Greg Iles - Sleep No More

Waters struggled to suppress his rage. “I don’t have any problem with that.”

She walked forward and took hold of his hand. “Just one more thing, Johnny. Pick her soon, okay?”

Lily smiled as though things had arrived at the exact point she’d chosen from the beginning. “Now, get those clothes off and get into bed. I want you to finish what you started this afternoon.”

He pulled his hand free. “That’s not part of the deal. First you move into someone else. Then I come to you.”

She laughed. “Who do you think makes the rules here? I agreed to your idea because of the childbearing issue. But don’t forget that you could be spending the night in jail. I know all this has you freaked out, but I want you, Johnny. Now. And I’m going to have you.”

Waters made no move toward the bed.

“Re- mem -ber,” she said in a singsong voice. “If Mama ain’t happy, no- body’s happy.” Lily walked to the dresser, opened a drawer, and brought out a shining pair of handcuffs.

“Those look like Eve’s,” he observed.

“Of course they are. Your wife doesn’t have anything like this hidden in her underwear drawer. Not even a vibrator.”

Lily pranced toward the bed, dangling the handcuffs as though to provoke him. “These were Eve’s, I should have said. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, right?” She laughed. “Isn’t that what they say, Johnny?”

Waters stared at the handcuffs, a shining little metaphor for his situation. He recalled Eve cuffing him to the bed at the Eola. Thinking of that made him think of Mallory, not as she was now, but when they were together. In those days, Mallory had bound him with scarves, not handcuffs. He saw himself tied to the headboard of her parents’ bed, wondering if Ben Candler and his wife would come home unexpectedly and discover their princess in flagrante delicto. When he thought of Ben Candler, he felt something shift deep in his mind, and he saw what Mallory had described earlier: the local politician who liked to take secret snapshots of little girls. In the dark glow of that image was born his next move in the emotional chess match he would have to play for possession of his life and family.

“Take that slutty rag off and get under the covers,” he said in a harsh voice.

Lily looked curiously at him, trying to read his intent. “You first,” she replied.

“I’ll join you in a second. I have to do something first.”

“Like what?”

“Just get in the bed. And turn off the lights.”

A wary look in her eyes now. “I want the lights on.”

“I can’t do it with the lights on. I can’t look into Lily’s face and make love to her when she’s not there.”

“I thought you’d like the idea.”

“I don’t. You can use your handcuffs or whatever kinky stuff you want. Just turn off the lights.”

“All right. But where are you going?”

“What are you worried about? I can’t hurt you without hurting Lily.”

Pouting with her lips but not her eyes, she went to the bed and slipped off the camisole, then climbed under the covers and switched off the lamp.

Waters walked to the door.

“Tell me where you’re going!”

“For God’s sake, just lie back and enjoy it.”

“I intend to.”

He walked quickly to the den. Inside the cabinet under the TV was the camcorder he had scolded Annelise for using without permission. It was a Sony PC-110, a handheld digital camera with more special-effects functions than he would ever use. But the PC-110 also had one capability that he had found both fun and useful. Called Super Night Shot, it allowed you to shoot video in total darkness, by projecting an infrared beam onto a subject. He and Annelise had used it to film Pebbles hunting in the backyard at night. Tonight he would use it to try to save his life.

He inserted a fresh tape into the slot, then removed the lens cap and switched on the camera. The Super Night Shot switch was on the side. He activated it, then turned off the lights in the den and looked through the viewfinder. A ghostly green image of the room filled the screen, the camera autofocusing wherever he turned it.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s make a movie.”

He took off his shirt and wrapped it partly around the camera, but took care to leave the lens and the infrared beam generator exposed. On his way back to the bedroom, he stopped in the hall bathroom, dug under the sink for a minute, then continued on, the camera and shirt held carefully in his left hand. At the bedroom door, he walked quickly through the darkness to Lily’s low dresser and set his shirt on it, the camera lens facing the bed. Then he walked around to his side of the bed and began removing his pants.

The lamp on Lily’s side flashed on, temporarily blinding him.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She looked at his pants on the floor, then up at him. Then she leaned off the bed and lifted the pants to look under them.

“Looking for a gun?” he asked.

A white plastic bottle of K-Y Silk-E lubricant lay beneath the khakis.

“My mistake,” she said. She lay back on the bed and stared at his nude body. “You still look good, Johnny.”

“Get on all fours and handcuff yourself to the bedpost.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, a mocking smile on her face.

“Teach you a lesson.” He reached over and switched off the lamp.

Her voice came out of the dark. “How are you going to do that?”

Waters climbed onto the bed, looked in the direction of the camera, and silently mouthed three words. I’m sorry, Lily. Then he faced forward, took hold of the familiar hips in front of him, and slapped one cheek. “You know what I like, Mallory,” he said.

He heard a metallic snick as the handcuffs snapped shut.

“Yes, I do,” came Mallory’s low voice. “And you know what I need.”

Waters set to work with a will.

chapter 16

When Waters walked into his office at nine the next morning, he found Penn Cage waiting behind his desk.

“You wouldn’t be here unless there was bad news.”

“It’s not catastrophic,” Penn said, “but it’s serious.”

“Tell me.”

“The police say they have a videotape of your Land Cruiser in front of the Eola Hotel one hour before Eve’s estimated time of death.”

The floor seemed to shudder beneath his feet. “That’s impossible.”

“Maybe not. They say there was a traffic accident at the intersection of Pearl and Franklin streets that night. A car hit an MP amp;L cherry-picker truck. Do you remember that?”

Waters tried to keep his facial muscles still. “Yes.”

“There were lots of squad cars there. Ambulances, a fire truck, and a sheriff’s department cruiser. For some reason, the sheriff’s car had his videocam running-the one they switch on during traffic stops. He was pointed the wrong way up Pearl Street, and the police say his camera recorded your Land Cruiser turning from Main onto Pearl, stopping, then backing onto Main again and disappearing. The tape is date-and time-stamped.”

“ Shit. Do they have my license plate on tape?”

“I don’t know yet. But a Land Cruiser is a rare vehicle in this town, and they’ve asked that you give a DNA sample for testing.”

“Oh God.”

“Obviously they’ll want to compare this to the semen taken from Eve Sumner’s corpse.”

“And it will match.” Images of Parchman Prison filled Waters’s mind: endless rows of soybean fields and angry inmates, himself locked in a barred box. “The police called you?” he asked. “How did they know you were my lawyer?”

“Lily told them,” Penn replied. “Tom Jackson called her just as you left the house. She told him I was your lawyer, and that he should call me. I came straight here.”