Spencerville

by Nelson DeMille

  Neither are you.

  What the fuck do you mean by that?

  She didn't reply.

  You want another strappin'?

  No.

  I'll bet not. So you don't love me. But you will. And when you finally say it, you're gonna mean it. Really mean it, from deep down inside of you. You're gonna say, 'Cliff, I love you.' And I'll tell you what—if I had my lie detector machine here, it would tell me that you're tellin' the God's honest truth. But I don't need the machine, sweetheart, 'cause when the day comes, I'll know it, and so will you.

  Never.

  Remember you said that. Meantime, be thankful I still love you, 'cause the minute I don't, you're dead. When you say your prayers tonight, pray that I still love you in the mornin'.

  When I say my prayers tonight, I'll pray for your soul, Cliff, and ask God to forgive you. I can't.

  He didn't like that and said to her, Go lock yourself to the floor.

  She turned and walked out of the kitchen, into the big living room, and knelt near the rocker by the fire. He came in behind her and watched as she put the shackle of the padlock around the chain and through the eyebolt and snapped the lock shut. She wrapped the blanket around her and under her buttocks and sat.

  He poked the fire and added another log, then stood watching the flames awhile. One of the dogs barked again, but he didn't seem to notice. Finally, he turned around and looked at her. He said, I told you, when I'm through with you, you ain't gonna be you. When that happens, you won't want to go back to Spencerville. Get used to this, sweetheart. This is it, forever. He pointed to the gray timber wolf head, mounted above the mantel. Just me, you, and these guys for company.

  Annie turned away from him and looked into the fire. A tear ran down her cheek.

  He turned on the small table lamp beside his chair, then shut off the floor lamp. He sat down and began reading a hunting magazine. After a few minutes, he looked up and spoke in a normal, almost conversational tone of voice. Tell you what, though. There's a guy out there someplace who fucked you, and if my boys get him and bring him here, or if he somehow comes here and I get him, then after he's dead, I might reconsider things. But meantime, you're stayin' here with me. You can think about that cock all you want, but you're never gonna see it again unless I got it in my hand and I'm feedin' it to the dogs.

  Annie wiped the tears from her face with the blanket.

  Don't cry, sweetheart. I know you're worried about me, darlin', but I can take care of myself. You found that out, didn't you? He laughed and went back to his magazine. Bitch.

  Annie sat in the rocker, feeling cold, hungry, violated, in pain, and exhausted. It had been a bad day, and there would be more of them. She looked at him, then closed her eyes and thought of Keith. She felt his presence inside her and tried to imagine that he was close by. She remembered what he'd said . . . even if we're separated for a short time, remember that I love you, and know that we'll be together again . . . I promise.

  What?

  Nothing.

  He went back to his magazine. He said, I bet I know what you're thinkin' about, and it might surprise you that I'm thinkin' the same thing. I hope he comes, too.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Keith found it difficult to sit and wait, but he knew that the later the hour, the more chance of catching Baxter with his guard down. The attacker, he reminded himself, always had the advantage of surprise and mobility, not to mention being psyched up for a fight. The defender had the advantage of having picked the place and prepared it to his liking, and, not inconsequentially, the advantage of creature comforts. But it was this last thing that sometimes lulled the defender into a fatal sense of security.

  Billy took a cellophane bag out of his pocket and ripped it open. You want some peanuts?

  No.

  Billy munched on the peanuts. He said, Maybe we don't have to kill the dogs. Now that I seen his setup there, I think we can take him from a distance. We just set up firing positions at the edge of the clearing, make a noise, and the dogs bark and he comes out onto that nice high deck and we plug his ass. We got scopes, and we can get off two, three rounds each before he knows what the fuck hit him.

  He's wearing a bulletproof vest.

  Ah, fuck his vest. When those rounds start slapping him around, he's gonna be hurt, even through the vest. And maybe we'll hit an arm or leg. Maybe his fucking head. What do ya think?

  I like the idea that you're thinking. Okay, he's down. Then what?

  Okay, after he's down, you move fast—a hundred yards to the house and up to the deck—that's maybe twelve, thirteen seconds, and meantime I'm still layin' down coverin' fire for you, so if he picks his fat ass up from the deck, I nail him again. If there's anything left of him when you get there, you cut his fucking throat. Then I'll come up and gut him. No, shit, Keith, I'm gonna gut him. Hey, if you want, I’ll rush him and you lay down the fire. Your call, Lieutenant.

  Keith glanced at Billy Marlon. Clearly, the man was enjoying himself, and he had every right to. He said, Standard fire and maneuver. Not bad. Safe for us.

  Yeah. Whoever's layin' down the covering fire is safe, and the guy who's rushin' the house has to trust the other guy to know how to shoot. You a good shot?

  Pretty good. You?

  Marlon hesitated, then said, Used to be the best. Depends now on how steady I can get.

  How steady can you get?

  For this motherfucker, steady as a rock.

  Keith nodded. He thought about Billy's idea. The infantry school would approve. But there were other things going on. A hostage for one, and Keith's image of himself and Baxter face-to-face, for another. They didn't cover any of that in tactics classes, or even in intelligence school. Revenge and payback was something you learned on your own. He said to Billy, There's a chance that Baxter could take cover before he's badly hurt. He could get around to the blind side of the house, or worse, he could get back into the house.

  Yeah . . . but—

  Look, a hundred yards isn't too long a shot, but at night and with the other guy wearing protective armor, it could be a disaster. I don't want him back in the house.

  Billy nodded but said, That's why you or me has to charge across that open space like we got a hundred gooks on our ass. We'll be on top of him before he can get his shit together. Even if he gets in the house, he's gonna be hurt.

  He could kill her.

  Keith, he's gonna be hit, because we both ain't missin' at that distance with scopes, so even if he makes it into the house, he ain't got nothin' on his mind except us and him. He ain't gonna bother her.

  Maybe.

  Hey, you got something else on your mind?

  Yes, I do. What I don't want to happen is one of us getting him with a lucky head shot. Keith added, I don't want him to die quickly. That's where I'm coming from. You have to know that.

  Billy stayed silent a moment and nodded slowly. Yeah . . . I already figured that out. Look, I don't want him to be standin' there one second and the next second he's lights-out with a slug through his brain, no pain, no eye-to-eye. Hell, I want to gut him alive. Alive, Keith, and watch his eyes when I hold his guts up in front of him. But if you're thinkin' we got to low-crawl up to that house and catch him with his thumb up his ass, I ain't buyin' it. I don't have that kind of nerve. Do you?

  Yes.

  Well, then you go ahead. I'll cover you from the trees. But you got to take those dogs out first.

  Right. That's why I bought the crossbow. Low-tech solution to a low-tech problem.

  I guess so. Billy added, Hey, what we want to do and what we can do is two different things. I'm givin' you the safe way to take this asshole out, and you're givin' me some commando shit.

  Billy, either way, you do the same thing. Just set up a firing position in the trees.

  Hey, I ain't worried about my useless ass. But I don't want you gettin' wasted out there in the open, or gettin' into that house and findin' out he's waitin' for you. I can't help you there, bu
ddy. He added, My way, when we get to him, he's either dead or hurt bad. Either way, I gut him.

  Keith took a deep breath and informed Billy, I think I want to take him alive.

  No way.

  Yes, I want to tie him up and throw him in the back of the pickup truck and bring him to the law. I've been thinking about it, and that's the way I want to do it. You think about it.

  I already thought about it, Keith. I know what you mean. He'd rather be dead than face the music for what he done. But I gotta tell you, the fucking law works funny. The law fucks me around, 'cause I'm dog shit, but I never hurt nobody. That motherfucker could walk.

  Keith considered that. Aside from all the humiliations that Baxter would face, in a year or two he could be loose on the world again. Cliff Baxter was sick, and the state might agree with Baxter's attorney that he needed therapy and counseling. He'd had a traumatic experience, seeing his wife in bed with another man, a slick seducer from out of town, and he did what any man would do: He beat up the boyfriend, then, instead of kicking his wife out, he took her on a little vacation and tried to work things out. Sure, he overdid it a bit, which is why he needed counseling. Keith thought about that and finally decided that, despite his promise to Annie, Cliff Baxter needed to die. He said, Okay . . . we waste him. But I have to do it up close. He's got to know it was me and you. v

  Okay . . . if that's what you need to make it right for you, I'm okay with that. I like it. Hope we can do it.

  We'll do it.

  Billy said, Hey, after we finish this shit, I'm goin' to Columbus to look her up. I couldn't do that while he was alive. You know?

  I know.

  I couldn't look nobody in the eye, Keith. I hung around that town, and I'd see him on the street, and he'd laugh at me. He'd arrest me sometimes when he saw ine drunk and take me in and make me go through a strip search, and the bastard took pictures, and he said he mailed some to Beth with him standin' next to me.

  Keith didn't respond.

  And you're probably wonderin' why I hung around. I'll tell you, because I was try in' to get up the nerve to kill him, but I never got the nerve . . . and I never was going to get it. Until you came along. He added, Remember, if I don't make it—

  Okay. Enough. Keith looked at Billy, sitting with his back to the tree, staring off into the dark. Billy Marlon, Keith thought, sober now and with the insight of all lost souls who saw things too clearly, had probably foreseen his own death, and Keith thought he might be right. But Billy had reached one of those rare moments in life, he thought, perhaps the rarest of moments, when it was equally good to live or die.

  They waited, listening to the infrequent night sounds of autumn— a chipmunk, a squirrel, a hare, an occasional bird. Keith looked up at the moon, which was nearly overhead now. It would set in perhaps three or four hours. That would be the time to move, except he needed the moonlight if he was going to use the crossbow on the dogs.

  Keith didn't want to think about what was going on in the house, but he thought about it. Undoubtedly, Cliff Baxter had snapped, and his possessiveness had turned to something far more ugly. Keith knew that Baxter would beat Annie, degrade her, and punish her for her unfaithfulness. In reality, Baxter was a sexual sadist who had finally found the excuse he was looking for to play out his sick fantasies on the woman he had never completely broken. Keith had every confidence that Baxter hadn't yet broken her, that when he saw her, she would be like he was—beaten and bloody, but unbowed.

  He put himself in the right mind-set for what was to come. He had to act rationally, coolly, and with the same cunning that he knew Baxter was capable of. He understood that Baxter could kill her anytime, but he was fairly certain that Baxter hadn't yet finished with her. What was going on between them now was the most exquisite thing that Baxter had ever done in his life, and he wasn't going to end it, except at the very last moment. And it was in that last moment, when they were face-to-face, that everything had to come together: rescue, revenge, and redemption, all long overdue.

  Billy said, I got this feelin' he knows we're here. I mean, he don't know, but he knows.

  Keith said, Doesn't matter. It doesn't change a thing, for him, or for us.

  Right. He's got himself in a corner. He thought a moment and said, I guess we're in a corner, too. We can leave, but we can't leave. You know?

  I do.

  Hey, I wish I had a smoke.

  Do you need a drink?

  Well . . . you got somethin?

  No. I'm asking you if you need a drink.

  I . . . do. But . . . it'll wait.

  You know, maybe you can get your life together after this, if you lay off the juice.

  Maybe.

  I'll help you.

  Forget it. We're even. Billy asked, Did you ever think we got fucked big-time?

  Yeah. So what? Every veteran since the first war got fucked big-time. Maybe you should stop feeling sorry for yourself. There's no war long enough or bad enough to mess up your head as bad as you messed it up yourself.

  Billy thought about that awhile, then replied, Maybe not your head. You was always together. My head couldn't take too much.

  Sorry.

  Tell you somethin' else, Keith—if you don't think you're a little fucked-up, too, you ain't listenin' to the bells and whistles, in your skull.

  Keith didn't reply.

  They waited another hour, mostly in silence. Finally, Billy said, Hey, remember that Findlay game in our senior year?

  No.

  I was playin' that day, halfback, and we was down seven to twelve, and I take the handoff and shoot off left tackle. They nailed my ass at the scrimmage line, but I didn't go down—I spun off and nipped the ball back to you. You was playin' fullback that day, remember? The Findlay bastards were all over you, but you chuck the long bomb out to some end—what the hell was his name? Davis. Right? And he didn't even know he was in the play, but he turns around, and the ball lands in his hands, and he gets hit and falls in the end zone. Touchdown. You remember that?

  Yes.

  Hell of a game. Goes to show you. Even when things are goin' wrong, if you hang in there, you can catch a break. I wonder if they still got a film of that?

  Probably.

  Yeah, I'd like to see that. Hey, do you remember Baxter from high school?

  No . . . actually, I do.

  Yeah, he was always a prick. You ever get into it with him?

  No, but I should have.

  Never too late to settle a score.

  That's just what he's thinking, and that's why we're all here.

  Yeah . . . but we never done nothing to him in school. 7 never done nothing to him. He just gets off on fucking with people. I can't understand why somebody didn't take him down long ago.

  Keith said, He picks on weak people.

  Billy Marlon didn't respond to that but said, Hey, he's really pissed at you. He laughed, then added, You know something, after I saw you in the bar, like the next day when my head was straight, I remembered about you and Annie Prentis. And I got this wild thought in my head that you and her was gonna meet and get it back together. How's that for smart thinkin'?

  Keith didn't reply.

  Billy went on, I guess he figured that out, too. You know, I used to see her sometimes on the street—I mean, I never knew her too good in school, but bein' we was old classmates, she'd always smile at me and say hello. Sometimes, she'd stop and talk a minute, you know, askin' me how I was doin'. I'd stand there, like not knowing what to say, thinkin' to myself, 'Your husband fucked my wife, and I should tell you that,' but of course, I never did. And I didn't want to talk too long, because I was afraid that if he saw me talkin' to his wife, he'd do somethin' nasty to me, or to her.

  Keith said, Maybe I should let you gut him alive.

  Billy looked at him and said, I don't need your permission to do that.

  This sort of surprised Keith, but it was a good sign for Billy. Keith said, We agreed that I give the orders.

  Bill
y didn't reply.

  Another hour passed, and it got cold. Keith looked at his watch. It was ten P.M. He was anxious to get moving, but it was too early. Baxter would be awake and alert, and so would the dogs.

  Keith saw that the moon was in the southwestern sky now, and he figured he still had about two or three hours of moonlight.

  Keith said, Okay, here's the way we're going to do this. We take out the dogs in the moonlight, we wait until moonset, I charge across that clearing, you cover, I get onto the deck and put my back to the wall near the sliding glass doors. Okay?

  So far.

  Now you have to draw him out. Can you bark like a dog?

  Sure can.

  Okay, you bark, he comes out, just like he did last time, only this time I'm behind him with a pistol to his head. Simple and safe. You see any problems with it?

  It sounds okay . . . they always sound okay, don't they?

  Right. Sometimes, they even work.

  Billy smiled. Remember them chalkboard sessions in football? Every play was a touchdown play. Same in the Army. But they never showed what happened when some of your guys got taken out, and nobody ever knew what the other side was plannin' on doin' to fuck you up.

  That's life.

  Yeah. He thought a moment and said, I think I fucked myself up. I didn't need no bad guys. He added, But I hung in there long enough to catch this break.

  They waited in the cold dark, wrapped in their canvas ponchos. At midnight, Keith stood, dropped his poncho on the ground, and said, Let's move.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Cliff Baxter put down his magazine and yawned. He finished his can of beer and scooped out a handful of pretzels from the bag and ate them. He looked at his wife in the rocking chair and threw a few pretzels on her blanket. Don't say I never give you treats. Eat up.

  She ignored the pretzels and didn't reply.

  He said, Ready for bed, darlin'?

  Still looking at the dying fire, she replied, No, I just want to sit here.