by Pat Capponi
I’m too miserable, too inside myself to pay attention to what else is said. It’s not until I’m taken by the arm by one of my guards that I realize everyone is leaving, and I’m expected to follow them out the door and up the stairs.
“What will happen to him?” I ask the guards.
“None of your business,” answers the one on my left. “Just keep moving and shuddup.”
Mrs. Preston’s face lights up when I come through the door. Her mouth opens to ask me questions, but one look at me and she grows quiet. I sit on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands, and try to think what might come next. If there’s anything I can do to get us out of here. It all looks hopeless. Mrs. Preston leaves her chair and sits by me, one arm very tentatively laid across my shoulder. In spite of the despair I’m in, I recognize the effort she’s making, unaccustomed as she is to gestures of sympathy or compassion. In response, I try to pull myself together, pull myself out of the pit of misery I’ve sunk into.
I tell her about the punished gang member, and his new replacement. Out of an abundance of caution, I don’t tell her I know Michael. We sit, side by side, in gentle silence, as the hours pass.
Something brings me instantly awake. I listen, there’s another knock on the door, and then it opens abruptly. Our morning tray, I think, not even bothering to lift my head from the pillow. I hear the door close, the tray being placed on the dresser, and then:
“Dana, Dana, it’s me.”
I look up in shock. It’s Michael. I don’t know what to say to him. I barely recognize the boy I knew. He’s leaning over me, whispering. “I don’t have much time. You have to believe me.”
God knows I want to, but I’m frightened of Jesse’s control over him. I remember the look on Michael’s face as he punched that man, how proud he seemed of his new position in Jesse’s army.
“Dana?” There are tears in his eyes. “Dana? Please?”
I tell myself it’s still Michael, lost or not, it’s still him. I take one of his hands, hold it in mine.
“He hasn’t left me alone for a moment since I’ve been here. One of the gang, or Jesse himself, they’re always with me. But now that’s changed. I’ll have more freedom, and I’m going to use it. Please, Dana, I need you to believe me!”
I’m slow to respond to his pleas. “I want to, Michael, but I can’t forget what I saw.”
I see the hurt cross his face. “I had to do it, Dana. To get them to trust me. At least he’s still alive; he’s messed up, but he’s breathing—and he’s gone. They think I killed him.”
I watch him, thinking, wondering if I’m being naive, wanting to believe him. Now he grins at me, looking over his shoulder at the door, but I know that grin.
“He doesn’t have a clue who he’s up against, but we’re gonna show him, you and me.”
That’s the Michael I know, cocky and sure. I smile back at him.
“Just be ready, Dana, for anything. I promise I’ll get you out of here. I’m gonna save you. And the old lady too.” Before he leaves, he reaches into his pocket, then presses something cold and heavy into my hand. “Take this. He gave it to me, with my promotion. It’s ready to fire. Be careful, Dana. He’s a very bad guy. I gotta go. I love you!”
“Michael!”
But he’s gone, just like that. I place the gun on the bed; it’s an ugly, ugly thing. With one careful hand I reach out again to touch it, to be sure it’s real. To be sure he was there. My heart is tripping madly; the sight of the gun has scared me like nothing else has so far. I cover it with a corner of the blanket and try to think. At least we’re no longer defenceless, with only the small knife I’ve been carrying around in my sock, but I’ve never been this close to a gun, never wanted to be.
“Dana, there’s something you should know.”
It’s Mrs. Preston, speaking calmly, quietly, but wholly unexpectedly. I’d almost forgotten she was here. She’s not looking at me, but keeping her eyes fixed on the wall.
“When I was preparing your dinner yesterday, I went to get more steak from the basement freezer. There are two freezers now. I lifted the lid of the new one, to take a look. Lorraine was inside it, her broken, battered face staring up at me, her eyes wide open, her hair covered with frost. It looked like they’d beaten her to death. I was too frightened to tell you earlier, but I suppose I can’t avoid my responsibility in this—for Lorraine, and for you. Take the gun. If you’re afraid, give it to me. I won’t hesitate.”
I believe her. “I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Preston. Except that I’m sorry about Lorraine.” And I am. Harp will never get to meet his birth mother, never hear from her why she gave him up, what her life had been like before and after. If she’d ever thought of him, ever regretted what she’d done. Mrs. Preston is crying silently. I reach over and take one of her hands, and just hold it until the tears stop falling.
“It’s tragic, but Lorraine made her own choices. At least you tried to help her.” I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to keep Lorraine’s death a secret. She’s a strong woman, Mrs. Preston. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have fainted dead away, seeing a face looking up at me.
“Dana.”
“Yes?”
“If…if I don’t, if something happens to me, will you talk to Bernie, let him know that no one could have wanted a better son than he’s been to me. That I do love him, care for him, in my way, but, but since the very first time I held him in my arms, I haven’t been able to escape the fact that I am not his real mother. It’s silly, I know, as he’s never known the truth, but it was always there, between us, and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t find a way to…”
“We’re both getting out of here, Mrs. Preston. We’ll get out of here, and then you and Bernie, you’ll be able to talk about this.” I don’t know if she believes me. She reaches for her box of tissues and dabs her eyes, blows her nose. Those tears were waiting an awfully long time to come out. With a shaky sigh, she changes the subject.
“Tell me about the young man who was just here. How do you know him?” She listens quietly as I tell her. “Do you think he’s telling the truth. Can he rescue us?”
“I know he’s going to try. Like he said, we have to be ready. Right now, we need to behave just like the other mornings, get dressed, make the bed, eat breakfast.” Showering is definitely out—being naked and vulnerable is not in the Be Prepared Guidebook. I dress quickly, and then I lift the gun, much the same way I’d pick up a snake if I really had to. I don’t doubt Mrs. Preston is prepared to use it, but I’m hoping that we’ll get out of here with no shots fired by anyone.
I’ll need to keep it on me, but hidden. My jeans and shirt don’t present much in the way of hiding places. Mrs. Preston goes to her closet and tosses me a large cardigan with deep pockets.
“It was my husband’s favourite sweater.”
I’m touched. “Thank you,” I say, putting it on. “Listen, since there are guns involved, as soon as we hear anything unusual, I want you to run to the bathroom, lock the door, and get in the tub, stay there until I call. Only one of us should be exposed to this, not both of us.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. I have the equalizer.” I pat my pocket with a lot more bravado than I feel.
If Michael had only stayed a little longer, or I’d been awake enough to ask some questions. Like when and how. Not knowing what to expect makes for a hard few hours. My nerves are stretched to breaking when we hear a shout from the hallway: “There are cops all over the place! Jesse! We got cops outside.” That’s our cue. I tear the duvet off the bed, and hand it and a pillow to Mrs. Preston, who stands for a moment looking at me, eyes very wide. “Now, please, Mrs. Preston. And lock the door.” I give her a none-too-gentle push toward the bathroom just as the bedroom door bursts open and Michael rushes in, looking very pale. “Help me build a barricade.” We tackle one chest of drawers and push and pull it into position, then go for another one. “Where’s the old lady?”
“Ba
thtub.”
“Good thinking. Cops have the house surrounded. I told them where we’d be when I called. Weird thing, they were already watching the place, Ed said.”
“You talked to Ed?” I could kick myself: we’re in a fight for our lives here, and I want to know about my maybe boyfriend.
“Yeah. Jeez, this weighs a ton. What’s it made of? There. Let’s do the mattress.”
There’s a lot of yelling now. I can’t make out Jesse’s voice, but the others sound as though they’re in a panic. All hell breaks loose: shattering glass followed by shots—loud, thunderous—from inside the house. Though there’s no way the bullets fired can reach us, we both dive to the floor. A few minutes after it starts, everything quiets. Quiets just enough for us to hear the door being pushed against the dresser.
“What the hell is this? Dana, open the door. Don’t be stupid, Dana. Open it now.” It’s Jesse. We hear him giving orders, his words muffled but sharp.
Suddenly they ram into the door, but our barrier holds. Again and again and again. This isn’t one of those plywood doors, which would have splintered immediately; this is quality. They manage to push the dressers a few inches, but Michael and I push back hard, stopping them cold. They pause for a moment. Sounding calm and reasonable, though out of breath, Jesse speaks.
“Mrs. Preston, I have Lorraine out here with me. Don’t make me hurt her again. I’ll blow her head off if you don’t get Dana to open the door.”
Michael shakes his head violently at me. I whisper reassurance and then call out, “That won’t work anymore, Jesse.” It feels good to talk back. “Lorraine is beyond your reach.”
“Dana, Dana, Dana. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? I’ll have a few surprises of my own when I get in there.” He renews his assault on the door, managing to create a wider opening, Michael and I struggle to hold him back, but we’re losing the battle. Suddenly, he squeezes inside, clambering over the dresser. I barely have time to reach into my pocket and pull out the gun. Jesse’s too busy staring at Michael in disbelief.
“Michael? What are you doing in here?”
“Helping a friend.” Michael’s voice is shaky but defiant.
“You’re a dead man.”
I’m busy trying to recall every movie, every television show I’ve ever seen involving guns and standoffs. I simply point the weapon at Jesse, keeping it close to my body, and say: “Put your hands up please, Jesse.” It sounds so ridiculous I bite the inside of my mouth to get control. He stiffens, eyes narrowing.
“Where did you get that?”
“You can thank me,” Michael says.
Jesse, in a move too quick for me to follow, reaches behind his back and produces his own gun, aiming it at Michael.
“It looks like we have a standoff here. Except that I won’t hesitate to fire, whereas you, Dana, I don’t think you could bring yourself to pull the trigger.”
“Like you said, Jesse, I’m full of surprises.” I try for a Clint Eastwood–like staredown, but I seem to have the shakes. Outside the door, even more yelling. From the sounds of it, the cops are inside the house.
“What do we do now, Dana? Shall I shoot Michael? He certainly deserves shooting.”
“If you do, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
We’re both very still, facing each other, only a few feet between us.
“Dana! Michael! Are you in there?”
It’s Ed. I could weep. Instead, I take a deep breath and call out: “We’re good. Jesse is in here. I’m going to send out Michael and Mrs. Preston.” I’m staring into Jesse’s eyes, which are over-bright and very wide. “I’ll remain as his hostage.”
“No!”
“No!”
Simultaneously, both Ed and Michael have cast their votes. I ignore them.
“What do you say, Jesse? It’ll just be you and me. That’s what you wanted anyway, isn’t it?” It’s the first time I’ve seen him rattled. He keeps turning toward the door, as if he can see through it to the cops massed there.
“Will you drop the gun?” His voice has lost a lot of its power.
“As soon as they’re safe.” I watch as he calculates his response.
“All right.”
“Dana…”
“Michael, do this for me, take Mrs. Preston to safety, please.”
“Dana, don’t make me go. Please.” He’s crying.
But I’m at the bathroom door, calling to Mrs. Preston to come out. She’s out the door so quickly that I know she never got into the tub.
“Dana, I think you should listen to your young man.”
“If you two want to keep breathing, you’ll leave immediately,” Jesse snarls. “I’m losing my patience.”
“Now, Michael.” I call out to the other side of the door. “Ed, Michael and Mrs. Preston are coming out now. Please, Michael, I need you to do this.” Using all his frustration and angst, Michael shoves the dressers away from the door, making just enough room for them to slip out.
He looks back at me one more time, and I wonder if I’ll ever see either of them again. Mrs. Preston takes his hand, and out they go. Jesse pushes the dressers back against the door, then turns to me.
“I kept my word, Dana. Now keep yours and give me your gun.”
“I lied. I’ll stay with you, but I’m going to hold on to this.”
Instead of getting angry, he laughs appreciatively. “See, you’re learning from me already.”
“What’s your plan, Jesse? It sounds like the cops have got all your boys. Now all that’s left is to come for you.”
“I don’t care about the ‘boys,’ but I am getting out of here.”
“You’re surrounded. There’s no way.” He’s starts to move, and I step back a few paces.
“I have you.”
“And I have this,” I say, hefting the gun. “It’s over, Jesse. You’re going back to prison.”
He’s by the window now, examining the plywood barrier.
“Take that off, and they’ll have a clear shot at you.”
That gets to him. He retreats to Mrs. Preston’s rickety chair, sits, drops his gun in his lap, and rubs his face hard with both palms. I can feel the despair rising in him, the disbelief that it’s come to this.
“You played me, you and Michael.” He shakes his head slowly. “But I know I didn’t imagine how attracted you were to me. I saw it in your eyes, that first night.”
“Not to you. To the guy you were pretending to be. The guy you might have been, if you hadn’t raped that woman, if your parents hadn’t seen the kind of monster they’d raised and turned their backs on you.”
His voice came icy cold and hard. There’s nothing of that other Jesse left. “Well, then, if I’m going to prison, perhaps I should have some fun first. What do you say, Dana?”
“Try me.” For the first time, I’m aware of my finger on the trigger, how tense it is, how ready.
“Dana, are you all right in there?” It’s not Ed this time, but still it’s a voice filled with authority and calm.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Jesse. You need to give it up. If you come out with your hands up, no one will hurt you, you have my word.”
Jesse pretends not to have heard. He’s on his feet, staring into my eyes, walking slowly toward me. For a moment, I’m afraid he wants me to shoot, to kill him. I’m not ready for that, not to kill another human being.
“Jesse, stop, I don’t want to hurt you.”
He doesn’t say a word, just keeps on coming. His gun dangles from one hand, the space between us shrinks. From the hallway, the voice again:
“Jesse. It’s over. You need to come out now or we’re coming in.”
I glance toward the door. The next instant I’m thrown back, he’s on top of me, my head hits the floor, the gun is wrenched from my hand. He’s astride me, his gun pointed at my face.
“You’re going to remember me, Dana. The rest of your goddamn life, you’re going to remember!”
His face
is close to mine, and getting closer. My arm is free. I reach down toward my sock slowly and carefully while he talks; he’s so intent on what he’s saying that he doesn’t notice what I’m doing. I have it, Mr. Preston’s little knife. I pry it open while he continues to threaten me. “Maybe I’ll show you what I did to that bitch, the one who called the cops on me. She loved it, every minute of it, she begged for it, and so will you, Dana.” He tries to kiss me. I turn my face to the side and plunge the blade into his thigh, once, twice, three times, while he screams in pain and twists, trying to grab my hand.
He’s very strong, I can’t hold him off, but suddenly he’s no longer there, a lot of men are in the room, and here’s Ed, bending over me, sweeping me up, and someone turns off all the lights.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Jon and I got to talking after we left the shelter that evening. He was so preoccupied, I asked him what the matter was, and he turned to me, suddenly very serious. ‘It’s him, Miss Semple. I’m sure of it now. I don’t know what he told Dana, but he’s lying, and she’s fallen for it.’ Well, that was good enough for me. We had to decide what to do. Jon was for staying in the parking lot all night, but I told him we’d both freeze or catch our death. So we drove until we found an all-night diner. Do you know, I’d never been in a place like that. All kinds of people were there, taxi drivers, ambulance workers, people who’d had a bit too much to drink, it was very interesting.
“We had our second supper, chatted, even drank some wine, the time passed very quickly. He’s quite lovely, I do hope Mrs. Preston appreciates him. Then we got back in the car, it’s very sturdy, all-weather tires, seats that heat up like Jeremy’s. He drove us to the parking lot, and we waited until we knew you were safely out of there, Dana. And since you were determined to go back, we did too.
