Lisa Scottoline - Think Twice

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired.” Bennie sagged against him, and he almost fell over.

“You stink to high heaven! Is that blood? What happened here?”

“My twin buried me in a box and there was a wolf. I almost died and-”

“ Buried you? With a wolf? Are you crazy, lady?” The old man struggled to support her, and Bennie tried to rally, straightening up.

“I need to get to the police and tell them about Alice.”

“Hold on now. Put an arm around me. You’re a sight! Cover yourself, I’ll get you to a hospital, sure enough.”

“No, please, let’s call the police. Do you have a cell phone?”

“Lady, I can’t hold ya. Put your arm ’round my neck. You need a doctor.” The old man took her upper arm and wrenched it around his shoulder.

“We have to call the police, do you have a cell phone?”

“My wife does. Lady, please. Walk to my truck, would ya?” The old man half-lifted and half-steered her to the pickup, and Bennie couldn’t seem to stop talking, the words spilling like a torrent.

“We can use your wife’s phone and call, then the cops will come and find Alice, she won’t get away.”

“Here we go.” The old man led her to the truck, opened the door with difficulty, then helped her inside. Her foot grazed a chainsaw that sat on the floor, filling the cab with a gasoline odor. She practically fell into the seat, and he closed the door. “Now stay here. I’m goin’ back for my flashlight.”

Bennie slumped in the filthy truck, wondering where his wife was with her cell phone. Clothes sat mounded next to old newspapers, coiled rope, empty bags of Doritos. There was a can of orange soda in the cupholder, and she upended it, but it was empty. She searched for another can, tossing aside some newspapers and receipts, but couldn’t find anything to drink.

“Got it,” the old man said, returning to the truck. He opened the door and sat inside, with a grunt.

“I’m so thirsty. There’s nothing to drink, do you have any more?”

“Drink?” The old man twisted on the ignition, setting a large key ring jangling. “Some pop in the holder.”

“It’s gone, and I’m so thirsty, I haven’t had a drink in so long.” Bennie tried to think. “What day is it? I last had a drink on Friday.”

“Oh, so that’s the deal here.” The old man chuckled, and the truck took off. “You like to drink?”

“What day is it, is it Saturday night?”

“No, it’s Sunday night. So, you need a drink? Sounds to me like you had enough. Lord, what a stink, if you don’t mind my sayin’.”

“I need a cell phone, where’s your wife?”

“At home.” The old man pointed to the pile of clothes on the seat. “I got some shirts there. You wanna put one on? Cover your unmentionables?”

“Oh, yes.” Bennie looked down, and her bra was exposed. She sorted through the clothes in the dark. “I’m just so tired, and I can’t see, where is the cell?”

“Take the blue one on the top.” The old man steered with one hand and handed her a work shirt with the other. “So you been drinkin’, that it? I didn’t see no car aroun’. Somebody drop you off ’n leave you there?”

Bennie struggled into the shirt, willing her brain to function. “I’d really love a drink.”

“Hang on.” The old man rummaged in his door pocket while the truck cruised down the dark road. “I bet you and your boyfriend were on a bender, then he dropped you off? Or are you a workin’ girl?”

“What, no, I work in Philly and I need something to drink-”

“I never met a girl like you and I never been to Philly, neither. Now calm down, I know what you need.” The old man produced a flask from inside the door, twisted off the cap, and passed it over. “Wet your whistle. Don’t think the doc will mind. You’re already lit up like the Fourth of July.”

“What is it?” Bennie asked, but it smelled like whiskey. She held the flask with difficulty but was so thirsty she took a big gulp, then coughed. The truck turned onto the highway, and by then she had taken a second swig and a third, sucking on the bottle. She knew she’d get drunk but she suddenly didn’t care. “Do you have any more?”

“You got a wooden leg, lady?” The old man chuckled. “We’re almost there. Be patient now.”

“I will, do you have any more?” Bennie felt groggy and it was hard to think. “We need to get Alice.”

But the old man just laughed and slid the flask from her bloodied hands.

Alice stifled a fake sob as Grady sat down beside her on the bed, leaning over.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“Don’t look at me.” Alice peeked at him with one eye, hopefully bloodshot. “I look awful.”

“No, you don’t, you look beautiful. You are beautiful.”

“I tried to get some work done, but no dice.”

“Forget work, for now.” Grady’s hand moved down her back, and he rubbed it lightly. “I knew you were going to crash. You were holding together too well.”

“I feel silly. He was just a dog and I have so much to do.”

“Don’t feel that way.” Grady segued from rubbing her back to kneading it with strong fingers, but Alice told herself not to get turned on.

“I miss him already.”

“I know. Me, too. You’ll feel crummy for a while, there’s no avoiding it and no denying it.” Grady kept kneading her back. “My mother used to say that you have to let bad news sink into your bones. You absorb it, and all the losses and setbacks in your life become a part of who you are.”

Oh give me an effing break.

“How about I go downstairs and make us something to eat? If you’re still awake when I’m finished, it’s there for you. How’s that sound?”

“Good, great. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Grady eased off the bed, and if Alice was going to find out about his secret phone call, this was the time to see if he’d tell her or hide it.

“You were gone so long, I was a little worried. Did you have trouble finding the bodega?”

“No, it was where it always was, with the same surly guy behind the counter. I forget his name.”

Strike one for boyfriend. “It’s not the best neighborhood around that store. I thought something might have happened.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Grady walked toward the door, his tone suspiciously casual.

Strike two. “I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want any more surprises today.”

“No way.” Grady was leaving the room, his footstep heavy on the hardwood at the threshold.

“You sure it’s okay with your office, you staying here?”

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll check on you in about half an hour. You want the light on or off?”

Strike three. “Off, please.”

“You got it.” Grady shut the light, and the bedroom went dark, leaving Alice alone with her thoughts.

So he hadn’t mentioned the phone call. The person he’d called was probably Mary. He could have followed up on her call, or worse, warned her of his suspicions. She didn’t know if he had reached her, but she couldn’t take any chances. She had her gun with her, but it would be too noisy. She was good with a knife, but he was strong. The clink of pots came from downstairs, so he had already started to cook his stupid specialty, which gave her an idea.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.

She got out of bed, dug underneath for her cloth bag, and got what she needed.

Mary hung up with the realtor, confused. It was all happening too fast. She had never Acted Now. On the contrary, she specialized in Delaying, Second-Guessing, Doubting Herself, and Stalling Whenever Possible.