William Bernhardt - Death Row

“Exactly. Truth is, all these things I’ve talked about-better salaries, better meat, safety precautions-add very little to our total cost. Like maybe a few pennies per burger. In this billion-dollar business, everyone could be doing it.”

“Then why don’t they?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question, Ben. Greed.” He pushed himself off the bicycle. “They don’t do it because they don’t have to. And it’s taking a toll. All that fatty fast food is. Do you know what the national obesity rates are? It’s shocking. Fully fifty percent of our population is overweight. Twenty-five percent of all children. Fifty million Americans are obese-meaning they’re over fifty pounds heavier than they should be. It’s the second leading cause of mortality-after smoking! And it is directly related to the rise of fast food. That’s why Burger Bliss is committed to offering a higher-quality alternative. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished.”

Ben stepped off the treadmill. He was dripping with sweat, but he felt better, as he always did after a good workout. He might not be Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he wasn’t total flypaper anymore, either. “You have every right to be proud,” Ben replied. “You’ve taken the high road. And you’ve made it work.”

“Well, thanks. But I have to tell you, Ben-the best part of it is being my own boss. I’m sure you can appreciate that. Have you ever worked for a corporation?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Then you know what corporate competition can be like. When people are competing for their livelihoods-especially when there’s a lot of money at stake-anything is possible.”

“Like one chemist knocking off a better chemist?”

“Anything, Ben. Absolutely anything.”

Tramp. Harlot. Whore. Cheap piece of pussy. That’s what she was.

But those eyes. Those dark beautiful eyes.

Gabriel Aravena clenched his fists. Everything was so different now, since he went off the Depo. Everything was changed. This surge of emotions. The confusion. The thoughts flashing through his brain, thoughts he couldn’t seem to banish. He had hated being on the medication, watching it change his body, change him. And yet it had brought a certain… peace.

That peace was gone now. Gone like a thundercloud that had shot its load and had blown away with the wind. He’d been off the medication for almost a week now. At first, he felt only elation. His body was his own again. All the feelings they had tried to submerge had returned. But only for a little while. When he’d been on the Depo he could entertain all those horrible fantasies. Why not? He couldn’t do anything about it. But now it was different. Now he could do something about it. Was that what he wanted? He was consumed by desire, obsessed by the irresistible need to take Sheila and throw her down and never stop taking her-

She was a little old for him, true. He had usually preferred his girls… younger. But when he looked at the woman he now saw through the restaurant window, he saw the girl of fifteen she had been. And he wanted that girl. Wanted her bad.

He had watched her in that bar, shamelessly flirting with that redneck piece of trash who was putting the moves on her. She had all but thrown herself at him, the cheap little twat. She had all but spread her legs and done him on the bar rail. And no sooner had she finished with him than she took up with the next man who walked up. She wrapped herself around the black man and let him take her away to this place.

He wasn’t fooled by the fancy decorating and the high-priced menu. He knew what this was all about. This was about getting her liquored up, maybe slipping her something. Not that it was necessary. Not with her.

And not with him, either.

It was too late tonight, he could see that. This jerk with the hair gel had his finger in it, and there was no getting rid of him. But there would be another time, Gabriel told himself. Another time when it would just be him and her, and then-

Stop! he heard a voice screaming somewhere inside him. Stop before it’s too late!

But he ignored the voice. He would watch this woman. Yes, that was it. He would follow her wherever she went, no matter how far or how long. And when the opportunity came, he would take her. Over and over again. Even if it killed her.

Over and over again. Until it killed her.

So, am i feeling better yet? Sheila Knight wondered as she lit another cigarette. How long is this going to take?

She sucked hard on the ciggy, trying to calm herself. Coming out to the Grand Lake cabin was supposed to comfort her, but it was almost midnight now, and it wasn’t working. Maybe she should’ve talked to the cop. Maybe it was time to come clean. About everything. But she hadn’t. She lied, or at any rate didn’t tell the truth. Certainly she didn’t tell him what she had seen, what she suspected. But she didn’t want any more trouble. She wanted to be free of this, not ever more deeply entangled. That was the problem with Erin Faulkner and her family and all the ever-increasing intrigue and horror that surrounded them. Instead of winding down, it just seemed to balloon and grow and become more and more demanding, more complicated, more impossible.

She threw down the cigarette, crushing it in an ashtray. Nicotine was not enough to calm her spirits tonight. She needed a serious drug. The real stuff.

She had not been sure, not until today. Not until she saw the picture in the paper. But now, as she gazed at the photo and let her mind travel backward in time, back to the last time she and Erin had been together…

She knew. She put the pieces together, and for once, they made sense. An incredible, horrible sort of sense. A dangerous sort of sense.

She walked to the kitchen, opened a beautiful blue bottle of Skyy vodka, and began drinking it right out of the bottle. Calm yourself, Sheila. Calm yourself. She hated when she got like this. She was turning into Erin-like in some weird way, now that Erin was gone, she felt she had to replace her. She felt as if there was a giant hole in her life, in her soul. Something that could never be filled. Sure, she had friends, family. James.

But she missed Erin. She wasn’t sure she could live without her. Or wanted to.

She felt responsible.

She took another swig of the vodka, letting it burn its way down her throat. It hurt, but it hurt good, as they said. She took another drink and started to feel the rosy blanket, the warm sense of… fading that came with the onset of drunkenness. It was a good feeling. She wanted more of it. She held the bottle in both hands and drank and drank and…

Did she hear something? Outside? This time of night? Way out here?

Couldn’t be. She raised the bottle to her lips once more…

And heard it again.

She walked to the rear of the cabin, pulled back the shades, and peered out into the darkness. She didn’t see anything. But she was certain she heard something. She wasn’t so drunk that she would imagine that-

Sheila screamed. Someone had jumped out of nowhere and was on the other side of the window staring at her.

No! she thought as she stared at the all-too-familiar face. That’s impossible!

She heard the pounding at the door and knew she had to run. Groping to steady herself, peering through blurred eyes, she made her way to the side door. If she could get out, get down to the lake, she could climb in the boat and speed away. There was no way she could be followed, not across Grand Lake.

But first she had to get there.

She ran outside, plunging into the darkness. The moon was barely a quarter and there were no electric lights way out here. She knew there was a path leading down to the lake, but where was it? Where the hell was it?