The Devil's Wire (8 page)

16

The locksmith is late. He'd promised Jennifer to be here by 7am, but it's nearly a quarter after. Normally fifteen minutes wouldn't matter, but right now, this morning, fifteen minutes seems like the difference between life and death.

She waits at the window, guzzling coffee, double strength and black, her third of the morning. The caffeine has lost its punch and tastes unpleasantly bitter, but it's better than nothing and gives her something to do with her trembling hands.

This can't be good for a person's heart, all this stress, the pulse doing circuits around her system like a cyclist in a velodrome. She can't stop thinking about how his face looked like him but didn't. It was as if someone else was occupying the suit of his skin. She's never seen that look before, that tortured but slack affect, like he was having some sort of turn or there was a tumor bearing down on his cerebral cortex.

It was hard to believe this same man had proposed to her on Bascom Hill all those years ago, near the Abe Lincoln statue, the alabaster dome of Capitol Building glowing like a second moon in the distance. He had told her she was the best thing that had ever happened to him then whispered something so quietly she had to ask him to repeat it, "Will you marry me," he said. And afterward, when Jennifer lay against his shoulder in bed, he told her he thought she would say no. Oh God how she wished she had said no.

Overhead she hears the shower still going. McKenzie has been in there for forty-five minutes. Finally, the water squeaks off and McKenzie comes down, skin glowing red, hair wet, smelling of antibacterial soap.

"We're out of hot water," she says.

"Terrific," says Jennifer.

McKenzie heads to the cupboard and retrieves a bowl for her cereal. "That's disgusting," she says, staring into it.

McKenzie takes out another and another. "They're all dirty. God, this whole place makes me cringe."

She takes the stack to the sink and runs the tap and starts cleaning.

Jennifer looks at McKenzie and a new fear develops. What if Hank tried to take her? What if they became one of those nightmare parental abduction cases when a former spouse absconds with a child across state lines? What if Jennifer wakes up one morning and McKenzie was gone?

"Maybe you should stay home from school today. It's been a tough couple of days," she says.

"But you have to go to work. I'll just be bored here on my own."

"You can come to the clinic with me."

"That's stupid," says McKenzie, squirting dishwashing liquid over the final two bowls. "I'm going to school."

A car door slams. They both look out the window. The locksmith's van is in the drive.

McKenzie turns to Jennifer. "You're changing the locks?"

"It's just a precaution."

"For what?"

Jennifer doesn't know what to say.

"Mom?"

"I want to keep us safe."

"Dad wouldn't hurt us, would he?" There's a knock on the front door. "Mom?"

"I better get that," says Jennifer.

*

The day passes in a blur. Jennifer is a mess of nerves, glancing out her clinic window every ten minutes, constantly checking her phone. Over the course of the day, Jennifer calls McKenzie four times to check she's okay and she is and it's a relief when it's closing time and Jennifer makes it back to the safety of their newly fortified home without incident.

It's dark by the time Jennifer remembers it's trash night. She tells herself to leave it but then gets angry – now he's got her afraid to take out the garbage. Still, she feels better when she sees Lenise over the road, putting her own bin out. Lenise looks up and gives Jennifer a curt nod then turns to go back inside.

Jennifer jogs across the road. "Hey, Lenise"

Lenise just folds her arms and looks at her.

"I'm sorry," says Jennifer finally. "I shouldn't have gone off at you like that."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"You were only trying to help."

"That's right."

They fall silent then Lenise reaches into her pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes.

"I could use one of those," says Jennifer.

"You smoke?"

"Not in years."

"Then you shouldn't start again."

"Please."

"Suit yourself."

Lenise gives her a cigarette then lights it for her. Jennifer sucks and her tongue burns, but God it feels good.

"You're shaking," says Lenise.

"It's the cold."

"I see."

"He broke into the house."

Lenise nods. "I saw the locksmith."

"I thought it would be best."

Jennifer takes another drag. "He could be watching us right now," she says.

Lenise steps forward and looks out into the night. "Asshole."

"I won't argue with that."

"You don't think he would do something stupid?"

"I got a restraining order," says Jennifer. "They went to serve him at work but he wasn't there. He's lost his job."

"I've seen this sort of thing before. Men who can't let go. They can be very dangerous when cornered."

"He's too weak for that."

"Don't be naive," snaps Lenise. "And don't think that restraining order will save you, either. A piece of paper will mean nothing to him and police can't be there 24/7. You know how the rest goes."

"I'm scared he might take McKenzie."

"Or worse."

They fall silent and look out at the woods.

"Do you have a gun?" says Lenise.

"What? Of course not."

"A gun in the hand of a woman is a great equalizer. In fact, women have the advantage because men never think a woman will have the guts to use it." Lenise looks at her watch. "I have to go."

"Wait," says Jennifer. "How would I get one?"

Lenise laughs. "This is America. There's a gun shop on every corner."

17

Jennifer enters
Guns and More
and the smell hits her like the fourth of July – raw grease and explosives. She had intended to browse quietly on her own but realizes that will be impossible when she sees the layout of the shop. Wall-to-wall guns. Big ones like they had in the military, on racks and mounted on the walls, price tags looped around their triggers.

Over to the left, a locked steel cage holds more guns. The sign above says
hard to find items
. The "more" in the "guns and more" was apparently fishing rods, intimidating-looking crossbows, and other hunting supplies. Apart from a bearded man browsing leather waders and the woman behind the counter, the store is empty.

"Need help?" The voice belongs to the woman. Sixties, grey-haired. There's an id badge pinned over her left bosom, her photo and her name – Leonie U.

"I'm looking for a hand gun."

The woman nods at the glass counter in front of her.

"Forget about that one," says Leonie U, pointing to a large silver gun. "That's a 44 magnum. Way too heavy and way too messy. You'll want a 22. It's lighter, easier to handle, not much kickback and the like."

Leonie U unlocks the cabinet with a set of keys from her neck chain and takes out a compact gun not much bigger than the palm of her chubby hand.

"Looks like a cigarette lighter don't it? Don't be fooled, though, this sweetheart can be just as effective as the Magnum if pointed in the right direction. Shoot and aim. That's all there is to it. Men try and make out like it's rocket science or something but that's just to make themselves look better. Here."

She places the gun in Jennifer's hand. It's cold and heavy despite the size.

"It's just for show, really," says Jennifer.

"You want to scare someone?"

"If I need too."

"No ammo then?"

"Maybe a box."

Leonie U reaches into the cabinet, pulls out a red box of ammunition and puts in on the counter next to the gun.

"We got a firing range downstairs if you want to pop a few shots. Five dollars for thirty minutes, plus ammo."

"I'm okay."

The woman lifts her chin to a glass cabinet.

"What about a suppressor? I got a nice one there for a 22 that's user serviceable. Off the books, of course. They ain't strictly legal in Wisconsin."

"That won't be necessary."

"Driver's license."

Jennifer hands over her license and watches the Mickey Mouse clock on the wall behind the counter while Leonie U fills out the paperwork. When the woman finishes she hands Jennifer the carbon copy.

"Come back in 48 hours and you'll be good to go."

"I can't take it now?"

"The DoJ needs to run a check first. It's the law. You got no record then you got nothing to worry about."

"But I need it right away, for safety."

Leonie U must have heard the panic in Jennifer's voice, because she lowers hers and says, "You got a stalker or something?"

Jennifer nods.

"My husband."

Leonie U goes silent.

"Alright," she says finally. "Let's do it off the books, in the name of the sisterhood. But not this one."

She turns from the counter, disappears into a back room and emerges a few minutes later with a bundle in a yellow chamois. She starts to unwrap it, but changes her mind. She looks at Jennifer.

"You a cop?"

"What? No way. I'm an optometrist."

Leonie U nods. "Yeah, you don't look like a cop."

She unwraps the cloth to reveal a similar sized gun.

"It's much the same but unregistered. Cost you an extra fifty, though."

"I appreciate it."

"No problemo," says Leonie U, slipping the gun and ammunition into a paper bag. "Just remember, shoot and aim – for the head if possible. You don't want that son of a bitch getting back up again."

18

The father will never let Jennifer and the girl go just like that. Men were too full of their own self-importance to permit the woman to simply walk away. Lenise had seen it too many times before.

She'd been watching over them, acting as a guardian of sorts. But she never saw him. He was like a vampire, staying in the shadows. Oh, he was out there somewhere, she could sense his presence, watching and lying in wait, and it was only a matter time before he struck.

It felt good to have a purpose, given Cody was gone.

He called the other night – collect of course – and she immediately demanded to know what he wanted then instantly regretted sounding so harsh.

"Calm down, Ma. I just wanted to see how you are."

If she had told him once, she'd told him a hundred times – Don't call me
Ma
. It made her sound old and ruined by life. But tonight she didn't mind. It was just good to hear the sound of his voice.

"Do you want me to send the rest of your things?" she asked.

"Leave them. You never know when I might be back," he said and her heart had done a leap.

He sounded bright, and she wished she could be happy, but it made her feel sad. She nearly told him everything – how she lost her job after being set up by Radley, how she had to pawn the last of his grandmother's jewelry, how she was days away from having an upturned hat on the pavement begging for change. She even thought about asking him to send money but lied instead, and told him she was doing just fine.

"I'll visit when I can," he said.

And afterward, when she had returned the phone to the cradle, and heard the mindless chatter of her fake friends on the radio, she wished he had never called at all.

*

Lenise spends the day handing out her resume to retail outlets and gas stations and grocery stores, and, the lowest-of-the-low, fast food restaurants. It's a major step down but she's desperate. She tries not to think about what life will be like with her hair smelling of fried meat. She doesn't bother with real estate agencies because she knows she'll be blacklisted. For a second there she considers returning to the Brook River office and going postal but decides Radley and Camille are not worth the jail time.

Some of the halfwits she encounters have the nerve to tell her she's not experienced enough. Real estate is a professional role, she had insisted to the Burger King Manager, a spotty kid not much older than Cody, and when he had laughed and said
don't you mean parasites
, she could have punched him in the face.

After four hours of pavement pounding, Lenise decides she's done for the day and turns for home, walking back to save bus fare. She is thinking about whether it's worthwhile registering with a temp agency for cleaning work when she rounds the bend into Simeon Street and sees McKenzie duck into the Safeway.

Lenise isn't sure if it's the furtive way the girl had looked over her shoulder, or the way she slunk down into that oversized jacket of hers, but Lenise is intrigued enough to follow McKenzie inside.

She's careful to keep her distance as McKenzie browses the sunglasses stand, scans the shelves of pet food then moves to the laundry aisle. Lenise shoots to the next row, picks up a jar of apricot jam and feigns interest in the nutritional label, and keeps watch as McKenzie studies the feminine hygiene section. Then, before Lenise can blink, McKenzie reaches for a douche product and slips it into her bag, then just as quickly, hand sanitizer, antibacterial soap, a bottle of disinfectant, and a box of latex gloves.

McKenzie spins around and heads for the exit. Lenise follows at a clipped pace. But before McKenzie makes it to the door, a security guard steps in her path.

"Open your bag for me, miss."

McKenzie clutches the bag to her chest.

"Why?"

"We reserve the right to check," he says, jerking his thumb at the sign by the entrance doors.

Lenise hurries over.

"There you are," she says.

She looks at the security guard. "What's going on?"

"This your daughter?"

"Yes."

"I need to look in her bag."

"What, that? The reusable tote we use for shopping?" She looks at the guard and laughs. "Oh, I see, you thought she was stealing. We were just heading to the checkout to pay for our items."

She takes McKenzie by the arm. "Come on, child, stop bothering the busy man."

She feels his eyes on them as they head to the check out. He continues to hover as the groceries are scanned and bagged and Lenise pays for them with her last twenty dollars.

Once a safe distance from the store, Lenise turns to McKenzie and detects the faint whiff of disinfectant coming from the girl's clothes.

"You're not using that to wash with are you? It will burn."

McKenzie blushes madly. "It makes me feel better."

"You'll do damage if you're using it down there," says Lenise.

McKenzie nods at the bag.

"Can I have my stuff?"

Lenise hands it over. McKenzie starts to walk off then changes her mind.

"You won't tell Mom, will you?"

Lenise looks at her.

"Not if you don't want me to."

McKenzie pauses and looks her sneakers.

"I'll pay you back," she says.

Lenise thinks about how many meals that last twenty dollars could have bought.

"Call it a favor."