Lethal(2)

Please. Honor’s eyes silently implored him. Then she whispered, “I beg you.”

Those hard, cold eyes magnetized hers as he gradually eased the pistol away from her. He lowered it to the ground, placing it behind his thigh where Emily couldn’t see it. But the implicit threat remained.

He removed his hand from around Honor’s neck and turned his head toward Emily. “Hi.”

He didn’t smile when he said it. Faint lines formed parentheses on either side of his mouth, but Honor didn’t think they had been grooved there by smiling.

Emily regarded him shyly and dug the toe of her sandal into the thick grass. “Hello.”

He extended his hand. “Give me the phone.”

She didn’t move, and when he snapped the fingers of his outstretched hand, she mumbled, “You didn’t say please.”

Please appeared to be a foreign concept to him. But after a moment, he said, “Please.”

Emily took a step toward him, then drew up short and looked at Honor, seeking permission. Although Honor’s lips were trembling almost uncontrollably, she managed to form a semblance of a smile. “It’s okay, sweetie. Give him the phone.”

Emily bashfully closed the distance between them. When she was within touching distance, she leaned far forward and dropped the phone into his palm.

His blood-smeared hand closed around it. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Are you gonna call Grandpa?”

His eyes shifted to Honor. “Grandpa?”

“He’s coming for supper tonight,” Emily announced happily.

Holding Honor’s stare, the man drawled, “Is that right?”

“Do you like pizza?”

“Pizza?” He looked back at Emily. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Mommy said I can have pizza for supper because it’s a party.”

“Huh.” He slid Honor’s cell phone into the front pocket of his dirty jeans, then encircled her biceps with his free hand and pulled her up as he stood. “Looks like I got here just in time, then. Let’s go inside. You can tell me all about tonight’s party.” Keeping a grip on Honor’s arm, he propelled her toward the house. Her legs were so shaky they barely supported her as she took those first few stumbling steps. Emily got distracted by the cat. She chased after him, calling, “Here, kitty,” as he slunk into a hedge on the far side of the yard.

As soon as Emily was out of earshot, Honor said, “I’ve got some money. Not much, a couple hundred dollars maybe. A few pieces of jewelry. You can take anything I own. Just please don’t hurt my daughter.”

And all the time she was babbling, she was scanning the yard in frantic search of something she could use as a weapon. The water hose wound up on its spool at the edge of the deck? The pot of geraniums on the bottom step? One of the bricks embedded in the ground, lining the flower bed?

She would never get to one of them in time, even if she could wrench herself from his grasp, which she knew from the strength of it would be difficult if not impossible. And in the process of a struggle, he would simply shoot her. Then he’d be left to do with Emily what he would. Thoughts of that brought bile to her throat.

“Where’s your boat?”

She turned her head and looked at him blankly.

Impatiently, he hitched his chin toward the empty dock. “Who’s got the boat out?”

“I don’t have a boat.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I sold the boat when… A couple of years ago.”

He seemed to weigh her honesty, then asked, “Where’s your car?”

“Parked in front.”

“Keys in it?”

She hesitated, but when he increased the pressure of his grip, she shook her head. “Inside. On a wall hook by the kitchen door.”

He started up the steps of the porch, pushing her along in front of him. She felt the pistol bumping against her spine. She turned her head, about to call out to Emily, but he said, “Leave her for now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, first…” he said, opening the door and pushing her inside ahead of him. “I’m going to make sure you aren’t lying to me about anyone else being here. And then… we’ll see.”

She could feel the tension in him as he propelled her from the empty living room then down the short hallway toward the bedrooms. “There’s no one here except Emily and me.”

He gave the door of Emily’s bedroom a push with the barrel of the pistol. The door swung open to a panorama of pink. No one was lying in wait. Still mistrustful, he crossed the room in two wide strides and yanked open the closet door. Satisfied that no one was hiding inside it, he gave Honor a shove back into the hall and toward the second bedroom.

As they approached, he growled close to her ear, “If there’s someone in here, I shoot you first. Got it?” He hesitated as though giving her a chance to change her claim that she was alone, but when she remained silent, he kicked the door open with the toe of his boot, sending it crashing against the adjacent wall.

Her bedroom looked ironically, almost mockingly, serene. Sunlight coming through the shutters painted stripes on the hardwood floor, the white quilted comforter, the pale gray walls. The ceiling fan caused dust motes to dance in the slanted beams of light.