The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,85

going to count the pills. I’m not going to watch you take them. You can flush them down the toilet if you want. This isn’t me trying to control you. This is me trying to help you. You’re my wife and I believe you can get better.”

At least he had the good sense not to try to kiss her before he left.

After he was gone, Patricia picked up the phone and called Grace. Her machine picked up, so she called Kitty.

“I can’t talk,” Kitty said.

“Did you see the paper this morning?” Patricia asked. “That was Destiny Taylor, page B-6.”

“I don’t want to hear about those kind of things anymore,” Kitty said.

“He knows we’ve gone to the police,” Patricia said. “Think of what he’s going to do to us.”

“He’s coming to our house,” Kitty said.

“You have to get out of there,” Patricia said.

“For supper,” Kitty said. “To meet the family. Horse wants him to know there are no hard feelings.”

“But why?” Patricia asked.

“Because that’s how Horse is,” Kitty said.

“We can’t give up just because the rest of the men suddenly think he’s their pal.”

“Do you know what we could lose?” Kitty asked. “It’s Slick and Leland’s business. It’s Ed’s job. It’s our marriages, our families. Horse has put all our money into this project he’s doing with Leland.”

“That little girl died,” Patricia said. “You didn’t see her, but she was barely nine.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Kitty said. “We have to take care of our families and let other people worry about theirs. If someone’s hurting those children, the police will stop them.”

She got Grace’s machine again, then tried Maryellen.

“I can’t talk,” Maryellen said. “I’m right in the middle of something.”

“Call me back later,” Patricia said.

“I’m busy all day,” Maryellen said.

“That little girl killed herself,” Patricia said. “Destiny Taylor.”

“I have to run,” Maryellen said.

“It’s on page B-6,” Patricia said. “There’s going to be another one after this, and another after that, and another, and another.”

Maryellen spoke quiet and low.

“Patricia,” she said. “Stop.”

“It doesn’t have to be Ed,” Patricia said. “What were the names of those other two police detectives? Cannon and Bussell?”

“Don’t!” Maryellen said, too loud. Patricia heard panting over the phone and realized Maryellen was crying. “Hold on,” she said, and sniffed hard. Patricia heard her put the phone down.

After a moment, Maryellen picked it back up.

“I had to shut the bedroom door,” she said. “Patricia, listen to me. When we lived in New Jersey, we came home from Alexa’s fourth birthday party and our front door was standing wide open. Someone broke in and urinated on the living room carpet, turned over all our bookcases, stuffed our wedding pictures in the upstairs bathtub and left it running so it backed up and flooded the ceiling. Our clothes were hacked to shreds. Our mattresses and upholstery slashed. And in the baby’s room they’d written Die Pigs on the wall. In feces.”

Patricia listened to the line hum while Maryellen caught her breath.

“Ed was a police officer and he couldn’t protect his own family,” Maryellen continued. “It ate him alive. When he was supposed to be at work he parked across the street and watched our house. He missed shifts. They wanted to give him a few weeks off, but he needed the hours, so he kept going in. It wasn’t his fault, Patty, but they sent him to pick up a shoplifter at the mall and the boy lipped off and Ed hit him. He didn’t mean to, it wasn’t even that hard, but the boy lost some of the hearing in his left ear. It was one of those freak things. We didn’t come down here because Ed wanted someplace quieter. We came down here because this was all he could find. Ed used up all his favors getting transferred.”

She blew her nose. Patricia waited.

“If anyone talks to the police,” Maryellen said, “they’re going to follow it back to Ed. That boy