The cop pulls over. He steps out of the car. He closes the door.
"Explain "I know what you did.""
"You killed your wife."
He laughs. "Is that what you think?"
I blink a few times. G.o.d, the light still stings. My ears are never going to stop ringing. My skull feels like it split open and the pieces are moving around.
"I don"t understand."
"Of course you don"t," he says.
"I"m not delusional and I"m not crazy."
"Everyone says that." He sighs. "Everybody who"s crazy says they"re not. You can"t be crazy and know you"re crazy, can you, after all? No, Alexis. After you spend some time resting and recuperating, you"ll understand. My son, Howard, recognized how fragile you were and planted all these warped ideas in your mind in an attempt to seduce you and turn you against me. That"s what happened."
"That"s not true. You"re a killer and criminal and a monster."
"That"s your delusions talking. After you spend some time resting up in the hospital, you"ll see the truth."
"No!" I scream, "No, you can"t!"
He motions with his hand and the driver gets back in the car.
"Stop!" I scream at him. "Listen to me, he"s going to put me in a psych ward! I"m not crazy, you have to listen to me. Please, officer. This is wrong. There"s nothing wrong with me. Listen to me. I"m begging you please listen to me." My words melt into sobs, and hot tears sting my cheeks. "Don"t let him do this to me. Please. Please. Please."
"Shut up," the cop says coldly.
I sink back into the seat, sobbing.
The world rolls by, pressing in against the gla.s.s, and every bitter memory floods back into my mind. I feel the restraints on my arms, feel the needle slide into my b.u.t.tock, the heat as the chemicals flush into my flesh. I remember every iota of anger and resentment I felt for Hawk and each drop of it is a tiny core of hate, not for him, for me. I held anger for him in my heart, and now this has happened. Someone help me.
Don"t let them kill him. They"ll kill him this time. Please G.o.d don"t let them kill him. Somebody help us.
n.o.body answers me.
I go quiet, sobbing softly to myself, lying on the stinking seat that smells like dried perspiration and rotten soda and p.i.s.s. I curl up in a ball and resign myself to the inevitable, a dark pit of agonized dread forming in my stomach, and sink into it. They killed him. Hawk is dead, he"s dead, he"s dead.
No he"s not. I can feel it. I don"t know how I can but I can feel it, he is not dead and he is going to come for me.
"Where"s my sister?" I croak.
"That depends on how cooperative she is," Tom says. "Instability seems to run in your family. Fortunately, May wasn"t present when you and Howard attacked my son." He says it as if Hawk isn"t also his son. "If she"s cooperative and understanding, I"ll give her a chance. If not, well, there"s room for one more in the rubber room. Not that you"ll be seeing her again."
I can"t stop myself, I start crying again, curl up in the seat and watch as we drive through Paradise Falls, all the way through town. The cars behind us peel off, some heading for the police station. I didn"t see Hawk after they threw him on the ground. They could have blown his brains out right there and there would be nothing he could do about it. When the idea hits me, the image follows and my mind paints a vivid picture of his blood painted across the earth, fanned out on the soil and tall gra.s.s, and I can"t help but scream and pound my feet on the floor.
"She"s crazy," the cop says in a droll voice.
Let me out, let me out.
They keep driving. Over the bridge, beyond. Onto the highway. People look at me. People in other cars. They see me with my running tears and red eyes, they see me scream through the gla.s.s and they just drive on like I"m not here. I"m locked up in the back of a cop car, I must deserve it. I lean my head on the gla.s.s and sob, and the car just keeps rolling.
By the time we finally stop, my arms are on fire, my shoulders raw knots of paint, my wrists sc.r.a.ped and bruised, my ankles throbbing. The cop gets out first and Tom follows, and there"s men outside, orderlies in scrubs, big men and they have a gurney. As they come for me, I scoot to the other side of the car and curl up, try to push into the door and get away but it"s no good. I kick with both feet and they just grab my ankles and yank me bodily out of the car.
"I"m not crazy!" I wail. "How can you do this? Somebody help!"
There are others here, other people. A couple walks into the front of the hospital, headed for the big slowly revolving doors, and they stop and look and shake their heads, heavy with pity, and keep walking. They think I"m nuts. They think I"m supposed to be here. It"s happening again and I can"t stop it, help me, help me, help me!
I"m up in the air and I flop face down on the gurney. The cuffs snap loose from my wrists and ankles and I try to scramble loose even if it means planting face first on the pavement, but it doesn"t matter, they turn me over, five men hold me down and tighten leather cuffs around my arms and legs and pull nylon straps over my chest and hips and they tie me down to the gurney and roll me inside.
The sweltering heat pa.s.ses into ice cold and florescent lights slide over my head, each one that much closer to h.e.l.l. The gurney turns, a sickening lurch in my stomach following it, and heads down another hall. I don"t remember this place, I don"t know if I was here before, but I feel it, feel the walls reaching into crush me, the lights overhead sliding down to grasp me in red hot fingers and choke out my life. I beg and I plead, my words melting into a wordless blubber as the gurney wheels into a plain white room and stops, and then everyone leaves.
They turn off the lights, leaving only a pale thin rectangle of white casting a glow across the room. I start screaming.
I scream until my throat burns and goes hoa.r.s.e, and I can"t anymore. I lay there sobbing silently until the door opens and my mother walks in.
I pull against my bonds.
"Mom," I rasp. "Please listen to me." She brushes a lock of hair out of my face and caresses my cheek. "Mom," I beg her, "Please. Please. You have to get away from him."
"From who, sweetie?"
"From Tom, I"m begging you. He"s a monster. He killed his first wife."
My mother laughs softly, and sighs.
"What are you laughing at?"
"I have to laugh, or I"ll cry," she says, caressing my arm. "Your delusional, honey. Tom isn"t some kind of criminal. It"s all in your head."
"Hawk will come for me-"
"Hawk was dest.i.tute," she says, smiling. "He came begging for a place to stay, and Tom caught him trying to force himself on you, the way he forced himself on you when you were younger. Don"t you remember?"
"No, no that"s bulls.h.i.t and you"re lying. I love him. I"ve always loved him. He came back for me."
"It"s okay, dear. He"s going to go away for a long time. He"ll never hurt you again."
"He never hurt me," I hiss at her. "You hurt me, you cold evil b.i.t.c.h. Tom killed his first wife, and I hope he kills you too."
She laughs.
"Tom killed his wife. Is that what you believe?"
She leans down, to whisper in my ear.
"That"s insane."
"It"s not, we have proof."
She laughs, so close to my ear I can feel her breath.
"No, you stupid little s.l.u.t. Tom didn"t kill his wife. I did."
She stands, still smiling, and strides out of the room.
The door slams closed, and swallows my screams.
Hawk Now They"re going to shoot me in the head and kill me.
Or so I think. Instead they pick me up, two Paradise Falls cops. They pull me up by the arms, torquing my shoulders, and drag me to their cruiser.
"You"re f.u.c.ked," one of them says, calmly.
"I"m a.s.serting my right to remain silent," I rasp.
My head is splitting, my ears are shrieking, my eyes are burning, and I feel like I just got tumble dried again. They throw me in the back seat and I barely get my feet out of the way before they slam the door.
The pair get in the car, and we drive. I sit up and watch Alexis" car in front of me. I can see her, just barely. The world is swirling around me. Eventually the ringing and the blindness will stop.
"Good job with the flashbang," I croak out. "I guess you guys were too p.u.s.s.y to come at me straight on."
The cop in the pa.s.senger seat laughs and nods at me. "Yeah, go ahead and provoke us, tough guy."
"I need two s.h.i.tkicker cops to wipe my a.s.s. Why don"t you two uncuff me and we can go one at a time or both at once, your preference."
"One at a time or both at once," the driver says. "Sounds like what your girlfriend is in for."
Snarling, I pull my feet up and hammer the gla.s.s part.i.tion with my heels. Both men jump and the car lurches as the driver wrestles it back under control.
"Do that again, f.u.c.khead," the pa.s.senger says, "and you"ll be shot for resisting arrest, feel me?"
"Arrest for what?"
They both laugh.
"Boy," the pa.s.senger says, "You"re in deep s.h.i.t. You"re up on a dozen charges."
"Like what?"
"We"ll think of something," the other one says. "You rubbed another man"s rhubarb. That doesn"t fly around here."
f.u.c.kers.
Nothing in the back I can use as a weapon, and I"m not getting these cuffs off. At least it"s a fairly short drive back to Paradise Falls. I look around at the other cars, trying to spot the girls. I think I can see Alexis, but I can"t spot May. I keep my trap shut as we head into town, and one of the cars peels off. I see May"s nose pressed against the gla.s.s. It looks like it"s heading back to the house, the car carrying her. Ahead of us, Alexis" car, I think, keeps going as we turn off, headed for downtown.
"Where are they taking her?"
"Shut up."
I look around, get my bearings. We"re headed for City Hall and the munic.i.p.al complex. The police station is a squat, brute, ugly building that sticks out from behind the older City Hall and so on, a rectangular blockhouse with a holding pen on the second floor and concertina wire around the roof. My car and two others pull in, and the occupants form a ring around my car, hands on their guns.
"Take it real easy," the pa.s.senger cop says. "We"re taking you inside, gonna get you your new digs until the boss comes back to deal with you."
"The boss?"
No answer. They step out, and the ring of cops moves closer. One of them, I think the one who sat in the pa.s.senger seat, draws his piece while the driver opens the door. I swing my legs out and they all tense up as I stand. With a gun pointed in my face, they walk me inside. The pavement cuts my bare feet.
"Easy there, Tex."
The cop with the gun snorts. "Shut up."
Sighing, I walk inside, leaving red streaks on the floor. The police station looks like the set from a low budget 70s cop show. Everything is coffee colored and worn down, and a dozen pencils stick in the ceiling. Most of the first floor is open desks, with some offices behind frosted gla.s.s, painted with the occupant"s names. Half the force must be here, escorting me. Not that they have much to do with the state police providing all the police and public services for the town, or so I"m told. They keep walking me back until I stop in front of a heavy door.
"Welcome to the fish tank."
The cop with the gun opens the door and motions me in. Inside it"s a concrete room, like a bunker, with a one-way window on the far side. An interrogation room. Two more draw their guns and cover me as they uncuff me, pull my arms around to the front, and use leg shackles to bind me to a steel ring in the middle of the bolted-down table. I settled into the bolted-down chair and they finally step back and put up their pieces.
"See you later," one of them snaps.
The cops file out and the door slams, and closes with a heavy, dull thud.
I have to f.u.c.king get out of here.
First I stand up and pull on the chain. It"s not going to break, but that ring might. Getting the door open is step two, but right now, all I care about is step one. The ring is just screwed down, regular machine screws in the middle of the table. I lean back and pull, put my back and legs into it, and feel a surge in my chest when the table creaks.
Nothing. It doesn"t budge. If I had a f.u.c.king quarter I could probably get it loose.
Desperate, I sit down, plant my elbows on the table, and contract my arms, pulling that way. Nothing. I try putting my feet on the table leg, but they just slip off. I can"t get any leverage.
Nothing in my pockets, not even a quarter to try turning the screws. d.a.m.n it, d.a.m.n it, d.a.m.n it all to h.e.l.l.
"Hey!"
I freeze, and look up.
There"s a window about the size of a s...o...b..x in the top of the wall, with two bars set in it, as if anyone can escape through an opening that small. Outside there"s a gla.s.s window, the kind that cranks open. It"s been pulled up, and Jennifer Katzenberg"s face fills the opening.
"Hey!"
I stand up. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing here?"
"Get away from the wall."
"What?"
"Get away from the wall!"