stuff at the baseball field a thousand times, spitting in a cup or a Coke bottle.” She shudders in revulsion. “I can see the outline of that little round can in the back of his Levi’s, or on his truck dash. Gross.”
I almost feel Max standing with us, a chilling incarnation of lust and envy. “Well,” I say softly. “Here goes nothing.”
Inhaling deeply, I lean close to the window glass and exhale a rush of warm air against the pane. Out of the condensation appears the ghostly outline of a nose and forehead, leaving eerie spaces where the eyes should be. To the left and right of this ghostly face float the outlines of splayed hands.
A soft gasp escapes Jet’s throat. “That sick fuck.”
“Goddamn,” Paul mutters.
Though Max Matheson lies dead in my house, his essence is alive here, staring back at us like a demon summoned by my breath. Radiating from the silhouette on that glass is pure obsession, the desire to possess Jet in whatever way he could. How many days and nights did Max stand here watching us make love in blissful ignorance, in the full glare of the bedroom lights?
“This is how he knew,” Jet says. “My God. I told you. I told you both.”
I’m shocked and shamed by the relief I feel.
She turns to Paul. “I told you, damn it. I’m not the poison in the family. He was.”
“Great,” says Paul, bulling his way out of the shrubbery. “Such a relief. I guess I’m supposed to be happy it was only Marshall’s finger up your ass instead of Max’s?”
Jet glares at him with fiery indignation, then pokes him hard in the chest. “Yes. And fuck you for believing otherwise.”
Here we stand, three people stripped of illusions. Three people who have known one another since childhood and now face a future that seems unimaginable. Exhaustion gives Paul’s face a haunted look, and surely mine must look the same. As I try to think of what to do or say next, the clouds open up, and the rain finally comes. Cold, heavy drops smack into my scalp and shoulders, making me want to run. But Paul stands oblivious, his gun in his hand, like a soldier assigned sentry duty. For him the rain doesn’t exist. He probably does feel some relief, but the losses he endured tonight will never be made up. In his mind, he is utterly alone in the world.
“What now?” I ask. “A lot’s happened, I know. But we’ve got an urgent situation in that kitchen.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Paul says. “She still wants Kevin. And you.”
“Oh, come on, man,” I say in frustration. “If we just wanted Kevin, we could have stood there and watched you eat your gun. You were about to do it.”
Paul shakes his head, but at some level he knows it’s true.
“For God’s sake!” Jet cries. “I meant what I said back there. The one thing I’m certain of is that Kevin will never—never—doubt who his father is. He’s your son, Paul, and that’s it. It’s our job to make sure he never thinks different. No matter what happens.”
She’s finally broken his trance. “How do we do that?” he mumbles.
“I don’t know yet. What I do know is that none of us is going to jail over this. Here’s what’s going to happen now. You two are going to get rid of Max and his truck. I don’t know how or where. Just make it happen. I’m going to stay here and scrub that kitchen from floor to ceiling with Clorox.”
“You think that’ll keep us safe?” Paul asks.
Jet nods in the rain. “You’re damn right. Max killed Sally, he lied about the assault last night, and today he jumped bail. For all we know, he’s fled the country. I’ll tell the FBI that he confided to me he was guilty. Max exits stage left, never to return. Now, let’s get out of this damned rain.”
I’m ready, but Paul doesn’t move.
Jet claps her hands as though demanding the attention of toddlers. “Get it together! Come on!”
I look warily at Paul, who’s staring at the bedroom window.
“Paul?” Jet presses, looking fearfully at me.
After fifteen or twenty seconds, Paul says, “I’ll sink his truck in the river. Take backroads to the sandbar below the industrial park.”
Jet’s eyes flicker with hope.
“You call Tallulah,” he goes on. “Tell her Kevin needs to sleep over with her. He’s probably already asleep now. Tell her we’ll pick him up in the morning.”
Jet nods, somehow masking her immense relief.
“What about