Read Online Beyond This Point Are Monsters by Margaret Millar - Free Book Online Page A

No jury had been summoned to decide guilt. Guilt was assumed. It hung heavy over both the women, keeping them motion­less in their seats. Devon was thirsty, she wanted to go into the corridor for a drink of water, but she had the feeling that the bailiff would follow her and that the unnamed crime she was accused of committing had canceled even so basic a right as quenching her thirst.
    Mrs. Osborne was the first to speak. “I told you Estivar couldn’t be trusted when the chips were down. You see what he’s trying to do, don’t you?”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    â€œHe’s blackening our name. He’s making it appear that Robert deserved whatever fate he met. All the business about prejudice, it wasn’t true. Mr. Ford shouldn’t have allowed him to speak lies.”
    â€œLet’s go outside and take a walk in the fresh air.”
    â€œNo. I must stay here and talk to Mr. Ford. He’s got to straighten things out.”
    â€œWhat Estivar said is a matter of record. Mr. Ford or anyone else can’t change it now.”
    â€œHe can do something. ”
    â€œAll right, I’ll stay with you if you want me to.”
    â€œNo, go take your walk.”
    To reach the main door Devon had to pass near the row of seats where Estivar still sat with his family. They seemed uncertain about what a recess was and how they were expected to act during it. As Devon approached, all of them, even Dulzura, looked up as though they’d forgot­ten about her and were surprised to see her in such a place. Then Estivar rose, and after a nudge from his father, so did Jaime.
    Devon stared at the boy, thinking how much he’d grown in just the short time since she’d seen him last. Jaime must be fourteen now. When Robert was fourteen he used to follow Estivar around everywhere, he called him Tío and pestered him with questions and ate at his table. Or did he? Why had it never been mentioned to her by anyone, Robert himself, or Estivar or Agnes Osborne or Dulzura? Perhaps the man, Tío, and the boy, Robbie, and their relationship had never existed except in Estivar’s mind.
    She said, “Hello, Jaime.”
    â€œHello, ma’am.”
    â€œYou’ve been growing so fast I hardly knew you.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œI haven’t seen you since school started. Are you liking it better this year?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    It was a polite lie, just as every answer she’d get from him would be a polite lie. The ten years’ difference in their ages could have been a hundred, though it seemed only yesterday that people were telling her how much she’d grown and asking her how she liked school.
    In the corridor men and women were standing in small clusters at each window, like prisoners seeking a view of the world outside. Here and there cigarette smoke rose toward the ceiling. The teen-ager in the blond wig came out of the ladies’ room. The baby was fully awake now, kicking and squirming and pulling at the girl’s wig until it slipped down over her forehead and knocked off her sun­glasses. Before the baby’s hand was slapped away and the sunglasses and wig were put back in place, Devon had a glimpse of black hair, clipped very short, and of dark trou­bled eyes squinting even in the subdued light of the corri­dor.
    â€œHello, Mrs. Osborne.”
    â€œHello.”
    â€œI guess you don’t remember me, huh?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s my weight, I lost fifteen pounds. Also the wig and sunglasses. Oh yeah, and the kid.” She glanced down at the baby with a kind of detached interest as though she still wasn’t quite sure where he’d come from. “I’m Carla, I helped Mrs. Estivar with the twins summer before last.”
    â€œCarla,” Devon said. “Carla Lopez.”
    â€œYeah, that’s me. I got married for a while but it was a drag—you know? So we split and