Paradise Falls (23 page)

Gingerly, he reached around with his left hand and steadied her arms. She leaned back a little, resting against his chest. His breath tickled the side of her neck.

“Aim down the sights. Line up the posts, and underline the target with them. Go ahead and shoot when you’re ready.”

This time, she kept her eyes open until the gun bucked in her hand. The bang was immediately followed by a loud
ping
and the target rocked on its little base.

Jennifer’s face lit up and she almost jumped in excitement. It was just like the last time.

“I got it!” she chirped.

“Do it again.”

He let go of her this time, and just stood behind. Her next three shots hit the target. He had her fire the next cylinder at a longer distance, and then again until she was shooting one halfway up the hill and hit three times out of five.

“Not bad for a snubby with fixed sights,” said Jacob. “We’ll need to clean this. I’ll go through it with you. Let’s try the rifles.”

Jennifer shifted nervously on her feet. “I’ve never shot one of those before.”

“I’ll run you through it. Come over here.”
 

She moved to his side and looked down at the rifle. It was all black, and it looked
angry, somehow.

“Pick it up. It won’t bite you.”

She lifted it by the pistol grip and the front end, like she’d seen people do before. Jacob moved close to her, and tilted in her hands.

“First,” he said,” this is the safety. F is fire, S is safe. Try it.”

She flipped the lever back and forth.

“This is a semi-automatic, so it’ll go off every time you pull the trigger.”

“Like my gun,” she said.

“It works completely differently. This is a gas-operated rifle, but it’s the same principle, yes. The trigger pull is going to be much, much lighter. It’ll go off easier.”

“Okay.”

“Now, to load. Pick up a magazine. See how they’re curved? Curve it away from you.”

He nodded approvingly as she picked it up.

“Now, push it into the magazine well. Don’t slap it, like they do on television. Just push it firmly until it locks. You’ll feel it.”

Jennifer slid the metal box into the bottom of the rifle until she felt something click, gave it a good push, and gingerly pulled her hand back, letting it hang.

“Now, pull the charging handle. Here.”

A little metal bit pulled back on top of the rifle above the stock. She held it, looking at him, until she realized she had to let go and it snapped home. It didn’t feel any different, but she knew it was loaded now.

“Okay, the sight works just a bit different. You want the post to be in the middle of the metal ring. Look down the sights.”

“The ring is fuzzy,” said Jennifer. “I can’t really see it.”
 

“That’s how it works,” said Jacob. “You’ll get a feel for it. Now, you want the top of the post to underline the place you want the bullet to go. Aim at the last target you shot. I’ll help you, okay?”

“Alright.”

He stepped around behind her and steadied her aim with his arms. Jennifer let out a long breath, and when her lungs were empty put her finger on the trigger and increased the pressure until the rifle went off. She blinked, surprised. It really did go off with just a touch of her finger.

Jacob lowered his arms, but didn’t move back. Jennifer sighted down on the rifle and fired again. This time she clearly heard the
ping
of the target being struck.

“Further back,” he said.
 

She nodded, and fired. She hit, and each time she made a hit he told her to aim for the next target. When the rifle was finally empty, the bolt locked back. He showed her how to take the magazine back out and motioned her down the table.
 

“Jennifer, that last one was almost two hundred yards away. That’s a long shot for open sights, even on a rifle. You’re really good at this.”

Her chest actually swelled with pride.

“Now,” he said, handing her another magazine. Recharge the weapon.”

She put the magazine in right, but the charging handle wasn’t working.

“Here,” he showed her another button. It made the bolt go home.

“Bolt release,” he said. “Remember that.”

With a nod, she aimed at the closest target.

“Let it rip,” he said, “fire it as fast as you can, but keep the sights on the target.”

She nodded, and pulled the trigger. The gun really did shoot as fast as she could keep pulling it. The magazine emptied faster than she expected, but by the time it was empty she was actually laughing.

“That was fun,” she said.

“You’re a natural. You only missed two times out of thirty. Well, twenty eight.”

“How many does it hold?”

“Depends on the mag,” he said, lifting the rifle from her hands. “These take thirty, some take twenty, some take forty. Once in a while you see big drums that hold fifty, or a hundred. I load my thirties to twenty-eight. It’s easier on the springs. If the magazine doesn’t work right, it can jam up the weapon.”

“Okay,” said Jennifer. “I’ll remember that.”

“Now, the fun part,” he said in a tone that meant it was clearly not the fun part, “we clean.”

Jacob may have been bored with it, but Jennifer was absolutely fascinated. Cleaning her little revolver was a boring job, yes, but the rifles were strangely complicated, yet simple at the same time. Something about the way the parts, which appeared to be a random assembly of pieces when spread out on the felt, fascinated her. They all fit together with such precision and symmetry. It reminded her of her origami.

When it was all done, her hands smelled like oil, and there was a pile of black rags in a bucket. It was unburned powder and soot, he explained. Jennifer helped carry it all in, first the guns themselves. The rifles went back in his safe, and the little revolver she loaded with Jacob’s ammunition and slipped back in her purse. It was almost dark out by the time it was all done.

They were in the basement.

Jacob looked at her, obviously working up to something.

“Whatever he did to you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Jennifer flinched, and pulled out the earplugs.

“I’ve heard that before. From Katie, and Rachel. How much did Katie tell you?”

“Enough,” he said. “Not specifics.”

“Ellison was trying to provoke you,” she said. “He wanted an excuse to arrest you. Or worse.”

“I know,” he said, “and if those kids hadn’t showed up I’d have torn his fingers off.”

Jennifer smirked in spite of herself.

“I’m not joking.”

She looked at him. “You’re really not, are you?”

“It’s easy,” said Jacob. His voice was oddly flat. “Like cleaning a chicken. Especially the ring finger and pinky. You’d be surprised how little tissue there is holding them on, especially once the joint gives.”

Jennifer swallowed, and shuddered a little.

“You could learn,” he said. “I didn’t see much before I took care of Grayson, but you’ve got instincts. The way you put your feet on the wall, used the environment in your room. I could work with that. I could teach you.”

“I don’t know. Shooting is one thing, but I don’t think I could rip somebody’s fingers off.”
 

“You don’t have to do that,” said Jacob. “I know ways to drop someone, or get out of a hold, without hurting them at all. You’d never have to be afraid of someone grabbing you from behind ever again.”

“I’m really tired, and the funeral service for Krystal tomorrow. I can’t do it now.”

“As you wish.”

Jennifer shot him a look. Something about that phrase stuck in the back of her head.

He did walk her upstairs, up to the bedroom, but stopped at the door. Jennifer stopped just inside, looking back at him. She wanted to grab his hand and pull him inside. What would come after that, she wasn’t sure.
 

Her ring itched.

Jacob paced the room. “We need to talk to the kid with the blonde hair.”

“Talk to him?” said Jennifer.
 

“Aggressively.”

He sat down in front of his computer and pulled from his pocket the hand written speeding ticket Ellison wrote. He turned it in his fingers, staring at it. His nostrils flared, and his brows furrowed. He brought the edge to his nose, and sniffed, then drew back.

“What?” said Jennifer.

He handed her the ticket. Jennifer took it, brought to her nose, and sniffed.

“Cleaning fluid?” said Jennifer.

“Ammonia,” said Jacob. “From his hands. Interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

Jacob shook his head. “It’s probably nothing. Go get some rest. We’re going to Port Carol to look up blondie.”

9.

“How are we supposed to find him?” said Jennifer.

“Port Carol isn’t a big town. Shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll check the motel first, and go from there.”

Jennifer settled down into the seat of the car, a battered-looking old Plymouth, and looked out the windows. It was well past dark, an Jacob drove slowly, just under the posted limit. On the back roads that meant slow gentle sweeps around curves. Jennifer used to love long car rides, when her father drove the family up to the reunion in Halstead. She especially loved cresting the small but steep hills and the funny feeling in her stomach as the car jolted down the far side. Now it just made her feel queasy.

“He made it sound like he’s one of the one that shot the kids.”

“Yes,” said Jacob.

His hand tightened on the wheel. It creaked under his grip.

Jennifer shivered and curled up, folding her arms over her chest as if she was cold.

“Are
 
you going to hurt him?”

“Yes,” said Jacob.

Jennifer swallowed.

“You don’t have to watch,” said Jacob, “but I need information. He has it. I’m going to get it.”

“How?”

The wheel creaked under his grip. “As quickly as possible.”

Port Carol was not far. In the dark in the wilds of Pennsylvania the night swallowed everything and the little towns dotting the highway were islands in a sea of inky black. The most lights came from the newest building in town, the truck stop and gas station. There were some lights downtown, such as it was, and the motel on the other side. Port Carol lined Route 86, sprouted a few cross streets and side roads, and then surrendered to the darkness again. The town had maybe five hundred people, tops. If it weren’t for the truck stops and the custom from the dairy farmers all around it, the whole place would be gone.

As they drove through town, her unease settled cold and hard in her stomach. The fire house was abandoned. The fire company had moved out of town years ago, sold their fire station to a garage, and now the garage was closed. Half the buildings in town were like that, and where their windows weren’t covered over with brown paper they were black mirrors, reflecting the gray Plymouth as Jacob and Jennifer passed by. She wondered if there was anyone here at all.

They passed Jack’s, a honky-tonk and illegal strip club she’d heard of only by reputation. Jacob eased off the gas as they drove by, grunted to himself, and pulled off into an empty gas station, and shut off the car. Jennifer was about to ask when she saw the little Honda parked by the back entrance. Jacob settled in the seat, watching with unblinking eyes. Jennifer fidgeted in the seat, frowning.

“Think that’s him?”

Jacob nodded. “This isn’t a big place. We’ll check it out for a while.”

“Like a stakeout,” said Jennifer.

“Like a stakeout.”

She shifted in her seat. Jacob leaned his seat back and relaxed. He went totally still.

Jennifer cleared her throat and leaned back herself.

The silence ticked on. She continued to fidget. Jacob continued to sit totally still.

Desperate to fill the silence, she spoke.

“I wasn’t allowed to go to parties. I wasn’t allowed to date, either. Mom kept a very short leash on me, especially after I hurt my leg and I couldn’t do gymnastics anymore. I mean I probably could have, but I was never going to compete. I don’t know if she thought I’d make the Olympics or what, but… I was too tall, too heavy. I should have stopped sooner, taken up something else, but she was insisted. It doesn’t matter.”

She sighed.

“I wanted to be like the other kids. I mean, Elliot was the cool kid in school and everyone adored him. Captain of the football team and the student government and all that. His father and his uncle were out of town, and word got around he was hosting a party. I put on the skankiest clothes I had, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Guess that says something about me.

“Anyway, I went to the party. Elliot’s face lit up when I arrived. He was all over me, kept feeding me drinks. There was this fruit punch, and I didn’t know it had alcohol in it. I’d never had a drop to drink before, I didn’t even know what it tasted like. I got so drunk so fast I don’t remember anything between the first drink and waking up on the bed.

“He must have carried me upstairs. I woke up on the bed, or maybe that’s just where the memory starts. I think I was already awake. I remember his fingernails clawing over my skin. My jeans saved me. They were so tight he had to use both hands to get them down and they weren’t past my hips when I started screaming.

“Nobody cared,” said Jennifer. “I heard voices, people talking, yelling at each other, but nobody came in the room. He was pulling my pants down and pushing my top up. He had his hands on my…” she took a ragged breath. “Franklin came into the room, shoved Elliot and started screaming at him. ‘Stop it, you’re hurting her, she’s crying’, over and over. Elliot was about to start pummeling him when the other kids came in and pulled them apart.

“It’s hazy from there. The next thing I remember is sitting in the driveway wrapped up in a blanket. My Dad came to pick me up. I mean literally, he carried me to the car, but before that James Katzenberg leaned down in front of me. I don’t know how he got back so fast, but he leaned down right in my face and said ‘
if you breath a word of this to anyone, you little slut, they’ll find you in a ditch with your throat cut
’.

“When we got home, Mom tore into me. She wasn’t mad I snuck out or went to a party, she was mad at me for leading Elliot on. She gave me this long lecture about how I should have been proud for a boy like him to… then Dad started yelling at her. He’d never raised his voice to her before but he tore into her and they forgot about me. Katie was… just turned thirteen, I think. She helped me clean up and bandaged the scratches on my legs and got in bed with me. My parents didn’t sleep in the same room after that. Dad died not long after, and I was alone with
her
. The only thing that mattered was keeping Katie safe from her and keeping away from Elliot. When I had to go away to school I felt like throwing up. I wanted Katie to come live with me.”