The Devil's Punchbowl

CHAPTER 45

Caitlin stands in her kitchen, reading Penn’s text message and blinking back tears. In all her time with him, she’s never lied like that, not even by omission. But the deepest hurt is from shock at her own lack of feeling. She’s waited a year and a half for him to make the decision he made today, but tonight, hearing the words, she felt…betrayed. It made no sense, but that was what she felt.

Wiping the corners of her eyes, she reaches back and switches off the gas burner. She’d started making tea, but the last thing she wants is to lie in bed for an hour thinking about what just happened. She walks down the hall to the stairs and stops suddenly, startled by the sight of a man sitting on the floor of her living room. Carl Sims looks up from a copy of Shotgun News with a friendly smile. There’s a pistol on the floor by his knee, and his sniper rifle leans against the wall beside his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s all right. I just forgot. Where were you when I came in?”

“Well, I was out there when you were talking to Mayor Cage. I mean, I wasn’t close enough to listen or anything. I was just covering you guys. You know.”

“Thank you, Carl. I’m sorry I don’t have a TV down here for you.”

“That’s okay. I’m fine for the night. I’ve got this magazine, and I got one of Mr. Cage’s novels to read if I get tired of the News. Major McDavitt keeps telling me I ought to read one, so I’ll probably give it a try tonight. They any good?”

Caitlin walks to the foot of the stairs and stops. “I think so. The first three, especially.”

“The major told me you might be in one or two of them. Kind of disguised, like.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe parts of me.”

Carl smiles knowingly.

“You like Penn, don’t you, Carl?”

Sims sticks out his lower lip as though pondering the question. “I do, yeah.”

“Why, do you think?”

“Same as the major, I guess. He’s somebody who does the right thing, if there’s any way to do it.”

“Isn’t that what you do?”

“Well…I try to. But seeing what’s right, and doin’ it-that’s two different things.”

“What about what we’ve been going through this past week?”

The sniper shrugs. “Life gets complicated. That’s a fact. But I know this. Taking an enemy from the front ain’t always the best way. I figure Mr. Cage knows what he’s doing-even if he don’t know he knows it himself yet. You know what I’m saying?”

Caitlin is surprised to hear herself laugh. “Actually, I think I do. I’m not sure I agree with you in this case. But I understand.”

Carl watches her for a few moments, then suddenly looks down, like a boy caught staring. “I didn’t mean to keep you down here.”

“No, it’s all right. I appreciate hearing what you have to say.”

He looks back up at her. “You know what I think? I think you two gonna be all right. Sometimes it just takes a while.”

“How old are you, Carl?”

“Twenty-six.”

“You look thirty. And you sound like you’re sixty.”

He laughs warmly. “I’m just quoting what my daddy’s said to me.”

“Well…let’s hope he’s right.”

“Oh, he usually is. Good night, Mrs. Cage-oops, my bad.”

Caitlin smiles and shakes her finger at him. “I know that was on purpose.”

The deputy laughs and looks back at his newspaper.

“Call me if you need anything, Carl.”

“Same to you. I’m the one guarding you, remember?”

She smiles.

Caitlin ascends the long staircase, wondering why Penn’s words didn’t resonate in her as they would have only a week ago. She walks into her bedroom and opens the dresser, wishing she’d packed more clothes for the trip. As she takes off her sweater and bra and slips on a T-shirt, her thoughts go back to her conversation with Pastor Simpson in the afternoon. Tying back her hair with an elastic band, she hears a noise from downstairs. Thinking it might be Carl knocking on the wall for attention, she goes to the door and sticks her head out.

A rush of movement from the right makes her jerk left, then a black hood descends over her head. As she shouts for Carl, someone yanks a drawstring tight, cutting off her air. Lashing out with both hands, she tries to break free, but a needle-sharp sting like a wasp’s pierces her neck below the jaw. Within seconds her limbs stop obeying her brain. She tries to yell Carl’s name, then screams for Penn, but all that emerges from her mouth is the blubbering of someone being shoved underwater.