Pretty Little Dead Girls (17 page)

Oh, how Bryony’s head spun.

Her thoughts were tumbling like chips of plastic in a kaleidoscope, and she told herself it was merely shock, and the loss of . . . the death of . . . losing her father, her father.

“Daddy,” she said aloud, and began to cry again, so hard she could scarcely walk, she clung to Peter’s sleeve with her girlish fingers, being guided as though she were blind. Finally he picked her up and carried her out to the car.

Somebody was walking down the street right then, and stood on the sidewalk and watched silently. It was Teddy Baker, Bryony’s first kiss, and he stood very still as he watched the stranger situate Bryony in the car and safely belt her in. He nodded politely to Teddy, and Teddy nodded politely back, and the man got into the driver’s seat and drove away.

Teddy tucked his hands into his pockets and watched until the car disappeared on the flat, dusty road.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Teddy Baker

This is what Teddy Baker thought:

He thought, “I recognize the look in that man’s eyes. It shone from my own eyes long ago. He is going to kill Bryony, and she seems too weak to notice. That is not like her. Something is wrong.”

He thought, “Why is she with him and not with her husband?”

He thought, “Am I willing to risk my life to save hers again? It really is her fate to die, it has always been so, and who am I to deny it?”

His heart, which had been stretched by his wife, and even more by his baby girl, was big enough to encompass the Star Girl. Besides, he still recalled their one and only kiss, and how it felt, and the sweet sound of her breathing as she leaned toward him, and his certainty that she would not be breathing in the morning if he got his way. That kiss, her breathing, and her guileless gray eyes had made his heart chant the same mantra it was chanting now.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

And human nature seldom changes. The type of person you are as a child still manifests itself in the way you conduct yourself as an adult, and Teddy Baker was certainly no different. When he was young and faced with the decision of What To Do With Bryony, he decided to save her. Let her live, let her be free. It was only right then, and it was only right now, and somewhere deep inside of Teddy, his younger self rose and stretched and looked out at the world with unexpectedly fierce eyes, and nodded his head resolutely.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

Sorrow

“I’m sorry, but I have to be alone for a while,” Bryony said to Peter. He nodded and stepped outside, quietly closing the screen door behind him. Bryony wandered around her childhood home, touching the walls and running her hands over the counters, shiny from years of use. She picked up the phone, called Eddie, and let it ring and ring and ring.

“Hey, it’s Eddie. Leave a message, will ya?”

There was a beep, and Bryony didn’t know what to say for a long time. She wanted to be positive; she wanted to make sure he didn’t worry. He had so much to concentrate on, after all. But at the same time, she wanted him to realize how hurt she was. She wanted him to be on his knees saying: “Baby, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. How could I ever have been so misguided?” They would then fling themselves at each other and there would be tears and warm kisses and they’d rub the tips of their noses cozily together.

Now all was
not
well, and this very real not-wellness made it hard for Bryony to say what she wanted to say. “How dare you? How could you leave me? Don’t you know I need you more than I have ever needed anyone? Don’t you know I have never been so weak, never been so fragile, and you aren’t here? How could you send another man to look after me, when I wear the ring that binds me to you, when I love you, when you swore you’d treasure me until the time came?”

Eddie’s phone clicked off. She had waited too long. Still she held the receiver to her ear, and thought, and finally whispered to the dead air what she should have said to his answering machine.

“I love you, Eddie. We lost a baby when I was attacked, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to name her after your mother, or even possibly after mine, but it’s too late. It’s always too late. I almost wish I had died that day, that I wasn’t tortured by being forced to go on without her, and now without you.

“Goodbye, my love.”

The phone slid gently into the cradle with the sound of something that knows where it belongs. It belongs in the cradle as Bryony belongs with Eddie, and as their child had belonged to both of them. It didn’t seem fair, and with an uncharacteristic surge of anger, she knocked the phone out of its cradle until it lay on the floor, showing its belly in shock and confusion and a terrible vulnerability, making a lonely beeping call that said, “I am loose, I am unbound. I am not where I am supposed to be. Help me, please help me. Put me back because I am quite incapable of doing it by myself.”

It was a heart wrenching sound, and yet Bryony couldn’t make herself slide the receiver into its cradle, for she feared the final, smug click. Much easier for her to back away, and then finally turn and run for another part of the house, somewhere safer and kinder and much more sensitive to her thoughts and feelings. Somewhere that would try its best to remind her of her childhood instead of how things had gone terribly wrong, and how she had been abandoned by her child and father and husband.

So who was left? Who was left?

Peter was left. And yet . . . and yet that thought wasn’t comforting, not in the least, and merely thinking of his name gave her the sad feeling she felt when she watched the stars fall. Bryony fled to her room, and crawled under the covers, and cried like a woman who had tried so hard, and given so much, and had her love and life taken away piece by piece by piece.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

Rescue

There was a tapping on Bryony’s bedroom window. She awoke slowly, groggy and disoriented. The thoughts of her father, Eddie, and her sweet unborn baby slammed into her, and she wearily realized this was life. It wasn’t going to get much better. She had been programmed to flee for the promise and hope of a better world, when perhaps the best thing to do would be turn over and close her eyes so she wouldn’t see the face of death when it overtook her.

Then more tapping.

Bryony slipped out of bed, opened the window, and peered out onto the street. There stood Teddy Baker, half hidden behind the rough dry brush in the yard.

Why, it was her girlhood fantasy come true. How very bizarre.

“Teddy, what are you doing here?”

Teddy smiled at her. “Nobody calls me Teddy anymore. I’ve gone by Ted for the last ten years.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, don’t apologize, Bryony. I like it. It reminds me . . . of a time long ago, and I realize now that is a good thing to remember.” The smile dropped off of his face. “I need to tell you something, and it is extremely important. I know you’re in a state because of your father. Are you alert enough to understand what I’m saying?”

Ah, dear Teddy. So concerned and trying terribly to do the right thing.

“Yes,” Bryony said. “Please go on.”

“Well,” he said, and it looked as though perhaps he was blushing, although one could never be sure under the moon, but it is popular opinion that yes, indeed, he was blushing rather madly as he said this. “I have come to rescue you.”

There was silence for a long while.

“Do I . . . particularly need saving at the moment? I mean, more than usual?”

Teddy sighed. “You do. My wife and I discussed it. The second she saw you at your wedding, she turned to me and said: ‘That young woman is going to die.’ And I said: ‘Yes. It won’t be long now, I think.’ And she said: ‘If you ever get the chance, you have to save her. Promise me.’ I’d promise her anything. So when I saw you with that guy—”

“Peter.”

“What?”

“His name is Peter.”

“Okay. So when I saw you with that guy, I knew you needed me. Because you don’t seem to realize what he has inside him, what has taken up residence inside of his head and pushes its face to his eyes so it can see. His eyes, they truly are windows, and when I look into them, I see what is looking out at me. It is plain to see, but you seem so unaware.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly,” Teddy said. “So I told my wife I was going to come over here and tell you to get out. To leave. It’s not safe for you, Bryony, and I don’t think you know who that guy is.”

“He’s Peter.”

Teddy took a deep breath. “I don’t think you know
what
that guy is, then. He’s a killer. I saw it in his eyes; I saw it in the way he looked at you. I know that look, Bryony, and he’s going to be the end of you. You have to leave this place.”

“But my father—”

“Stop wanted you to live. More than anything else, right? More than anything else, Bryony.”

Bryony ran her hand through her hair. The stars on her bracelet shone in the moonlight.

“I will bury him for you,” Teddy said gently. “I know you wanted to be here, but if you stay, you will not survive. What about your husband? If you stay, you will never see him again.”

Eddie. He had disappointed her, surely, but had she not disappointed him in the past? She hoped they would have the opportunity to disappoint each other in the future. She had to get back to her husband.

Teddy reached into the backpack at his feet.

“Here,” he said, and tossed Bryony a pair of white running shoes.

“What are these for?” she asked him, holding them in her hands. She looked at Teddy, who shrugged a bit, as if he too were baffled. The shoes were worn and sturdy and somehow felt like salvation.

“My wife told me to bring them to you tonight. She figured you didn’t have time to think about what to pack, that you just hopped on a plane. They’re hers. She said you would need them. You have to leave this place. Can’t you hear the desert screaming for you? It has gone mad. It’s time.”

It’s time. It’s time. It sounded like her father’s voice in the wind.

Run, Star Girl.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Please Live

Bryony nodded, and clutched the shoes to her chest like a talisman.

“Thank you so much, Teddy. It can’t be easy to come here and say this to me. In my heart I think I always knew Peter was what you say, but I don’t want to believe that, you see. It means I have been foolish, which I have, and that Eddie has been blind, which he has. It means I should have run a long time ago, and I didn’t, and now I am sorry. It means when he saved me, he didn’t do it because he’s a good person, and I so dearly want him to be a good person. Please thank your wife for me, and kiss your beautiful girl, and take care of my father for me. Place him in the desert, and let him tamp it down and hold it back. I fear I shall never return here. Never again. I have nothing to come back for.”

Teddy leaned through the window, kissed Bryony on her cheek and ran his hand over the stitches on her face.

“I wish I could help more than this, but I can’t. Please live, sweet girl. You give all of us so much hope.”

He smiled, and then he was gone, and there was nothing outside except for the sound of the sand shifting and blowing over the rock.

Bryony studied the shoes and realized she hadn’t gone running since the day she was attacked and very nearly killed. She slipped them onto her feet and tied the laces, remembering when she and Stop worked on tying her shoes every night.

“It’s important to tie your shoes,” her father had told her. “Tie them well and you can keep your shoes on your feet. You don’t want them to slip off when you are walking or climbing trees or skipping rope. You don’t want them to fall off when you run.” The words were Heavy With Meaning, but Bryony was only five and didn’t understand words Heavy With Meaning, but she did understand things that were important to a little girl.

“And my teacher will be so proud of me!” Bryony said.

“And your teacher will be so proud of you,” Stop agreed.

Now she looked around her bedroom one last time. It was full of color and whimsy and bells and chimes and wonderful flying things that hung from the ceiling. There were stars. Stars on the walls and stars on her dresser. Notebooks with stars and plastic stars and stars made out of crystal. It was a beautiful place, and many happy years were spent here, but it had come to an end. It was too dangerous, and she had skirted the issue too long, and her luck was running out, if it hadn’t already done so.

“Bye, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you. I’m going to do my best.”

Then she slipped out of the window, landing as quietly as she could in the sand outside. She ran quickly to the car, grateful that it was still the same old small town where everybody simply left their keys in the ignition, and hopped inside.

She was going home.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

Ideally

Peter woke up with a start. Something was wrong. What was it? What was it?

He was somewhere unfamiliar, and this realization had him on his feet beside the bed in no time. Had he been caught? Had he been taken? He would rather die before being taken, and he didn’t remember a struggle of any sort whatsoever.

A quick scan of the room jogged his memory. Ah, yes. This was Stop’s house, the home where Bryony grew up, and he was sleeping in the bed of a dead man, but being who he was meant this didn’t bother him any. Stop had seemed like a good and decent man, and heaven knows his daughter adored him, and the fact that he had disliked Peter on sight, well, it only said good things about him, too.

Downstairs Bryony would be sleeping, curled up on her side with, he imagined, her fingers close to her mouth like a child. She had fallen asleep in her clothes, but if she had the time to choose whatever she wanted to wear, would she be wearing a white nightgown to complete the look of innocence? Would she be sleeping in one of Eddie’s shirts because she missed him? Her father died and that man couldn’t even make the effort to be here. He was undeserving, especially when he knew the consequences of being lax. And there would definitely be consequences. Perhaps after Bryony’s death, Peter should finish off Eddie, who would no doubt be grateful for it. Although, actually, Peter most likely wouldn’t get the chance, since he could see in Eddie’s posture he was trying to make himself smaller and smaller so the world wouldn’t miss him so much when he took his own life after his bride’s death. Ah, Eddie, so sweet and so misguided.
Hang around for a while,
Peter thought.
Let me do the deed for you. It will give us all what we want.