The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(65)

“Patty, from where I’m standing, we stopped a lynch mob from running an innocent man out of town.”

“It was the woman whose trailer you came to in Six Mile,” Patricia said. “You saw that little girl. Nine years old. Why does a nine-year-old child kill herself? What could make her do that?”

“Our children need you,” Carter said. “Do you see what your book club has done to Blue?”

“My book club?” she asked, off balance.

“The morbid things y’all read,” Carter said. “Did you see the videotapes on top of the TV? He got Night and Fog from the library. It’s Holocaust footage. That’s not what a normal ten-year-old boy looks at.”

“A nine-year-old girl hanged herself with dental floss and you won’t even bother to ask why,” Patricia said. “Imagine if that was your last memory of Blue—hanging from the towel rod, floss cutting into his neck—”

“Jesus Christ, Patty, where’d you learn to talk this way?”

He walked into the dining room. Patricia thought about not following, then realized that this wouldn’t end until they’d played out every single moment Carter had planned. She got up and followed. The morning sun made the yellow walls of the dining room glow. Carter stood facing her from the other end of the table, hands behind his back, one of her everyday saucers in front of him.

“I realize I bear some of the responsibility for how bad things have gotten,” he said. “You’ve been under a great deal of stress from what happened with my mother, and you never properly processed the trauma of being injured. I let the fact that you’re my wife cloud my judgment and I missed the symptoms.”

“Why are you treating me like this?” she asked.

He ignored her, continuing his speech.

“You live an isolated life,” Carter said. “Your reading tastes are morbid. Both your children are going through difficult phases. I have a high-pressure job that requires me to put in long hours. I didn’t realize how close to the edge you were.”

He picked up the saucer, carried it to her end of the table, and set it down with a click. A green-and-white capsule rolled around in the center.

“I’ve seen this turn people’s lives around,” Carter said.

“I don’t want it,” she said.

“It’ll help you regain your equilibrium,” he said.

She pinched the capsule between her thumb and forefinger. Dista Prozac was printed on the side.

“And I have to take it or you’ll leave me?” she asked.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Carter said. “I’m offering you help.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white bottle. It rattled when he set it on the table.

“One pill, twice a day, with food,” he said. “I’m not going to count the pills. I’m not going to watch you take them. You can flush them down the toilet if you want. This isn’t me trying to control you. This is me trying to help you. You’re my wife and I believe you can get better.”

At least he had the good sense not to try to kiss her before he left.

After he was gone, Patricia picked up the phone and called Grace. Her machine picked up, so she called Kitty.

“I can’t talk,” Kitty said.

“Did you see the paper this morning?” Patricia asked. “That was Destiny Taylor, page B-6.”

“I don’t want to hear about those kind of things anymore,” Kitty said.

“He knows we’ve gone to the police,” Patricia said. “Think of what he’s going to do to us.”

“He’s coming to our house,” Kitty said.

“You have to get out of there,” Patricia said.

“For supper,” Kitty said. “To meet the family. Horse wants him to know there are no hard feelings.”

“But why?” Patricia asked.

“Because that’s how Horse is,” Kitty said.

“We can’t give up just because the rest of the men suddenly think he’s their pal.”

“Do you know what we could lose?” Kitty asked. “It’s Slick and Leland’s business. It’s Ed’s job. It’s our marriages, our families. Horse has put all our money into this project he’s doing with Leland.”

“That little girl died,” Patricia said. “You didn’t see her, but she was barely nine.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Kitty said. “We have to take care of our families and let other people worry about theirs. If someone’s hurting those children, the police will stop them.”

She got Grace’s machine again, then tried Maryellen.

“I can’t talk,” Maryellen said. “I’m right in the middle of something.”

“Call me back later,” Patricia said.

“I’m busy all day,” Maryellen said.

“That little girl killed herself,” Patricia said. “Destiny Taylor.”

“I have to run,” Maryellen said.

“It’s on page B-6,” Patricia said. “There’s going to be another one after this, and another after that, and another, and another.”

Maryellen spoke quiet and low.

“Patricia,” she said. “Stop.”