House of Glass (16 page)

“Did it go through?”

“Maybe...I don’t know. But, honey, it wasn’t just the bullet, he had some other damage, too. That part of his arm was...”
Crushed,
that was the word, stomped and mangled. Jen tried to think of some gentler alternative. “There was a lot of trauma around the elbow. I don’t think he’s losing much blood anymore but that arm is going to need a lot of attention. He certainly can’t use it right now, and I don’t know how much use he’s going to get out of it for a while.”

That was close to the truth, wasn’t it? Livvy nodded, and Jen could tell from her expression that she’d read meaning between her words. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I just didn’t want you to worry more than you had to.”

“I’m not incompetent. Or fragile. It’s not like I’d fall apart. I’m not the one who falls apart around here.”

“I don’t think you’re either of those things,” Jen said carefully, trying to not to upset Livvy further. “I think you are wonderfully competent in so many ways. And if I treat you like a child sometimes, honey—”

“Whatever,” Livvy said and sat on the sofa, her body turned slightly away, not looking at her. Jen sank into the love seat. The seconds ticked by slowly, and Jen watched the digital numerals at the bottom of the screen, wishing she knew what to say to Livvy, how to reassure her.

Because what if these few minutes were their last?

“Okay,” Livvy said when the guide at the bottom of the screen flickered 6:53 p.m. “It’s time. You need to get Dan to take you upstairs. Remember. You’ve got to make them
believe.
”

“Got it.” Jen stood up and took a deep breath. She’d pretend with everything she had.

Chapter Twenty-One

“I just remembered,” Jen said. Standing on the second step from the top, she had to look up to see Dan’s face. It had taken him a few moments to answer the door when she started pounding on it, and he didn’t look happy. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded, smelling of fried food and cigarettes. “Ted’s supposed to play basketball tonight. If he doesn’t call, his friend is going to come by to pick him up.”

“Yeah?” Dan looked dubious. “Why should I believe you?”

“His friend sends his son up to the door to get Ted,” Jen said, coming up with the story on the fly. “He’s fourteen. There’s no way I’m letting another child walk in on this.”

Dan stared at her for a long time, and Jen could feel herself starting to perspire. But she didn’t look away.

“Let’s say I let Ted make a call,” he finally said. “How do I know he’s not going to start yelling his head off the minute his friend picks up?”

“He wouldn’t,” Jen said. “Not if I explain.”
Not if you’ve got that damn gun pointed at me.

Dan cursed and smacked his hand on the doorjamb. “Goddamn it. You tell your husband that he can’t fuck this up.”

He led Jen up the stairs. She didn’t dare to turn around and look at Livvy. Instead she touched the outline of the walkie-talkie in her pocket to reassure herself that it was there. In the kitchen, Dan grabbed Ted’s phone off the counter. Passing by the office door, Jen glimpsed Ryan inside, using Ted’s computer with his feet up on the desk.

In their bedroom, the smell was stronger, the dirt-and-metal odor now tinged with something sick and even more foul. Dan flipped the switch, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of the silk-shaded lamps on the nightstand.

Ted was back in the bed, a motionless form under a mound of blankets. Jen couldn’t see his face. It took a second to register that the blankets were from Teddy’s bed; Dan must have taken them to replace the soiled ones in the bathroom after he got Ted moved back to the bed. He hadn’t bothered with restraints this time; the ropes Ryan had cut off were still in the corner of the room where he’d tossed them.

She moved closer, and Ted shifted and she saw his waxy, gray face. She tried to compose herself as he opened his eyes. “Hey, you,” he said thickly, trying to lick his cracked lips.

Jen bent and kissed his forehead gently. His skin was hot and moist. She lifted the sheets to take a look at his arm and almost wished she hadn’t. It was easily twice as large as it had been before, at least below the injury. The flesh was a purpled gray, swollen and shiny, his fingers spread wide and fat. Jen touched her fingertips gently to his forearm and was shocked at the burning heat. Ted winced and she took her fingers away.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, not wanting him to see how shaken she was.

“I’m okay. How’s Livvy?”

“She’s doing fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about her.” She laid a hand on his forehead. The fever had taken over his whole body now; his skin was damp with perspiration.

Dan grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her back to the foot of the bed. He tossed Ted’s phone onto his chest, where it landed in the tangle of bedcovers.

“Honey, you need to call Phillip and tell him not to pick you up for basketball today,” Jen said. Ted looked at her in confusion, and Jen hoped Dan would think he was just slow from the pain, not because she was lying.

“We can’t risk Luke coming up to the door,” she said carefully. “You have to call and tell him you’re sick.”

“Make the call,” Dan said. “But don’t even think about trying anything funny.” He put a hand on Jen’s neck and pulled her back, away from the bed, until her back was pressed against him, and she felt the hard cold barrel of the gun on her forehead.

“Oh, God, don’t hurt her,” Ted mumbled. It took him two tries to pick up the phone, and then he tapped at it clumsily with one hand, using his thumb to find the number. It took a long time before Jen heard it, faintly, ringing on the other end. Three, four, five rings... When Phillip’s message played she felt weak with relief.

“Hey, Phil, Ted here.” His words sounded hollow and rough. There was a pause while he bit down his pain and gathered the energy to continue. “Listen, I’m not feeling well...don’t think I’ll make the game. So. I’ll give you a call next week. Take care.” He ended the call and let the phone drop back on his chest, exhausted.

“Not bad,” Dan said, lowering the gun. Jen could still feel the barrel’s imprint on her skin. “You sounded like shit. I’d say it was convincing.”

Ted’s eyelashes fluttered, but there was no other response. She had to act now, before Dan forced her back down the stairs.

“Dan...can I just go to the bathroom?” she asked. “Just real quick, before we go back down?”

“What for? You’ve got one in the basement.”

“It’s...” Jen tried to think of something, anything, that would convince him. “I wanted to get the Tylenol out of the hall bath.”

“How come? You got a headache?” Dan’s voice was mocking. “Thinking of yourself when your husband’s lying here like this?”

“No, I just...it’s for Livvy. Please.”

“Okay, whatever, let’s go,” Dan said. He put a hand on her waist and shoved her toward the door to the hall. “Move it.”

Jen reached for Ted, but she was already too far from the bed to touch him.
I love you,
she mouthed, but Ted’s eyelids were half-closed, and she couldn’t tell if he saw her.

“I’ll just be a second,” Jen said, when she stood in front of the bathroom, her hand on the knob.

“Uh-uh, no way. I’ll come with you.”

“But—”

“Get the Tylenol, then you can do whatever else you need to do downstairs.”

Jen saw her chance disintegrating. “Please,” she said, her voice thick with despair. “
Please
just let me go by myself.”

But Dan pressed past her with an exaggerated sigh. He went through the medicine cabinet, found the Tylenol and tossed it to her. The little bottle bounced off her wrist and fell to the floor. When Jen bent to pick it up, the blood rushed to her head, and she had to grip the sink to keep from falling.

“Keep it together,” Dan snapped. “We can’t afford another one down.”

She slipped the bottle into her pocket, where it clacked against the walkie-talkie, but Dan didn’t appear to notice. That was it, then—the plan wasn’t going to work. She’d lost the chance to make the call, their only chance to get help.

As Jen followed Dan back into the hall, she felt weak from the magnitude of her failure. She lingered for a second in the doorway, and reached into her pocket and pressed the button on the walkie-talkie—just once, long enough to hear a single syllable of her nephew’s voice. It sounded like “two”—as in “testing, one, two, three” or perhaps “too” as in “are you there, too?”

Dan glanced over his shoulder at her, and she cleared her throat. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Ryan appeared at the top of the stairs. Jen hadn’t heard him come up. His hair was sticking up on one side, as though he’d been napping.

“We need to move him back to the basement,” he said to Dan, ignoring Jen. “I’m not sleeping up here with that smell tonight. And he never shuts up.”

“He’s fine where he is.”

“Okay, well, I’m not fine where he is. Let
them
deal with him.”

“Ryan...”

“Come on. I’m asking you for one little fucking thing. This whole time we’ve done everything your way.”

For a moment the two men stared at each other. Jen recognized Dan’s beleaguered frustration; she had felt that way herself so many times when dealing with Livvy. But Livvy wasn’t a psychopath. Livvy didn’t hurt people to amuse herself. She prayed Dan would refuse Ryan, that he’d let Ted stay here instead of subjecting him to a move.

“Okay, fine,” Dan finally said. “Get over there on the other side.” He yanked off the sheets and blankets and pulled Ted’s legs toward the edge of the bed. Ted moaned in agony.

Dan gave a heave and Ted was sitting up, swaying while Dan struggled to get an arm around his shoulders. Ryan took the other side, grunting with the effort of helping to lift him up. Once Ted was vertical, he took a small, tentative step.

“Don’t pass out on us,” Dan demanded.

“I’m fine,” Ted muttered through gritted teeth.

They made their way down the hall, shuffling like zombies, Ted in between the two men, his legs buckling every few steps. Jen followed behind. She thought about trying to lag behind and call Jake, maybe ducking into Livvy’s room. But she couldn’t say what she needed to Jake in the amount of time she would have before they came for her, and she couldn’t risk them finding the walkie-talkie she was hiding. Besides, if she tried anything, they’d let Ted fall to the floor while they dealt with her, and she didn’t think he could take any more trauma.

The stairs took forever. Dan went first, and together they eased Ted down each step, their progress punctuated by his moaning from the pain. When they reached the first floor, all three men were sweating. Dan and Ryan dragged Ted down the hall past the kitchen, Ted barely even able to move his feet, and then Ryan supported all of Ted’s weight while Dan fumbled with the lock.
Now,
Jen thought, now would be the time to go for it. Dan’s gun was still jammed in his pants, near the front where his gut was fleshiest. She could make out the top of the grip, pressing into his stomach. She could get to it, she was pretty sure, though she had no idea if she could figure out how to shoot fast enough, and she’d have to aim to kill because anything short of that was just bound to make things worse.

Dan turned the key and the basement door swung open. Once again, she was too late—stalling, deliberating too long. Useless.

Dan grunted as he got in place to help Ted down the stairs. His face was red with exertion.

“Daddy!”
Livvy shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“Back off,” Dan barked, reaching for his gun. Jen barely saw him move before he had it out and aimed at Livvy, but in the process he let go of Ted, who started to sway, unable to grab for the handrail with his damaged hand. Ryan tried to hold on, but his hands slipped on Ted’s sweat-soaked shirt. If he fell, there was nothing to stop him but the flimsy rail, nothing below but the concrete floor. Jen lunged for his belt, straining to hold on to him, but she wasn’t strong enough.

Ted wobbled and then crumpled. He fell down hard on the top landing, dragging Jen down with him. Livvy was running up the stairs, but then Dan seized her arm and forced her back down, twisting her wrist up and behind her back. When they were at the bottom he yanked up hard and she mewled with pain. “Do
not
come up those stairs again, do you hear me?” he snapped.

“Yes,” Livvy whispered, then repeated it, louder, when Dan pulled at her wrist again.

Jen felt something hard jab the small of her back, and she twisted around to see Ryan nudging her with one of his shoes. “Get up,” he snarled, and she pulled herself up.

“Come on, honey,” she murmured to Ted. She looped her arm under his armpit and, leaning on the rail for support and praying it wouldn’t give way under their combined weight, guided him down one faltering step at a time.

“Can I help my mom?” Livvy sniffled, her voice thick with tears as she rubbed at her wrist. Jen wondered if it was sprained. “Please?”

Dan shrugged, taking the rest of the stairs slowly. Livvy rushed to Ted’s other side and pressed her face to his soiled shirt, careful not to touch his injured arm. “Oh, Daddy, what happened?”

And then, quickly, so quietly only Jen could hear, she muttered “Did you do it? Did you call Jake?”

Jen shook her head. “I couldn’t,” she whispered.

“Give it to me.” Livvy’s hand went around her father’s waist, hugging him tight while her fingers sought out Jen’s hand. She made hiccuping crying sounds that were so real Jen wouldn’t have been entirely sure her daughter was acting except for the fact that when she didn’t react quickly enough Livvy pinched the soft flesh of her stomach and hissed
“Now.”

Jen slid her hand into her pocket, fingers closing on the little walkie-talkie. Coming down the stairs behind Dan, Ryan said, “Aw, ain’t that sweet.”

Livvy pushed her hand into Jen’s pocket and took the walkie-talkie. Jen could have stopped her; she could have held on tighter. But what did it matter, now? Ted was downstairs. There was no excuse to go back up, and no time, either. Livvy twisted as though she was helping her father, pulling his arm up and over her shoulder as she jammed the walkie-talkie into her jeans pocket with her other hand. It made an unmistakable outline in her tight skinny jeans, but Livvy managed to tug her sweater down over the pocket before she limped to the sofa with Ted and helped him sit down. Ted collapsed into the corner of the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as he puffed out a breath.

“What happened?” Livvy wailed, turning on Jen. “I thought you said it wasn’t bad!”

“Honey, it isn’t— I wasn’t—”

“Mom, there’s
bone
sticking out. What did they do to him?”

“Honey, I don’t...”

Livvy clutched her stomach. “
God,
I think I’m going to be sick.”

Jen tried to put her arm around her, but Livvy shook her off. “
Don’t.
You’re just making it worse.”

“Your dad’s going to be okay,” Dan said gruffly. For the first time, he looked a little embarrassed. “This was all an accident. Things happen. He’s just in shock, the body protecting itself. When we leave tomorrow, we’ll get someone over here.”

“Right,” Jen snapped. “You’ll make that 911 call on the way out of town, I bet. Top of your priority list.”

Dan wheeled on her. “I didn’t ask you to talk. You’re lucky if we don’t just leave you high and dry here.”

“Please...can’t you just take me up to the bathroom?” Livvy pleaded. “I don’t want to throw up down here, we’ll all have to smell it.
Please.
” She added a convincing whimper and put her hands over her face.

“Too damn bad,” Dan said, but Ryan was already at Livvy’s side.

“I’ll take you up,” he said. “Last thing we need in this house is more stink, that’s for sure.”