The Lake

Hope to God he’s not outside the house.

Could be.

She heard a wet, gasping sob.

“Christ, Nelson. Where are you?”

Deana, use my phone, for godsake.

Call Mace.

“Just wanted to get it off my chest…how all of this happened. So you know it was your fault. You coulda told me you didn’t want me for a partner. Not just fired me…” The whining tapered off. Then:

“Coulda lived with not bein’ a partner.”

A long pause.

“I been feelin’ real tuckered out lately. I worry about my work an’ all…” Nelson sounded beat now. “Anyways. I won’t be botherin’ you no more, Ms. West. You’ll be fuckin’ rid of me for good! But I hope you’ll remember, as long as you’ve breath left in your body, that you brought it on your own fuckin’ self—”

“NELSON! What d’you mean? I’ll be rid of you…”

Silence. Then:

“Ah’m goin’ away, Ms. West. Forever. You’ll not hear from me again.”

“Nelson.”

Say something. Anything. Just keep him talking.

“Was it you who returned my necklace? You took it, didn’t you? From the restaurant?”

Nelson wasn’t listening.

The phone fell from his grasp. It dangled, swinging to and fro on its connection cord. Fascinated by the pendulum-like movements, he watched it for a moment, his toothless mouth making a small black O.

Somewhere deep inside his mashed-up brain, a smile began. A grimace of triumph that tried but didn’t quite make it to his tear-streaked face.

He’d told her, all right.

He’d told that high-handed bitch what for.

Spittle swung from Nelson’s chin. Snot dribbled into his mouth. His tongue came up and licked it away. The stuff tasted good and sweet.

Lurching away from the pay phone, he crossed the sidewalk and teetered along the edge, his arms outstretched for balance.

Cars came at him from nowhere.

Like bats out of hell.

As he squinted in the glaring headlights, his face lifted to meet the cool night breeze.

It felt all right.

Clean.

He was a boy again. Out on one of them lakes beyond Point Reyes Station. Fishing with his pa. Taking in great gulps of fresh, clean air. Hearing the squawk of Pa’s oars in the oarlocks, the slap of wood on water, making ripples and waves dance around their smart new rowboat.

And the fish he brought home.

Yes-siree Bob! Ma sure knew how to cook her boy’s fish.

Tender as a baby’s smile, they fell to pieces soon as look at ’em.

Fog shrouded the far end of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Nelson grinned and walked toward it.

TWENTY-ONE

“He’s gone, baby.” Leigh shrugged into her toweling robe. She drew the belt tight around her, giving a long sigh of relief, grateful the ordeal with Nelson was over.

He’d sounded weak. Beaten.

Not a threat anymore.

Please God.

She looked up as Deana appeared in the doorway, wrapped in her robe, hugging it around herself. “Wow,” she breathed. “That was something else. Nelson sure flipped this time.”

Hope to Christ he’s gone for good.

She gave a small yelp and clamped a hand to her jaw. “Ouch. This really hurts, Mom.”

“I know, honey. Just take it easy, now.”

Leigh knew it had been a shock for Deana to hear her shouting into the phone like that.

Poor kid. She doesn’t need it. Not after Allan…

All because of my upset with Nelson.

Guilt merged with a growing sense of urgency.

“We gotta call Mace. Tell him Nelson—”

“Been there. Done that.”

“You have?” Leigh felt relieved. And proud. Of course Deana would call Mace. She was a smart kid, her daughter.

Leigh relaxed—then jumped as the doorbell rang.

It sounded extra loud.

And strident.

This time of night.

“That’s Mace now.”

“You sure about this, Mom? Could be Nelson coming back to finish what he left off…Remember last time you answered the door?”

Leigh hurried into the hallway. “Mace?” she called through the door.

“Leigh. It’s me. Mace. Open up.”

Leigh almost fell into his arms as he stepped into the foyer.

Deana made a face.

Mom, she cringed, d’you have to do that? Get all swoony like some dopey kid in high school?

“It was Nelson…,” Leigh said.

“Gathered that from Deana’s call. Smart move there, kiddo.”

Deana glared grumpily at Mace. She was in no mood to be patronized. Digging her hands into her robe pockets, she snatched another look at him. He wore a white T-shirt, tight black jeans, and a black leather biker jacket.

Apart from his weapon bulging out of his hip holster, he wasn’t looking much like a policeman tonight. She stared a while longer.

Mmmm…Sexy, or what?

Oh yeah?

That’d be wonderful. Making a fool of myself with Mom’s boyfriend. Pardon me, Mom’s not-quite but soon-to-be boyfriend.

How can I be such a shit, anyway? Allan’s only just…Her eyes watered up.