“Christ,” Lomax said.
He sat at the table and ate what they served him, reading the morning news on his iPad and watching as the other children came into the kitchen and wolfed down their food, closely watching that crisp bacon shimmering with grease and those perfect fried eggs. The children went back to the TV
room, ignoring Mrs. Mears’ suggestion that they go play outside and get some fresh air. Lomax chuckled as a seemingly endless volley of you did too—I did not drifted from the other room.
Two hours later, after checking the markets and writing a few emails while Shae and Mrs. Mears cleaned the kitchen, Lomax stood and stretched.
For a moment he thought he heard a car coming down the long driveway.
“That was . . . nice. Not very filling, mind you, but nice.”
“You’re on a diet, dad,” Shae said with a laugh. “It’s good for you.” Mrs. Mears nodded. “I want to keep you around as long as possible,” she said. “It’s part of my job, of course.”
Lomax was wondering if the woman was blushing when he heard someone coming up the porch steps in the front of the house. The doorbell rang.
“Are we expecting any deliveries today?”
“Not according to my calendar,” Mrs. Mears said.
Lomax went down the hall, his step almost jaunty. He opened the door with a smile, wondering for a moment why the big woman standing there looked so familiar, and then his good mood vanished in the ether as the woman said his name as if describing something indescribably filthy and clipped him across the face with an automatic pistol.
“Happy Halloween, motherfucker,” Brenda said.
Liz hadn’t expected the gun. She knew Brenda was crazy-mean, but she had insisted that they talk to Lomax first, try to reason with him, try to make him see that what he had done was wrong.
Brenda had looked up at the sun as they started up the steps of the wide porch. “It’s high noon in Payback County,” she had said with a coarse laugh, kicking a carved pumpkin off of the porch.
Then the door had opened and Brenda made a gun appear from nowhere and lashed out with it.
Marisa clapped her hands and let out a shout as Brenda pushed Lomax and he stumbled backward, blood running from a nasty cut on his right cheek. She thought Lomax looked fat and soft. She thought this would be easy as she followed Brenda and Liz into the house.
“Patty, get your ass in here,” Brenda said, and Patty followed, as Patty always did.
Brenda closed the door.
A woman stepped into the hall. She was wearing a practical skirt and blouse, and an apron. She stared at the women for a moment.
“Hey look,” Brenda said with a laugh. “It’s June fuckin Cleav—“ The woman turned and ran, slamming a door shut in her wake.
Brenda let out a bull roar that filled the hallway. “Get back here you
cunt!”
Mrs. Mears grabbed Gary, put his little hand in Shae’s, and gave them a gentle shove toward the TV room. “Get your brothers and sisters down into the basement now. Find a place to hide. There are bad people in the house. Go.”
She closed the door to the TV room just as the door to the hall was slammed open. A young woman came into the kitchen. She was beautiful, despite the tattoos and the hard look in her eyes.
“Get out of this house,” Mrs. Mears said.
“You ain’t in fuckin Kansas no more, bitch,” the woman said.
“I’m from Texas, you little piece of trash.”
“You fuck,” Marisa whispered. “I oughta rip that red hair right outta your fuckin head.”
“Sweetheart, you’d get a lot further in life if you’d let your pretty face do the talking. You are suffering an irreparable deficit of eloquence.”
“Kick her teeth in, baby,” Brenda said, leading Lomax into the kitchen. “Everyone else, take a seat at the table. Breakfast is served.” Liz and Patty sat down. Brenda shoved Lomax into a chair and sat beside him.
Marisa stepped closer to Mrs. Mears, who did her damndest to stand her ground. She had to. She had to give the children enough time to get away from these women, whoever they were.
Marisa reached out and touched a lock of hair that had escaped from Mrs. Mears’ loose braid. “Fuckin color’s probably fake, anyways. Ugly redheaded freak.”
His head was finally clearing, and when Lomax saw the look on Mrs.
Mears face he said, “Sarah, don’t—“
Brenda shouted, “Shut up!”
“Don’t touch me,” Mrs. Mears said.
Marisa took something out of her pocket, an honest to God switchblade, and flicked it open. Etched into the shining steel was an image of Christ on the cross.
“You don’ like being touched?” Marisa asked. With her free hand she squeezed Mrs. Mears’ right breast. “Yo, she’s fuckin stacked,” Marisa said.
Turning to Lomax she asked, “You hittin this, papi?” Mrs. Mears slapped Marisa’s face. Marisa pushed the woman back against the wall and used the knife to cut off a lock of red hair.
“I’ll take a bigger souvenir next time if you try doing that again, you stupid bitch.” She shoved the woman toward the table. “Sit fuckin down.” Mrs. Mears sat on Lomax’s other side.
He was wondering where the children were when an Asian woman spoke up. She was another one of the group who looked familiar. Hell, they all looked familiar.
“There are a lot of placemats here for just two people.” Mrs. Mears believed in placemats. They helped contain the inevitable mess created by the children.
Brenda turned the gun on Lomax. “Who else is in the house?”
“Brenda Creeley,” Lomax said. “I remember you now.” Patty started nibbling on a leftover piece of toast. “Put that down,” Brenda said.
“And you’re Patty Paulson,” Lomax said. Patty looked away.
“Mr. Lomax,” Liz said, “We wanted to talk to you about what you did to us in court. We wanted you to hear our side of—
“Elizabeth Nguyen,” Lomax said. “You gutted a man.” Liz looked hurt.
Lomax remembered that look as she was sentenced by the judge. He also remembered the coroner’s description of what she had done to her boss.
She hadn’t simply poked him with the letter opener to ward off his unwanted advances; and chances are that would have worked and she would have gotten off with an assault charge from the man, if any at all. No, she had sawed through layers of the man’s flesh, fat and muscle from the left side of his scrotum, all the way up to his navel. The coroner had testified that the man had bled out fast, but not fast enough to experience excruciating pain.
Brenda rocked back in her chair, raising it on two legs while she kept the gun on Lomax. She was a big woman and the sturdy wooden chair creaked under her weight.
“These are nice fucking chairs, lawyer-man. I bet they cost a shitload.”
She was wearing jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt under a denim jacket. Her hair was cut very short. She stood and reached into a back pocket. “Good thing I got two of these.” She held up two pairs of handcuffs, tossing one to Marisa. “Cuff June Cleaver to her chair like I do with Ward here. Liz?” Liz stepped close and grimaced when Brenda handed her the gun. “Keep a bead on Lomax. If he tries anything, shoot him.”
“Hands behind your back,” Brenda said. There was a gap between the frame of the chair back and the backrest. When Lomax reached back she guided his arms through those gaps and then cuffed his wrists together.
Marisa watched this, and repeated the procedure with Mrs. Mears.
“This is your moment of truth, Elizabeth,” Lomax said. His tone was calm and clear. He could have been addressing a jury in one of his patented just between us folks moments. “You can turn that gun on Brenda and Marisa, or you can let them take you down a path that will be dark indeed, and—“