Heart of Ice (24 page)

“Hey. You rang that up twice!”

Clark blinked. He was standing behind the register, although he barely remembered coming to work or the after-work rush. An old woman wearing a clear plastic rain bonnet over her brown plastic wig was practically snarling at him.

“Sorry.” He voided the second entry and then went back on automatic pilot.

The next person in his line had only a blue-and-white tube of arnica ointment. She was wearing a gray hoodie, and her head was down. Clark had been fantasizing about Korena so much that later he was ashamed he hadn’t instantly recognized the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her hips. But he didn’t. So it was a shock when she raised her head. The skin around her left eye was puffed and purple.

He gasped. “What happened?”

Korena’s mouth opened. Her lips worked, but not a sound came out. She looked like she was ready to fly apart.

“Hey, Linda,” Clark called to the other checker, “I’m taking a quick break.” Not even asking for permission. Just telling her how it was going to be.

Clark stepped out from behind the counter and picked up the tube of arnica, even though he hadn’t rung it up yet. He put his other arm around Korena’s trembling shoulders and guided her to the back of the store and out past the loading dock until they were hidden between two stacks of empty wooden pallets. She opened her mouth to speak, but again, no words came out.

“Sh, sh.” Clark reached out his finger to wipe the tears from her cheek. At the sight of his approaching hand, she flinched. His heart broke.

Someone had defiled her. Had
hurt
her. He couldn’t fathom it. It would be like kicking a kitten. Gently, Clark put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. She crumpled against his chest.

“He says he’s going to kill me,” she whispered when she could finally draw a breath. “Oh, Clark, what can I do? What can I do?”

“Who said that? Who did this to you?”

“Who do you think?” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. She stepped back and wiped her face with the edge of her sleeve. “Joey Decicco. My ex. He knows I’ve been with someone. He says if I don’t come back to him, he’ll kill me.”

Clark yanked his cell phone from his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Her voice rose.

“Calling the police.” He flipped it open.

Korena wrenched the phone from his hand.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her lips were pulled back to expose her white teeth. “Do you think I haven’t been to the police before? Joey’s best friend is a police sergeant. If you call them, the only one who will get in trouble is me.”

“But this is domestic violence.”

“So? The cops don’t care. They just think I’m airing my dirty laundry in public. They want it to stay behind closed doors.” She let out a shaky sigh. “The only reason I came here was to tell you that I can’t see you anymore. I can’t see you ever again. Because if I do, Joey will kill both of us for sure.”

“No.” The word was torn from Clark’s throat.

“He’s killed people before. His whole family died in a fire. Joey was pretty badly burned. I used to feel so sad for him, losing his family like that. But after we got married, I learned the truth.” Her red-rimmed eyes drilled into Clark’s. “Joey set the fire on purpose. He was jealous of how his baby brother got all the attention, and he didn’t like his stepfather. He
wanted
his family to die.” She shivered. “I married a murderer. And since then, there’ve been other, other . . . incidents. I’ve already put you in far too much danger, Clark. I can never see you again. Or you’ll be next.”

“You don’t really think he would kill me?” Clark was still having trouble believing the idea that her ex-husband would kill anyone.

“I’m serious. He guessed that I had been with someone. I was too slow to answer a question. And then he knew.
He knew
. He wanted me to tell him who it was. And when I wouldn’t, he hit me.” Gingerly, Korena touched her face. “I’m lucky that all he did was give me this black eye.”

“So that’s it?” Clark couldn’t believe this. “You’re just going to walk away from what we have? You’re just going to let him keep hitting you? You’re not, you’re not a slave.”

She sniffed back tears. “You don’t understand, Clark. I don’t have any other choice. I divorced Joey, but it doesn’t make any difference. He still thinks I belong to him. And he won’t let me get away. Ever.” She managed something close to a laugh. “In his twisted way, Joey loves me.”

“That’s a load of . . . horse manure. He doesn’t love you.” Clark was sure of it. “He wants to own you. That’s not how you show you love someone. By hitting them?”

“He says he can’t help himself. That I make him act the way he does. And he’s right. I knew he would go crazy if I spent time with you. And I did it anyway. He’s always said if he can’t have me, no one can.” She shrugged. “If I go back to him, maybe he won’t get so mad anymore.”

“There’s got to be some other way. I love you.” When he heard the words come out of his mouth, Clark knew they were true. “Korena, I love you and want to be with you forever.”

“But it can’t be, Clark. Don’t you see? It can’t be. I want to be with you, too, but it’s impossible.” A tear ran down her cheek. “You just need to forget about me. Forget about me and go back to your life.”

Clark couldn’t believe what was happening. His dream was turning into a nightmare. “And then what? What happens to you? What happens the next time he hurts you? Maybe he won’t stop at just your eye.”

She raised her chin. “At least you’ll be safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Well, it’s not all that matters to me. Not by a long shot. I should be keeping you safe, not the other way around.” He swallowed. “Korena, I, I want to marry you.”

Her mouth pulled down at the corners, and she gave him the saddest smile in the world. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I know I’m young, Korena, but I promise you, I’ll take care of you. And I would never, ever hurt you. You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

“Oh, Clark.” She took a shaky breath. “When I met you, I knew I had found my soul mate. I feel the exact same way.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s too late for me. Joey will never leave me in peace. Sometimes”—she lifted her eyes to his, tears beaded on her long lashes—“sometimes I think I should just kill myself. There’s no point in going on. Not if it’s going to always be like this.”

“No.” Clark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You can’t do that! You can’t kill yourself.”

She shrugged. “Why not? I have nothing to live for. I can’t have a normal life. Joey won’t let me. I’ll always belong to him, and he’ll always feel that he can do whatever he wants to me.”

Rage ran like fire through his veins. “A guy who can just torment a wonderful girl like you—he doesn’t deserve to live.”

She lifted her tearstained face to Clark’s, her eyes wide. “Do you really think that?”

CHAPTER 43

Northwest Portland

D
on’t say a word or I’ll kill you,” Joey had told Sara when he pressed the gun into her ribs as she unlocked the front door.

She’d let out a gasp and pulled her son in close, pressing his face against her side. The kid let out a little whimper.

“Hurry up,” Joey ordered, looking behind them. The street was deserted. “Unlock the door. I want to get inside.”

Sara did as she was told. She kept the boy’s face pressed against her waist, and the kid shuffled blindly forward. Once they were inside, Joey kicked the door closed, stepped back, and leveled the gun at her.

“Noah,” she whispered, tilting her head and squeezing the kid’s shoulder, “you need to be absolutely still. Do you hear me?”

There was an almost imperceptible nod.

“And don’t look. I need you not to look.”

His words were muffled by her waist. “Like hide and go seek?”

“Kind of, baby. Just keep your face there until I tell you.”

Joey should have said something right away, interrupted her. He could feel that he was losing momentum.

Sara lifted her head to face him and looked straight into his eyes, as if the gun wasn’t even there.

“Do you want money? I’ve got some cash. Or I could give you my ATM card and my PIN.”

Joey wished she wasn’t looking right at him. It would have been a lot easier to shoot her while her face was turned away, and she was talking to the kid. Maybe he would make them kneel on the floor and then shoot them in the back of the head.

Should he lie to her? Would it make it easier to kill them, make her more likely to cooperate, if he told Sara all he wanted was money? He reminded himself to take her purse when he left. Sissy had said to make it look like a robbery gone wrong.

Joey found he couldn’t lie, not with her brown eyes boring into him. “I don’t want your money.”

Sara took a deep breath. “You can do anything you want to me, just leave my son alone. Don’t hurt my son. Look, I’ll lock Noah in his room. He hasn’t even seen your face.” She still had her kid’s face pressed into the curve of her waist.

Joey gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t want to—” He wasn’t going to say the word
rape
out loud, especially not in front of the kid. “I don’t want that. Look, lady, somebody wants you taken care of. For good. So that’s what I’m here to do.”

“And my son?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

Joey kept his own voice soft. “If he was here, they said to do him too.”

“So Noah’s just, just—an afterthought?” Her eyes flashed. “You would do something like that to a kid, and it would be for no reason? Just because he was here?”

Joey didn’t have an answer.

“Why are
you
doing this?”

“If I don’t kill you, they’ll kill me.”

“Who?” Sara’s brow furrowed. “Who wants me dead?”

The hand holding the gun was shaking now. Joey steadied it with his other hand, wrapping his fingers around his knuckles, just like he had seen a million guys do it on TV and in movies. He was so afraid of shooting her. And her kid. Even if he shot them in the back of the head.

What if they made sounds? What if it took more than one shot? What if they tried to crawl away? He had a feeling they wouldn’t die all neat and quick the way it always was on TV.

But Joey was even more afraid of Sissy.

“I can’t tell you who it is. Just someone.”

Sara’s mouth fell so far open that Joey could see the flash of silver fillings in the back. “What? No, no! It’s Ian?
Ian
wants you to do this?”

Sissy’s boyfriend. The guy who had driven away. Joey didn’t say anything.

“But how could Ian—And his son? His own
son
?” Sara doubled over as if she had been punched in the stomach.

Joey thought about correcting her. But in a way Ian had set this thing into motion. So he stayed silent.

“Mommy,” the boy protested, twisting his head back and forth. “You’re hurting me. Let me go!”

But even though the news had clearly gutted her, Sara was still careful to keep her son’s face pressed against her side.

It was pathetic, really. As if Joey could let him live. The kid had seen him in the park, after all.

For a long moment the room was silent except for the sound of the woman’s breathing.

Joey knew he should hurry her along. Get this thing done and get out of here. Before one of the neighbors realized just how out of place a beat-up gold El Camino looked parked down the street. Before the mailman came or a friend stopped by.

Sara took a shaky breath, steadied herself, straightened up. Her eyes looked into his. And she didn’t see him as an animal, or a criminal. She looked past the melted patchwork skin of his face. Joey felt like she saw inside his soul.

“You can’t do this,” Sara whispered. “I know you can’t.”

He pointed the gun straight at her chest, but even with both hands it was shaking so much from side to side that it seemed possible he might miss her altogether.

And there was a long moment that stretched out until it seemed it would break. He looked into her unblinking eyes. Even the kid was quiet.

What was he? What—who—was Joey Decicco? Was he just Sissy’s errand boy? Or was he something more?

“Look, just lie down, Sara,” Joey found himself saying. “Just lie down. Both of you. And try to look dead.”

“What?” Her head snapped back. “Why?”

“I’m supposed to take a photo of you. For proof. And then you have to get out of town. Right now. Just start driving and don’t stop. And don’t talk to anyone. Not your family. Not your friends. And get as many miles away from here as you can before anyone figures out that you’re not really dead.”

Sara shook her head. “If we just lie on the ground, we won’t look dead. Not dead enough anyway. Look, put the gun away. Put the gun away and I’ll help you make it look real.”

Sara looked down at her kid and then lifted her hand away, already believing that Joey would do what she had asked. And in that moment, the moment when the gun was still pointed at her, Joey could have shot her.

The kid saw him think about it. His mouth started to open. But then Joey slipped the gun back into his waistband.

Sara walked into the kitchen and began opening up the cupboards. “In high school we did this play,” she said over her shoulder, “and we had to make stage blood.” She took out a clear bottle of corn syrup and a tin of cornstarch. “Good thing I didn’t clean out the cupboards when I moved out. Now all I need to remember is where I kept the—” Her hand closed on a small box. “Here it is. Food coloring. You need red and just a tiny bit of blue.”

Joey and the kid watched as Sara used a fork to mix the concoction in a glass with a little water, finally adding one drop of blue, then another until it was just the right color and consistency. And at the end, the three of them were looking at what appeared to be a glass full of blood.

“Cool!” the kid said with a grin.

Joey stuck his finger in and then wiped a trail of “blood” along his forearm. It looked like blood. It also looked like it had been applied, not like it was from a wound. He lapped it off, sweet and sticky, while he thought.