Bonnie got up, brushed sand off her jeans, looked around, and shivered. Jeff was still lying on his back, staring at her. His face was expressionless.
"Well, you can stay there a while longer if you want," Bonnie said nonchalantly. But I think I'll wait in the car. I'm getting a chill out here and I don't want to come down with a cold just when I'm about to take my finals." She picked up her handbag and rummaged through it, looking for something.
"Bonnie."
"Hm?"
"I want to ask you something."
"What?"
He raised himself on one elbow. "When you drew up that list of names last year, did you really think I could have had anything to do with your father's death?"
Bonnie froze, her hand still in the leather bag. "No, of course not."
"Why not?"
"Jeff." A protest. "I told you. Listen, I wrote my uncles' names down too. It didn't mean anything. It was just something I did to ease my mind at the time."
"But then you didn't know that I loved your mother."
"So what?"
"People do kill for love."
"Yeah, but in the heat of the moment, on impulse, a sudden explosion, that kind of thing."
"So you don't think someone would travel clear across the country and calmly kill another person out of love?"
"No." Bonnie found what she wanted in the handbag. "No, that doesn't make any more sense than my father being a drug dealer."
"Really?" He could see she was nervous and lying. "But you wouldn't think someone would try to im press Jodie Foster by shooting the President either, would you?"
"That was insanity."
"Isn't love a form of insanity?" He wanted to say, And something, maybe your mother, has made me crazy, has made me do things I wouldn't have believed possible...
"No, I don't think that," Bonnie said. "And you don't believe it either, Jeff, I know you don't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"What are you trying to tell me, Jeff? Are you trying to say that you did kill my father?" She tried to sound hard and skeptical, but there was a tremor in her voice.
"Haven't you been thinking about that all weekend?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me. You started thinking about it the minute I sat down in the cafe in Harvard Square, and it's been on your mind ever since. You're too intelligent not to consider the possibility, now that you know how I feel about your mother."
"If this is some sort of mind game you're playing, it's in very poor taste."
"Sick?"
Bonnie knew she couldn't answer that, because to do so would play right into his hands. She didn't like the situation, but she still felt she could take care of herself. If only her options weren't so limited. Perhaps she could outrun him back to the car, lock herself inside, and then sit on the horn until someone came. It wasn't pretty, but it might be the best alternative.
"Why are you acting like this, Jeff? It's just nasty and pointless. I didn't want the weekend to end like this. We've had such a good time together...."
"I wanted to know what you think about it," he replied simply, with a thin smile.
"Well, I don't like it, and I haven't thought about it."
But you are now, Jeff thought.
"Bonnie, Bonnie. What am I going to do?"
"You're going to drive us back to the hotel, and we're going to get in bed and see if we can't put all this nonsense behind us and finish the weekend on a real high."
But Bonnie knew she didn't sound convincing. She knew Jeff figured, correctly, that once they got back to Boston she'd ditch him in a hurry. There was nothing left to say or do but to get out of this place. Now. Bonnie started to walk away, but Jeff grabbed her hand and pulled her down.
"I'm sorry," he said. Then he took the front of her sweater and maneuvered her on top of him. "Kiss me."
She obeyed mechanically, closing her eyes because he kept his open. It was a cool, asexual kiss, and while their lips were together, Jeff started to do something peculiar with his fingers on her neck. She tried to pull back slightly, but he wouldn't let her. Bonnie's body was stiffening with fear, and she knew she had to act immediately, before he had her completely paralyzed. She let herself lie on him, one hand stroking his hair while she continued to kiss him. Her other hand came out of the leather handbag with the knife, and she held the point of the blade against his throat. It was a small hunting and camping knife, with a three-inch blade, but it was quite sharp. She had bought it shortly after her father's murder and she carried it with her at all times. Jeffs eyes widened a little when he felt the cold metal on his vulnerable flesh.
"Listen carefully," Bonnie said, her voice shaky but very serious. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Jeff, but you give me no choice. Please don't move, not even a fraction of an inch. Put your hands down and slide them slowly under your back, but don't do anything else. If you try to get up, you'll just stab yourself on this knife, and it's very, very sharp. Believe me."
Jeff let go of her and moved his hands slightly under his body. Bonnie tightened her grip on his hair, holding his head to the ground. She had surprised him, and she had him in a pretty good position-he couldn't move without hurting himself, perhaps fatally. But to his amazement, Jeff felt utterly serene. It was beautiful. He had to admire the girl. What courage and presence of mind she had, for an eighteen year old child. She was truly worthy of him, and he loved her for it. He wasn't afraid of death. In a way, it would make sense to die here at Bonnie's hands. He had no desire to escape this sudden new situation. He felt light and airy, as if freedom were finally at hand. None of the many scenarios he had dreamed up for his own triumph could equal the abrupt possibility of his tragic demise. A man who had taken life and then given his own-for love. All for love. It was as close as he had ever come to mak ing a hero and a myth out of himself. He smiled at Bonnie, with love and real gratitude. The two of them were growing enormously with each passing second.
But she looked terrified now that she had gained a positional advantage. Her face was pale, and her body trembled on his. She slid off carefully, kneeling beside him, not for an instant loosening her grip on his hair or the knife. Jeff could imagine what an extraordinary effort of nerve and will it took for her to do this. It was like finding out she was his daughter.
"Sex isn't like this, is it?" he asked. "Sex isn't nearly this good. I'll bet you've never felt more alive than you do right now."
"Please," Bonnie said. "Just listen to me and answer me and do what I say. I'm sorry about this. I didn't want it, but I have to protect myself."
"Of course." It was difficult to speak with the knife point jabbing his throat, but he ignored the discomfort.
"I want an honest answer from you," Bonnie said. "And I'll know if you're lying. I'll know."
"What if I did?"
"What, lie?"
"No. What if I did kill your father?"
"My God," she gasped.
"That's what you wanted to ask, isn't it?"
"You did. I can't believe it. You really did."
"I didn't say that," Jeff replied pedantically.
But Bonnie looked at him as if she no longer had any doubt. She had considered the possibility many times before, but it still came as a shock to her. It was real now, and she had to adjust to it.
"I knew it," she murmured. "I knew it."
`Knew what?"
"Last year, when you first stopped in Danbury," she said. You called my number the night before you met my mother. You asked for Harry or somebody, a wrong number-right? When I met you a day or two later, I recognized your voice. You did a lousy job of disguising it on the phone, Jeff."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. I didn't call you; I didn't even know you had your own phone."
"And you never had any business with Union Carbide, or Wang, or Prime, right? It was all just an act, an excuse to be where you wanted to be."