Reaper's Property (5 page)

Chapter
Five

Aug. 13—Six weeks earlier

I didn’t expect to see Horse again after
the abrupt end I’d called to our lovemaking. Picnic, Max and another guy called
Bam Bam had been to visit a couple of times. Jeff seemed happy enough to see
them, and they all loved the food I cooked. After they’d leave though, Jeff
would always get real quiet and touchy. He’d also started going to the casino
more often, which worried me.

He never came home acting like a man who’d
won.

But even though I sensed something was
wrong, I had come to enjoy their visits. I wasn’t sure if I wanted Horse to
come back or not. Every time I saw bikes in the driveway, I was terrified I’d
see him and disappointed when I didn’t. I dreamed about him all the time, and
more than once I’d re-lived our incredible morning together with my vibrator.

Apparently he’d forgotten about me though.
I wasn’t about to ask any of the other guys about him. I couldn’t stand pity,
and that was about the best I could hope for from them. During this time, Jeff
seemed more and more detached, smoking out constantly and barely talking to me
or eating. I worried about him, of course, and today I was particularly
frustrated because he’d promised me he’d stay sober.

You see, today I planned to go pick up my
stuff from my old house.

Yesterday had been my day off, and I’d
driven to the Women’s Center in Kennewick to try to figure out how to divorce
Gary. I couldn’t afford a lawyer but I didn’t want anything from him, so I
figured it would be quick and easy. If I got lucky, I wouldn’t even have to see
him. I could just send over the papers for him to sign.

But the super-sweet woman who met with me,
Ginger, shared some hard truths. For example, when I left, I’d grabbed my purse
and a bag full of clothing. But I hadn’t gotten my social security card, my
birth certificate, the title to my car or my pictures or keepsakes or anything.
And she was right when she pointed out that while I might not care about any of
that stuff now, I might need it down the line. I certainly shouldn’t trust Gary
with it.

She made a good point.

She also wanted me to file for a restraining
order against him, but I knew Gary. A restraining order would piss him off in a
big way. Right now he wasn’t messing with me. If I provoked him like that he
might find me and hurt me again, so I came up with a plan to go to the house
and get my stuff when I knew he’d be gone.

Every Monday he played poker with his
buddies. He didn’t even skip out when his mom died. If I went on a Monday I’d
be safe, unless I ran into Misty, who was not only his new whore, but who’d
worked at the grocery store with me for two years. Last time I checked, she had
a regular Monday night shift. Even if I ran into her, I figured she’d stay out
of my way—it wasn’t like I was a threat to her, and I wasn’t afraid of her. She
might be taller than me, but she was a frighteningly skinny thing who took her
manicure way too seriously to get in a cat fight. In fact, the longer I was
free from Gary, the more pity I felt for her. I’d already slipped out of the
noose, but her?

She’d been stupid enough to take it from
me, put it around her own neck and tighten it up.

Still, just in case, I wanted Jeff to make
the two-hour drive back home with me to Ellensburg, where I’d lived with Gary
for the past three years. I wasn’t in any real danger, but I still had
nightmares about him hitting me. I felt ashamed and embarrassed too. I hadn’t
even given notice at Safeway. Even if I didn’t see Jeff, what if I ran into my
old boss?

I didn’t want to face anyone.

When I pulled up to the trailer after work,
I found Jeff passed out on the couch with his pipe on the floor next to an
empty baggie and four beer bottles. I tried waking him up but he was completely
faded. Even if I managed to take him with me, he wouldn’t be any help.

So I decided to go by myself.

And yes, I realize now how incredibly
stupid that was.

Trust me.

Pulling up to my old
house was surreal.

Everything looked the same, but somehow
smaller and dirtier. Same ratty lawn, same faded and peeling paint, same
battered Mustang up on blocks in the driveway. All in all, it made me feel
pretty good about my decision to leave.

Our trailer might be crap, but at least it
was in the middle of an orchard. My dad had worked for the owner, John Benson,
and part of his compensation included use of the old trailer. When he’d left,
John had taken pity on us and let us stay for very low rent, seeing as he
didn’t really need it for anything else anyway. I think at some point he and my
mom had a thing, but I didn’t know the details and I didn’t want to know them.
We did our own repairs, kept a low profile and things worked out okay.

I parked my car in the street, pleased to
note Misty’s car wasn’t there and I couldn’t see any lights. None of the
neighbors were outside so I didn’t have to make awkward small talk with anyone.
It wasn’t that kind of neighborhood anyway—you know, where people look out for
each other or have a neighborhood watch.

I had a moment of worry when the door
wouldn’t open. I thought maybe he’d changed the locks, but then it popped
loose. Everything looked the same inside, but messier. Apparently Misty wasn’t
much of a house cleaner. I giggled, figuring that had to drive Gary crazy.

Jackass.

I found my papers easily enough, everything
except the car title. I kept a shoebox of keepsakes and photos in the closet in
our spare bedroom. It hadn’t been disturbed, so I carried it out to the car and
put it in the hatchback, then gave in to temptation and went back inside. I
figured while I was there I might as well see if any of my clothes were around,
or if Misty had thrown them out.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t. I found them
neatly bagged and labeled on the back porch. Convenient. It took four trips to
get it all in the car, and then I went in one last time. I wasn’t sure what I
was looking for… Maybe some kind of closure? He still had our wedding picture up
on the wall, right next to the one from our senior prom. I studied myself in
them, wishing I could go back in time and give myself some friendly advice,
something along the lines of
run away and never, ever look back!

For some reason I couldn’t explain, I
pulled the wedding picture off the wall, snapped off the back of the frame and
took it out. It wasn’t anything special, just a five-by-seven snapshot. We
didn’t have a real photographer at the wedding.

Still, it was a good picture.

Gary looked young and handsome, and I
looked fresh and pretty and full of excitement for the future. I don’t know how
long I stood there, lost in my thoughts, but I didn’t notice when Gary walked
into the house, reeking of beer and smoke, until he threw his keys down on the
coffee table.

I spun around, jaw dropping. My hands
trembled so much I dropped the picture.

“Um, hi, Gary?” I managed to whisper.

“That’s the day you fucked me over,” he
said, tilting his chin toward our wedding picture. His face was bright red and
I saw the vein in his forehead start to pulse. He was angry. Really angry. “I
could have been anything, but you needed a wedding ring and now I’m stuck in
this cow town with nothing. Great fucking plan, Marie. Hope you’re proud of
yourself.”

I watched him warily as he stalked toward
me, trying not to give in to panic. The last time I’d seen him was when he
backhanded me across our kitchen. I wasn’t prepared for the terror and sense of
helplessness that hit me at the memory, paralyzing my body. I forced myself to
think. Could I make it past him and through the front door? He laughed.

“You here to fuck me over again, cunt?”

The words were slurred. Gary was drunk.
Seriously drunk. Maybe even blackout drunk.

I needed to get out of here. Now.

I made a break for it but he lunged at me,
tackling me to the floor with the same strength and speed that made him our
high school quarterback. My head slammed into the hardwood I’d been so excited
to discover last year when we’d pulled out the carpet, pain exploding through
me. Gary sat up, straddling me and grabbing the front of my shirt, pulling me
up.

Then he started punching me.

Details are
fuzzy after that.

I spent a long time on the floor, moaning.
Misty walked through the door at some point and started screaming. Gary lay
passed out on the couch, oblivious as she helped me get up and walked me into
the kitchen. She wanted to call the cops but I begged her not to—I couldn’t
handle the humiliation of facing them, all the questions and pitying looks.

I also didn’t want to like Misty.

I’d felt devastated and betrayed when I
learned she was sleeping with my husband—the fight we’d had about her led to
him hitting me in the first place. But her touch was soft and gentle, the
horror in her eyes genuine. She forced me to take some Tylenol when I refused
to go to the emergency room. Then she went and threw everything of hers into
three suitcases, crying big, silent tears the entire time. The Tylenol kicked
in pretty fast, and while I couldn’t help her haul out her things, I held the
door for her. We locked it behind us and I watched as she loaded her car. Then
she took my arm, walking me over to mine.

“Are you sure you won’t let me call the
cops?” she asked. “He needs to pay for this. I knew he drank and his temper is
kind of crazy, but I had no idea…”

“I just want to go home,” I whispered. She
took me in her arms, hugging me gently, and a small, detached part of my psyche
marveled that my savior turned out to be a woman I’d hated so much. Life is
weird.

“Don’t come back here,” she whispered back.
“A man who can do that, he might kill you next time. I’m going to stay with my
brother for a while, I think. He’s a cop. I’ll be safe, but Gary talks about
you all the time, how much he hates you, how pissed off he is that you guys got
married and he never did anything with his life. Please don’t come back.”

“I won’t be back,” I said, and I meant it.

It was after three in the morning when I
pulled up to the trailer. I must have the shittiest luck on earth, because
there were five bikes parked outside, loaded down with saddlebags and bedrolls.
I sat in the car just looking at them, exhausted. Every light in the trailer
was turned on and I saw a flickering orange glow around the east corner.

They’d built a bonfire. Apparently Jeff had
sobered up enough to light up something besides more weed. I didn’t have the
energy for this. My body had stiffened during the drive, which made climbing
out a challenge. I shuffled over to the door, hoping against hope that they
were all out back by the fire so I could sneak in and collapse into bed.

No such luck.

I opened the door and walked in to find
Horse, Max, Bam Bam and Jeff. I stood there for a minute, holding on to the
frame to keep myself upright.

“Holy fuck,” Bam Bam said, and I nodded
sagely.

Holy fuck indeed.

Jeff just sat on the couch, opening and
shutting his mouth like a fish. I didn’t bother talking to him or any of them,
just walked painfully toward my bedroom. Then Horse was next to me, very
carefully picking me up, kicking open my cracked bedroom door and laying me
down on the bed. He turned on the little bedside lamp with a click, washing the
room with soft light.

I collapsed back against the pillow, tears
of relief welling up in my eyes as I sank into the soft bedding.

Home. I’d made it.

“Who did this?” Horse asked, his voice
colder than I’d ever heard it. He sat next to me on the bed, eyes dead and face
blank. I didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t handle the reality of him seeing
me like this. I closed my eyes, blocking out his face.

“Gary,” I muttered. “My husband. I went to
get my stuff. He wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“You need a doctor,” he stated. “You call
the cops?”

I shook my head against the pillow.

“No, and I don’t want to talk to anyone
about it,” I muttered. “Nobody. I’m not going to the ER, he didn’t break
anything. I’m just beat up, nothing serious.”

Horse didn’t say anything for a minute.

“I gotta ask, babe. Did he rape you?”

Fuck. A harsh, short bark of
near-hysterical laughter burst out of my mouth. I hadn’t even thought of
that—guess it could have been a lot worse.
Thanks for that, Gary. Thanks for
not raping me, douchebag
.

“No.”

“Babe. Look me in the eyes and answer the
question.”

I opened my eyes to find him leaning over
me, his face filled with terrible tension and a horrible, burning anger I
didn’t want to think about. I didn’t have the energy to manage my own emotions,
let alone worry about his.

“No, he didn’t rape me,” I said shortly,
then closed my eyes again, letting myself drift away from the pain. After a
time I heard footsteps enter the room, heard the low rumble of Picnic’s voice,
but I couldn’t make out the words at first. He repeated them, coming closer.

“Any witnesses?” Picnic asked. I ignored
him.

“Babe, we need to know if there were any
witnesses,” Horse said, his voice insistent. “Anyone see what he did to you?
Have you told anyone at all?”

“Um, Misty,” I whispered after a pause.
“Misty found me. She helped me get into my car. She wanted to call the cops but
I wouldn’t let her.”

“Who’s Misty?” Horse asked.

“Gary’s new girlfriend,” I replied,
reaching up to explore my split lip gingerly. Even talking hurt. “I actually
kind of like her. She packed her stuff and took off. Not as stupid as me, got
out quick.”

“You feel like a ride?” Horse asked Picnic.

“Sounds about right,” he replied.

“Let me get her cleaned up, make sure she
doesn’t need a doctor first.”