The Last Dead Girl (30 page)

I won't stop you.

It tempted her. Maybe Luke meant it, or maybe he only thought he meant it. Maybe he loved her. Or maybe his love would last only as long as she stayed. He still had the gun. It wasn't in his waistband now, but he had it within reach, in the space between his seat and his door. Maybe he would let her go. Or maybe he would change his mind as soon as she turned away from him. And if he did, there would be no long walk. No phone call. There would only be a bullet in the back.

Patience, Jana thought. It's not time yet for your exit.

She pushed Luke's shoulder playfully. “Hush. I'm trying to watch the movie.”

•   •   •

L
ater, when the credits rolled, Luke started the Mustang and joined the stream of cars flowing to the exit of the West Rome Drive-In. A right turn would take them back to Humaston Road, but Luke turned left instead, heading east on Erie Boulevard, deeper into the city of Rome.

A quick tour of Luke Daw's life: his grade school, his high school. St. Mary's Church, where he had received his first communion. Bars where he and Eli had played, when the band was still together.

He drove her around the campus of Bellamy University. Music blasting from frat houses, throngs of students in the streets. Banners welcoming the new freshman class. Luke took her away from the noise, to a building with a stone façade and hydrangeas growing up the walls. The School of Art.

He stopped the car, letting the engine idle.

“I always wanted to go there,” he said.

“You should,” said Jana.

“They'd never let me in.”

“They might.”

“It costs a ton.”

“We'll figure something out.”

He shook his head and fell silent, looking away from her. Staring at the building through his open window. Caught up in his own thoughts.

Right then, Jana believed that she could slip away from him. She could run back the way they'd come, back to the noise and the people. She wouldn't need to run far. He would be slow to react. He could chase her or he could shoot at her, but he couldn't do both at the same time. To run would be a risk, but sooner or later she would need to take a risk.

She made up her mind. And as she reached for the button of her seat belt, Luke turned to her and seized her hand.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “sorry for everything I did to you.”

It took all the control she could muster, not to snatch her hand away.

“It's all right,” she said softly.

“No, it's terrible, the way I treated you. You don't even know.”

She didn't get to hear how terrible it was. There was a flash of red light, and a siren sounded behind them. Close and loud.
Whoop, whoop.
Both of them froze, Luke staring in the rearview mirror. She felt him squeezing her fingers.

“What is this?” he murmured. “What did I do?”

The siren sounded again.

Jana looked over her shoulder at the patrol car.

“I think you're blocking the street,” she said.

Luke released her hand and put the Mustang into gear. He waved an apology and drove off slowly. Found the boulevard and headed west toward home. The patrol car followed. They came to a red light and it drew up in the lane beside them. A heavyset cop with ginger hair tipped his hat to Jana Fletcher and smiled. When the light turned green, the cop pulled ahead of them and sped away.

Luke drove through the intersection, a long breath escaping him. Jana reached over and laid her palm against his chest, felt his heart racing.

She laughed. “Take it easy, killer.”

•   •   •

T
hey ended their night back at the farm on Humaston Road. Luke parked the Mustang by the trailer and they walked together along the lane in the light of the waning moon. They came to the pond and went out on a little dock half hidden in a jungle of reeds.

The planks of the dock felt rough under Jana's bare feet. Luke put an arm around her shoulder and she put an arm around his waist. She breathed the green smell of the water and touched the soft cotton of his untucked shirt. He didn't have the revolver; he had left it in the car.

“I think we should talk about names,” he said.

“Do you?”

“For the baby.”

“I figured for the baby.”

“Unless you think it's too soon.”

“No,” Jana said. “We can talk about names.”

The water looked black in the moonlight. She could see a popsicle stick floating in it. A few others lay forgotten on the dock. This was a place where Luke came to think.

“People use family names, don't they?” he said.

“Sometimes.”

“My grandfather was Ben. Benjamin. But I wouldn't want to name a kid after him.”

“We don't have to.”

“I never knew my father. My mother said his name was Luke, but I don't even know if that's true.”

“Luke's a good name.”

“We can do better,” he said. “What was your father's name?”

“Sadiq.”

“That sounds foreign.”

“He was from Sudan. But I never met him. He died when I was a baby.”

“Sadiq Daw. It doesn't really work.”

“No.”

“What about Fletcher?”

“Sadiq Fletcher's no better.”

Luke smiled. “I meant as a first name. Fletcher Daw.”

Jana rested her head against his shoulder. “That's good.”

“It is, isn't it?”

“There's only one problem.”

“What?”

“Suppose it's a girl.”

A long, quiet moment, broken only by a
plup
somewhere far out in the pond. Maybe a fish breaking the surface of the water.

“If it's a girl, that's easy,” Luke said. “We can call her Margaret. Maggie. After my mother. If that's okay.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe Margaret Lydia, so your mother doesn't feel left out. Or Lydia Margaret—I guess we could do it that way.”

“We've got time,” Jana said, “to work out the order.”

A longer quiet. Luke's left hand went into his pocket and came out with a popsicle stick. He held it with two fingers and a thumb. Spun it slowly once. Twice.

“My mother used to bring me here,” he said, “in the mornings after breakfast. We'd watch the ducks, and sometimes we'd feed them. Scraps of bread. You're not supposed to; it's not good for them. But I don't think she knew. The day she left, we came here and fed them, and then she put me on the bus for school. When I got home, she was gone.”

Jana looked up at him. His eyes were truly empty now. A lost boy. He dropped the popsicle stick into the water.

“I'm tired,” he said. “Are you tired?”

“A little.”

“Tired. And I don't think I'll be able to sleep. But we should head back.”

They went down off the dock and when they came to the lane Jana looked to the left, the direction of the trailer and the road. She thought for sure they would go that way. But Luke turned right, leading her by the hand up the slope toward the barn and the fallen farmhouse. The roof of the barn was a bare frame against the dark sky. Jana could see the silhouette of a crow perched on the peak.

Luke brought her to the trapdoor. He meant to take her down.

She stopped him and they stood toe to toe. Her hands went to his collar and then to the sides of his face. She held him steady as if she could make him see her.

“You don't have to,” she said. “I won't leave you.”

He drew her in close to him, folded his arms around her. She felt his chin on the crown of her head. “I know you won't,” he said. “It's just for tonight. I need some time on my own. I need to think. This is a big change. I need to figure out how it's going to work. And I want to talk to Eli—give him the news.”

He stroked her hair. “Just one more night,” he said. “That's all I ask. Then we'll move you into the trailer. I promise. One night. You'll give me that, won't you?”

Jana knew she could argue, she could plead. She could cry and try to persuade him. Those were choices, but they weren't the right ones for the scene. The Jana she was playing wouldn't resist. She would take him at his word and give him what he wanted.

“One night?” she asked.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

She turned her face up to kiss him. A long kiss. Long as a night underground. When it ended, they broke apart. Luke opened the trapdoor. She went down first and waited at the bottom of the stairs. He joined her and brought out a key to unlock the door. They went in together and she switched on the lantern. She moved to the back of the room and stood over the coiled chain on the floor.

The chain glowed a dull gray in the lantern light. He looked down at it, then back at her.

“We don't have to use it,” he said.

“Why not? It's just one more night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Put it on. You'll feel better.”

Jana stood passive with her hands in the pockets of her jeans. Luke knelt and wound the chain around her ankle. He slipped the padlock through the links. She heard it click.

He started to rise, laid a palm against the wall to steady himself—right at the spot where the chain passed through the wall. He touched the piece of two-by-four above the chain.

It shifted slightly.

He stayed down and looked more closely. There were two holes in the board where it had been screwed into the studs. The holes were empty. He touched them with a finger, one after the other.

“What's this?” he asked.

“What's what?”

He found the ends of the two-by-four and wiggled it free from the wall.

“What happened to the screws?” he asked.

“I took them out.”

A tricky line to deliver. She thought she gave it just the right spin. Innocent. Disarming.

He looked at the board, and at the space in the wall.

“Why?” he asked.

“Just to see if I could,” she said. “It's no big deal. You can put the screws back in. They're over in the corner.”

He turned on cue and looked at the corner. She brought her hands out of her pockets, each one holding a four-inch woodscrew. She sank the screws into Luke Daw's neck, as far as they would go, one on either side. She held them in with the heels of her hands.

An ugly sound came out of him, part scream and part growl. The board he'd been holding dropped to the floor with a hollow clatter, and he reached to pry her hands from his neck. At the same time, he threw his weight back against her, knocking her off-balance.

She lost her grip on his throat and fell backward onto her mattress. Luke struggled to his feet and his fingers clawed at his neck. He took hold of one of the screws by the head and yanked it free. A jet of blood sprayed the wall.

Rage and pain twisted his face. He lunged at Jana and she rolled aside, sweeping her leg to pull the chain taut. The chain tripped him up, sent him sprawling. He landed badly, one arm beneath his body, and Jana heard a snap of bone, and a howl.

She stood up. The chain rattled. Luke Daw rolled onto his back and used his feet to push himself across the floor. Blood spurted from his neck. Jana picked up the length of two-by-four.

“Wait,” Luke said. “Just wait.”

She held the board like a baseball bat.

“I don't want to wait anymore.”

He tried to rise, bracing himself against a side wall. One arm hung useless; he dragged himself up with the other. Jana stepped in and swung the board at his left knee—a good, square, solid hit that made him scream. A proper scream, high and frightened as a child's. He slid down the wall, and she tightened her grip on the board and took aim and brought it down hard on the other knee.

•   •   •

I
n the end, Luke tried to crawl, tried to make it to the front of the room, to the door, where the chain would prevent her from reaching him. He tried to crawl with a broken arm and two wrecked knees. Jana caught him and dragged him back and used the board to break his ribs.

When he stopped struggling, she dug his keys from his pocket: the keys to his car and trailer on a ring, and the padlock key by itself. She opened the lock and set herself free from the chain.

She didn't leave him. She sat beside him on the floor and listened to him sob. He had his good hand pressed against his neck, but the blood pulsed through his fingers and ran down through the spaces between the floorboards. She thought she should talk to him. She couldn't think of any words, not her own words, not for him. But she spoke some lines that came into her mind.

“Farewell, my love, because today I die . . . No more shall my eyes drink the sight of you like wine . . . My heart cries out and keeps crying: Farewell, my dear, my dearest, my own heart's own, my own treasure . . .

“I am never away from you. Even now, I shall not leave you. In another world, I shall be still that one who loves you, loves you beyond measure, beyond—”

The life faded out of him and his hand fell away from his neck. Jana spent another minute on the floor and then got up slowly and looked around. She had his keys. What else did she need? Money. She found his wallet and took the cash. What else? Nothing. Or maybe one last thing. She picked up the two-by-four and carried it with her. Up the stairs and out into the world.

The moon still hung in the sky. The crow was missing from the roof of the barn. She glided down the slope of the hill—you couldn't call it walking—she felt too light. She found the lane and headed for the trailer. She knew she could find fresh clothes there. And the Mustang was waiting. And the revolver.

She passed the dock, hesitated, turned back. She dropped the two-by-four on the ground. The sound of wind in the reeds drew her, and she walked to the end of the dock and stretched out on her stomach on the planks. She saw her face looming dark in the water. She reached down and touched the surface with her fingertips. Reached with two hands and scooped water and bathed her face. She washed away tears and Luke Daw's blood.