J. Konrath - Fuzzy Navel

The fact that Latham nods makes it even worse. Alex spins the cylinder and places the barrel up to his forehead. Latham closes his eyes. I want to close mine as well, but I owe it to him to watch.

Click.

I taste blood. I’ve bitten my tongue.

“Try again, Jack. How did I find you?”

I throw out a guess.

“You found out my mother’s last name, called up the electric company or some other utility.”

“Wrong.”

Alex begins to pull the trigger, and I scream, “You have to spin it first!”

“No I don’t. It’s the same question, so no new spin.”

I cringe, my whole world imploding.

Click.

“Looks like you get another guess,” Alex says. “There’s a one out of three chance that Latham will die if you get it wrong. Isn’t this exciting?”

Latham’s forehead has broken out in sweat, but he stays stoic, stays calm.

Think, Jack! Think!

“You tracked the home loan somehow, knew my mother moved here.”

“Exactly,” Alex says.

I slump back on the sofa.

“I just logged onto the Internet,” Alex continues, “because they give full Internet access to the criminally insane. We were allowed two hours a day, right after our massage.”

She begins to squeeze the trigger.

“Dr. Panko’s office!” I yell. “You used her computer!”

“Sorry, Jack.”

“No!”

Click.

Alex pats Latham on the head. “Down to a fifty-fifty chance, loverboy. Better hope your woman gets this.”

How did she find me? How did she find me? How the fuck did she…

I stare at Latham, his eyes squeezed shut. Herb wouldn’t ever give my address up, even accidentally. He’s a cop, which means he’s paranoid. So is Mom. Harry is an ex-cop, plus he has just as much to fear from Alex as I do. Dumb as he is, he’s also naturally suspicious. Harry would know if someone was sniffing around for my address.

Latham isn’t a cop. Latham is a nice guy. A trusting guy. He could have been manipulated.

“It was Latham,” I say. “You got it out of Latham somehow.”

Latham’s eyes open, and there’s so much hurt in them, so much betrayal, that I have to turn away. Alex begins to laugh.

“That’s beautiful, Jack. Your fiancé has a gun pointed at his head, all because of you, and you’re blaming him ?”

I was wrong. Dear God, I was wrong.

Alex swings a leg over Latham and straddles his lap, caressing his lips with the barrel of the revolver.

“How does that make you feel, loverboy? Your fiancée must think you’re really stupid.”

“I’m sorry,” I say to Latham. “I’m so sorry.”

Latham says something, but the duct tape muffles it.

“I just have to hear this,” Alex says.

She yanks the tape off. Latham stares right into my soul.

“After all we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me?”

Alex couldn’t have hurt me any worse.

“I figured you made a mistake,” I say, my voice pleading. “You know I trust you.”

“How could you think I’d do that?”

“She’s smart. She could have tricked you.”

Latham looks away.

“See,” Alex says, patting his cheek. “You should have fucked me when you had the chance.”

She presses the gun to his forehead, and then my mother begins to moan.

“Hold on,” Alex says. “Mom wants to say something.”

Alex gets off of Latham and walks to Mom. She rips off her gag, and my mother says, “Shoot me, not him.”

Latham says, “Mary…”

I say, “Mom…”

Alex goes, “Shhhh! Let Mom make her case.”

Mom doesn’t look at Alex. She looks at Latham.

“Don’t blame my daughter. She trusts you. She’s just making wild guesses so you don’t die. I’m an old woman. I’ve lived my life. I can accept this.” Then she stares at me and smiles. Her eyes are warm, moist. “Jacqueline, my little girl. I’m so proud of you.”

“No… Mom…” My words are mixed with sobs. Then I turn to Alex and do what I told myself I wouldn’t do. I beg.

“Please… please don’t do this. Do what you want to me, but let them go. Please.”

Alex’s face twitches into a half smile.

“The world-famous police officer Lieutenant Jack Daniels is asking me for mercy. But she didn’t give me any mercy. She tore off half my face, and left me to rot behind bars. And now she’s crying like a little girl, and I haven’t even cut off her ears yet. I have to say, Jack, that I’m disappointed in you. I thought you’d be stronger.” Alex cocks the hammer back. “Now pay attention while I kill your mom.”

“NO!”

Click.

Alex laughs. “Wow! Can you believe the luck? If I were you, I’d go out and buy a lottery ticket.”

I’ve got nothing left. All of my hope has been sucked out. My eyes wander around the room, and I try to fathom that this is it, my last few hours alive, and I’ll have to watch Mom and Latham die before I meet my own horrible death.

“The next chamber has the bullet in it, Jack,” Alex says. “No more odds. When I pull the trigger again, the gun will fire. It takes out some of the surprise, but it really does amp up the suspense. For the last time: How did I find you?”

I can’t look anymore. I can’t handle it. If I could have willed myself to die right then, I would have.

“I love you, Jacqueline,” Mom says.

I want to say it back, but only sobs come out.

“Five seconds, Jack.”

Alex hums the theme to Jeopardy! I decide to rush at her, try to get the gun away. My hands are cuffed and my feet are bound with tape but I have to try. I scan the room for a weapon, something that I could get to in time. A lamp on the end table, next to a stack of magazines. The TV remote control. A cat scratching post covered in carpeting.

Wait a second…

“Magazines!” I say, finding my voice. “I transferred my subscriptions here. You were at my apartment, you noticed I read fashion magazines. You called one of them, impersonated me, got my change of address.”

Alex stops humming. She stares at me with her head tilted to the side.

“Nicely done, Jack. Very nicely done.”

I know the relief will be short-lived, but every extra minute I have is like a gift.

“Now tell me which magazine it was,” Alex says.

I subscribe to half a dozen magazines. I have no idea which one.

“Hurry, Jack. Answer quickly.”

“I guessed right. I guessed it was a magazine.”

“And now I’m asking which one.”

It doesn’t matter that I’d been correct. This isn’t a game that Alex will let me win.

“Vogue,” I say.

“Wrong.”

She aims at Latham and fires.

THE LITTLE.32 BURPS in my hand and I hit what I’m aiming for. Latham’s arm. He moans, and Jack throws herself on him, as if that will prevent me from shooting him again.

What actually does prevent me from shooting again is the simple fact that my gun is empty. If Jack were thinking straight, rather than having an emotional breakdown, she could have taken that opportunity to charge me. It wouldn’t have done anything. I still would have overpowered her. But she could have at least tried.

I reload the gun, and the moment passes. I’m more than a little disappointed in Jack. She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual adversary, but this has all been cake so far. I’ve spent many sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, wondering how she caught me. Now the answer is crystal clear.

She got lucky.

Anyone can get lucky. The fat kid scores the goal at the buzzer. The trailer trash wins the lottery. The dumb cop catches the brilliant killer.