by Jonas Saul
“Who is it, honey?” Amelia shouted from behind him.
Caleb hollered back over his shoulder. “A friend of Sarah’s.”
“Be polite. Invite them in at least.”
Caleb stepped aside and held the door. Violeta read the disinterest on his face with having to deal with one of Sarah’s friends. Or maybe he just didn’t like uninvited guests.
She walked over the threshold, feeling every bit a vampire who needed an invitation into the home of the people she would consume. The screen door closed with a slap behind her.
“Since Sarah won’t take my offer, I wondered if I could leave it behind with you two.”
“No, that won’t work,” Caleb said. “Sarah won’t take it from us on your behalf as much as she wouldn’t from you.”
“I thought you’d say that. You see, I too, have a daughter.”
Amelia entered the front foyer, a dishtowel in her hands.
“What is that you’re cooking?” Violeta asked. “Smells wonderful.”
“I’m making paella tonight,” Amelia said. She had aged into a beautiful woman. The kind Violeta had seen in magazines offering life insurance plans for people about her age. “I have to get back to the stove, but I have a quick second. What’s this all about?”
“Well, my husband left me four months ago,” Violeta said, wiping at the corner of her eye as if she was about to cry. “He traveled to Europe to escape justice because of what he had been doing to my daughter.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Amelia said, turning to look at her husband. They exchanged a glance, but Violeta couldn’t tell if they were buying what she was selling yet. At least Caleb wasn’t.
“It was Sarah who stopped the abuse.” Then she set her face to a look of dismay. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How rude of me. Are you aware of what your daughter can do?”
“Yes,” Caleb said. He did not look impressed. If it wasn’t for Amelia, Caleb probably wouldn’t have invited her inside and this meeting would have already gone to the gun stage.
“Sarah came to me a year ago,” she said, hoping her lies would at least allow them to get away from the front door before she had to pull the gun out. “She told me what was happening in my home. She even went so far as to predict the time and place that another event,” she used air quotes for that word, “would happen.” She sniffled.
“Caleb, can you get her a Kleenex?”
Caleb grunted and walked off.
“Why don’t you come in and I’ll get you a glass of water?”
“What I really need is a hammer.”
Amelia frowned. “A hammer?” she asked, tentatively.
Violeta pulled out a locket. “Inside this pretty gold locket is a picture of my husband and me on our honeymoon. I thought it appropriate if I broke it in the home of Sarah’s kin. She saved my daughter’s life. I would be paying homage to Sarah the only way I know how.”
Caleb returned with Kleenex and handed one to Violeta. She made a display of blowing her nose, and then scrunched the Kleenex up and dropped it in the pocket with the gun.
“Okay, I have to get back to the stove,” Amelia said. She turned to her husband. “This won’t take a moment. Caleb, go get this nice lady.” She stopped and turned to Violeta. “I’m sorry, we didn’t get your name.”
“Violeta Payne.”
“Haven’t we heard that name around here?”
“You might have.” She told them about her business and the distribution warehouse she owned. “My husband and I have operated out of Santa Rosa for some time now.”
Amelia waved her index finger. “I thought I’d heard of you.” She turned back to Caleb. “Honey, I’m going back to the kitchen. Go to the toolbox in the basement and get the hammer. We’re going to break a locket at the kitchen table before dinner.”
“But, Amelia, aren’t we—”
“Shhh.” She touched his lips with her finger. “Just do it. We’ll eat in ten minutes and watch Sons of Anarchy after that.”
Caleb looked between the two women then headed for the stairs.
Amelia ran for the kitchen. “I can’t let the paella burn. Come on up and have a seat at the table.”
Violeta followed Sarah’s mother to the kitchen. From outside, Violeta had thought it was a bungalow, but the house was a back split. Halfway through the living room, stairs led to the kitchen and more stairs went above that to the bedrooms. Caleb had descended a set of stairs to the left that led to the basement. There were many benefits to this design that Violeta picked up on right away, one of them was being able to survey the entire living room area from the kitchen, separated by a small white railing.
For people on their income, they had extra nice furniture. The suede sofa set belonged in a more expensive home than this one, but not everyone could have Violeta’s money.
Not everyone can be like me.
She shuffled across the floor, using her cane in an animated fashion. At the stairs, she used the railing and took her time.
If Sarah only knew where I was right now.
Violeta grinned so wide her teeth showed.
“You look happy,” Amelia said. She stood over a large wok, stirring the contents with a big wooden spoon.
“Very happy.” Violeta leaned on the corner of the kitchen table. “This concludes a terrible era of my life.”
Footsteps on the stairs behind her announced Caleb’s return. He set the hammer on the table in front of Violeta.
“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all,” Caleb said, catching his breath from the stairs. “But let’s do this and then we have a dinner to get to.”
You bastard.
“I’m sorry to be keeping you from your dinner. The last thing I wanted was to inconvenience you.” She bowed her head and stared at the locket. She could almost feel the look Amelia just gave Caleb. “I’ll be gone in less than a minute.”
Caleb stepped back and leaned against the counter beside his wife as she stirred their meal.
Their last meal.
The perfect family. The nice daughter. The small humble home and home-cooked meals. They had everything and nothing. It disgusted her to no end that people like this actually thought they were happy. How could they excel in life? Where would they go from here? Making dinner, watching a TV show and pretending to be in love? If they were really in love, why was Caleb coming off so angry? The man obviously had issues, which probably came as a result of the woman he married.
He leaned back on the counter, his hands flat. She wondered what he was up to.
She sniffled. “I need to blow my nose again,” Violeta said. She reached into the pocket with the Kleenex and the gun and wrapped her hand around the grip, slipping her finger inside the trigger guard.
As she did this, Caleb moved. Suddenly she realized what he was doing.
The knife block.
His right hand was touching the knife block’s base. He didn’t trust her with a hammer and he was ready to attack with lethal force.
Well, fuck him!
All in one motion, she withdrew the gun, aimed it between their heads at the fan above the stove, and fired before either one had a chance to scream.
Chapter 37
Sarah pulled the ambulance over about a half a mile from her parent’s house. It was a little bit of a walk, but she didn’t want the vehicle discovered near her parent’s home.
Her headache had increased and fatigue set in to the point where she wondered if she closed her eyes for a few seconds, would she fall asleep. As a set of headlights passed, she had to squint. Driving had become a chore, which made it dangerous. She was close enough to walk now and the two men in the back had to be let out eventually.
She placed the two guns she took from the men in Parkman’s apartment in the back of her pants, handles facing outwards towards her hips, and then got out of the ambulance.
The key slipped into the lock effortlessly, making no sound whatsoever. Leaving the key in the door would allow whoever showed up to easily open
it and let the two men out.
See, I still care. I’ve got a heart.
The walk would take five minutes or so under her present condition. Going too fast, getting her heart rate up, would only cause her migraine to pulse more than she could bear at the moment. Even with a high pain threshold, getting shot in the head was off the charts.
As soon as she got to her parent’s house, she would place an anonymous call about two men in the back of a modified ambulance on Piner Road, just outside of town.
She walked on, her feet heavier with each step.
Why aren’t the Advils doing anything yet?
Off in the distance, a police siren turned on. Suddenly back to full alert, Sarah turned around, trying her best to ignore the flaring pain.
The siren was coming from somewhere behind her. She increased her pace, trying to put distance between her and the ambulance. About a mile back, a police car turned a corner, the lights on the roof flashing, its headlights blinking on and off, the engine revving.
She had to turn away and close her eyes. After a deep breath, she dropped down the embankment and entered the vineyard that stretched across a rolling field. It sat directly behind her parent’s house. She still had a full five-minute walk to get to the house, but this way no one would see her in the dark and she could enter through the back door.
Less than a minute later, the police car stopped and the siren abated. She stopped along the edge of a row of grapes and turned back to see what they were doing.
The cop car had stopped at the ambulance. The side door was open and the two men in the back were just getting out as she watched.
What the hell?
How could anyone know that fast? Unless they were tracking the vehicle and she just got out in time.
That meant they would know how close she was. If they were to do any fast research on her, they would also discover where she was headed.
Maybe she shouldn’t go home right now. The last thing she wanted was to walk in the front door, say hello to dear old mom and dad, explain how she had been shot in the head, and then get arrested for some stupid assault charge.
A warm night under the stars in the vineyard would be better.
Perhaps her headache would be gone by the morning and she could think better, figure things out.
She had never been this lethargic. Aggressiveness was more her nature. But what could she do with her head hurting this bad?
The ground was grassy under her feet. She found a spot relatively secluded from the road where she sat and rested her back against a stake with a vine tied to it.
Her eyes fluttered in the dark, then closed.
Maybe she would just rest for a few moments then decide what to do.
Chapter 38
Amelia recoiled from the sound of the gunshot so violently that she hit the wall beside the stove and then crumpled to the floor, a look of utter shock on her face.
Caleb had jumped up and landed on the edge of the counter, but then dropped fast to the kitchen floor and ducked his head low while staying on his feet.
As Violeta turned her aim toward him, he glanced at the knife block on the counter, but now it was too far away.
“Don’t even think about it,” Violeta said.
Amelia whimpered on the floor, her hands partially covering her surprised face.
Smoke billowed up from the wok on the stove as the paella began to burn.
“Caleb, stand up, and then come and sit down at the table.” She jerked the tip of the gun, gesturing for him to move. “You too, Amelia. Come, sit down. We need to talk.”
Violeta edged backwards until she was at the entrance to the kitchen, wanting to keep at least five feet between her and Caleb. He was the hero of the family. He was the alpha male. She had to stay ready for his charge.
The sound of the sizzling paella increased as did the smoke. She would have to make this quick or turn the stove off.
“Faster,” she shouted.
Caleb sat in the chair as he was told and stared at his wife who was struggling to get off the floor.
“Hands on the table,” Violeta said. “Lock the fingers. Anything other than what I ask gets you killed.”
The hammer was in Caleb’s reach now, but that was what she wanted. At least Caleb hadn’t tested her yet by reaching for it.
Violeta moved closer and gently placed the tip of the gun against Caleb’s head, pressing it behind his left ear.
“My daughter shot your daughter in the head earlier this week.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her stance in case Caleb jumped up. “Move and I’ll do the same to you. Go ahead, be the hero. Act the tough guy. You’ll look good in a suit and tie,” she leaned closer to his ear, “in your fucking coffin. A cheap pine box. Then how will you provide for your family, huh?”
Amelia scrambled across the floor on her knees after having abandoned her efforts to stand and walk.
Firing the gun in their kitchen, shocking the shit out of them, had quelled any ideas of rebellion. Inwardly, she was so proud of herself for having thought of it.
Be aggressive or go home.
In Caleb’s eyes she saw what amounted to acquiescence. At least for now.
Amelia crawled up into the chair opposite Caleb and stared across the table at him.
“What do you want?” Caleb asked.
Smoke billowed along the ceiling of the kitchen. Maybe five more minutes before the house would be too smoky to stay. But she couldn’t back away from Caleb yet.
“Amelia,” Violeta said. “Pick up the hammer.”
Amelia continued to stare at Caleb.
“Pick it up!” Violeta screamed. “Or watch your husband die on your kitchen table because that’s what we’re having for dinner. A brain roast.”
Amelia took the handle of the hammer into her hand, but kept it on the table.
“Caleb, put your right hand in the center of the table, fingers splayed. Do it now.”
Caleb moved his hand without hesitation.
“I have no beef with you two. Neither one of you have harmed me or my family. But your daughter has. And that asshole, Parkman. Since I can’t get my restitution with them, I choose you. Now, I really want to kill you both.” She paused to let that sink in. Amelia shuddered, then coughed as the smoke began to bother her. “But I won’t kill you if you do what I ask. And if you do, I will leave in five minutes and you’ll never see me again. Is that understood?”
Caleb’s head moved up and down so subtly she wouldn’t have noticed the movement if the gun hadn’t been pressed against his scalp.
“Good. Now, Amelia, I want you to use the business end of that hammer to smash your husband’s fingers. Are you willing to do that?”
Amelia swiveled her glazed, bloodshot eyes to meet Violeta’s gaze.
Oh, how I’m loving this. Who knew I was cut out to make people learn shit the hard way.
Amelia shook her head. “I can’t … I can’t hurt my husband. Please don’t ask me to do that—” She coughed again.
“What would happen if a mouse was loose in your house? What would you do?”
“What?” Amelia’s voice cracked.
“A mouse! What would you do if you found a mouse in your house?”
“We would kill it or try to get it out,” Caleb answered for her.
“Right. Now, what happens if a bear wandered in your house and got aggressive with you and you had a rifle. What would you do?”
“Shoot it.”
“Right again. So Amelia, this situation is either the mouse or the bear. Is your husband a mouse or a bear? If he’s a mouse, kill it with the hammer. But if you can’t, that means your husband is a bear and I’ll be forced to shoot him. This is entirely up to you, but we’re running out of time because that paella doesn’t smell as good anymore. You’ve got ten seconds to kill the mouse or face the alternative. Go.”
Amelia’s hand twitched.
Caleb nodded at her. “Go ahead, honey. I don’t mind. It’ll be oka
y. Fingers heal. Heads not so much.”
“Five seconds,” Violeta reminded her. “Listen to your husband.”
Amelia lifted the hammer. It wavered in the air as everything in her body was probably telling her not to do it.
“Make it count,” Violeta said. “Something has to break. Do it now.”
Amelia rose it higher, then brought the hammer down. It missed Caleb and dented a circular hole on the top of the wooden table.
