Authors: Midnight Hour
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ESSICA WAS ALREADY out the window when the door crashed open and Grace’s son burst
into the room. Chewle, who stood beside Grace, began barking hysterically, his tall low, the hair on his spine standing up so that he looked like a razorback hog.
From the roof, Jessica screamed like a siren, over and over again, in automatic, instinctive reaction, Grace knew.
“Go, Jess!” Grace cried. Instead of f6flowing her daughter outside, she slammed the window shut and turned to face her son. To get to Jessica, he would first have to go through her.
The lamp was lit beside the bed. Its cheerful yellow glow provided the room’s only illumination. Outside the window, the night was incongruously beautiful, alight with moon and stars. Jessica would be scrambling across the roof to safety… .
Chewle continued to bark ferociously, for all the good it did.
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“Got you, Monm-iy,” her son said, loud so that he could be heard above the dog, pointing the gun at her. Grace’s heart leaped in her chest. She did not want to die… . He smiled. “Bang, bang.”
Grace threw herself to the floor just as he squeezed the trigger for real. The buflet slammed into the wall where she had been standing. Plaster exploded outward, tiny bits of it striking Grace’s cheek. Chewie yelped, and darted behind Jessica’s pink tweed chair. Grace wished that she could find safety so easily. The bed shielded her for these few seconds, but he would be upon her in an instant and then …
She would die. What would happen to Jess? Craig, and more particularly Craig’s new wife, wouldn’t want her, but he was her father. Jessica would go to him and be resentful and miserable and, most likely, impossible to control. Would the whole grim cycle start all over again?
Please, God, no.
Grace saw his shadow coming first, looming larger on the wall where the bullet had hit. Chewle must have seen it, too, because he started to bark again, hysterically. Grace tried to wedge herself under the bed, but the frame was too low and she didn’t quite fit. For an instant she considered pulling the dust ruffle over her head and cowering beneath it, but he knew where she was. She couldn’t hide.
Her breathing was rapid, shaflow. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel it pounding in her chest. She broke out in a cold sweat as she turned over to face …
Her son. And, through him, her own death.
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She took a deep breath and stared up at him as he came around the end of the bed. There was a weird smile on his face and, she thought, hatred for her in his eyes. She was lying on the plush rose carpet at his feet, lying helplessly, looking up at him as he pointed the gun at her chest. Any second, he was going to pull the trigger and she would die with the sound of the gunshot that killed her and the dog’s high-pitched barks ringing in her ears.
Suddenly, like a film speeding at fast forward through her head, she remembered the day that he had been born. The fear, the pain, the newborn’s mewling cry. Like Jessica, he was her baby. Her child. Flesh of her flesh, bone of her bone. Her son.
And he was going to kill her.
Jessica. The window was opening behind her son, silently, carefully. Jessica’s foot and lower leg, clad in a sneaker and baggy, raggedly hemmed jeans, appeared.
No, Grace wanted to scream, realizing that her daughter was coming back to try to aid her. Jessica was sliding through the window… .
Thank God for Chewie. His hysterical barking masked any sounds,
“You don’t want to do this,” Grace said loudly to her son, wanting to make sure he stayed focused on her. Her nerves had suddenly turned to ice, she was no longer afraid to die, no longer afraid at all except for Jessica, who was in the room now. He would killjess.
“Sure I do, Mommy. You ruined my life.” He was speaking loudly, too. “Did you know that? You ruined my life. Little Brother. Second best. Not good enough. That was me, always. Because of what you did.”
“I’m sorry,” Grace said, and meant it. She stared up at the gun, and her son, and prayed that Jessica would Shp out of the room and just leave her to her fate. The fate she had always felt she deserved.
But she knew, as well as she knew her own name, that Jessica would not leave.
“Sorry don’t catch it this time,” he said. His arm straightened as he aimed the gun. Of their own accord, Grace’s teeth clenched and her muscles stiffened as she prepared for the slam of the bullet into her body. “I don’t have time to talk to you anymore-I’ve got to go catch Little Sis. I figure if I go back through the house, I’ll just about be in time to watch her coming down that ladder-thing on the garage, like she’s done before. So say night-night, Mommy.”
His finger tightened on the trigger. Grace watched it with horror, feeling as though everything was happening in slow motion now. She screamed, rolling toward the wall, just as a flash of blue-jessica-appeared behind him. Rolling, she caught quick glimpses of Jessica’s hand clutching something as it rose high above his head and slammed down into his back. He screamed, the sound high-pitched, surprised. The gun exploded, and a bullet thudded into the carpet not half an inch from Grace’s nose. He grabbed at his back and whirled on Jessica. The gun tumbled to the ground.
With his back turned to her, Grace could see the hypodermic needle still sticking out of the meaty part of his neck.
Jessica had stabbed him with her own insulin syringe.
“You bitch! You fucking little bitch!” He screamed,
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cursing, as one hand snatched the syringe from his neck and the other grabbedJessica. She was screarming now, too, clawing at his face. Chewie, still barking, apparently emboldened byJessica’s peril, darted from behind the chair to grab the hem of one of his jeansclad legs. He kicked the dog off, with one hard, vicious jerk of his leg, and Chewie slammed into the wall with a yelp. Jessica screamed again as he threw the syringe to the floor. Her scream ended in a choking gurgle as he locked both hands around her throat.
Grace snatched up the gun he had dropped and fired. just like that, with no time to think.
Boom! The gun exploded. For a moment everything seemed to freeze in a hideous tableau: Jessica, blue eyes huge, clawing at the hands wrapped around her neck, gasping for breath; her son, choking the life from his sister, a curse on his lips; and herself, on her back on the carpet, holding the gun in both hands. Then a red stain burst onto the back of his black jacket between his shoulder blades and spread.
Slowly, slowly, his fingers opened. His hands dropped away fromjessica’s throat, and, like a toppling tree, he fell to the carpet.
For a moment no one moved. The last echoes of Jessica’s scream, like the sound of the gunshot, died away.
Then Grace, on hands and knees, scrambled to her son’s side.
Cbapter
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ONY SURVEYED THE CARNAGE from the door**.Xway, where he leaned heavily against the jamb. He’d arrived, gun in hand, just a split second after the kid had been shot, in time to watch as he released Jessica, and tumbled to the floor.
He couldn’t see Grace, and his heart gave a great, terrified leap. Then she scrambled out from behind the bed, on all fours, reaching the kid and turning him over, her face as white as Ivory soap. I
Of course she would feel bad, killing the kid. But it sure beat having it happen the other way around. Jessica crouched beside her, an arm around her
mother’s shoulders. The two exchanged a quick hug, and then Grace said something to Jessica as she placed two fingers beneath the kid’s ear. Checking for his pulse, Tony surmised.
Knowing himself no longer needed, since the damsels in distress had managed to save themselves without his help, he sagged to his knees, still clutching the jamb to keep from pitching flat on his face on the floor. A
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trail of smeared blood was left on the white paint of the door frame in the wake of his slide, he noticed with woozy disinterest. Chewle appeared from somewhere, limping toward him on three legs, his left rear foot held off the floor, his tail wagging faintly nonetheless.
Tony dared not let go of the jamb to pat the dog, who sniffed at him doubtfully, reminding him of poor Kramer. Jessica glanced up then, spotting him, and &om the horror on her face Tony surrnised that he was not a pretty sight.
“Mom, look at Tony!” Jessica gasped, jumping to her feet and rushing toward him.
Grace looked up then, and the expression on her face mirrored Jessica’s. Seconds later both of them were beside him, grasping his arms as they eased him onto his back on the carpet. Grace gently removed the gun from his grasp, and set it on a bookshelfjust inside the door.
“Get me a towel,” Grace said to Jessica, her voice urgent. Jessica jumped to her feet to comply. Her face was as white as Grace’s.
“Dear God, Tony.” Grace’s hands were gentle in his hair, and then he thought she touched his face, although he couldn’t be sure; the whole right side of it was numb. Jessica came back then with the towel, and Grace pressed it to his head just above his right ear.
“There’s so much blood. Jessica sounded almost awe-stricken as she stared at him. Tony supposed, with a tiny flicker of humor, that he must be a pretty gruesome sight.
“He’s going to be okay. Head wounds always bleed
a lot.” Grace’s voice was slightly sharp, as if she were daring her words not to be true.
Tony could hear sirens in the distance. The cavalry was near at hand, still welcome even if, like himself, they were arrivingjust a little too late.
“Are either of you hurt?” he managed, panting as he fought to keep unconsciousness at bay.
“We’re fine, and you’re going to be fine, too,” Grace said, pressing the towel harder against his head. From the quick looks mother and daughter exchanged, Tony deduced that both of them thought the last part of that statement was either wildly optimistic or a flatout lie.
“I love you,” he said to Grace, in case he didn’t get another chance. He wanted to reach for her hand, but he found he didn’t have the strength to do much more than bat an eyelash. The funny part about it was, this was the conversation he’d meant to have with her this evening. Only he’d pictured the occasion as having more to do with moonlight and kisses than bloody, battered bodies.
She smiled at him, a little crookedly, and bent to kiss the uninjured side of his mouth.
“I love you, too,” she said, straightening and pressing the towel harder against the side of his head. Behind her, Jessica was watching and listening, eyes
wide. Tony met her gaze and would have grinned if the mere thought had not brought with it a premonition of nauseating pain. For a moment she stared back at him, the current teenage variation of the phrase _fast worker stamped on her face as plainly as if it had been printed
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in ink. Then she blinked, smiled, and gave him a thumb’s up behind her inoin’s back.
There was a pounding on the door downstairs. “Cavalry,” Tony mumbled. Grace nodded and said tojessica, “Go let them in.”
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HE IMPP-ESSIONS THAT STAYED with Grace long after that night was over were this: hordes ofp>
cops, two ambulances, a small crowd of neighbors on the lawn. Kramer, found by the garage, still alive but severely beaten, rushed to a veterinary hospital. The weapon, a tire iron taken from Grace’s garage, discovered near the dog, covered with congealing blood. Another body, a woman found not far from Kramer, wrapped in garbage bags. Bright lights, flashing cameras, and questions, dozens of questions.
Her son, badly wounded but alive, loaded into one ambulance with a battalion of police guards. Tony, semiconscious, loaded into the other ambulance. His hand clinging to Grace’s until they made him let go, because she was not allowed to ride with him to the hospital. She and Jessica following in her Volvo. Irony of ironies, both Tony and her son taken to the same hospital and bundled into the emergency room one after the other.
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Both rushed into surgery. Tony, at least, was expected to live.
A lifetime’s worth of guilt like a huge pile of stones crushing down on her chest.
Finally, Grace and Jessica were left to stare at the clock in the surgical waiting area.
Mom, Jessica said after a while. “Why did that guy keep cafling you Monimy?”
Grace looked at her for a moment without replying. How could she tell her daughter the truth? ForJessica, she had always tried to make everything—herself, their home, their life–-so perfect. Her daughter was very young to have her iflusions so thoroughly shattered.
And yet, there was no hel .p for it. Jessica deserved to learn the truth from her, instead of reading it in a newspaper, or seeing it on a TV newscast, or, if she missed those, hearing it as gossip from her friends.
Grace told her. The complete, unvarnished truth. And then sat there, as she had w1 th Tony, emotionafly naked, waiting for the verdict from this person whom she loved.
“How awful,” Jessica said, saucer-eyed, after staring at her mother for a long, silent moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? You must have felt so bad!”
Grace looked at her daughter and saw nothing but love for her in the blue eyes that were so like her own. “Jess,” she said, enfolding her daughter in a hug, you are totally incredible.”
“I know.” Jessica hugged her back, then released her. Seeing that her daughter looked worried, Grace tensed, waiting. Was the verdict not yet completely in? “Does Tony know?” was what Jessica asked.
Relief washing over her, Grace nodded.
“Oh.” Jessica seemed to ponder. Then her gaze sharpened on her mother’s face. “You two have been dating behind my back, haven’t you?”
Grace squirmed a little in her seat and shrugged. “‘Sort of. Not exactly dating, but