Hostage

Jennifer nodded in and out of a light drowse, never quite sleeping, listening to the helicopters and the squawk of police voices that she could not understand. She thought they might be dreams. Jennifer couldn't get comfortable with her wrists taped, lying in her bed, on top of the covers, the room so hot it left her sweaty and gross. Every time she felt herself falling asleep, the phone rang, distant from downstairs, and left her head filled with thoughts she could not stop: Her father; her brother, thinking that he might be creeping through the walls to do something stupid.

Jennifer jerked upright when the door opened. She saw Mars framed in dim light. Her skin crawled, being on the bed with him there, him and his toad eyes. She scrambled to her feet.

Mars said, 'We can't make the microwave work.'

'What?'

'We're hungry. You're going to cook.'

'I'm not going to cook for you. You're out of your mind.'

'You'll cook.'

'Fuck yourself!'

The words came before she could stop them.

Mars stepped close, then searched her eyes the way he had when she was tied to the chair, first one eye, then the other. She tried to step back, but he laced his fingers in her hair, holding her close. He spoke so softly that she could barely hear.

'I told you, that's a bad thing.'

'Leave go of me.'

He bunched his fist, pulling her hair.

'Stop.'

He twisted his fist, pulling tighter. His face held no expression except for a mild curiosity. The pain was enormous. Jennifer's entire body was rigid and clammy.

'I can do anything I want to you, bad girl. Remember that. Think about it.'

Mars pushed her through the door, then roughly along the hall and down the stairs. The kitchen lights were on, bright and blinding after so long in the black of her room. Mars cut the tape at her wrists, then peeled it away. She had not seen his knife before. It was curved and wicked. When he turned to the refrigerator, she glanced at the French doors, and fought the urge to run even though Thomas had given her that chance. Two frozen pizzas were sitting on the counter and the microwave oven was open.

'Heat the pizza.'

Mars turned away from her and went to the refrigerator, his back wide and threatening. Jennifer remembered the paring knife, pushed behind the food processor when they first invaded her home. She glanced toward the food processor, looking for it. When she looked back at Mars, he was watching her, holding a carton of eggs. It was like he could see inside her.

'I want scrambled eggs and hot dogs on mine.'

'On the pizza?'

'I like it with hot sauce and butter.'

As Jennifer got a frying pan and a bowl and the other things she would need, Dennis appeared from the entry. His eyes were dark and hollow.

'Is she cooking?'

'She's making eggs.'

Dennis grunted listlessly, then turned away without another word. She found herself wishing that he would die.

'When are you going to let us go?'

'Shut up. All you have to do is make the pizza.'

She broke all nine eggs into a glass bowl, then put the frying pan on to heat. She didn't bother with salt and pepper. She wanted the eggs to taste nasty.

Mars stood in the family room, staring at her.

'Stop watching me. I'm going to burn the eggs.'

Mars went to the French doors.

Him walking away was like a weight being lifted. She could breathe again. Jennifer beat the eggs, sprayed the pan with PAM, then poured in the eggs. She got hot sauce from the refrigerator, then glanced at Mars. He was standing by the French doors, staring at nothing, with his right hand on the glass. She shook hot sauce into the eggs until the eggs were orange, hoping it would poison them, then she thought that she might be able to poison them for real. Her mother had sleeping pills, there was probably rat poison or weedkiller in the garage, there was Drāno. She thought that Thomas might be able to get the sleeping pills. Then, if they made her cook again, she could put it in the food.

She glanced over at Mars again, expecting that he had read her mind again and would be watching her, but he had moved deeper into the family room. She looked at the paring knife. The handle was sticking out from behind the food processor, directly beneath the cabinet with the plates. She glanced at Mars again. She couldn't see his face, only the shadow of his bulk. He might have been looking at her, but she couldn't tell. She walked directly to the cabinets, took down some plates, and picked up the knife. She fought the urge to glance at Mars, knowing that if their eyes locked he would know, he could tell. She pushed the knife under her shirt into the waist of her shorts and into the bottom of her bathing suit, horizontally so that it lay against the flat of her belly.

'What are you doing?'

'Getting plates.'

'You're burning the eggs. I can smell'm.'

She brought the plates to the stove, feeling the hard shape of the knife low on her belly, thinking that now if they turned their backs, she could kill them.

Across the house in the office, the telephone rang.

CHAPTER 15

Friday, 11:02 P.M.

TALLEY