Nelson DeMille - Spencerville

She ignored the pretzels and didn't reply.

He said, "Ready for bed, darlin'?"

Still looking at the dying fire, she replied, "No, I just want to sit here."

"Yeah? All night?"

"Yes."

"Who'm I gonna cuddle with?"

"Not me. I'm chained to the bed."

"Handcuffed, not chained."

"What difference does it make to me?"

"Hey, if I could trust you, you wouldn't be chained to the floor, or cuffed to the bed, or nothin'. Can I trust you?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Yeah, I can trust you to blow my brains out."

She looked at him. "Are you afraid of me?"

His eyes narrowed, and he said, "I'm afraid of anybody who can pull a trigger. I ain't no fool."

Annie said, "No, you're not. But you're..."

"What?"

"You don't trust people, Cliff. Do you know how to trust?"

"Nope. Why should I trust anybody? Why should I trust you?"

"If I gave you my word that I wouldn't try to kill you, would you uncuff me?"

"Nope. Why you makin' such a big deal about bein' cuffed?"

"Why? Because I don't want to be chained like an animal. That's why."

"Oh, you ain't chained like an animal. Animals got more freedom." He laughed. "You're chained like a felon who got caught by the law. Them dogs outside never did nothin' wrong, so they can move a hundred yards or so. You fucked up, lady. Big-time. Maybe in a few weeks, I'll hook you to the dog run, then you can say you're chained like a animal and thank me."

Annie took a deep breath and said, "Cliff... I had a chance to kill you that time... it's not in me to kill anyone. Please believe that... you know that. You said so yourself. Let me sleep without the cuffs tonight. I can't sleep like that with my wrists cuffed to the headboard. Please. I swear to you, I won't harm you."

"Yeah? But that ain't sayin' I won't wake up cuffed to the bed, and you'll be long gone. Right? Right? Hey, don't bother to answer." He leaned toward her. "That reminds me. Next time you got to take a piss, you can do it right where you are."

"Cliff... please..."

"Then clean it up." He added, "But not in the bed." He yawned again. "So you'd rather sleep in the goddamned chair all night than sleep with me?"

She shook her head. "No... I'm sorry. I don't want to sit here all night. I'll go to bed." She added, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Yeah? I got a better idea. Stay here. Do you some good." He moved toward her and ripped the blanket away, throwing it across the room. "Freeze your ass off, and piss on your chair."

"Bastard."

He pinched her cheek hard. "You got ten strokes across your butt comin' in the mornin'. Think about that all night. And no breakfast. You can sit there in your own piss and smell the bacon and eggs cookin'."

He walked to his gun rack and unlocked it, taking down the AK-47, then relocked the rack. "I'd rather sleep with a rifle than you, anyway. Rifle's warmer than you ever was."

She sat in the rocker, her arms around her, looking into the glowing embers.

He asked, "You want me to throw a log on?"

She didn't reply.

"Wasn't gonna do it, anyway."

She looked at him and said, "Cliff, please... I'm sorry. Don't leave me here. I'm cold, I have to..."

"You should've thought of all that before you opened your mouth. You remember that Doberman I had that used to bark at me all the time and bit me once? Lots of guys said I should've shot him. Well, anybody can do that. It took me about a month to show him who was boss, didn't it? Turned out to be the best damned dog I ever had. That's gonna be you, sweetheart."

She stood. "I am not a dog! I am a person, a human being. I am your wife..."

"No! You was my wife. Now you're my property."

"I am not!"

Cliff pushed her back in the rocker and stood over her. He stared at her a long time, then spoke in a sarcastic tone. "Well, now, if you was my wife, you'd be wearing a wedding ring, and I don't see one on you."

She didn't reply.

"Now, if you can find your weddin' ring, we can talk about you bein' my wife. Where do you think you lost it?"

She stayed silent.

"Well, hell, you don't need a ring. You got leg irons and handcuffs. Fact is, that's what I shoulda put on you years ago. And one of them chastity belts to keep your hot twat outa trouble. God knows, you don't take your marriage vows real serious."

"You..."

"What? You gonna tell me I fucked around. So what? But I'll tell you somethin' — them women didn't mean shit to me. If you'd've done what you was supposed to do, I wouldn't've had to go stickin' it here and there. Now, you, on the other hand, you went and fell in love. Didn't you?"

She didn't reply.

He came closer to her, and she turned in the rocker. He said, "Look at me."

She forced herself to turn toward him.

He said, "You think I'm ever gonna forget what I saw in that motel? I don't mean you fuckin' him. Hell, I pictured you fuckin' guys lots of times. I mean you jumpin' on me, so he could... he could try to kill me. I mean you layin' on him, so I couldn't smash his fuckin' head in. You think I'm ever gonna forget that? Ever?"

"No."

"No. Not ever."

Keith and Billy knelt at the edge of the clearing.

While Billy scanned through his telescopic sight, Keith trained his binoculars on the house. A light was still on, but not the light Keith had seen before, which had shone nearer to the sliding glass doors. This was a weaker light, coming from the dormered window where he'd seen Annie, near the center of the house where the chimney rose through the roof. He guessed that the light came from a single table lamp. He saw no other lights on and no discernible glow of flames from the fireplace, though smoke still drifted out of the chimney, and it still came toward them, so that he and Billy remained upwind from the dogs, which was good.

He continued to look at the house through the binoculars. He saw no movements and no shadows across the window. He couldn't see the telltale, blue-white flicker of a TV set, either, which would have meant background noise in the house and which would have been helpful. There could be a radio or tape playing, of course, but Keith gave Baxter enough credit for not creating a disadvantage for himself. If Keith had to guess what was going on inside the house now — and he did have to guess — he'd say that one or both of them were still awake, sitting by the dying fire, and perhaps reading, maybe talking. He also made the assumption that Annie was physically restrained in some way, or Baxter would have to be on his guard constantly.

Keith scanned the open space around the house. He saw that the golden retriever was at the far end of its run toward the lake, lying down, perhaps sleeping. He noticed another dog, further away, silhouetted against the glow of the lake, walking near the shore, and it appeared that this dog was also on a wire run, which ran along the lake. The third dog, which he couldn't see now, was somewhere out toward the rear of the house. It occurred to him that, long before Baxter had retreated to his lair, he had positioned these dog posts to provide maximum security. Keith supposed that, if he'd lived Baxter's life, he'd take precautions, too.

Keith lowered his binoculars, and Billy put down his rifle. They remained almost motionless and could speak only in low whispers into each other's ears because of the dogs. Billy whispered, "Gettin' harder to see."

Keith nodded. The moon was low over the southwest end of the lake now, barely ten degrees above the tallest pines. He'd have welcomed complete darkness and would have wanted to wait until between three and four A.M., when dogs and men slept soundest. But if he could eliminate the dogs now, while he could see them, he'd feel better about that open space between the trees and the house.