The Serial Killer's Wife (20 page)

Todd sat on the edge of his bed, staring at her, expectant, and she told him exactly what Foreman had just told her. A frown creased his brow, and he looked away, stared at the television for a long moment before speaking.
 

“So then we’re going to New York.”
 

He said it not as a question but as a statement, and in those seven words—those seven very simple words—Elizabeth realized she loved him.
 

For a while neither one of them spoke. Todd had muted the TV when Foreman called so there was complete silence in the room. Earlier, after he had walked in on her and quickly shut the door, she had stayed in the bathroom for nearly an hour. She hadn’t wanted to come out. But eventually she did, dressed once again in her clothes, as if they would somehow erase the image that had no doubt been seared into Todd’s brain. He didn’t bring it up, hardly even spoke, and she had climbed onto her bed, lay her head down on the pillow, closed her eyes and opened them four hours later.
 

“So,” Todd said, his tone amicable enough, though she still couldn’t find herself ready to speak.
 

The truth was, her mouth tasted awful. She couldn’t remember the last time she had brushed her teeth. Yesterday morning, she guessed, and since then she hadn’t had any gum, not even an Altoid or LifeSaver.
 

“I need to brush my teeth,” she said. “I’m assuming you don’t have a toothbrush on you.”
 

“Sorry. I left them in my other pants.” And he smiled, wanting her to smile too, though she couldn’t bring herself to, at least not yet.
 

“This place has a gift shop, doesn’t it? They should have a toothbrush and some toothpaste. At the very least, some mouthwash or gum.” She realized she was rambling and quickly stood up, dug into her pockets even though she knew they would be empty. “Do you have any cash?”

•
   
•
   
•

S
HE
DECIDED
NOT
to wear shoes. Not for the quick jaunt down the hallway to the lobby, and besides, she had been wearing her shoes for the past twenty-four hours, even more than that, and sure they were sneakers but still, sometimes your feet just needed room to breathe, to stretch, to do whatever it was feet did when they weren’t pressured into the restricting confines of footwear.
 

She padded down the hallway in her socks, the origami-like ball of Todd’s cash clutched in her hand. In the lobby she expected to hear some kind of muzak but it was quiet, almost too quiet, and the gift shop was dark, the glass door closed.
 

A large woman with frizzy hair and a bad complexion sat behind the front desk. She had a book open in front of her, was staring contently at the page as her lips moved soundlessly along with the rhythm of the story. Elizabeth stood there for nearly a minute before it was clear the woman wasn’t going to look up, and only until Elizabeth cleared her throat did the woman give her any kind of attention.
 

“The gift shop’s closed,” Elizabeth said.
 

The woman just stared at her.
 

“I need to buy something.”
 

“Sorry, but the gift shop closed at nine,” the woman said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all.
 

“I just want a toothbrush, some toothpaste.”
 

The woman shrugged, offered up another insincere apology.
 

“Can’t you open it up? It won’t take more than a few minutes.”
 

“I’m not allowed to leave the desk.”
 

“But it will only be a minute. Besides, you’d only be going
right there
.” And she gestured at the gift shop, maybe twenty feet away, as if the woman might be confused to which closed gift shop they were talking about.
 

“Again,” the woman said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to leave the desk.”
 

That origami-like ball of cash had become smothered in her grip. Elizabeth could feel her fingernails biting into her palms. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. All she wanted was a toothbrush, some toothpaste. Even some goddamn gum would do the trick. Anything to rid her mouth of this awful taste. She didn’t even care what kind of toothbrush it was, it could be one of those cheap ones they always give you on your way out of the dentist’s office, just as long as she could brush her teeth, scrub the back of her tongue, do whatever it took to make her mouth feel at least halfway clean and fresh.
 

The woman said, “Maybe the Hess.”
 

“Excuse me?”
 

“It’s a gas station. Down the road, about a mile or so. They should have some toothbrushes there.”
 

“You don’t know?”
 

The woman shrugged again. “Everybody who comes here already has a toothbrush. Either that or they get here before the gift shop closes.”
 

Elizabeth turned away without saying a word. Went directly down the hallway. She didn’t stomp off—she wouldn’t give the woman the satisfaction of seeing that—and walked as calmly as she could. At least, that was what it should have looked from behind, while anybody viewing her from the front would see her teeth clenched so tight they threatened to crack.
 

It didn’t help matters any that when she came to the room she realized she had forgotten the key. Not that it was a big deal—she could knock and Todd would open the door—but it was the helplessness she felt in that instant that was too much for her. Suddenly, her throat was dry. She needed a drink. Water, soda, beer if this place had it, which she seriously doubted it did. The vending machines were right around the corner. Even from where she stood she could hear them humming, as if each machine was trying to out-hum the next.
 

The alcove housed a Pepsi machine, a Coke machine, a candy and snack vending machine, and ice machine. She stared at the snacks—the line of Payday bars standing upright in their twirling fence caught her eye—but she didn’t want to chance putting in one of her way-too-crumpled dollar bills. The night she was having, the machine would keep rejecting it, no matter how many times she smoothed the bill out, and she would do something rash, there was no doubting that, and the last thing they needed right now—the last thing Matthew needed—was the cops being called because she had broken the machine by shattering the glass with her sock-protected foot.
 

It didn’t cross her mind when she inserted one of the bills into the Coke machine that the same thing might happen. But it didn’t, and then she punched the button for a Diet Coke and listened to the grinding of gears behind the machine, the drop of her can of soda. She bent and plucked it from the bottom, wiped her shirt on the top, gave it a quick tap-tap-tap with her index finger. The carbonated hissing when she opened the can was the sweetest sound she had heard all day, and then she had it to her lips, was drinking it nonstop, almost the entire thing, and as she did she started to turn away and there stood Clarence Applegate, only a few feet behind her, glowering at her as he kept the barrel of his handgun trained right on her stomach.

CHAPTER 38

“C
AREFUL
NOW
.
Don’t speak. Don’t even move.”
 

The years had not been kind to Clarence Applegate. While Foreman and Sheila had gone through the normal changes that signaled the downslope of adulthood—slower and heavier for Foreman, overcompensating for Sheila—the changes in Clarence were almost obscene. Elizabeth remembered seeing pictures of him, watching interviews he’d done on TV, and he had appeared handsome enough, despite an obvious overbite. He had had good height, a decent body build, a full head of hair. But this man standing before her now, leaning against the side of the alcove with the gun tucked in to conceal it from anybody passing by, was disproportioned in all the wrong ways.
 

“The can of soda, put it down on the floor. Slowly.”
 

As she bent her knees, began to lower in a slow crouch, she was amazed by how thin he had become, either by lack of proper diet or the overuse of drugs, she couldn’t tell which. His eyes were hollowed and bloodshot, like he had gone weeks without sleep, and he looked pale, so pale in fact it almost seemed like he had hid himself in a cave for the past five years.
 

“That’s it, just set it down there. Good. Now stand back up, slowly.”
 

His jeans were a deep dark blue, looking like they had just been bought from the store, and he had on a hooded pullover windbreaker. A pair of tan work boots on his feet, a green worn baseball cap on his head, the number 8 centered in the middle, signifying some race car driver, and when he reached out with his free hand—his left hand—to hold up a finger, she noticed his fingernails had been chewed to the quick and that on his thin pale finger he still wore his wedding ring.
 

“You do what I say and there won’t be any trouble, okay?”
 

The gun was a Sig Sauer P250—she could read the engraving on the slide—and it trembled slightly in his hand, the barrel now pointed right at her chest.
 

Elizabeth said, “I don’t have what you want yet.”
 

“Shut up.”
 

“I need more time.”
 

“Shut your goddamn mouth or else I’ll shut it for you.”
 

His glare burned into her, livid with hate, and at once Elizabeth felt he was overplaying himself.
Shut your goddamn mouth or else I’ll shut it for you
—that was a line from a movie, not from real life.
 

He took a step back, quickly glanced both ways up and down the hallway, returned his glare. “Now we’re going to go to your room.”
 

“No.”
 

The barrel was suddenly in front of her face, Clarence much quicker than he looked, the perfect circle of darkness not even trembling in front of her eyes.
 

“Rule number one,” Clarence breathed between his teeth, “you never say no to me.”
 

Again, a line out of a movie, and she considered her options, just what might happen if she kicked him in the shins, knocked the gun out of her face, how many seconds she might have before he brought the gun back up and pulled the trigger. Her main priority was Matthew, not herself, but how could she protect him if she was dead? She couldn’t, and so she nodded, keeping her gaze level with Clarence’s glare.
 

He had her go first, standing just a few feet behind her. She went directly to the room but then just stood there, staring at the door.
 

“What are you doing?” he whispered. “Open it.”
 

“I don’t have a key.”
 

“Bullshit.”
 

“It’s true.”
 

She could almost make out his reflection in the tiny circle of the peephole, looking up and down the hallway.
 

“Fine then,” he said, “knock. But don’t force me to shoot you.”
 

Todd didn’t answer the door right away. She had to knock twice, and when still nothing happened she wondered if maybe he had been alerted to Clarence’s presence here, was right now debating on how to handle the situation. But then she heard the doorknob turn and the door opened and there he stood, Todd, the man who minutes ago she realized she loved, smiling, saying, “Where have you—” before his eyes shifted past her to Clarence and the smile faded.
 

“Inside,” Clarence breathed, and all Elizabeth could think about was Matthew, her son, her only reason for being, strapped to a bed somewhere, an explosive collar around his neck.
 

She started inside, slowly, sensing Clarence directly behind her. As she walked she began to lean forward until she suddenly stopped and snapped her head back. She could feel the cartilage in Clarence’s nose breaking just as he cried out and pulled the trigger. She had no time to worry about whether she had just been shot and spun around, jabbing him in the throat with her fist.
 

Clarence’s eyes bulged. His free hand, which had been holding his nose, now went to his throat. Blood was pouring down his face. He still had hold of the gun and was waving it around wildly, shouting something unintelligible.
 

Before she knew it Todd had stepped in front of her, creating a shield with his body, shoving Clarence back out into the hallway and slamming the door shut. But he wasn’t fast enough. Clarence managed to fire off three more rounds and one of them struck Todd in the leg. He cried out but still managed to close the door and lock it.
 

Immediately Clarence began kicking at the door. He even fired off two more rounds at the lock. Todd stumbled back, holding his leg now covered in blood.
 

For an instant Elizabeth was paralyzed. One part wanted to go to Todd and comfort him, another part wanted to race to the phone and dial 911. A third part wanted to open the door and confront Clarence Applegate, take the gun away from him and demand he tell her where her son was located.
 

But then she realized Todd was already moving across the room, grabbing the BlackBerry off the bed, turning to her and saying, his voice hoarse, “Let’s go.”
 

Behind her came the sound of Clarence’s heavy boot against the door.
 

“But—” she began.
 

“Now!” Todd shouted, his face starting to pale, opening the door leading out to the parking lot.
 

Elizabeth hesitated for only a second. Then she hurried through the door into the night, grabbing the car keys Todd extended, and ran directly for the Prius. She was inside and had the engine going a moment later. She shoved it in gear and lurched forward and almost hit Todd as he quickly limped toward her before swerving out of his way and stopping for only a few seconds, enough for him to open the door and climb in, and then he was shouting, “Go, go, go, go!” and she pressed her foot to the floor, not even pausing at the exit as she fishtailed out of the parking lot and onto the highway.