Death Watch Page 2

  McKenzie bit her lip, watched the coffeemaker intently, until the clear water began to steam and drizzle through the filter, emerging almost magically into the coffeepot the color of mud, aromatic and enticing. Jack loved coffee. She flashed a smile over her shoulder. “Smells good.”

  He did not respond immediately, just tilted his head and continued to stare hard at her. He sat with his legs splayed out in front of him, jeans worn, boots the color of rich chamois, watermarked and mud-stained, his faded plaid shirt open at the throat. The coiled hairs mirrored the dark color of his hair, nondescript, with a fleck of premature gray here and there. There was nothing at ease or easy about him. The muscles along his legs and arms reminded her of a cat about to spring. His mouth opened. “You look different, Mac. I don’t know what it is yet, but I don’t like it.”

  She paused, her hands in mid-flight bringing down the mugs from the cabinet. “I don’t know what you mean.” She hated the way he looked at her.

  “Sure you do, Mac.”

  His chair scraped across the floor. Muscles bunching, she swung around to meet him. Cody tangled her feet and she fell, sprawling across the linoleum. The dog scrambled away, frightened. She gasped to catch her breath, feeling horribly foolish and awkward, and twisted around to put her hands under her to get up. The dread knotted in her stomach exploded, possessing her, rendering her helpless.

  Jack’s shadow crossed her. McKenzie craned her head around to look up at him just as he put his foot down on her throat, pinning her to the floor.

  Fear iced through her. “Jack—”

  His eyes narrowed, transforming into slits of darkness. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  His boot smelled of sweat. Its tread ground into the flesh of her neck. But he wasn’t angry yet, just annoyed. Stay calm. Let sleeping dogs lie. She swallowed carefully. “Making you coffee.”

  “I can see that. That’s not what I’m talking about.” He held his penknife, wicked and slender. It caught the light from the kitchen window as he cleaned a fingernail with it. She could remember the Christmas she’d given it to him, and wished she had not thought of it as a gift.

  What did he want from her? What had she done wrong this time? McKenzie’s thoughts whirled around her. She lay passively on the floor, feeling her sweat pool beneath her. Her neck ached.

  She wanted to wriggle out from under his foot, and shoved that feeling down. Be passive. Stay calm. “What is it?”

  “You know what you did. Did that bitch Sarah recommend this, too?”

  But she didn’t know what he meant! McKenzie forced down a breath, felt her throat pressing tightly to get it through. “Just tell me what I did wrong. Please. I promise I won’t do it again.”

  Jack trimmed a cuticle neatly with the tip of the knife. She held her breath a second, fearing for him. Afraid he’d slice himself open, and his temper would spurt forth like hot blood. There was a time when she’d mistaken that for vitality, found the current which always ran just under his skin exciting, dynamic. In a community college full of boys wandering around trying to find themselves, she’d met a man who’d seemed hot-wired into his future. Older, wiser, he’d had all the confidence she and all her friends had lacked. Days of classes had melded into a courtship. She’d left her athletic grant and her scholarship behind to marry him. He was all she had ever wanted, she’d thought.

  He was all she had. It was the emptiness which had driven her back to school. Not Sarah. Not guilt at what she’d given up, but a desperate search to reclaim herself.

  And he knew that, hated it. He must. She clenched her jaw. He wanted to take that away from her!

  He showered fingernail parings upon her face. Like thorns, they prickled her skin.

  Coffee aroma steamed throughout the kitchen and Jack ignored it. He looked down at her.

  “But that’s just it, Mac,” he said. “You always make these promises, and you keep them. You do. But then you always go and do something twice as bad. ”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try, Jack, honest to God, I’ll try—” Another nail paring fell across her eyelid. She tried to blink it away. She stopped as she saw Jack leaning low over her.

  She could see the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes, wrinkles etched in from a lifetime of looking at the bright ribbons of highways over a truck’s steering wheel. College had only been a brief detour for him. She could faintly smell beer on his breath. “You know what they say. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, try .” He mocked her.

  He reached out with his left hand and dug his fingers deep into her hair. “I’ve been watching you, and thinking and thinking about what it is that’s bothering me.” One eyebrow went up. “ You got your hair cut. Now you know I told you never to do that.”

  The pressure of his foot on her windpipe increased as he bent over her. McKenzie could feel her forehead go slick. Her words tumbled out in a few gasped sentences, losing the calm even as she fought for it. “It was just a trim! The ends were broken ... the hair won’t grow if the ends are split, Jack. It wasn’t even an inch, I swear to God it wasn’t.”

  “I didn’t ask for any excuses.” He wound the hair about his hand. “Did I?” The knife flashed in his hand.

  Unreasoning panic swept her. “What are you doing?” She shook, the small of her back bouncing off the floor, as she fought the impulse to push him off and run. Let sleeping dogs lie. McKenzie closed her eyes.

  “Look at me!”

  Her eyes flew open. The foot on her throat gave way as he came down on her chest with both knees, pinning her. “You want your hair cut? I’ll give you a haircut.” The knife came sweeping down.

  McKenzie screamed. The sound tore out of her throat, leaving it raw and empty. Jack’s eyes went darker, and his face flushed. The sawing of the blade grabbed at her scalp. She felt the skin part, giving way, the hair tearing clear. He shook his fist in her face. Strands of honey-blonde hair waved in the air. He threw the fistful aside and clutched at her again. She arched her back and tossed her face aside.

  “Come on, bitch,” he said. “This is what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it? You want to look so butch no one will touch you, right? You want me laughed at, don’t you? When I tell you not to do something, by God, that’s what I damn well mean!”

  “Jack, please! Please!” The knife nicked her ear and she let out a tiny squeak.

  He stopped in mid-strike, as though aware he’d drawn blood.

  That was all the opening Cody needed.

  She’d thought it had been Jack growling, under his breath, under his cursing. She’d forgotten all about the dog.

  His red-gold body sailed between them. He hit Jack on the shoulder and went for his hands, snarling. Ivory teeth clashed and snapped. She felt another handful of hair part from her scalp before Jack pulled away.

  “SON of a bitch!” He kicked and missed Cody. The dog lay across her, not moving, his eyes leveled on Jack. He began to growl again in warning.

  She could feel the dog’s heartbeat across her flank. He trembled, just as she did, but he wasn’t moving.

  “Cody. That’s enough. Stay.”

  She wiggled out from under him, put a hand on the back of his neck. She crouched on her knees beside him. Her scalp stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. She shook them off. The dog’s tail moved slightly to acknowledge her touch, but he never took his eyes off Jack.

  “He doesn’t mean it.”

  “Sure he does,” Jack answered easily. He skinned his lips back from his teeth, uncannily like the dog facing him. “C’mere, Cody.”

  The dog flinched under her hand. McKenzie relaxed a little as Jack called the dog again to apologize. The golden retriever spasmed, torn between obeying and staying at her feet. “It’s all right, Cody,” she comforted him. She had to get him under control.

  “I said, c’mere, dammit!” Jack grabbed for his collar, anger spiking his voice.

  He caught the dog by his soft ear flap instead. Cody did not yelp. He snarled and twist
ed, snapping at Jack again. She charged as well. Jack clubbed at both of them. He hit her. The side of her head exploded with pain and she fell backward with a sharp sound, crashing into the counter. She slumped to the floor, dazed. Her vision went blurry, doubled, then came back.

  Waterfalls of blood obscured it. It curtained all she saw, cascading obscenely from the ceiling and onto the floor, inundating it, like a tsunami hitting the shore.

  McKenzie put her hands to her face in fear. Her hands swam wetly through the air. Like drying puddles after a rain, the blood began to fade, except for the streaks across Cody as she looked at him.

  “Jack! Don’t, please, don’t!” She reached for the dog, to pull him in behind her, despite the terrible pain in her skull and the sick fear in the pit of her stomach. She grasped his hide. Loose hairs pulled out, but she could not keep a grip on Cody as the dog danced forward, snarling at the man.

  McKenzie saw his anger erupt, from reined-in iciness, to volcanic fury.

  “Get out of here! Mind, you goddamn mangy son of a bitch! Mind me!” His voice spewed outward. Jack’s hand clenched on the knife handle, slicing the blade downward. Her dog swung around to meet it. The edge caught him on the shoulder. A jagged, crimson gash opened. Cody cried in pain and defiance. He wheeled, snapping.

  He bit at the knife. Steel and fang clashed. She felt rooted to the floor, her voice frozen in her throat. She could feel the agony of it, welling up, convulsing into a lump which cut off all words, all hope of stopping Cody. His blood splattered the linoleum in wet, pulsing drops.

  Jack sliced again. The soft golden-red ear hung in a ribbon. Cody barked furiously, nails scrabbling on the floor as he lunged at his tormentor. Man and dog collided.

  Jack tried for his throat. A wound flowered, not deep enough. McKenzie found her voice.

  “Stop it! Cody! Jack, stop it, please. He won’t do it again. I’ll give him away. Stop it! Oh, God, please stop it now!”

  Jack watched her over the dog, eyes like cold coffee. He reached out, grabbing Cody with his left hand, slashing with his right. Blood splashed his fingers as the dog squirmed and yelped in his hold. Cody tore loose. They circled one another, dog snapped now in pain and agony, trying to protect her, protect himself. He threw blood with every movement. His nails scrabbled on the slick flooring. His tail was tucked between his haunches, and he made a noise—oh, God—like the animal he was, suffering and hurt, low and guttural.

  “I’ve got to finish him,” Jack muttered. “Once they go vicious....”

  McKenzie put her hands to her ears, unable to bear hearing. The dog hunkered down on the floor. He snapped at the air. She reached for him, hands trembling.

  Jack bared his teeth. “C’mon, you son of a bitch! Come and get it!”

  He kicked, catching the dog in the side of the head, where his torn earn hung limply. Cody burst upward, charging.

  He leaped at Jack. She grasped at empty air, sobbing, as she saw the blade plunging at Cody’s soft throat. A fountain of blood opened up, pulsing at her face, her hands, warm and salt-sweet. It splattered her. She closed her eyes, bathing in the warmth, sobbing as though her heart would break.

  Blood everywhere. The woman lay in the ruins of her own body, chest laid open, thighs flayed as though someone had skinned and butchered her, hair wild about her head, eyes wide and staring with fear ... and the blood. Oh, God, the blood.

  Dazedly, McKenzie sat on the kitchen floor, vision impaired by another vision, head throbbing, confused, beaten.

  Jack looked down at her. “Get me a beer.”

  She could feel the sourness pushing upward in the back of her throat, her stomach clenching, ready to hurl....

  She woke, chest heaving, her face wet. McKenzie put her hands up, touched the wetness, then drew her hands to her nostrils, her lips. Tears. Not blood. Not the scent, or the taste of blood. Dreaming. She’d been dreaming again. A nightmare, a terror from the dark, nothing.

  She moved to get out of bed, kicked a nightstand and realized, in the dark, she was not in a familiar bed. Disoriented, she put a hand out, fumbling. An ugly, thick-based lamp met her search and she found a light switch.

  A thin, pasty glow flooded the room. It fell on a battered television set, a plastic bureau, across blankets, pilled and patched, hotel issue, and a cheap hotel, at that.

  Lastly, it fell across her shoes, rusty brown stains splattered across her joggers, laces lying stiffly across the floor.

  Cody’s blood.

  No dream. Memory.

  McKenzie felt her throat close up. The tears began to fall again, as quickly and freely as Seattle rain. What had happened to her? What had she let awaken?

  What had she done?

  Chapter 3

  Night and rain hung over the city. The car’s headlights picked out her way through slick, unfamiliar streets. She spent her time looking in the rearview mirror as the cheap hotel faded behind her. No one could be back there. No one could possibly be trailing her yet. No one could even know she’d left, but she could not look away, could not bear to stare forward. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled in constant warning.

  McKenzie pulled up as close to the pay phone as she could, but she was still drenched by the time she reached the booth. Rain streaked the greasy glass walls. The interior light came on fitfully, as though nearly spent. The pocket of her jeans bulged with her cash, all she had left, $150, but she had to dig deep to find coins. Her hands shaking, she finally retrieved them and jammed them into the slots.

  McKenzie clenched her teeth against the cold and the panic. Taking a deep breath, she looked across the Seattle cityscape, blurred by darkness and the storm, to steady herself. The weather was following her down the coast. Dear God, let that be all.

  Gray, dreary, leaden. The sky mirrored her heart. Before she could lose this spurt of courage, she dropped coins in and dialed quickly. Her head ached dully. She would be there, Mac intuited. She did not anticipate the answering machine, and the voice which answered was welcoming.

  “Whiteside residence. Hello?”

  “Sarah, it’s me.”

  “Well, hi there. Got your poem framed yet?”

  “No. I, ah, ah.” Mac jolted to a halt, voice gone.

  Sarah knew instantly, from the tone of her voice. “What is it, Mac?”

  “I’m going. He, ah, he killed Cody.”

  A sharp inhalation of breath. “Are you all right? Get over here.”

  “No.” McKenzie shook her head. Moisture sprinkled her face. “I don’t want him bothering you.”

  A pause, then, “Where are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. Somewhere. I’ll call later.”

  Sarah sighed. McKenzie could picture her breathy expulsion, puffing the fine sable fringe of her bangs off her forehead. “Take care. If you need anything—”

  “I know,” she answered. “Leave, just for a day or two. Don’t let him talk to you.”

  “I can’t do that—”

  “You have to! He butchered Cody, Sarah. Limb to limb. Just because ...” Her voice failed her. She caught it again. “Cody tried to protect me. You can’t be there when he comes looking for me.” Unable to bear any more, she hung up.

  The light drizzle of rain misted around her, barely more than fog. She shivered. Where could she go? McKenzie hunched her shoulders and looked at the phone. A destination surfaced. The number escaped her, gone, numbed by fear and hopelessness. She balled her hand into a fist and punched herself in the forehead, once, twice. “Think, think!”

  Where else could she go? She knew of nowhere Jack would not find her. This was the only chance she had. The only one. She dropped her money into the slots, then froze again. What if she were refused?

  Afraid of losing the coin she’d deposited, she spread her hand over the buttons. The knuckles of her right hand shone angrily red in the booth’s dim lighting. Prayerfully, Dad, oh, Daddy, let me come home.... Her fingertips found the numbers as if they were the ones with
eyes and a memory.

  The phone rang. Even accounting for long distance, it did not sound right. Had he gone since her mother died? Maybe he wasn’t even there any more. Her heart failed a beat, then doubled up for lost time, chest panging with its desperation. The ring couldn’t be right, it didn’t sound familiar. It had been so long, so many years. She’d only talked to him once since marrying Jack. She was on the brink of hanging up when the ringing stopped.