Beware (17 page)

“Might be good for you to listen, Lacey.”

“Why?”

“Know your enemy,” Scott said.

She nodded. She wished she could leave and avoid the presence of Hoffman—even his voice disgusted and frightened her. But she was curious. “I don’t know,” she said.

“You’ll have to hear him a lot,” he said, “if you’re going to collaborate on the book with me. Might as well get used to the idea.”

“Yeah. All right.”

Scott started the tape. “Okay,” Hoffman said. “You want me to talk, I’ll talk.”

Dukane stepped over to a front window. He knelt at its side, and peered out.

Looking at Nancy? Wondering if he could save her?

“The one I really wanted, it was Lacey.”

She tried not to listen. She thought about Nancy.

The girl had been out there for nearly an hour now. Dukane had spent most of that time looking at her. “She’s gagged,” he’d told Lacey. That explained why there were no screams.

He’d discussed shooting at the ropes or stakes that pinioned her spread-eagled to the ground. But even if he could free her that way, he supposed a fusillade would tear her apart before she could make the door—particularly since she was bound fast to Jan’s larger body. Maybe after dark…

The tape played on. Lacey found herself listening, appalled by the list of Hoffman’s victims, by the bragging and insolent tone of his voice. She listened with dread to the ghastly method of transformation, sickened by the image of the severed head, the beans being pushed through its eyes, the drinking of blood. When he described his attack on Coral, she shivered at the memory of herself in the dark bathroom of her home.

His tale of perversion and slaughter went on and on. Lacey thought about going into the kitchen, standing by the sink, running the water full blast to drown out the hideous sound of his voice. But she couldn’t force herself to leave. She felt compelled to listen, much as she might be drawn to a grisly accident, horrified and worried about the victims but curious to see their broken remains.

Scott flipped the cassette over.

Then Hoffman was in Oasis, looking for her name in the telephone directory. She remembered the series of obscene midnight calls that had made her life miserable two years ago until she took an unlisted number. Thank God for those calls. The new number had at least postponed Hoffman’s attack. If she’d only stayed away from the market…

She gagged as Hoffman described eating the dog.

Then he was in the shower room at the high school, secretly touching the girls, following one home to rape her. Lacey knew most of the people in Oasis. She wondered who the girl was. Pitied her. But it could’ve been so much worse.

When he told of breaking his mother’s fingers, Lacey knew what was coming. She didn’t want to hear about the butcher job. With a finger in each ear, she blocked the sound. But her mind saw him hacking Elsie apart, wrapping the pieces in cellophane. Scott, sitting only a few feet away, looked at her with sadness in his eyes. Then he blushed and turned away.

Lacey took the fingers from her ears. “Ah, she was fine,” Hoffman said. “Just fine.” Who did he mean? “You oughta know, right. You haven’t had a piece yet, you’re missing a bet.”

Scott glanced at her, made a shy smile, and lowered his gaze to the floor.

Lacey, suddenly understanding, felt heat rush to her skin. Bad enough that Hoffman should violate her, but to
brag
about it, to suggest that Scott…What could she expect from a bastard like Hoffman?

She listened to the way he hid in her car, how he sneaked into the house, how he stood close to her as she phoned James. With growing dread, she waited for his description of the attack. She watched Scott as Hoffman spoke. He sat with his legs crossed, his hands gripping his knees. “This time’s better than before. This time she’s conscious, at least till the very end.” He stared at the floor, his face dark red.
“It’s better when they’re conscious, squirming and crying.” Scott raised his face. He looked at her, and she saw tears shining in his eyes.

My God, she thought, he’s crying for me.

She hesitated only a moment, then crawled across the floor to him and sat at his side. He took her hand.

“First thing she does when she sees she can’t see me, is give me a kick in the nuts.”

Scott squeezed her hand. He looked at her and grinned as Hoffman told how she stabbed him. Then they listened as he described following Carl to the hotel.

At last, it was over.

Scott turned off the machine.

Dukane turned away from the window, a strange pleased look on his face. He sat with his back to the wall. Grinning. “Listening to him…I got an idea. I know how we might save Nancy. It’s a risk for all of us. It may not even work, but it stands a decent chance. I think we owe it to her.”

“What’s your idea?” Scott asked.

“Send Hoffman out for her.”

Lacey groaned as the words clutched her bowels. She felt numb all over.

“We’d have to let him loose,” Scott muttered.

“As I said, it’s a risk. He might try to get away, or he might turn on us. In either case, he’d be hard to stop. But he’s awfully worried about Laveda. I don’t think he’d want to make a break, not with the place surrounded. By now, somebody out there might have a pair of those infrared goggles.”

“The goggles could kill his chance of getting to Nancy.”

“We’d have surprise on our side. They probably aren’t watching constantly with those things—if they have them at all. They certainly won’t expect us to send Hoffman out for the girl.”

“I don’t know.”

“Lacey?”

“I…He’s a monster. He’ll try something. He’ll try to kill us or…if he does get away, all the innocent people he’ll kill…”

“His chances of escape are remote,” said Dukane. “I think he knows that. As long as he sticks with us, he has some firepower on his side. If I were him, I’d stick with us until I’m sure we’ve had it.
Then
I’d chance a break.”

“He’s put Lacey through hell,” Scott said. “If he does take you and me out…God only knows what he’d do to her.” He placed a hand on Lacey’s knee, held it tightly. “I don’t want to risk that.”

“All right,” Dukane said.

“Wait.” Lacey covered Scott’s hand and squeezed it. “We can’t leave her out there. She…as Matt said, we owe her. Let’s give it a try.”

Lacey sat on the floor, her back to the couch, her legs drawn up protectively as Dukane led Hoffman in. One cuff was attached to Dukane’s left wrist; the other stood out sideways.

Scott followed, several paces behind, with Jan’s shotgun aimed toward the area above the floating cuff.

Lacey raised her revolver and aimed at the same empty space.

“If it ain’t Annie Oakley,” Hoffman said. “Don’t look so worried, huh? I’m doing you guys a favor.”

As they approached the broken front window, Dukane removed the handcuffs. He slid a small carving knife from his rear pocket. “Take this,” he said. “But leave it outside once you’ve cut her free.”

The knife left his hand. He backed away.

“I’m supposed to go out the window, right?”

“Right. We’ll open the door on your way back.”

“
If
I come back, huh?”

“If you don’t, you’ll end up in Laveda’s hands. Sooner or later.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Get going.”

The knife, hovering several feet off the floor, turned toward the broken window. The end of its handle lowered against the sill.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Hoffman said. He sounded impressed. “Look at them, will you?”

“We’ve seen.”

“You just want the one underneath, right?”

“Right.”

“Other’s dead as a carp.” The knife raised and shot through the opening. “Ha! Right on target. She can’t feel it anyway, huh?” After a pause, he said, “Look out, belowwww.”

Dukane crouched by the window.

As Scott hurried to the other one, curiosity overcame Lacey’s distaste. She joined him, pistol ready, and peered out. Immediately, she regretted it. She
gagged, but managed to swallow the bitter fluid that gushed up her throat.

She forced herself not to look away. The arms and legs of both women were spread wide and bound to metal stakes, but the mangled carcass on top hid most of Nancy from her view. Flies swarmed over the tattered skin of Jan’s back and rump. The rear of her head had been scraped bald. A splinter of bone protruded from her left arm. Her left leg was dislocated and stretched far longer than the other; Lacey saw a knife embedded in its buttock.

As she watched, the knife slid out. It moved slowly over the ground to the staked foot, and sawed through the rope. Though Nancy’s foot remained bound to Jan’s, it was now free of the stake. It didn’t move.

The knife crossed the area between the spread legs, and cut the next rope.

It dropped out of sight beside the legs, and reappeared sliding along the ground near Nancy’s outstretched left arm. It cut through the rope, then returned over the ground to her side. It appeared again near the feet, crossed the space between them, and moved up the other side. It snaked the length of Nancy’s right arm, sawed through the rope.

Dukane stepped to the door.

The women’s feet wobbled slightly. Then they rose from the ground and the bodies jerked in to motion. Gunfire broke the silence. Bullets kicked up dust around the dragging bodies. Dark matter burst from Jan’s back. Her head jumped, pieces exploding away.

Dukane threw open the door.

The bodies bounced up the low stoop. More bullets smacked into Jan, splashing her like pebbles striking water.

Then they were inside. Dukane kicked the door shut. As slugs pounded through it, he lunged toward the raised feet of the women. The feet began to drop. He swung his pistol, but it swept through empty air. Scott raced to help. Dukane’s head snapped sideways. He staggered and dropped to his knees. Scott clutched his own belly. As he doubled, his shirt collar and belt jerked taut. He was lifted high off the floor.

Lacey fired twice at the space beneath him.

Then he was slammed down. The tile floor pounded aside his hands and knees. His forehead hit with a thud.

Dukane shot over him. Four bullets hit the far wall, blasting holes in the plaster, knocking down a framed oil of a desert sunset. He came forward slowly, in a crouch, his head turning as if he thought he might see a target. The gun suddenly flew from his twisted hand. He grunted as the front of his pants dented in. His nose jerked sideways, spouting blood. Throwing himself forward, he reached out and fell.

Lacey fired above his back. Her bullet smacked the wall. She aimed over his head and fired again. His head jumped. For a sinking instant, she thought she’d hit Dukane. Then the head snapped down, thudding the floor. He went limp.

Lacey pushed herself to her feet. She stood with her back to the wall, pistol forward. Dukane and
Scott both lay motionless on the red tile floor. She breathed hard. Her heart felt ready to explode.

“My turn,” Hoffman said.

From the left.

She shot at his voice. Splinters burst from the hall door frame.

“Time for fun and games.”

She aimed again, then hesitated, realizing the sixshot pistol held only one more live cartridge. If she missed with this one…

She knew a target she couldn’t miss.

With a quaking hand, she raised the pistol and pressed its muzzle to her head.

“Go on,” said the voice in front of Lacey. “I’ll fuck you anyway. Only thing is, you won’t get a chance to enjoy it.”

She tried to force her finger to move, to squeeze the stiff, curved metal of the trigger just a bit, just a quarter inch, just enough. But part of her mind resisted. She wanted to live. She gazed at Scott’s unmoving body, and didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to see him smile again, to hear his laughter, to feel his gentle arms around her. Even if only one more time. As she stared at Scott, he moved one hand slightly.

She thumbed back the pistol’s hammer.

“
Adios
,” said Hoffman.

She stabbed the pistol forward, felt its muzzle stop against Hoffman, and jerked the trigger.

“Bitch!” he shrieked through the gun’s roar.

Something clubbed her face, knocking her head back against the wall. Her hand stung. The pistol fell. Another blow struck her face. As she sagged, a hand clutched her throat. It held her to the wall. The neck of her tank top jerked out. The fabric stretched taut, popped, and tore down the front. Pain erupted
in her breasts as he grabbed them and tugged her to the floor.

Her knees pounded the tile. He forced her backward. Down beside Nancy. Beside Jan. She tried to raise her head, but had no strength. Warm fluid spilled onto her legs as the gym shorts were yanked down. Hoffman’s blood! Her pan ties were ripped away.

Where’s Scott?
her mind screamed. He’s alive. She’d seen him move.
Why doesn’t he stop this!

She gasped in agony as Hoffman shoved into her. He rammed hard, one hand gripping her breast as if to keep her from being shoved over the floor by the force of his thrusts. A wetness splattered her shoulder as he plunged.

She should’ve…why hadn’t she pulled the damn trigger on herself and ended it? Better that than…

He pushed her head sideways. As he chewed and sucked the side of her neck, she saw Jan’s face inches away from her own. The blank, staring eyes. The flap of dark flesh hanging off her cheek. The torn lips baring her broken teeth.

Dead.

Better this. Hoffman grunting and slobbering, twisting her skin, battering her insides with his vile organ. Better this than like Jan.

She lowered her gaze to the wide, blinking eyes of Nancy. They were filled with terror, but alive.

Where’s Scott!

Hoffman’s weight was on her now, crushing her chest, his mouth mashing her lips, suffocating her as he pounded down with his pelvis. Then he was rigid.
Lacey felt his jerking throb inside her, the spurt of fluid.

He lay on top of her, breathing heavily. At last, his weight lifted. She felt his organ slide out.

She raised her head enough to see Scott and Dukane still unconscious on the floor.

“Guess what’s next,” Hoffman hissed.

Lacey shut her eyes and said nothing.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. “One guess, cunt.” He paused. “No? Well, just watch and see.”

The door flew open behind Lacey. A hand squeezed the back of her neck. Another clutched between her legs. She was lifted off her feet and hurled outside.

She hit the ground hard, tumbling, gasping as gravel and cactus tore her skin. Then she lay still and awaited the hail of bullets.