Covet - A Novel of Fallen Angel Part 16

aThe diner?a aI was thinkingasomewhere else. Actually, I have this place I want to take you to.a aOkay. I can follow you?a aHow about I just drive us both?a As she glanced back at the club, he shook his head. aActually, follow me, please. Youall feel safer with your own car.a There was a pause, as if she were testing her instincts. Then she shrugged.

aNoathatas not necessary.a She looked up at him. aI really donat think youall hurt me.a aYou can bet your life on that.a Vin escorted her over to the M6, and after she was settled in the pa.s.senger seat, he got in behind the wheel. aWeare going to the Wood.a aWhatas that?a aA residential part of town where every single street ends with awood.a Oakwood, Greenwood, Pinewood.a He started the engine. aItas like the city planners just ran out of inventive names at that point, and you have to wonder why there isnat a Woodwood Avenue over there.a She laughed. aIave been here for about a year and a half. I should probably know where it is.a aItas not far. Just about ten minutes.a Five blocks over from the club, he eased onto the Northway and went up one exit, getting off at Caldieas northern suburbs. As they pa.s.sed street after street of postage-stamp lots, the houses were small and became even smaller as he went on.

He had memories of these neighborhoods, but not the Norman Rockwell, squeaky-clean, happy-family kind. More like him sneaking out of the house to get away from his parents and hooking up with his friends to go and drink and smoke and fight. Anything was better than being home back in those days.

G.o.d, how head prayed for them to go away. Or for him to leave.

And head gotten his wish, hadnat he.

aAlmost there,a he said, although Marie-Terese seemed perfectly content next to him, her body relaxed, her head back against the seat rest as she looked out the window.

aI feel like you could just keep driving for hours,a she murmured, aand Iad be happy just to sit here and watch the world go by.a He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. aWhenas the last time you had a vacation?a aForever.a aAh. I know how that one is.a When he got to 116 Crestwood Avenue, he pulled into the driveway and up to a tiny two-bedroom with aluminum siding and a concrete walkway to the front door.

The place where head grown up had never looked so good, the bushes around the foundation trimmed and the big oak tree free of dead branchesa"and when there was gra.s.s growing on the ground, it would be mowed every week. Head also replaced the roof two years ago and had the siding redone and the driveway resurfaced. It was the best-kept house on the street, if not in all of the Wood.

aWhat is this?a she said.

He was abruptly embarra.s.sed, but then that was the point. Devina had never been here. No one who worked with him even knew about the place. Ever since head started making it, head shown people only what head been proud of.

He opened his door. aThisais where I grew up.a Marie-Terese was out of the car by the time he came around, and her eyes were going over every inch of the house, from stoop to flashing.

He took her arm and led her up to the front door. As he unlocked and opened the way, the scent of artificial lemon rolled out like a welcome mat, but it was a false greeting, as fake as the chemicals that were approximating the smell.

Together, they stepped through the jambs and he flipped on the hall light, then closed the door and cranked the heat on.

Cold. Damp. Disordered. In contrast to the exterior, the house inside was a mess. Head left it exactly as it had been the day his parents had fallen down the stairs together: an artifact of ugliness.

aYup, this is what I grew up in,a he said roughly, looking down at the only fresh stretch of rug in whole the housea"which was at the foot of the staircase. Where theyad landed after theyad fallen from the top landing.

As Marie-Terese looked it all over, he went into the living room and clicked on a lamp so she could also see the ratty sofa with the bald patches on the armsaand the low coffee table with the cigarette burnsaand the bookshelves that were still filled more with his motheras empty vodka bottles than anything you could read.

Man, the light was not kind to the orange-and-yellow drapes that hung with wilted exhaustion from their wrought-iron rods or the faded rug that had a worn track leading from the couch into the kitchen.

His skin was crawling as he walked over to the archway and hit the light switch for the fixture over the stove.

What should have been Betty Crocker awesome was even worse than the living room: The Formica countertops were stained with circles left by cans that had sat for weeks, bleeding rust onto the surface. The refrigerator with its loose handle was harvest gold, or probably had been when it had been boughta"now it was hard to tell how much had been intentional color choice and what was decay and dust. And the pine cabinetsawhat a mess. Originally theyad been glossy, but they were now dull, and the section of them that was under the old leak in the ceiling had strips of varnish bubbling up from the wood like streaks of poison ivy on skin.

He was so ashamed of it all.

This was his real estate Dorian Gray, the rotting reality he kept locked in his proverbial closet while to the rest of the world he presented only beauty and wealth.

Vin glanced over his shoulder. Marie-Terese was wandering around, her mouth slightly parted, as if she were watching a scene in a movie that had shocked the s.h.i.t out of her.

aI wanted you to see this,a he said, abecause itas the truth and I never show it to people. My parents were both alcoholics. My dad worked as a plumberamy mom was a professional smoker and that was about it. They fought a lot and died in this house, and to be honest, I donat miss them and Iam not sorry. If that makes me a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Iam okay with it.a Marie-Terese walked over to the stove. Sitting on the cooktop, between the gas burners, there was an old spoon cradle which she picked up and dusted off. aaThe Great Escapeaaa aAn amus.e.m.e.nt park up north. Ever heard of it?a aNo. As I said, Iam not from here.a He came over, looking at the cheap, touristy thing with the red logo on it. aI bought that on a school field trip. I thought maybe if the other kids saw me getting something homey for my mother, they wouldnat guess what she really was like. For some reason, the lie was important to me. I wanted to be normal.a Marie-Terese put the thing back with more care than it deserved and stayed where she was, staring at the thing. aI go to a prayer group every Tuesday and Friday night. At St. Patrickas.a Her revealation caught his breathaand he had to force himself to be cool. aYouare Catholic? Me, too. Or at least my parents were married in a Catholic church. Iam lapsed and then some.a She tucked some of her hair behind her ear and took a shuddering breath. aI goaI go to the meetings because I want to be around the normal people. I want to bealike them again someday.a Her eyes flashed up and met his. aSo I understand. I understandaall of this. Not just the house, but why you donat bring people here.a Vinas heart thundered in his chest. aIam glad,a he said hoa.r.s.ely.

Her eyes drifted around. aYesaevery bit of this, I get.a He held out his hand. aCome with me. Let me show you the rest of the place.a She took what he offered, and the warmth of her palm in his was transformative, lighting up his whole body, showing him just exactly how cold and numb he usually was. Head been hoping shead accept him even with this in his background. Praying.

And now that he saw she did, for some reason he wanted to thank G.o.d.

As they went up the stairs, the steps squeaked under the fetid carpet cover and the banister was about as steady as a drunk on a boat. At the top landing, he bypa.s.sed his parentsa room, went down past the single bathroom, and paused in front of a closed door.

aThis was where I slept.a After he opened it up, he turned on the overhead light. Tucked under the eave of the attic, his old twin bed was still covered with a navy blue quilt, and the single pillow at the head was still flat as a slice of bread. The desk where head done his homework, when head actually worked on the stuff, was still under the window, the goosenecked lamp head studied by cranked up to the ceiling. Over on the bureau, his Rubikas Cube and his black Ace comb and the 1989 Sports Ill.u.s.trated Swimsuit Edition with Kathy Ireland on the cover were where head left them last.

Above the dresser, his mirror had various ticket stubs, pictures, and other s.h.i.t tucked into its cheapo, fake-wood frame, and as he stepped forward and caught his reflection, he wanted to curse.

Yup, still the same. He was still staring at a face with bruises on it.

Of course, this trip, his father hadnat been the one whoad put them there.

Vin walked over to the window, and as he cracked the thing to let some air in, he felt like talking. So he did.

aYou know, I took Devina to Montreal on our first date. Flew her there in my plane and we stayed in a suite at the Ritz-Carlton. She was as impressed as I meant her to be, and even today, she doesnat know where I come from. Most of that was my choice, but the thing was, she never cared about the past. She never asked about my parents after I told her they were both dead, and I never volunteered.a He turned around. aI was going to marry her. Had the ring all boughta"and what do you know, she even found the diamond this afternoon.a aOhamy G.o.d.a aGreat timing, right? After Jim dropped me off, I went up to my place, opened the door, and there she was, all thrilled, the box in her hand.a Marie-Terese put her palm up to her mouth. aWhat did you do?a Vin went over and sat on the bed. As a fine spray of dust rose up, he grimaced, stood again, and gathered the quilt in his arms. aHold on a minute.a Out in the hall, he shook the bedspread out, turning his face away from the cloud. When it wasnat throwing off as much dust, he went back into the room, covered up the bare mattress, and sat down again.

aWhat did I doaa he murmured. aWell, I took her arms off my neck and stepped away. Told her that I couldnat commit to her, that Iad made a mistake and that I was sorry.a Marie-Terese came over and sat down beside him. aWhat did she say?a aShe took it with a glacial calm. Which if you knew her, wouldnat be a surprise. I told her she could keep the ring and she went upstairs with it. Came back like fifteen minutes later with a bunch of her clothes packed. Said shead move the rest of her stuff out right away and leave the key behind when she did. She was totally unfazed and in control. Fact was, she didnat seem surprised. I wasnat in love with her and I never had been and she knew it.a Vin pushed his a.s.s back so he could lean against the wall. From the heat vent overhead, warm air drifted downward onto his face, a counterbalance to the cold-and-fresh ambling in across the windowsill.

After a moment, Marie-Terese followed his example, only she curled her legs up and linked her arms around her knees. aI hope you donat mind me askingabut if you didnat love her, why did you buy the ring?a aIt was one more thing to acquire. Just like she was.a He glanced over. aIam not proud of it, by the way. I just didnat care beforea.a aBefore?a He looked away from her. aBefore now.a There was a long silence as the two sources of air mixed together, the heated and the cool blending into a comfortable temperature.

aMy sonas name is Robbie,a she said abruptly.

As he glanced over, he saw that on her knees, her knuckles were white from tension.

aIt doesnat have to be a quid pro quo,a he murmured. aJust because I tell you things doesnat mean you have to return the favor.a She smiled a little. aOh. I know. Itas justaIam not used to talking.a aThat makes two of us.a Her eyes moved around the room and then stayed on the open door. aYour parents argued a lot?a aAll the time.a aDid theyafight? As in more than just verbalayou know.a aYup. Most of the time my motheras face looked like a Rorschach testaalthough she gave as good as she gota"not that that excused in any way my fatheras punches.a Vin shook his head. aI donat give a s.h.i.t what goes down, a man should never, ever raise a hand to a woman.a Marie-Terese laid her cheek down on top of her knees, and stared over at him. aSome men donat share that philosophy. And some women donat fight back like your mother did.a When a growl sounded out in the room, she sat up in surpriseawhich confirmed that, yeah, the low, dangerous sound had come from him.

aTell me that wasnat your experience,a Vin said darkly.

aOh, noaa she replied quickly. aBut it was rough getting out of my marriage. After I told my now ex-husband that I was leaving him, he took our son and went all around the country. I didnat know where my child was or what had happenedathree months. Three months and a private investigator and then lawyers to get free of the marriage and away from him. Everything I did was to make sure my son was and is safe.a Now her picture was becoming clear, Vin thought. And he was relieved that however bad it had been, she hadnat been battered on top of all of that. aMust have cost a lot of money.a She nodded and put her head down again. aMy ex was a lot like you. Very wealthy, powerfulahandsome.a Okayas.h.i.t. It was great she found him attractive, but he didnat like where this was invariably leading. How could he convince her that he wasnata"

aMark never would have done something like this, though,a she said quietly. aHe never would have let himself be thisaexposed. Thank you for thisa. Itas actually the nicest thing a manas ever done for me, in a way.a As Vin lifted his hand, he did it very slowly, so she knew exactly where it was. And when he brought his palm to her face, he gave her plenty of time to move back.

She didnat. She just met and held his eyes.

Moments expanded into minutes, and neither of them looked away.

As the silence thickened, Vin leaned in and her lips parted, her head shifting up off her knees as if she wanted to meet his mouth as much as he wanted to meet hers.

At the last second, he just kissed her forehead, though. And then he drew her into his arms, wrapping her up close and holding her. As her head rested on his chest, he smoothed his palm over her back in slow, big circles. In response, the shudder she let out was a surrender more complete, more profound, more intimate than if shead given her body over to him for s.e.x, and he accepted the gift of her trust with the reverence it deserved.

Resting his chin lightly on the top of her head, Vin looked across the roomaand had the answer to the question head been asking himself since head first seen her.

Tucked into the frame of the mirror, just one among the other things, was a picture of the Madonna on a stiff card. In the depiction, she had jet-black hair and brilliant blue eyes and she was beyond lovely, her face tilted down, her golden halo a circle above her head, the aura around her whole form glowing.

Head gotten the card from one of those evangelical types whoad shown up at the door here a long, long time ago.

As usual, the only reason head answered the knock was because his drunken mother had been on the verge of doing so, and he couldnat bear the shame of anyone seeing her in her dirty housecoat and with all that ratty hair. The guy on the other side of the door had been dressed in a black suit and had looked like what Vin had wished his father dida"neat, tidy, healthy, and calm.

Vin had lied about his parents being home, and when the man had looked beyond into the living room, Vin said that was not his mother, but a sick relative.

The evangelistas eyes had filled with sorrow, as if he werenat unfamiliar with the situation, and the guy had skipped his spiel, just handing over the card and telling Vin to use the number on the back if he needed shelter.

Vin had taken what was offered and gone upstairs to sit with it in his palms. Head instantaneously loved the lady on the front because shead looked as if she never got drunk and never yelled and never hit anyone. And to make sure she was protected, head hidden her picture from his mother and father by making it obvious and placing it in full view on the mirrora"usually when his mother ransacked his room, she just went for the drawers and the closet and whatever was under the bed.

Now he had his answer.

As he stared at the card, he realized Marie-Terese looked exactly like her.

CHAPTER 22.

Jim worked his knife over the piece of wood with care and confidence. In front of him, on the newspaper head laid out on the floor at his feet, a pile of wood chips was growing and Dog was right next to the whole production, watching with those big brown eyes, appearing to understand on every level why someone would choose to behave this way toward a stick.

aItas going to be part of my chess set.a Jim nodded at a shoe box head been filling up over the last month. aI think Iall make this onea. Well, Iam tired of doing p.a.w.ns. So this will be the queen.a Head gotten the wood from the oak trees on the property when branches broke off in the winds and fell to the ground, and he was slow but steady with his hobby, good for a couple of pieces every now and again. The tool he used was a hunting knife head been given by his commanding officer long ago and talk about oldie, but goodie. The thing was a masterpiece of weaponry that was deceptively humble, with no identifying trademarks, serial numbers or initials, and nothing to tip off the fact that it had been handmade by an expert for use by an expert. And Jim knew the thing like the back of his own hand, the stainless-steel blade a vicious piece of work, the handle wrapped in leather that had been aged with his own sweat.

Lifting it up, he measured the flash of the overhead light on the bladeas patinaed surface. Funny, he thought, here in this one-room apartment, being used to transform wood into a game piece, it was just a knife. In most other circ.u.mstances, it had been a deadly weapon.

The purpose was everything, wasnat it.

As he went back to work, the blade made a soft sc.r.a.ping sound as he used his thumb to pull the knife toward himself, his hand carefully guiding each stroke, reducing the wood by increments to reveal the chess piece trapped inside.

Over the last twenty years, head spent hours like this: By himself. No radio, no television. Just a piece of wood and a knife. Head made birds and animals and stars and letters that spelled nothing. Carved faces and places. Trees and flowers.

There were many advantages to his hobby. Cheap, portable, and head always had his blade wherever head been.

Guns had come and gone. Other kinds of weapons, too. COs as well.

But the knife had always been with him.

G.o.d, the day it had been presented to him, its flank had been mirror clear, and the first thing head done was take it outside of his quarters and rub dirt on both sides of it: Dulling all that bright-and-shiny, like sharpening the business edges, had been part of enhancing its utility.

The weapon had never failed him. And d.a.m.n if he didnat say so himself, but it cut up a nice piece of wood, tooa"

His cell phone went off, ringing from over on the bedspread. As he went to go see who it was, he put the oak branch down and kept the knife with him out of habit.

Flipping open the phone, he saw that it was an untraceable number and knew exactly who it was.

Pushing his thumb on the send b.u.t.ton, he brought the cell to his ear. aYeah?a Silence. And then that deep, cynical voice: aWhich piece are you working on?a f.u.c.ker. Matthias the f.u.c.ker always knew too much. aThe queen.a aOld habits die hard, donat they.a As did former bosses. aThought you said I couldnat call you anymore.a aYour fingers didnat do the walking this time, did they.a aAnd to think you wasted all that effort just to find out what I was doing.a There was a pause. aThe license plate number. Why do you need to run it and why do you care about the vehicleas owner.a Ah, so that was the why of the call. aNone of your business.a aWe donat condone freelancing. On any level. You pull s.h.i.t like that and youare not just off active duty, youare going to be retired.a Which meant there was a pine box, not a gold watch, in his future: His bosses didnat send you off into the sunset with a Rolex. You just woke up dead one morning.

aWhatever, Matthias, I know the drill, and if you called just to double-check on that, you wasteda"a aSo whatas the plate number?a Jim paused, and thought, Guess the debt was still owed.

As he recited Marie-Tereseas tag number and detailed what little he knew about the woman, he was confident the search wouldnat get flagged as inappropriate, even though it was going through government channels. Matthias was smooth, for one thing. For another, there was only one other guy with more power than he had.

And that SOB worked out of an oval office.

Yup, there were times when it didnat hurt to have the big dog owe you his life.

aIall be in touch,a Matthias said.

When the phone went dead, Jim looked down at his knife. Matthias had gotten one at the same time Jim had, and the guy had been d.a.m.n good with ita"but head also been excellent at aofficea politics, whereas Jim, with all of his antisocial tendencies, had stayed in the field. One path took Matthias to the top; the other had landed Jimain a studio over a garage.

With a new set of bosses.

Jim shook his head as he compared those four aristocratic nancies with their croquet b.a.l.l.s and their wolfhound and their castle to Matthias and his ilk: It was like putting a bunch of ballet slippers up against hiking boots outfitted with ice spurs. No contesta"at least on the surface. Jim had the distinct impression, however, that those boys on the other side had s.h.i.t in their back pockets that would make all the conventional and nuclear weapons at Matthiasas disposal look like toys.

He went back over and sat down on the cheapy chair next to Dog, except this time he took his cell with him. As he resumed carving, he thought about his new line of work.

a.s.suming that Vin followed through and broke things off with Devina, and provided the guy managed to get through Marie-Tereseas sh.e.l.l, Jim had to wonder what the h.e.l.l his own role was with the whole acrossroadsa bit. Yeah, maybe head managed to get the pair of them in the same place on Friday night, but other than that, what had he done?

This was either the easiest gig on the planet, or he was missing something.

A little later, Jim glanced at the clock. And then a half hour after that he looked again.

Matthias worked fast. Always. And on its face, the request was a simple one: Verify the registration and owner of a five-year-old Toyota Camry and perform a criminal background check. It was the kind of thing that took two sweeps of a mouse, six strokes on a keyboard, and about a nanosecond.

Unless a national security emergency had occurred. Or something had been found in Marie-Tereseas records.

There were reasons why people felt the need to look behind themselves in dark alleys. Good reasons why most tended to hurry along, even if it wasnat chilly. Excellent reasons why lighted streets were much preferred at night.

aOhaG.o.d, noa. pleasea"a The downward sweep of the tire iron cut off the pleading and it was a sharp extinguishing, like turning off a light: One moment there was illumination, the next nothing but blackness.

One moment there was a voice, the next nothing but silence.

Blood was on both their faces now.

As he set about killing the man, rage lifted his arm more than any conscious thought did and his anger gave him the kind of strength that meant this wasnat going to take long. Just one more strike, if even that, and there would be more than a temporary silence.

Shifting his weight to get the most out of the downward trajectory, hea"

At the far end of the alley, the headlights of a car swept around, the twin paths of beams. .h.i.tting the brick of the building to the left and pouring down its rough wall.

No time for another strike. In a split second, he was going to be lit as clear as if he were on stage.

Wheeling around, he shot over to the opposite side of the alley, running as fast as he could. As he gunned around the corner, they were going to catch sight of his jacket and the back of his baseball cap, but there were a hundred black Gore-Tex windbreakers in Caldwell, and a black hat was a black hat was a black hat.

There was a screech of brakes and then someone yelled something.

He kept going with the hightailing for only three blocks, and when there was no more shouting and no roaring sounds of a car chasing him, he slowed his pace, then ducked into an inset doorway that had no overhead light. Shucking the windbreaker, he buried the tire iron in it, making knot after knot with the sleeves to tie the thing up while he caught his breath.

His car was not far away because head left it somewhere other than the Iron Maskas parking lot just to be safe. And hadnat that turned out to be the right decision.

Even after he was breathing slowly and steadily, he stayed where he was, hidden and safe. The police sirens came about five minutes later and he watched two marked cars speed by. About a minute and a half later a third one, which was unmarked and had its flashing light stuck to the dashboard, went tearing past him.

When there were no others, he took off his baseball cap, wadded it up, and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. Then he took off his belt, pulled up his fleece, and secured the b.l.o.o.d.y tire iron and its wrapping against his rib cage. After covering himself up again, he ghosted out of the doorway and headed for his car, which was less than a quarter of a mile away.