came. At night. Didn’t he?”
“Oh God, he was just there. There at the door. No time to run. You were scared, you held my hand so tight.” She reached back again, squeezed Trevor’s hand until the bones rubbed together. “I wouldn’t leave you with him, not even for a minute. He’d snatch you away if he could. But he didn’t want you, not yet. One day, he’d tell me. One day I’d look around and you’d be gone. I’d never find you. I couldn’t let him take you away, baby. I’d never, never let him hurt you.”
“He didn’t.” Trevor ground his teeth with impatience. “What happened the night he came to the house in Columbus?”
“I’d put you to bed. Frodo pajamas. My little Lord of the Rings. But I had to wake you up. I don’t know what he’d have done if I’d refused. I brought you downstairs, and he gave you a present. You liked it, you were just a little boy, but still, you were frightened of him. ‘Not to play with,’ he said, ‘but just to keep. One day it might be worth something.’ And he laughed and laughed.”
“What was it?” Excitement danced up Trevor’s spine. “What did he give me?”
“He sent you away. You were too young to interest him yet. ‘Go back to bed, and mind what I say. Keep it with you.’ I can still see him standing there, smiling that horrible smile. Maybe he had a gun. He might’ve. He might’ve.”
“Keep what?”
But she was beyond him, she was back fifty years into the fear. “Then it was just the two of us. Alone with him, and he put his hand on my throat.”
She reached up with her own as her breath stuttered. “Maybe this would be the time he’d kill me. One day he’d kill me, if I didn’t keep running. One day he’d take you away from me, if we didn’t hide. I should go to the police.”
She balled a fist, thumped it on the box. “But I’m too afraid. He’ll kill us, kill us both if I go to the police. What could they do, what? He’s too smart. He always said. So it’s better to hide.”
“Just tell me about that night. That one night.”
“That night. That night. I don’t forget. I can forget yesterday, but I never forget. I can hear him inside my head.”
She put her hands to her ears. “Judith. My name was Judith.”
Time was running out, he thought. They’d come looking for her soon, to give her medication. Worried that they’d come sooner if anyone saw her having her little fit, or heard her sniveling, he pushed the chair farther down the path, deeper into the shade.
He forced himself to touch her, to pat her thin shoulder. “Now, now. That doesn’t matter. Just that one night matters. You’ll feel better if you tell me about that one night. I’ll feel better, too,” he added, inspired. “You want me to feel better, don’t you?”
“I don’t want you to worry. Oh baby, I don’t want you to be afraid. I’ll always take care of you.”
“That’s right. Tell me about the night, the night in Ohio, when he came and brought me a present.”
“He looked at me with those horrible cold eyes. Go ahead and run, run all you want, I’ll just find you again. If the boy didn’t have the present with him when he found us again, he’d kill both of us. No one would ever find us. No one would ever know. If I wanted to stay alive, if I wanted the boy to stay alive, I’d do exactly what he said. So I did. I ran, but I did what he said in case he found us again. Did he come back? In my dreams he kept finding us.”
“What did he bring, damn it?” He gave the chair a vicious shake, then came around to shove his face close to hers. “Tell me what he brought.”
Her eyes went wide and glassy. “The bulldozer, the bright yellow bulldozer. Kept it in the box, years and years in the box like a secret. You never played with it. Then you put it on your shelf. Why did you want it on the shelf? To show him you’d done what he told you?”
“Are you sure?” He gripped her shoulders now, the frail frame with its thin and brittle bones. “Are you goddamn sure?”
“They said you were dead.” Her color went gray, her breath short and harsh. “They said you