

“Never, never,” she said, her voice still a hiss.

“Never,” Ash said. He was on his feet now, shaking his head in warning to Bobby.

“I don’t like it,” Dee said.

Bobby sniffed. His nose was running, his eyes were tearing, and he was aware of a ringing in his ears, but he was still too stunned to cry.

“Do you understand?” Dee asked.

“Yes,” said Ash, pumping his head up and down, urging Bobby to agree. “Yes.”

“Do you?”

Bobby nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Imagine how it makes me feel, when you pull away,” Dee said. Bobby noticed that the thing behind her eyes had slithered away and she was Dee again, a little wound up, a little too enthusiastic, but still a woman, still the same person he knew.

Bobby nodded in agreement once more.

“After all I do for you,” she said. “When I love you so much and you pull away-it disappoints me.”

She released his arms and Bobby saw how her grip had left white marks that only slowly became pink again.

“Okay, case closed,” she said, brightening once more. “No harm done, right. Ash?”

“No harm,” said Ash.

“All right. Tommy? All done?” She smiled broadly. “I know you’re sorry. I know you didn’t mean to do it, but you must try very hard not to disappoint me. And I’ll try very hard not to disappoint you. Okay, sweetheart?”

She smiled at him, awaiting a response.

“Yes,” said Bobby.

Her smile broadened even further. “You make me so happy!” she said.

She clasped him in her arms again. Her clothing was stiff with starch and scraped against his naked skin.

“Who do you love?” she asked.

“I love you. Dee,” he said.

“I know you do, sweetheart. Just try not to let me down. It makes me feel so bad.”

And then she was away from him, into the whirl of activity that always seemed to accompany, her. She swept into the bathroom, out again to her night table, gathering her things, perfecting her look. When she went out the door it was as if a wind had swept through the room and now was gone. Through the open door Bobby had a glimpse of the outdoors: a car parked in front of their room, a patch of grass that looked unnaturally green, a low hedge, a sampling of sky that hinted of rain. Then the door was closed and Ash was in front of it again.

“Don’t disappoint her,” Ash said.

“Okay,” Bobby said, dismissing it.

“No,” Ash said, shaking his head, trying to convey to Bobby the seriousness of what he said. “You mustn’t. You mustn’t.”

“Can I wear some clothes today?” Bobby asked.

Ash waggled his head in frustration. They never believed him when he tried to warn them. He was never able to make them understand ahead of time. Only Dee could make them understand, and then it was too late.

“No clothes yet,” Ash said. “But listen, listen. Don’t make her mad.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bobby said. “She just got mad on her own. It wasn’t my fault.”

“No,” Ash said. “No.” But it was no use. After the first day or two they were never really afraid of him anymore. No matter what he did they seemed to understand that he was not a threat. They obeyed him because they recognized he could force them to do whatever he wanted, but they didn’t take him seriously. They knew how stupid he was, Ash realized, and as a result they never really credited what he tried to tell them. He knew he was stupid, but he also knew that he understood things they would never believe until it no longer mattered if they believed them or not.

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll get clothes,” he said.

“Really?” Bobby was excited.

“Maybe she’ll take you out.”

“Out? Out of here? You mean tomorrow we can leave the room?”

“Don’t disappoint her,” Ash said.

“I won’t. I won’t. You mean we’ll leave the room, Ash?”

“She’s going to want to show you off,” Ash said. “She’s very proud of you.”

“Really? Do you mean it?”

Ash wanted to tell him not to get so excited. He wanted to explain that Bobby was safest at this stage, before Dee’s expectations got too high. Before she loved him too much.

“You mustn’t disappoint her,” Ash said.

“I won’t. Stop saying that. I’ll be good.”

“You have to be so good.” Ash said. “So good.”

The old fool was dispensing towels again. Like clockwork, as soon as the woman’s car appeared, George jumped up from his chair and grabbed the towels. Reggie thought he looked like his damned chair was rigged. Like the gas station where you ran over a rubber hose and the bell rang, only here there was no bell, just a shot of adrenaline straight into the old fool’s ass. Reggie watched him hovering around the office until “Dee” came home, pretending to work, pretending he knew how to read the books and count the figures. And all for a younger woman’s smile.

Reggie watched with growing anger as he scurried out the door, holding the towels with one hand, patting his hairs into place atop his pate with the other. It was enough to make her spit. If he didn’t look so damned ludicrous it would be sad, but as it was it was pathetic. Just pathetic.

The woman, of course, greeted him like a long lost friend. Good old George, her personal laundry man, grinning and patting himself like a gigolo. If they had gigolos that age. Reggie looked at “Dee” waiting by the car, containers of take-out food stacked on top. She was very careful not to give George a peek inside the room, Reggie noticed. She would take the towels, smile and chatter away for a bit while George stood there and drooled, then, as he finally turned and walked away-and he usually wouldn’t have sense enough to do that until Reggie stepped out of the office onto the porch-then, and only then, when George’s back was turned, would she knock on her door and when it was opened a crack, slip inside with the towels and take-out food.

There was something suspicious going on in cabin six, and no doubt about it. George was too besotted to see it, of course, and there was no point in trying to convince him, but Reggie didn’t need his help to find out what was afoot. She had been a motel owner for seven years and nobody’s fool for long before that.

She left George safely watching a rerun of a sitcom that featured a famously stupid blonde with a chest that Reggie considered indecent and an equally famous vacuous young man who worked obviously at his acting, but very hard. As long as the blonde was on the screen, which was most of the time, George would never know that Reggie was gone. Not that it mattered if he did know, she thought. She had a perfect right, after all.

She slipped out of the office door and paused for a moment on the front porch. The cabins stood in pools of light from their own outdoor lamps. Some of the lights were out and the guests already retired for the evening. Some of the cabins stood empty, unrented and dark. Cabin six was lighted.

Reggie stepped off the porch and walked to the edge of the illumination that came from her own porch light. A few steps beyond it and she moved in darkness, which was the way she wanted it. She knew the way well enough. There were no surprises between here and cabin six, even though her eyes had not yet adjusted to the night. Reggie caught herself tiptoeing even though she was forty yards away from the cabin. She had no reason to sneak, she told herself. It was her motel, her property, her livelihood, and she had every right in the world to know what was going on in any one of her cabins. Especially when it was something undeniably fishy. Unconsciously she slipped back into her stealthy mode after a few steps.

When Reggie was halfway there, the light on cabin six went out with a suddenness that startled her. The transition from light to dark was so abrupt she thought she could almost hear a snap. A body came out of the cabin and opened the door of the car parked in front of the building. The interior light of the car showed Reggie that it was the woman. Dee, and then the car light, too, went off.

Reggie froze where she was, covered by a blanket of darkness that lay between the office and the cabin. She was certain that Dee did not see her watching. Reggie could only make out Dee’s shape without the cabin light because she knew where to look. Dee hurried to the cabin. There was a brief glimpse of pale blue-green light from the television set in the cabin, and Reggie had the impression of someone very large scurrying from the cabin and into the car. He seemed to be carrying something, but Reggie had no idea what it was. He was into the backseat of the car in an instant and the cabin door was closed even before that. Another shape hurried through the dark toward the car and Reggie knew it was Dee again.

Car doors slammed, the engine roared to life, but still there were no lights. Dee drove with her headlights off across the curved gravel drive. As it approached the road the car came under the light from the Restawhile sign that stood beside the highway and Reggie could see Dee behind the wheel, but there was no sign of anyone else in the car. The car’s headlights came on as the car pulled onto the highway and Dee was lighted again by the sweep of oncoming beams, but still there was no indication of another soul in the car.

Reggie waited until Dee’s automobile was off, heading toward town, then she waited a minute longer, forcing herself to count to sixty to make sure the woman didn’t remember something and come sweeping back. Finally, her heart beating faster, Reggie turned toward cabin six again. The woman had claimed her husband had trouble with his eyes, which might account for the strange, unlighted dash into the car, but it certainly wouldn’t have made him invisible. Why would a man run into the backseat of a car and flop down out of sight immediately? Reggie could not think of any legitimate reason for such behavior.

With a glance back at the highway, Reggie fumbled through her keys, selected the right one, and opened the door to cabin six.

It smelled funny, she realized immediately. Heavy, musky, stale. Not like unwashed bodies, she thought, not that exactly, but more like something that you couldn’t wash away. It wasn’t sex either, which was what Reggie had expected. There was a milky cast to the odor, and something sharp and acrid that she could not identify.

She eased the door closed behind her before turning on the interior light, because even though she had a perfect right to be where she was, there was no need to advertise her presence.

The bedspread was missing, she saw that immediately. Some guests removed it on purpose and stored it on the shelf in the closet where it was intended to go, but most never bothered and slept with it over them, piling a blanket on top of the spread if it got cold. But, of course, no one was cold now. Reggie felt her skin prickling as if she were about to break a sweat just from the exertion of walking here from the office. The spread was nowhere to be found, which was all the reason Reggie would require to get rid of George’s little favorite. Even he could not argue against theft of motel property. Sneaking off with a towel was one thing, and certainly a major nuisance, but an entire bedspread was another matter entirely.

It did not take long for Reggie to inventory the room. There was evidence enough of the “husband.” A shirt of his hung in the closet, an old-fashioned razor with two-sided blades was beside the sink. Even George used a disposable cartridge razor these days. The woman’s cosmetics were strewn throughout the bathroom, atop the sink, on the top of the toilet tank, some spilling onto the floor. Reggie had known she would be a sloven. Three toothbrushes stood upright in the motel’s bathroom glass. Two adult-size models with slanted heads and one children’s size, baby blue. Wasn’t she just too cute to bear, Reggie thought. Her little teeth were just too delicate for an adult brush. It was enough to make you sick. The woman’s nightgown hung on the back of the bathroom door. Reggie flicked it with a finger, disgusted by the frilliness of it. She could just picture the harlot flitting around the room in her lacey nightie, her face painted like a whore’s, her child’s toothbrush in her mouth. She probably talked baby talk, too, Reggie thought. George would like that, of course. He wasn’t many years removed from a second childhood himself.

Reggie returned to the closet, a doorless recess with a shelf above and a single metal bar below. The woman had four pairs of shoes in there, the man had none, which meant he was wearing his only pair now. There were no trousers hanging in the closet, either. They had been in the cabin more than three weeks now, Reggie calculated, and the only change of clothes she could see for the man was that one forlorn-looking shirt. She knew other men who would live like that if their women allowed it. Not George. The old fool had more clothes than Reggie did. A peacock, he thought he was a peacock. Reggie snorted at the image, but in fact she felt rather fondly toward George at that moment. Despite his age he tried to maintain a certain standard of appearance. She was grateful for it, too, although she made fun of his passion for color coordination more often than she applauded it.

The woman had a number of outfits hanging on the motel’s unremovable hangers. Two wire hangers held freshly laundered garments still wrapped in see-through plastic. A single suitcase lay atop the motel’s collapsible canvas-ribbed stand. Reggie opened it and rummaged quickly through the collection of women’s underthings. Again, everything was Dee’s. Her husband seemed to live only with the clothes on his back.

Except for the spreading cosmetics, the belongings of the room’s occupants seemed surprisingly well contained. Things looked as if they could all be swept into the suit- case in less than a minute. Reggie resolved to not let them fall behind in their rent by so much as a day. They could bolt and be out of here before she could stop them if she so much as blinked in her vigilance.

She pulled the sheet back on the bed, then gasped as she heard the noise at the door.

Ash covered the boy like a shell, his great body hunched over the smaller one, concealing and protecting it both at once. Bobby could feel the man’s form against his but his weight did not crush him as it so easily could have. There was no sense of threat. He knew that Ash would not harm him, so he did not struggle against the bedspread that surrounded him, or the hovering presence of the big man himself. Bobby lay still, waiting for the moment to pass. He no longer questioned the things that happened to him but tried to flow with them, offering the least resistance possible.

Once they were well away from the motel Ash sat up in the backseat and took the bedspread off the boy, who rose slowly, blinking, at first not daring to believe he was seeing the real, familiar world flashing past the car windows.

Bobby looked at Ash for confirmation, and the big man smiled gleefully. The boy could sense Dee’s jubilation without even glancing at the front seat. Her excitement poured off of her in waves, as palpable as heat. She had twisted the rearview mirror so that she could watch his reaction. Bobby could see her eye, part of her nose. The arch of her eyebrow told him without question of her mood. She was exhilarated by their outing and Bobby knew she expected him to be the same.

“Well? What do you think?” Dee asked.

“This is great,” Bobby said. He looked out the window and tried to act as if all the passing scene of auto body shops and fast-food restaurants were brass rings on the merry-go-round. He was careful not to look directly into Dee’s eyes in the mirror. She was much too quick to tell when he was feigning interest. Ash was easier to fool and Bobby played him as a foil for his enthusiasm.

“Look,” he cried, tugging Ash’s arm. “Burger King!” Ash nodded approval.

“Do you like Burger King, Ash?”

“I like Burger King.”

“Can we eat there. Dee?”

“Is it a good one?” Dee asked.

“Yeah, it’s great. They have great french fries.”

“Let’s go somewhere new,” Dee said. Bobby noticed a change in her tone. A darker, more calculating note. He knew by now that she was never so excited that she stopped thinking. He had made a mistake in letting her know he had been there before. She would find a place where there was no chance that he would be recognized. They passed a billboard for mattresses that Bobby recognized, a shop selling wicker furniture where his mother sometimes made them stop, the state patrol building where Bobby’s father always slowed as he passed. They were going the wrong way. They were going away from home.

The sudden loss of hope infused his face despite his efforts, and Dee saw it immediately.

“You don’t like it,” she announced.

“What? Yes, I do. I like it,” Bobby was not certain what he was supposed to like.

“No, you don’t.” Her voice was flat, the excitement gone completely.

Ash gripped Bobby’s arm and squeezed, shaking his head in warning.

“I do like it!” Bobby said, hearing the desperation in his voice.

“You’re not having fun.”

“Yes, I am. I am.”

“We can just turn around right now and go home.”

“No, Dee, please…”

“If what I give you isn’t good enough for you, then we’ll just do without.”

“It is good enough. Honest, it really is.”

“I just thought you’d enjoy going out to eat for a change,” she said, her voice now full of self-pity. “Naturally I want to show you off, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing…”

“But I don’t want to show off an ungrateful little boy.”

“He wants to go,” Ash said.

“I do, I do.”

“Well… ”

“I think it’s great! It’s fun being out here. It’s fun being with you and Ash.”

“Well…”

“I don’t care what we eat. Whatever you want. You choose.”

“I did have someplace special in mind,” Dee said.

“Great!”

“Well… ”

She kept on driving and did not wheel the car around and head back to the motel as Bobby had feared, but her enthusiasm was gone entirely. The face that he could see in the mirror was now hurt, sullen, and wary. Disappointed.

They drove for half an hour and eventually Dee’s mood lightened and she began to talk again, but without the buoyancy of before. Ash seemed genuinely delighted by their outing and he studied the passing scene with interest. His face was close to the window, his nose nearly pressing against the glass. He reminded Bobby of a dog.

Bobby began to relax. He was out of the motel room. They had allowed him to wear his clothes for the first time since the kidnapping. They were not taking him home, but he was going out. Out meant a chance. Ash could not block every exit now that they were outside the room. There would be people around them if they ever stopped the car. He could yell for help, he could outwit Ash-he knew he could outsmart him-and run. Maybe a policeman would be there. Maybe someone who knew him. Maybe his parents.

Dee selected a large McDonald’s that featured a lighted outdoor playground. Despite the lateness of the hour there were a few young children running around the slides and seesaws. Harried mothers, taking a break from a long ride, stood nearby, watching their kids and hoping that this burst of energy would tire them sufficiently that they would sleep the rest of the way to their destinations.

Bobby and Ash ate in the car, consuming the food that Dee had brought them while she joined the mothers by the playground. Bobby devoured his dinner ravenously, deciding on the first scent of fried hamburger to postpone his plans until his hunger was assuaged.

“She’s talking about you,” Ash said.

Bobby looked up from his paper cup of french fries to see Dee chatting with two women. Her manner was very animated and she gesticulated frequently. He recognized the mood: it was the one that he feared most, the one in which she was the most unpredictable.

“How do you know?”

“She’s bragging about you,” Ash said. There was ketchup on Ash’s chin and Bobby involuntarily wiped his own face. “She’s very proud of you.”

Bobby saw Dee pointing toward the car. Her face was beaming. She seemed so happy. He had never understood what there was about him that made her so happy.

Dee waved at them and Ash waved back.

“Wave,” he said under his breath. “Wave happy.”

Bobby waggled his hand and smiled. Dee waved more energetically and said something to the women with her. They, too, waved at the car as if impelled to do so by Dee’s energy alone.

Then Dee’s wave turned into a sign of beckoning and Bobby heard Ash suck in his breath.

“She wants us,” Bobby said.

He felt Ash’s huge hand grip his leg.

“Be careful,” Ash said.

“Sure.”

“No, no. Be careful.”

Bobby started to open the door, but Ash held him back. ‘Tommy,” he said. “Don’t run.”

Bobby feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

Ash looked into his eyes, pleading. “Don’t run.”

“She wants us,” Bobby said. “Better let me go. Ash, or Dee’ll get mad at you.”

“Please,” Ash said.

“I’m not going to run,” Bobby said. “Why would I run?”

“Don’t disappoint her,” Ash said, his tone imploring.

Ash kept a hand on the boy and slid across the seat to exit through the same door. They were out of the car and Dee was gesturing frantically.

“Come here. Tommy! Come here!”

Bobby started toward her and felt Ash’s grip tighten again. The big man leaned down, his face close to Bobby’s. Bobby could see the whiskers already sprouting from Ash’s cheeks even though he had shaved earlier. Several longer hairs, black and wiry, rode the crest of his cheekbones, permanently untrimmed.

“Please, Bobby.” Ash whispered. It was the first time Bobby had heard his real name used since he had been taken. “Please don’t run away.”

Bobby stared at Ash for a moment as the depth and sincerity of the big man’s plea finally sunk in. At last he nodded and Ash released him. Bobby walked toward the women, where Dee continued to beckon and urge him on like a puppy.

“Here he is, here’s my darling boy,” Dee exclaimed. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

The women leaned over and clucked approvingly, regarding him as Dee did, as if he were much younger, as young as their own children playing behind them.

“I’m so proud of him,” Dee said, embracing him. She pulled him against her bosom, kissed the top of his head again and again. “Why don’t you go play with the other children now, darling?” she said. Bobby knew it was not a request.

He walked into the sand-covered enclosure and looked at it contemptuously. It was all too young for him. She thought he was a baby. He could barely fit on the slide, his weight on one end of the seesaw would keep any of the other children suspended in the air all night.

Dee had turned her attention back to the other mothers. They spoke of something and Dee burst into laughter, dragging them with her, puzzled by her energy, intimidated by her enthusiasm.

Ash hovered in the middle distance, watching, his attention roving back and forth between Dee and Bobby. Dee had not introduced him, had made no mention of him whatsoever to the women, and they glanced at him now with misgivings, a hulking man, shabbily dressed. There was something not quite right about him, they could see that, a certain slowness of movement, the look of lagging comprehension on his face. Since he, too, came with a child, they were not prepared to declare him dangerous, but both women instinctively shifted their bodies, keeping themselves between Ash and their children.

Bobby found himself in a cage. The playground was fenced in, a safe place for two- and three- and four-year-olds to be contained while their parents consumed McDonald’s fare. There was nowhere to go but back through the gate by which he had entered. He could try to scale the fence, which came only to eye level, but he was certain Ash would get to him before he reached the top. Whom could he yell to? The women with Dee?

He sat disconsolately on the swing, nudging himself back and forth with his toes.

“Is that your daddy?” One of the children stood next to Bobby, a girl with a runny nose. Bobby guessed her to be five years old. Hopelessly young, a generation away from understanding.

“No,” Bobby said, following the girl’s finger as it pointed at Ash. “I’m being kidnapped.”

“My daddy’s in the bathroom.”

“That’s not my mother, either,” Bobby said. “See that woman?” He was careful to indicate Dee only by looking at her. He did not point. “She stole me from my real mommy and daddy.”

“Oh.” Bobby studied the little girl for comprehension. “Will you push me?”

Dee was not looking at him at the moment. Her head was tipped skyward in laughter, she was touching the arm of one of the women.

“I’ll push you if you’ll do something for me, all right?” The girl nodded her head.

“You have to promise,” Bobby said.

The girl wiped her nose with her finger.

“Do you promise?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When we leave, tell your mommy that my name is Bobby Reynolds and I’ve been kidnapped.”

The girl sniffed, then ran her entire forearm under her nose.

“If you promise to do that. I’ll push you as high as you want,” Bobby said. He glanced at Ash, who was watching him curiously. The girl turned and started to trot toward her mother.

“Not now!” Bobby cried. He grabbed at the girl and caught her arm, but the women had already seen the motion and turned to watch. “Not now,” Bobby whispered, but the girl was still straining toward her mother, pulling against him.

“What is it?” said the girl’s mother, moving toward the fence.

Bobby released the girl’s arm, but too late. For a moment the child stood midway between Bobby and her mother, her arm still in the air behind her as if suspended by a wire. She sensed the air of tension both in front of and behind her, everyone waiting to see what she would do. The girl did not know what to do, or what was expected, or why the air was suddenly filled with stress. In doubt, she did what always worked. She began to whimper.

“He hurt my arm,” the girl said.

“No, I didn’t,” Bobby said quickly, but it was already too late.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” the mother said, but she was through the gate, reaching for her daughter.

“He did,” the girl insisted.

Then Dee was upon him, wrenching him out of the canvas bucket of the swing seat, jerking him onto his feet.

“What are you thinking?” she demanded.

“He didn’t mean to,” said the mother, trying to placate Dee when she saw the fury in her face.

Dee clamped her hand on the back of Bobby’s neck, squeezing and propelling him forward so fast he stumbled.

“How dare you do this,” she said. “How dare you do this to me.”

They were across the parking lot in a flash, Bobby being pushed headfirst by the stony grip on his neck.

Ash had the rear door open and slid in instantly next to Bobby, one arm around the boy’s shoulder to keep him from bolting out the other side.

“It’s all right, really.” The other mother had pursued them half to the car, but Dee did not even glance at her. “Please don’t hurt him,” the mother said. The doors were slammed and the car was in motion before she could speak again.

Dee drove without seeming to look at the road, her eyes were so fixedly boring at Bobby in the mirror.

“This is the thanks I get,” she said. Bobby could see her nostril in the glass. It was flared in anger. “This is my reward for all I’ve done for you.”

“He didn’t run,” Ash said, but was ignored.

“Imagine how I felt,” Dee was saying. “Did you ever once consider how your behavior makes me feel? I was talking to my friends, I was telling them what a good boy I have, how proud I am of you, and then you do this…”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bobby said.

“But you never once considered my feelings, did you? Not for a second.”

They raced through the night. Bobby could hear the wind screaming through a crack where the window glass met the door frame.

“I’m sorry. Dee,” he said.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? I’m very disappointed in you,” Dee said.

Bobby felt Ash sigh deeply as if he were shuddering.

Dee said nothing more all the way home, but every time Bobby looked her eyes were glaring at him in the mirror.

Reggie turned toward the door as it swung in sharply. “What the hell are you doing in here?” George demanded.

“I have a right to be here,” she said, furious with herself for having reacted with fear.

“I promised her we’d stay out,” George said.

“How’d you even know I was here, anyway?” she demanded. There was no place for her to direct her anger other than at George.

“I saw you leave,” George said. He was talking to her, but his eyes were scanning the room. He had promised not to come, in, but it was still his property, too, after all.

“Are you spying on me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “I told her we wouldn’t come in here. What if her husband had been in here?”

“I saw them leave,” Reggie said. “She stole the bedspread.”

“Who?”

“What do you mean, ‘who’? Your girlfriend, that’s who.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And what makes you think she stole it, anyway?”

George had come all the way into the room and closed the door behind him. He touched the bed as if to confirm the evidence of his eyes.

“It’s not here, that’s what.”

“Doesn’t mean she stole it.”

“Why don’t you see if you can find it then?” George gave her a look from under his brows. He hated her tone of voice. He had told her a few thousand times not to speak to him like that, but he might as well have saved his breath. The only way she was going to realize he meant it was when he went out to get the mail and didn’t come back. Which might be at any time now, if she kept this up.

“Just because I can’t find it doesn’t mean she stole it,” he said. He snapped off the television set.

“I’d like to know what it does mean.” Reggie said.

“I’m sure she’s got a perfectly good explanation.”

“That’s right. Defend her.”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong. The only one’s done anything wrong is you by breaking your word and coming in here.”

“I never gave her my word. That was your bright idea. The only thing I’d give her is a piece of my mind.”

“Careful, you don’t have much to spare.”

George had maneuvered behind Reggie and was now herding her toward the door. He held his arms out to the side as if shooing chickens. Reggie resisted the urge to hit him.

“If she stole it, out she goes,” Reggie said. “I won’t tolerate theft. Out she goes.”

“Out you go,” he said, still driving her toward the door.

“It’s the one thing I won’t put up with,” Reggie said. “I won’t put up with a thief.”

“I’ll talk to her about it,” George said. “It’s a misunderstanding. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her.”

“I’ll bet you will.” She stood in the doorway, just to make a point. He wasn’t pushing her out; she had chosen to leave and would make her exit when she wanted to. He stopped just short of her, careful not to put a hand on her. “Of course. I’ll have to explain how I know the bed spread’s gone,” he said. “Then I’ll have to apologize for you.”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologize for me to that woman!” Reggie cried.

“Guess I’ll have to,” George said.

“I forbid it!”

“Fair is fair, and right is right.” George rose up on his toes slightly as he made his pronouncement. He had been taller than Reggie earlier in their lives together, but it seemed to him that she had somehow outgrown him lately.

“If you apologize to her, that is the last straw,” Reggie declared. “I am not joking with you, George. So much as a hint of apology and I have had it.”

He rocked up on his toes again and then he smiled. It was the smile that convinced Reggie, the smugness of it that made her want to paste him right on the nose. That woman was gone, Reggie vowed silently. She was out of here as of now, no matter how long it took to actually arrange the eviction.

Reggie intended to stay up until they came home, no matter how long it took. She wanted to be there to intercept them between the car and cabin. She would face down Dee and her so-called husband this very night, let them understand she knew about the theft, and that they were to be gone as soon as they could pack. Never mind that they still had a week’s rent paid in advance, the theft negated all that.

Her intention was to stay awake-but her body had its own plans. After a time even the anger she felt was insufficient to keep her eyes open. She drifted off, woke, and drifted again and woke once more. She tried to focus her eyes on a hairline crack in the ceiling plaster. If a car pulled into the drive she would see the lights sweep across the ceiling and be out of bed and to the door before the car came to a halt. Reggie fell asleep and dreamed she was watching the ceiling.

Dee killed the headlights as soon as they turned into the motel drive. She unlocked the door to the cabin and held it open as Ash struggled out of the backseat, holding his bundle, then rushed into the sanctuary of the room.

Dee spoke for the first time since leaving McDonald’s as she strode to the closet and removed the garment from the laundry from the rack.

“We’ll see,” Dee said. “Now we’ll see who misbehaves.”

By the time Dee had the wire hanger in her hand. Ash had uncovered Bobby and handed him a pillow.

“Bite on it,” he whispered. He began hurriedly to unbutton Bobby’s shirt.

“What? What’s she going to do?” Bobby asked. His eyes were wide with fear. He was afraid to turn and look at Dee, who stood behind him, still muttering, and instead kept his eyes glued to Ash’s face for a clue as to what was to befall him. There was nothing in Ash’s face to give him hope.

“Don’t yell,” Ash whispered. His voice had the same imploring intensity as when he had urged Bobby not to run. “Don’t make any noise at all.”

He unbuttoned Bobby’s pants and pulled them down, then lifted the pillow to Bobby’s mouth.

“Bite,” he said and Bobby clamped his mouth onto the pillow.

The first blow fell almost immediately across his back. The boy gasped as much from surprise as from the pain. Ash immediately positioned the pillow in front of Bobby’s mouth again.

“No noise,” he hissed. The wire struck again and Bobby’s cry was muffled by the pillow.

There was a brief pause as Dee snapped on the television, then the blows came steadily.

Bobby squirmed and tried to pull away, but Ash gripped him by the arms and held him in place.

“Don’t make her mad,” he whispered.

“Now we’ll see,” Dee said. “Now we’ll see. Now we’ll see.”

She beat him in rhythm with her voice, but Bobby soon ceased to make sense of her words. Her only real message was pain.