‘Hell no,’ I said.
Marino looked hurt. ‘It’s a big thing for me to let someone use my truck. I never let anybody.’
‘That’s not it. I want my life. I want to feel Lucy is safe. I want to live in my house and drive my car.’
He got up and brought me his handkerchief.
‘I’m not crying,’ I said.
‘You’re about to.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘You want a drink?’ he asked.
‘Scotch.’
‘I think I’ll have a little bourbon.’
‘You can’t. You’re driving.’
‘No, I’m not,’ he said as he stepped behind the bar. ‘I’m camping on your couch.’
Close to midnight, I carried in a pillow and blanket and helped him get settled. He could have slept in a guest room, but he wanted to be right where he was with the fire turned low.
I retreated upstairs and read until my eyes would no longer focus. I was grateful Marino was in my house. I did not know when I had ever been this frightened. So far Gault had always gotten his way.
So far he had not failed in a single evil task he had set out to accomplish. If he wanted me to die, I had no confidence I could evade him. If he wanted Lucy to die, I believed that would happen, too.
It was the latter I feared most. I had seen his work. I knew what he did. I could diagram every piece of bone and ragged excision of skin. I looked at the black metal nine-millimeter pistol on the table by my bed, and I wondered what I always did. Would I reach for it in time? Would I save my life or someone else? As I surveyed my bedroom and adjoining study, I knew Marino was right. I could not stay here alone, I drifted to sleep pondering this and had a disturbing dream. A figure with a long dark robe and a face like a white balloon was smiling insipidly at me from an antique mirror. Every time I passed the mirror the figure in it was watching with its chilly smile. It was both dead and alive and seemed to have no gender. I suddenly woke up at one a.m. I listened for noises in the dark. I went downstairs and heard Marino snoring.
Quietly, I called his name.
The rhythm of his snoring did not alter.
‘Marino?’ I whispered as I drew closer.
He sat up, loudly fumbling for his gun.
‘For God’s sake don’t shoot me.’
‘Huh?’ He looked around, his face pale in the low firelight. He realized where he was and put the gun back on the table. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that.’
‘I wasn’t sneaking.’
I sat next to him on the couch. It occurred to me that I had a nightgown on and he had never seen me like this, but I did not care.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.
I laughed ruefully. ‘I don’t think there’s much that isn’t.’
His eyes began to wander, and I could feel the battle inside him. I had always known Marino had an interest in me that I could not gratify. Tonight the situation was more difficult, for I could not hide behind walls of lab coats, scrubs, business suits and titles. I was in a low-cut gown made of soft flannel the color of sand. It was after midnight and he was sleeping in my house.
‘I can’t sleep,’ I went on.
‘I was sleeping just fine.’ He lay back down and put his hands behind his head, watching me.
‘I start jury duty next week.’
He made no comment.
‘I have several court cases coming up and an office to run. I can’t just pack up and leave town,’
‘Jury duty’s no problem,’ he said. ‘We’ll get you out of it.’
‘I don’t want to do that.’
‘You’re going to get struck anyway,’ he said. ‘No defense attorney alive is going to want you on his jury.’
I was silent.
‘You may as well go on leave. The court cases can be continued. Hey, maybe head off skiing for a couple weeks. Out west someplace.’
The more he talked the more upset I got.