as he could stand it, waiting for him to have the time to reach the police station. Maybe Webster wouldn’t even have arrived there yet. But he couldn’t make himself wait much longer.
He stood, and his knees felt sharp and stiff from kneeling. He had to tug Sarah gently by the hand before she would go with him. They went across the hall into the bedroom. Claire lay under a soft blue blanket, on her side, sleeping so deeply that in the pale light from the closed drapes she did not at first seem to be breathing. He waited impatiently while Sarah crawled next to her under the blanket, and then as he was stooping to kiss Sarah’s cheek, deciding not to stay with her but instead go right away and call, the phone rang loudly on the night table.
9
It paralyzed him.
“Daddy, what’s the matter?”
He was suspended from kissing her, turned toward the phone as it rang again.
“Daddy, why don’t you answer it?”
The voice that might be rasping on the other end.
The phone rang again. But maybe it was Webster back at the station by now, phoning to tell him something.
And maybe not.
But maybe. He took the chance and answered it. The voice sent chills.
“Yeah, motherfuck, callin’ the cops again ain’t gonna help none either. We’re gonna get the lot of you no matter what. You think about it. You try and think who we’re gonna drop next. Your other kid? Your wife? You? Pass the time on it.”
“Daddy, what’s the matter?” Sarah asked. “Your face.”
He felt his skin going tight and cold. He couldn’t stop the trembling in his voice. “Wait. Don’t hang up again,” he pleaded. “We’ve got to talk. Please. You can’t go on like this. You’ve got to stop.”
“Stop?” the voice rasped back at him. “Why, that just makes me regular disappointed to hear you say that. You’re supposed to be a smart man, ain’t you? I mean, you’ve written all them books and all, haven’t you? Don’t you see that we can’t stop this now? Don’t you see that we’re just getting started?”
“No. Listen. You’ve got to tell me what it is you want. Please. I’ll do anything. Just tell me. Is it money? Will that make you stop? For God’s sake, tell me.”
“Friend, I’d say you’ve done plenty enough already. There is one thing might help, though.”
“What is it? Anything.”
“Next time answer the phone a little quicker. I got tired of waiting.”
Click and he was listening to the dial tone. His heart pounded.
“Who was it, Daddy?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he managed to control his voice and say.
“Why were you talking to him like that?” She was sitting up in the bed, looking worried.
He couldn’t let himself upset her anymore. Slowly, hand trembling, he replaced the phone.
“But why were you talking to him like that?” Sarah insisted. He looked from her to Claire asleep with her long dark hair spread over the side of her face; looked back at Sarah sitting up, her own hair short and sandy. He thought of Claire’s brown eyes, her dark face. And Sarah with her blue eyes and light skin and freckles. They were so unlike that a stranger could not have guessed they were actually mother and daughter.
His. When he had almost gone away with the other woman, there had been nights when he thought how simple his life would be if Claire and Sarah were killed in an accident. He had hated himself for thinking that. He had known how overpowered by grief he would be if they died. Still their deaths would have been no fault of his, and he would have been free to pursue his life. Now he thought that if they died he would not know how to go on.
“You stay here in bed,” he told her. “I meant it. I’ve got to make a call downstairs, and I don’t want you out of that bed.”
10
The secretary started to say good morning, that this was Chemelec and all that, and he cut her off. “I want to get a message through to Kess.” It was ten o’clock. Where he lived was on
He stood, and his knees felt sharp and stiff from kneeling. He had to tug Sarah gently by the hand before she would go with him. They went across the hall into the bedroom. Claire lay under a soft blue blanket, on her side, sleeping so deeply that in the pale light from the closed drapes she did not at first seem to be breathing. He waited impatiently while Sarah crawled next to her under the blanket, and then as he was stooping to kiss Sarah’s cheek, deciding not to stay with her but instead go right away and call, the phone rang loudly on the night table.
9
It paralyzed him.
“Daddy, what’s the matter?”
He was suspended from kissing her, turned toward the phone as it rang again.
“Daddy, why don’t you answer it?”
The voice that might be rasping on the other end.
The phone rang again. But maybe it was Webster back at the station by now, phoning to tell him something.
And maybe not.
But maybe. He took the chance and answered it. The voice sent chills.
“Yeah, motherfuck, callin’ the cops again ain’t gonna help none either. We’re gonna get the lot of you no matter what. You think about it. You try and think who we’re gonna drop next. Your other kid? Your wife? You? Pass the time on it.”
“Daddy, what’s the matter?” Sarah asked. “Your face.”
He felt his skin going tight and cold. He couldn’t stop the trembling in his voice. “Wait. Don’t hang up again,” he pleaded. “We’ve got to talk. Please. You can’t go on like this. You’ve got to stop.”
“Stop?” the voice rasped back at him. “Why, that just makes me regular disappointed to hear you say that. You’re supposed to be a smart man, ain’t you? I mean, you’ve written all them books and all, haven’t you? Don’t you see that we can’t stop this now? Don’t you see that we’re just getting started?”
“No. Listen. You’ve got to tell me what it is you want. Please. I’ll do anything. Just tell me. Is it money? Will that make you stop? For God’s sake, tell me.”
“Friend, I’d say you’ve done plenty enough already. There is one thing might help, though.”
“What is it? Anything.”
“Next time answer the phone a little quicker. I got tired of waiting.”
Click and he was listening to the dial tone. His heart pounded.
“Who was it, Daddy?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he managed to control his voice and say.
“Why were you talking to him like that?” She was sitting up in the bed, looking worried.
He couldn’t let himself upset her anymore. Slowly, hand trembling, he replaced the phone.
“But why were you talking to him like that?” Sarah insisted. He looked from her to Claire asleep with her long dark hair spread over the side of her face; looked back at Sarah sitting up, her own hair short and sandy. He thought of Claire’s brown eyes, her dark face. And Sarah with her blue eyes and light skin and freckles. They were so unlike that a stranger could not have guessed they were actually mother and daughter.
His. When he had almost gone away with the other woman, there had been nights when he thought how simple his life would be if Claire and Sarah were killed in an accident. He had hated himself for thinking that. He had known how overpowered by grief he would be if they died. Still their deaths would have been no fault of his, and he would have been free to pursue his life. Now he thought that if they died he would not know how to go on.
“You stay here in bed,” he told her. “I meant it. I’ve got to make a call downstairs, and I don’t want you out of that bed.”
10
The secretary started to say good morning, that this was Chemelec and all that, and he cut her off. “I want to get a message through to Kess.” It was ten o’clock. Where he lived was on
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