Stranglehold. Part 33

She didn't know which way he'd taken her through the woods but that didn't matter. She was young and he was not. She had fear and need on her side and he did not. She'd find the road or she'd find a place to hide but either way he was not going to take her. Not again.

Not Marge Bernhardt.

She had too much to live for.

Ignoring pain and cold and blood she sprinted free into the dense forest night.

Thirty.

Visitation, Part Four

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be in some ways.

But then in some other ways, once he knew it was real and really happening to him, it was worse.

The shelter wasn't a kind of prison the way he'd imagined it. It was a normal-looking house though old and bigger than any he'd seen and it sat on a quiet, tree-lined street somewhere up into the hills away from town, with a big lawn and trees in back so that if it weren't for the high chain-link fence you'd think just anybody could live here-not just a bunch of messed-up kids waiting for something to happen to them. Inside there was a big comfortable living room on the first floor with a fireplace they said n.o.body used anymore, a kitchen and dining room with a huge table, and upstairs were the bedrooms, four of them, six boys to a room a.s.signed to bunk beds.

His roommates were all pretty much his age except Willie something, who was just a little kid and had the bunk down under him and David Fosch, who was maybe two years older. So that was okay.

David seemed to think he was pretty tough but he hadn't started pus.h.i.+ng anybody around or anything.

He was worried about tonight, though.

His first night here.

What if he messed his pyjamas again?

It wasn't happening every night, thank G.o.d, not since he hadn't been seeing his dad so much but it still was happening often enough and what if he s.h.i.+t his pants in the middle of the night and everybody smelled it and somebody woke up and said, jesus what's that?

Everybody'd know.

And he wondered if David Fosch would just act tough after that.

Mrs. Strawn and Mr. McKenzie said that they all had ch.o.r.es to do every day and his that afternoon was peeling carrots and potatoes for supper. They'd shown him around and got him unpacked and settled in to his room and then as soon as his mom left with Mr. Sansom, Mrs. Strawn handed him the peeler.

He didn't mind. It was something to do.

Though he wasn't real good at it.

He kept remembering his mom crying as she left and trying to smile, Mr. Sansom's hand on her arm leading her out the door. And thinking about that made him want to cry because why was she crying if she wasn't scared for him again?

I told, he thought.

I told on my dad. Is that why this is happening?

He kept worrying about tonight. About going to bed and sleeping and doing ... whatever.

He kept wondering what was going to happen to him next-how long he was really going to be here, whether he was going to get picked on eventually by some kid or maybe a whole bunch of kids and when it was going to happen. It almost had to happen.

They said it was only for a day or two.

He wasn't dumb. He knew a lot could happen in a day or two.

A lot of things he didn't want to happen.

So he wasn't too great at the peeling. He kept gouging holes out of the potatoes trying to get at the dark spots and breaking off the thin tops of carrots.

They smelled good, though. The carrots and potatoes did. They smelled like home and his own kitchen.

When? he thought. When will they get me out of here?

He listened to some of the other kids playing out back on the lawn outside through the kitchen door, the screams and the laughing. At least he knew you could laugh here.

Somebody out there could. Maybe that meant he could too. Eventually.

There were still a couple of hours before supper time. He wondered if, when he finished, he'd have the guts to go out and join in.

"Robert?"

Mrs. Strawn was standing in the doorway. There was gray in her hair and she wore thick black-rimmed gla.s.ses and her hips and belly were too big for the tight skirt she was wearing but his first feeling about her was that Mrs. Strawn was okay, that she was pretty nice.

"You have a visitor," she said. "Go rinse off your hands and you can finish up later."

He did as she said and stepped outside, following her through the hall into the living room.

He sat in an armchair with his back to them as they walked in so that Robert could see only his head and shoulders, but he knew who it was way before he turned and when he did turn his father was smiling.

That was wrong. He felt a wave of terror. Why was he smiling?

Didn't he know?

His father stood up.

"Hi, Robert," he said.

"Hi." It was all he could do to manage to get the word out.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Danse," said Mrs. Strawn. "But you know I have to stay here with you."

"I understand. That's fine. I just wanted to stop by and say h.e.l.lo and see how Robert was doing." He smiled again, bigger this time. "This is really quite a nice place you have here, Mrs. Strawn. You sure wouldn't know there were ... how many boys living here?"

"Twenty-one at the moment. We have three beds open right now."

He shook his head as though he couldn't quite believe it. "Well, you run a tight s.h.i.+p," he said. "It's amazing."

She smiled. "We try. Thank you."

He turned to Robert. "So. How you doing, son? I know this is a ... big adjustment for you. G.o.d knows it's got to be. I know it's not easy. I know it can't be easy."

"I'm ... I'm okay."

"Really?"

Robert nodded. Why was he asking all this?

Did he really care?

What was he doing here-and didn't he know?

"Anything I can do for you?"

"No. I mean, no thanks."

"Anything I can bring? You got your Game Boy? Stuff like that?"

He nodded again. He noticed that his father was scratching at his thumb with his index finger. Otherwise he looked completely calm, like nothing was going on here at all. It was weird. It was like this happened to him every day, going to visit his kid in some home.

"Well, if there's anything you need, you know where to phone me. He can make phone calls, can't he, Mrs. Strawn?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Danse. The bills would be a disaster. You'll have to phone him here. And then because of the court order ..." She looked embarra.s.sed. "Because of the court order I'd have to be on the extension. You understand, I hope."

He seemed to want to ignore that last part.

"Sure, I understand," he said. "Twenty-one kids could make a lot of phone calls. I'll phone him, then. Any particular time of day?"

"Not before nine, please. And not after nine in the evening."

"Fine. No prob ... oh, d.a.m.n it!"

He held up his thumb, turning it over and cupping it with the palm of his hand. Blood was flowing off it, running fast and hard down over his wrist.

"Oh, my Lord!"

"Could you ...? Where's the bathroom, Mrs. Strawn? I'm sorry ... I did this this morning putting in a new razor blade but I thought ..."

She pointed. "First door to your left."

"Could you get me something ... some paper towels maybe? Have you got a first-aid kit around or anything?"

"I'll be right back."

She hurried down the hall to the kitchen. His father took one step in the direction of the bathroom and then stopped and turned, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around his finger, striding toward him, reaching over and grabbing Robert's arm with the other hand, squeezing his bicep hard, that nice easygoing look on his face slipping away and sliding into a fury he had never seen on anybody's face, ever.

He'd been scratching at the finger.

Robert had seen him.

It was just to get him alone.

He tried to pull away. Arthur jerked him roughly back.

He tried to cry out to Mrs. Strawn but his voice wouldn't work and then his father's words were a whispered rush was.h.i.+ng over him like a cruel wind.

"You think I'm f.u.c.king stupid, Robert?" he hissed. "I told you what I was going to do and now I'm going to do it-unless you say you lied, Robert. You think I can't? You seriously want to f.u.c.k with me? Unless you tell them you lied and you tell them fast I'm going to skin your f.u.c.king mother while she's still alive and then I'm coming after YOU! You understand me?"

He squeezed the arm and then released him just as he thought the arm couldn't take any more, just as he thought he was going to break it, and then he moved off quickly to the bathroom.

Robert heard water running.

His legs were about to give way. He sat down trembling on the couch. Fell into it.

Mrs. Strawn came in from the kitchen with some paper towels and a first-aid kit and she didn't give him a glance. She walked to the bathroom and he heard the water go off again and then he heard them talking.

n.o.body could protect him.

The realization was final.

His father could do what he wanted to, to both him and to his mother because his father could always outsmart them whenever he wanted and his father didn't care. He'd do anything.

He was the only one who knew that.

In spite of what his mom said, he was alone.

When they came out of the bathroom his father was smiling again holding up the thumb with a band-aid on it like it was some kind of thumbs-up thing and Mrs. Strawn was smiling too, completely fooled by the phony look on his father's face and the phony cut he'd made this morning just to get to him.

"All fixed," he said. "Thanks again, Mrs. Strawn. It's really good of you. I've got to go, Robbie. But I promise, I'll be in touch. Okay?"

And Robert knew he would. He'd be in touch. Forever and ever.

He always would.

Thirty-one.