Trip Wire (7 page)

“Be cool. I’ll see you in a bit. I’m going to get out of here now. I’m beat.”

She let me walk a few feet before calling to me. “I forgot. You know who else was here? Asking about you?”

“Nat.”

“Right. Did you have a bad scene with him?”

I just shook my head.

“You’re acting so weird. What’s going on with you, Sandy?”

“Nothing. Everything. Like I said, it’s all shit.”

8

I made it home without encountering Nat. And by that time, the shame response was taking hold; I knew I should call him and apologize for the way I treated him.

Just the same, I took a cautionary look around before I opened the lobby door. And I kept looking back while I climbed the stairs.

But with all that, I let my guard down a few seconds too soon. When I reached our landing I took off one of my mittens and stuffed it into my coat pocket, which must have given the guy just enough time to fly at me like a hungry bird.

As soon as I had the apartment door open, he struck from behind. He shoved me inside and slammed the door shut after us. Before I could scream, a woolen gag was shoved into my mouth by a gloved hand. I tried to twist out of his grip but soon stopped, knowing my arm would break like old spaghetti. In a second my hands were tied behind my back. He executed it perfectly. When my legs gave way, he snatched me back up to full height. His garment was slick against me, and I could smell the snow on it. As he jerked my head about, my face brushed against the jagged metal teeth of the zipper on his jacket.

I had the craziest thought then:
If I have to die, at least I’ll know who killed Wilton.
Because surely the same bastard who had murdered Mia and Wilt was about to slaughter me, too. Maybe I’d get a look at his face just before he did it. Be quick, you bastard. Just make it quick.

I was pushed onto the floor of the hall closet then. “Be quiet,” he said. The way he whispered, those two words seemed to be the most horrible ones in the world. He locked me in.

I shivered and twisted as I sensed him roaming through the apartment.

After I’m dead, I told myself, Jack Klaus and the rest of them will be forced to get off their asses and find the murderer. Woody will make them find him. And it sure as hell won’t be Dan Zuni with his bony frame and wrists like a girl’s. No way. I was getting killed by a big strong man, thank you.

Then I heard the clang of metal in the kitchen, drawers opened and slammed closed again. Knives. The worst. Oh, Lord, he was going to cut my throat. I began to weep and pray and beg for my life, all that eloquence dying inside the spittle-soaked gag.

There came a ripping noise on the other side of the door. Close. He was so close now. The lock sprung. Doorknob turning ever so slightly. Sliver of light. The son of a bitch was good. He was downright theatrical. Maximum terror.

Pee began to soak my leggings. So undignified to leave this world pissing on yourself. But it couldn’t be helped. I’d talked about so many things with Owen, with Wilton, with other people whose heads I respected. But not about how to die well. Get ready. People, get ready. The words to that Curtis Mayfield song made all the sense in the world now.

Then it all changed. And the change was beautiful. Now there was silence. Just silence. Oh my God, he was gone.

I waited another minute, nothing but my heartbeat for company, and then I began to buck and thrash for all I was worth. I fell out of the closet and used the knob to try to work out the knot in the rope around my wrist. I could see my knapsack on the floor of the living room. It was slit open, top to bottom, all my things scattered—notepad, Life Savers, lipstick, coin purse.

I sweated with the effort to free myself for a good ten minutes before I heard voices in the corridor. I stopped struggling, sat there waiting, mouth full of yarn.

The boy Jordan, usually so incurious, stared down at me in confusion. A second later Cliff appeared, face red, dripping snow, a Coca-Cola in one hand.

Apparently the two of them were going to stand there gaping at me all night. So I had to wake them the fuck up. I kicked out like a mule and barely missed shattering Cliff’s ankle.

9

It was all over now. Cliff’s complexion was like a raw biscuit. He was scared out of his wits, but as the only man in the apartment, he took charge. The reluctant knight had a urine-soaked maiden and an underfed, semiautistic boy to look after.

First thing he did after untying me was to barricade the front door with a chair. Then he put Jordan and his bag of Jays potato chips into the living room. He came into my room, not even knocking first, caught me half-dressed, stuttered out his frightened question: “Sandy, were you raped?”

I shook my head.

“What did he do to you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it. “Nothing,” I said at last.

“What?”

“He turned me into a sniveling, pathetic animal. But he didn’t do anything to me,” I shouted.

“Oh, man.”

“Yeah.”

“And you never saw him?”

“A fucking animal,” I cried out. “No, I didn’t see him.”

It was queer. The softer his voice grew, the louder mine became. I screamed at poor Cliff, “What did he take?”

“Take?”

I peeled away from him, ran into the living room, the kitchen, Annabeth’s room, the sunporch. Everything in place: the stereos, the half-dozen clock radios in the apartment, Taylor’s watch, Barry’s electric razor, household money in the flowerpot. He hadn’t even stolen my wallet, which I found beneath the coffee table.

With Cliff at my heels, I opened the door to what had been Wilton and Mia’s room. It was chaos inside. Drawers turned out, books swept from the shelves, throw rug turned over.

The scene terrified me all over again. But at least now it made some kind of sense. Now I understood. I saw that I had been in no real danger. Whoever that was, he needed to get inside the apartment and then neutralize me while he searched for something—literally, some
thing.
I had no clue what that could be. But it had something to do with Wilton and Mia. The guy even knew which room had been theirs. He had taken something we never knew we had. It had belonged to Wilton, or maybe to Mia, or, just possibly, to the thief himself.

I thought about the noiseless way the intruder had left, just crept away, how he’d unlocked the closet door and cracked it so that I could get air and get out. Almost like he was apologizing. It meant he’d found what he came for. Sorry for the inconvenience.

I was back in my body now. Fingers, toes, all there. Breathing free again. The relief came from knowing there had been some object to the guy’s terrorizing me. I was also relieved, not to mention ashamed for even entertaining the idea, that it could not have been Nat Joffrey who’d done those things to me. Yes, for an instant there, at the very beginning of the assault, I had actually thought Nat, the professional pacifist, was mad enough to rape or even kill me.

Cliff got the kid into his pajamas and settled in his room.

“What’s he doing here, anyway?” I asked. “I thought the county welfare people took him.”

“They did. But Crash got him out last night. He told Jordan he was just going to the store this morning, but he’s not back yet. Who knows when Bev’s coming home. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is he flipping over what happened to me?”

“Ten years with those assholes, Jordan doesn’t flip over anything. He just needs some sleep.”

“There’s something else, Cliff. Did Barry mention where he was heading when he left the house today?”

“I don’t think so.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“No.”

“He’s up to something. It’s either a good thing—something brave—or something that stinks.”

I started with the exchange I’d had with Jack Klaus and told Cliff everything that had happened during this singular day. I omitted my humiliation at Owen’s place. But otherwise, I came clean.

“Did you call that cop Norris? Or the one you went to this morning?”

“No. And I’m not going to.”

“Why not? Some crazy fuck tied you up. That’s kidnapping or something.”

“I’m not doing it, Cliff. I told you, the guy got what he came after and he won’t be back. Besides, the police are doing a real bad number on us. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t trust them. They’re trying to frame Dan, and Klaus is some kind of front for them.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. He just looked sad, and kind of beaten.

“What do you think’s gonna happen to Jordan?” he said finally.

“To who?”
His irrelevant question enraged me. “How should I know?”

“I know. He’s gonna have it awful. His life’ll be shit. Probably end up hacking his foster mother to death.”

“So now the biggest problem in our lives is Jordan?”

He pulled himself up slowly. “I’m sorry. I try to keep focused. But I can’t. I’m too bummed out. I guess I’m just not as together as you are.”

“Me? You think my shit’s together? Cliff, that’s a joke.”

“No, it’s not. You’re the youngest one of all of us, but you’re the one who’s taking all the licks.”

“I want to know why Wilton died. I have to know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Believe me, I get that. But you’re also keeping the rest of us together.”

“I’m taking Mia’s place, you mean.”

“No. Not like her. In your own way. The thing is . . . It’s over anyway.”

“What is?”

“The commune.”

“Why? Because I might move back in with my folks? So what? You guys lived here before I moved in. You can get other people.”

He shook his head. “Nobody’s gonna stay here, Sandy. Soon as the police close out the murder, we’re going to break up. I know it.”

“You can get another apartment.”

“No. Taylor’s got a woman now. He’ll probably go live with her. Beth’s parents have money. She’ll get an apartment in some fancy neighborhood, like they wanted her to do in the first place.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll go home, I guess. I kind of want to anyway.”

“You’re not going back to school?”

“I could go someplace in Connecticut. I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“Don’t be stupid. You could get drafted. You want to go to Vietnam, man?”

He shrugged. “Cary went. They killed him over there, and the same thing’ll happen to me. Who cares?”

“Come on, Cliff. Don’t.”

“Remember how we all used to be so fucking glad to be with each other? Bunch of people. All like each other. Respect each other. Wanna do what we have to do without all the hippie nonsense. Live right. Like Wilton used to say, Live right. That’s how you change the world. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Well, maybe in the next fucking world.”

All that anguish and cynicism just sounded pathetic coming from an overgrown boy in a green reindeer sweater. Cliff took a distressed-looking handkerchief from his back pocket and turned away from me while he blew his nose.

“Feel like smoking?” I asked.

“No.”

“How about some hot tea?”

“I don’t want it.”

“Then make me some.”

I ran a tub while he was in the kitchen, stripped out of my funky clothes and threw my leggings into the trash.

I peeked out of the bathroom door and saw him sitting quietly in the kitchen, staring at the steaming kettle.

Well, what now, Lord?

In a few minutes he came crashing in with the big yellow mug. “Ex-cuse me, going off like that. After what you went through, I shouldn’t—God, I’m dumb.”

“Cliff, you’re in the bathroom with me. And I don’t have on any clothes.”

He set the cup on the toilet seat, and in the same gesture, it seemed, he had his arms around me. He pushed the hair away from my forehead, brought my face close to his. “Where’re you coming from, Sandy? How’d you get to be so great?”

I didn’t know what to say. But I noticed something I never had before. Cliff’s eyelids. They were so light, it was as if you could blow gently on them and they’d float away, like that fuzzy flower that grew wild in the country.

He kissed me, kept on.

I began to cooperate. As he pulled me closer, I felt the damp wool of his sweater against my bare breasts.

“You never thought about me like this?” he said.

“No.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

And his funny face was sweeter than I remembered, too, especially that lump at the end of his nose.

We kissed more.

“I did,” he said. “A lot. I wanted to be with you a lot.”

“I stink, Cliff. Wait.”

“No. Don’t make me.”

Were we going to do it on the spot, standing up? Would we just roll into my room? Or were we going to try to fit our substantial young bodies into the tub?

I stepped into the warm water, and he pulled quickly out of his sweater and thermal undershirt. He picked up the sponge and began to soap me while I worked at the buttons of his jeans.

I had my hands on the last one, the pants just starting to slide off his ass, when we heard the ruckus. Annabeth and Taylor were pounding hysterically on the blocked door.

I splashed out of the tub, threw on a robe—I don’t know whose it was—and hurried to let them in. With everything that had happened, I knew they must be thinking the worst.

10

Taylor was carrying an outsize pizza. Once he saw that all was well, he began to ride Cliff for the makeshift barricade at the front door.

“Stop picking on him,” Annabeth said. “Building a fortress sounds like a damn good idea to me. Let’s get some plates, Sandy. I hate cold pizza.”

But I didn’t move toward the cabinet.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look like that?”

“Somebody was in here,” I said.

Taylor set the pizza carton down carefully, eyes on me.

“Somebody was in here. Tonight. He jumped me.”

Annabeth stared hard at me. “What are you talking about? Cliff, what’s she talking about?”

“I was jumped. After I left you at the store. He—tied me up.”

She moaned.

While I explained, she was taking it all in, but at the same time she was shaking her head, denying the words even as I spoke them.

Taylor stepped across the hall and opened the door on the devastation in Wilt and Mia’s room. “Wow,” he said slowly. “This is so fucked up.”