motivate.
The breeze had grown cool and had stiffened into an erratic wind. The rumble of thunder was still far away but louder than when Janet had first heard it. Only a sliver of blue sky remained to the east, fading as fast as hope usually did.
After mining two blocks of trash containers, Janet and Danny headed back to the Dodge with Woofer in the lead.
More than halfway there, the dog suddenly stopped and cocked his head to listen for something else above the fluting of the wind and the chorus of whispery voices that were stirred from the agitated eucalyptus leaves. He grumbled and seemed briefly puzzled, then turned and looked past Janet. He bared his teeth, and the grumble sharpened into a low growl.
She knew what had drawn the dog’s attention. She didn’t have to look.
Nevertheless she was compelled to turn and confront the menace for Danny’s sake if not her own. The Laguna Beach cop,
that
cop, was about eight feet away.
He was smiling, which is how it always started with him. He had an appealing smile, a kind face, and beautiful blue eyes.
As always, there was no squad car, no indication of how he had arrived in the alleyway. It was as if he had been lying in wait for her among the peeling trunks of the eucalyptuses, clairvoyantly aware that her scavenging would bring her to this alley at this hour on this very day.
“How’re you, Ma’am?” he asked. His voice was initially gentle, almost musical.
Janet didn’t answer.
The first time he approached her last week, she had responded timidly, nervously, averting her eyes, as excruciatingly respectful of authority as she had been all her life—except for that one bloody night outside of Tucson. But she had quickly discovered that he was not what he appeared to be, and that he preferred a monologue to a dialogue.
“Looks like we’re in for a little rain,” he said, glancing up at the troubled sky.
Danny had moved against Janet. She put her free arm around him, pulling him even closer. The boy was shivering.
She was shivering, too. She hoped Danny didn’t notice.
The dog continued to bare his teeth and growl softly.
Lowering his gaze from the stormy sky to Janet again, the cop spoke in that same lilting voice: “Okay, no more farting around. Time to have some real fun. So what’s going to happen now is…you’ve got till dawn. Understand? Hmmmmm? At dawn, I’m going to kill you and your boy.”
His threat did not surprise Janet. Anyone with authority over her had always been as a god, but always a savage god, never benign. She
expected
violence, suffering, and imminent death. She would have been surprised only by an exhibition of kindness from someone with power over her, for kindness was infinitely rarer than hatred and cruelty.
In fact, her fear, already nearly paralyzing, might have been made even greater only by that unlikely show of kindness. Kindness would have seemed, to her, nothing more than an attempt to mask some unimaginably evil motive.
The cop was still smiling, but his freckled, Irish face was no longer friendly. It was chillier than the coolish air coming off the sea in advance of the storm.
“Did you hear me, you dumb bitch?”
She said nothing.
“Are you thinking that you ought to run, get out of town, maybe go up to L.A. where I can’t find you?”
She was thinking something rather like that, either Los Angeles or south to San Diego.
“Yes, please, try to run,” he encouraged. “That’ll make it more fun for me. Run, resist. Wherever you go, I’ll find you, but it’ll be a lot more
exciting
that way.”
Janet believed him. She had been able to escape her parents, and she had escaped Vince by killing him, but now she had come up against not merely another of the many gods of fear who had ruled her but
the
God of fear whose powers exceeded understanding.
His eyes were changing, darkening from blue to electric green.
Wind suddenly gusted strongly through the alley, whippingdead leaves and a few scraps of
The breeze had grown cool and had stiffened into an erratic wind. The rumble of thunder was still far away but louder than when Janet had first heard it. Only a sliver of blue sky remained to the east, fading as fast as hope usually did.
After mining two blocks of trash containers, Janet and Danny headed back to the Dodge with Woofer in the lead.
More than halfway there, the dog suddenly stopped and cocked his head to listen for something else above the fluting of the wind and the chorus of whispery voices that were stirred from the agitated eucalyptus leaves. He grumbled and seemed briefly puzzled, then turned and looked past Janet. He bared his teeth, and the grumble sharpened into a low growl.
She knew what had drawn the dog’s attention. She didn’t have to look.
Nevertheless she was compelled to turn and confront the menace for Danny’s sake if not her own. The Laguna Beach cop,
that
cop, was about eight feet away.
He was smiling, which is how it always started with him. He had an appealing smile, a kind face, and beautiful blue eyes.
As always, there was no squad car, no indication of how he had arrived in the alleyway. It was as if he had been lying in wait for her among the peeling trunks of the eucalyptuses, clairvoyantly aware that her scavenging would bring her to this alley at this hour on this very day.
“How’re you, Ma’am?” he asked. His voice was initially gentle, almost musical.
Janet didn’t answer.
The first time he approached her last week, she had responded timidly, nervously, averting her eyes, as excruciatingly respectful of authority as she had been all her life—except for that one bloody night outside of Tucson. But she had quickly discovered that he was not what he appeared to be, and that he preferred a monologue to a dialogue.
“Looks like we’re in for a little rain,” he said, glancing up at the troubled sky.
Danny had moved against Janet. She put her free arm around him, pulling him even closer. The boy was shivering.
She was shivering, too. She hoped Danny didn’t notice.
The dog continued to bare his teeth and growl softly.
Lowering his gaze from the stormy sky to Janet again, the cop spoke in that same lilting voice: “Okay, no more farting around. Time to have some real fun. So what’s going to happen now is…you’ve got till dawn. Understand? Hmmmmm? At dawn, I’m going to kill you and your boy.”
His threat did not surprise Janet. Anyone with authority over her had always been as a god, but always a savage god, never benign. She
expected
violence, suffering, and imminent death. She would have been surprised only by an exhibition of kindness from someone with power over her, for kindness was infinitely rarer than hatred and cruelty.
In fact, her fear, already nearly paralyzing, might have been made even greater only by that unlikely show of kindness. Kindness would have seemed, to her, nothing more than an attempt to mask some unimaginably evil motive.
The cop was still smiling, but his freckled, Irish face was no longer friendly. It was chillier than the coolish air coming off the sea in advance of the storm.
“Did you hear me, you dumb bitch?”
She said nothing.
“Are you thinking that you ought to run, get out of town, maybe go up to L.A. where I can’t find you?”
She was thinking something rather like that, either Los Angeles or south to San Diego.
“Yes, please, try to run,” he encouraged. “That’ll make it more fun for me. Run, resist. Wherever you go, I’ll find you, but it’ll be a lot more
exciting
that way.”
Janet believed him. She had been able to escape her parents, and she had escaped Vince by killing him, but now she had come up against not merely another of the many gods of fear who had ruled her but
the
God of fear whose powers exceeded understanding.
His eyes were changing, darkening from blue to electric green.
Wind suddenly gusted strongly through the alley, whippingdead leaves and a few scraps of
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