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“Oh, Jesus.”

“You watch your tongue.”

“I don’t wanta see nobody, Mom.”

She washis mother?

“Put on your shirt and go on out and talk with her. And try to keep a civil tongue in your head.”

As Riley’s mother came out of the room, Lane turned her eyes away. The salt shaker on the table was a little plastic dog, the pepper shaker a red fireplug.

“He’ll be right along,” she said. “I ought to warn you, though, he’s been in a mighty foul mood lately. First it was Jessica’s murder, then the police bothering him, and then he got into trouble with some gal at school and got himself expelled. This has been a mighty bad week for him, the poor kid.”

“I’m really sorry,” Lane said. “Some of it’s my fault, I guess. I’m the one who got him kicked out of school.”

Riley’s mother frowned. “I hope he didn’t hurt you. I heard what he did, and...”

“You!”

The mother looked around. “Be nice, honey.”

Riley stepped around her. “What’re you doing here, Dunbar?”

“I just want to talk a minute.”

“Whatever you’ve gotta say, I don’t wanta hear it.”

The mother turned on him, scowling and shoving her fists against her hips. “Did you hear what I said about being nice?”

“Mom, for godsake!”

“I just want to talk to you a minute,” Lane said. “It’s really important.”

“Maybe the two of you should step out front. There isn’t much privacy in this place.” She fixed her eyes on Riley. “You be a gentleman, or you’ll be sorry.”

He wrinkled his nose. Glaring at Lane, he said, “Okay. Let’s go out. But make it quick.”

Lane stood up. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Benson.”

“Nice to meet you, honey.” She held out her hand. “The name’s Melanie. You can call me Mel.”

Lane shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Lane Dunbar.”

“Hope to see more of you around here.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Riley told her.

He led the way outside. Lane followed him to the road. He sat down on the hood of her car. “Okay, what’s the fuckin‘ idea?”

“Your mom’s nice.”

“Yeah, sure, a sweetheart. She’s probably got an eye on us, or I’d take you apart, you fuckin‘ cunt.”

“I came here to tell you who killed Jessica.”

He sneered. “Yeah, sure.”

“Kramer did it.”

The sneer fell away. He stared at Lane. He said nothing.

“Kramer got me alone last night. He beat me up and raped me.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look beat up.” His voice came out quiet, uncertain.

“He didn’t hurt my face.”

“How do I know he did anythingto you?”

Lane checked the area ahead. On the other side of the street was empty land, a barren hillside. Keeping her back to Riley’s home, she fumbled open three buttons. She spread the front of her blouse wide enough for him to see her breasts. “That’s just some of it,” she muttered, closing the blouse.

“Kramer did that to you?”

“And plenty more. And he had a razor with him. He said he’d use it on me if I talked. He said he’d kill me and my family. I think that’s what happened to Jessica and her parents.”

Riley slumped forward and clutched his knees. His head lowered. For a while he just sat like that on the car’s hood, staring down. Then he raised his head and met Lane’s eyes. “Jessica looked like that. After she got herself pounded. She said it was a gang of spies got her behind the mini-mart.”

“It was Kramer.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Riley said.

“I’m gonna help you.”

Lane swung the denim bag forward. Clutching it to her belly, she reached inside and took out a revolver. “It’s my dad’s,” she said. “It’s just a twenty-two, but...”

“That’ll do just fine,” Riley said.

* * *

Lane waited in the car while Riley went back inside his home. A few minutes passed. Then he came out and climbed into the passenger seat. “I told the old lady we’re going to a matinee.”

Lane took the paper out of her blouse pocket. She checked the second address.

“What’s that?”

“It’s where Kramer lives.”

“All right.”

She put the paper away and started to drive.

“I’ve got something for him,” Riley said. He tugged up a cuff of his blue jeans, reached down and came up with a knife. Lane glanced at it. The thing looked wicked. Its blade must’ve been eight inches long.

“Here’s how we’re gonna work it,” he said. “You keep the motherfucker covered with the gun. I’lldo him. Don’t you go shooting him up unless he makes a break for it.”

“We’ll be each other’s alibis,” Lane said, her voice shaking.

“Fuck alibis. I don’t care if they get me for it.”

“I do. And I’m sure your mother does. If we’re caught, we might not get charged with anything, or end up with suspended sentences. I mean, I don’t think a jury’s going to put us away for this. But let’s try to work it so the cops don’t come looking.”

“Oh yeah? How do you figure we can manage that?”

“Why don’t we make it look like suicide?”

“Fuck that. I’m gonna cut his dick off. I’m gonna cut his head off.”

“Maybe we can make him write a suicide note. Make him confess what he did to Jessica. On paper. Then we hang him. Right there in his house.”

“You read too many fucking books.”

“It’s worth a try.”

On Kramer’s street, two blocks from where his house should be, Lane swung the car to the curb. She faced Riley. He had the knife in his right hand, rubbing its blade along the leg of his faded jeans.

“Why don’t we walk from here?” she said. “That way, nobody’s likely to connect the car with what happens to Kramer.” She paused and tried to catch her breath. She hadn’t been doinganything, but she felt as if she’d just finished dashing up a few flights of stairs. “I’ll go on ahead first. Give me a couple of minutes head start.”

“You’ll be alone in there with him.”

“Don’t I know it,” she muttered. She lifted the bag onto her lap and dropped the keys inside. After a quick look around to make certain no one was in sight, she took out the revolver. She set the bag on the floor. Leaning back against the seat, she untucked her blouse, lifted its front, and slid the muzzle under the waistband of her skirt. It only went down an inch before pushing against her pubic mound. Lowering the blouse, she held the gun against her belly. She opened the door and climbed out.

“Good luck,” Riley said.

“Thanks.” She shut the door. Facing the car, she slipped the revolver farther down until it was snug between her skirt and body. She glanced down at herself. The hanging front of her blouse concealed the bulges.

The back of the blouse was glued to her skin. She peeled it away, but as soon as she let go, it stuck again.

There was no sidewalk in this neighborhood, so she walked along the edge of the road. The barrel pressed her groin. The front sight sometimes scraped the inner side of her left thigh, so after a while she nudged the gun butt sideways. Then the muzzle was stroking her right thigh with each step she took. But it was smooth, and didn’t scratch her the way the sight did.

She remembered last night with the bottom of the crucifix stuffed in her jeans.

Last night, a cross. Today, a revolver.

It’s a weird damn world, she thought.

She glanced back. The Mustang was a block away, Riley still in the passenger seat.

She kept walking.

A mortal sin, she thought. I’ll be risking Hell, murdering Kramer. Even if it’s Riley who does the dirty work. I’ll be just as guilty as him in the eyes of God.

What am I supposed to do, let Kramer go on raping me? Let him kill Mom and Dad?

It’s self-defense. Lane didn’t know a lot about Church policy, but it seemed like allowances were made for killing people in self-defense, war, that kind of thing. She sure hoped so.