The Lonely Lady (9 page)

“Yell your head off. Ain’t nobody to hear you.” Joe held the cigarette to his mouth and dragged on it.

“Walt, please, make him stop!” she implored.

“Maybe, we better—” he began.

Joe cut him off. “You stay out of it! This is between me an’ her. When I get through she ain’t gonna cocktease nobody.” He straddled her legs with his knees and brutally put his hand on her pubis. With his fingers he spread her open. A strange smile came to his face. “Now, ain’t that pretty pink little pussy?”

He bent his face forward and bit her mound. She tried to move but couldn’t. He straightened up and laughed. “Not bad. A little pissy, but not bad.” Slowly he brought the cigarette down toward her. “Now you’ll get a taste of something real hot.”

Fascinated, as if she were watching a snake, she stared, her eyes following the glowing tip of the cigarette as it came toward her. Suddenly she felt its approaching heat and she shut her eyes tightly.

***

They heard her scream as their car stopped in the driveway and were out of the car running through the house almost before the engine had stopped.

Bernie was the first one through the sliding doors. He froze for a moment at the horror of what he saw—the two boys holding JeriLee down and her mouth still open in a scream. His mouth opened. “What—?”

Fred reacted with the reflexes of one used to street fighting. He took one step and kicked Joe in the side of his head, lifting him from the ground and tumbling him backward onto the concrete walk. Walt was trying to get to his feet, but Fred never gave him a chance. Slashing viciously with his fist, he caught Walt flush on the nose and mouth, and felt the crunch of bone and teeth against his knuckles. Walt fell back as if he had been hit by an ax.

Fred knelt beside JeriLee, pillowing her head in his arms. She was crying in pain. “Don’t hurt me, please, don’t hurt me.” Her eyes were tightly shut.

“It’s okay, honey,” he said softly. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you now.”

“Fred!” Bernie’s voice was sharp.

He turned to see another boy coming toward him and started to get up. But Bernie caught the boy from behind in a tackle and they fell to the ground, rolling over and over. Joe was coming back toward him now and there was something in his hand that looked like a rock.

He rose quickly, his hand making a lightning move under his trouser leg. The knife came to his fingers and at the same time he pressed the switch and the blade flashed forward. He held the knife flat in his hand before him. “One move, white boy,” he said quietly, “an’ I’ll cut your balls off.”

Joe froze, staring at him, his hand still in the air. It wasn’t a rock that had been in his hand, it was a portable radio.

Fred stepped back on catlike feet so that he could see them all. “Get something to cover her up,” he said to Bernie. “And let’s get her out of here.”

He heard a sound from across the pool. Marian was coming around the walk, staggering drunkenly, a bottle of rum in her hand.

“What’s happenin’ to the party?” she asked.

“The party’s over, honey,” he said, his voice filled with contempt.

They managed to cover JeriLee with the remnants of her dress and a towel and get her to the car. She sat between them shivering and crying and moaning in pain, her head against Fred’s chest, while Bernie drove. She was still crying as the car pulled up in front of her house.

When Fred tried to help her out of the car, she wouldn’t move. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of now, JeriLee,” he said soothingly. “You’re safe now. You’re home.”

But an instinct told her that this was only the beginning of the horror. And she was right.

Chapter 11

The letters were scrawled in black crayon on the white picket fence:

John stared silently at the words. Next to him, Bobby was still holding the wet bloody handkerchief against his nose, although the heavy bleeding had stopped. “I saw them doing it when I came around the corner, Daddy.”

“Who was it?” John asked, a sick feeling inside him.

“They were big boys,” the twelve-year-old replied. “I never saw them before. When I went to stop them, they hit me.”

John turned to his son. “There’s a can of white paint in the garage,” he said. “Get it. Maybe we can paint it over before your mother and JeriLee get home from shopping.”

“Okay, Dad. But why do they say things like that about my sister?”

“Some people are just sick, Bobby. They’re stupid.”

“It’s an awful thing to do. I wanted to kill them.”

John looked at his son. The child’s face was grim. “Get the paint,” John said gently.

The boy ran across the lawn toward the garage and John turned to look down the street. There was no one in sight. He fished in his pocket for a cigarette. It had been less than a month since that night. The night he had opened the door to find the two boys holding a frightened, beaten JeriLee between them.

***

The late show was almost over when the doorbell rang. He rose from the chair in front of the television set where he had been dozing and glanced at his wristwatch. It was one o’clock. “It must be JeriLee,” he said. “She probably forgot her key.

Veronica was absorbed in the film. “Tell her not to be so forgetful the next time. We might have been asleep.”

He went into the small hallway leading to the front door. The doorbell rang again. “I’m coming, honey,” he called, turning the lock.

The door swung open without his touch. For a moment he was transfixed by what he saw. JeriLee stood between the two boys, her clothes torn, blood running down one cheek almost to the top of an exposed breast. Bernie held one arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

There was a look of terror in her eyes as she raised her face to him. “Daddy,” she said in a weak voice, taking a stumbling step toward him.

He caught her before she fell. His arms tightened around her, he could feel the frightened flutter of her heart pounding against his shirt. “My God!” he exclaimed. “What happened?”

The black boy whom he had never seen before spoke first. “We’ll tell you what happened, Mr. Randall,” he said, “but you better get a doctor for JeriLee. She’s been hurt bad.”

By this time Veronica was behind him. When she saw her daughter she let out a small scream. “John!”

JeriLee turned her face to her mother. “Mother, I—”

A tone of anger and fear came into her mother’s voice. “What trouble did you get yourself into this time, JeriLee?”

“Ronnie!” John said harshly. “Get Dr. Baker on the phone and tell him to come over right away!” Without waiting for a reply, he lifted JeriLee into his arms and carried her upstairs to her room. Gently he placed her on the bed.

She moaned softly. The remnant of the dress which clung to her breasts fell away, revealing the angry burns welting her flesh. “I’m frightened, Daddy,” she cried.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of now. You’re home now. And safe.”

“But I hurt all over, Daddy.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Dr. Baker is on his way. He’ll stop the pain.”

“He’ll be right here,” Veronica said as she came into the room. She looked down at JeriLee. “What happened?”

“Walt said he was going to take me home—”

Veronica didn’t wait for her to finish. “Walt?” she asked angrily. “Who’s Walt? That colored boy down there? You know better than to have anything to do with people like that!”

“No.” JeriLee shook her head weakly. “He’s not Walt. He’s Fred. He came with Bernie to get me.”

Again Veronica interrupted. “Get you? Where did you go? You were supposed to be at work.”

John saw the fear come into her daughter’s eyes. “Ronnie!” he said sharply. “No more questions. Let’s try to make her a little more comfortable until the doctor gets here. Get a washcloth and some warm water.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said as Veronica left the room.

“I don’t want to wake up Bobby,” she whispered. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “Your kid brother can sleep through an earthquake.” The doorbell rang downstairs. “That must be the doctor.” His hand brushed some hair away from her forehead. “You’re going to be all right now.”

“Mother is going to be angry with me.”

“No she won’t. She’s just upset.”

Dr. Baker had been around a long time. After forty years of practice, he didn’t wait for verbal explanations. Without speaking, he snapped open his black bag. Quickly he administered a shot. “That will take away the pain, JeriLee,” he said. He straightened up and turned to her parents. “You two go downstairs while I look after her.”

“Will she be all right?” John asked.

“She’ll be all right,” the doctor said.

They went down the stairs and into the living room where Fred and Bernie were waiting. “How is she?” Bernie asked.

“Dr. Baker said she’ll be okay,” he said. “Now tell me what happened.”

“She was tired and wanted to go home early,” Bernie said. “Walt said he would drop her off on his way home. He had some friends with him. When you called and she wasn’t home yet, Fred figured something was wrong. That was when we went after her.”

“What made you think that?” John asked Fred.

“Walt and his friends were drinkin’ pretty good. I thought they were acting mean.”

“Who is this boy Walt that you’re talking about?” Veronica asked. “I haven’t heard JeriLee mention him before.”

“Walt Thornton,” Bernie said. “He lives out at the house on the Point.”

“The writer’s son?” John asked.

“Yes.”

“What happened when you got there?”

It was Fred who answered. “Walt was holding her on the ground, the other boy was doin’ things to her. She was screamin’ so loud we could hear her on the other side of the house.”

John’s face was tight. He picked up the telephone.

“What are you doing?” Veronica asked.

“I’m calling the police,” he answered in a tight voice.

“Wait a minute,” she said, taking the telephone from his hand and putting it down. “We don’t know if they did anything yet.”

John stared at her. “You saw what they did. They were like animals. They tortured her. Isn’t that enough?”

“Did you see them doing anything else?” she asked Fred in a calm voice.

The black boy’s face was impassive. “I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

She flushed. “Did you see them having intercourse with her?”

“No, ma’am.” Fred’s voice was even. “I don’t think they got that far.”

“You see?” she asked, turning back to her husband. “They didn’t do anything.”

“They did enough,” John said angrily.

“You call the police and everybody in town will know what’s happened,” she said. “I don’t think Mr. Carson would like that.”

“I don’t give a damn what Mr. Carson would like.”

“Besides, we don’t know what JeriLee might have done to provoke them.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“That’s the first thing people will think. I know this town and so do you.”

John was silent for a moment. “Okay. I’ll wait until the doctor comes down. We’ll see what he has to say.” He turned back to the boys. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done. If it weren’t for you…” His voice trailed off.

The boys stood looking awkward.

“Would you like a cup of coffee or something?” Veronica asked.

Fred shook his head. “No, thank you, ma’am. I have to be getting back to the club. They’ll be wonderin’ what happened to me. We’ll just wait a minute to hear what the doctor says.”

“You don’t have to wait,” Veronica said quickly. Suddenly she wanted them out of the house. If anything more had happened to JeriLee she did not want them to know about it. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”

Bernie hesitated. He glanced at Fred, then nodded.

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. They started moving toward the door.

Veronica cleared her throat. “I’d appreciate it if you would keep this to yourselves,” she said. “This is a small town. You know how people will talk even if there’s nothing to talk about.”

Bernie nodded. “You don’t have to worry about us, Mrs. Randall. We won’t say anything.”

The door closed behind them and John came back to his wife. “The doctor’s been up there a long time.”

“It’s only fifteen minutes.” She glanced up the staircase, then back to him. “I don’t know how JeriLee could get herself into a position like that.”

“You heard what the boys said,” John replied. “They were supposed to drop her off here.”

“Do you believe that?” she said.

He met her eyes. “Yes,” he said simply.

“I don’t,” she said flatly. “I know JeriLee. She’s more like her father than I like to think. He never thought of consequences, neither does she. I think she knew exactly what she was doing.”

“You’re not being fair to her,” he said angrily. “JeriLee’s a good girl.”

How naïve he was, she thought. “We’ll see what the doctor has to say,” she said noncommittally. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

She had just put the coffee on the table when the doctor came down.

“She’s okay,” he said. “She’s sleeping. I gave her a shot.”

“Some coffee, Doctor?” Veronica asked.

He nodded wearily. “Thank you.”

She filled a cup and gave it to him, then handed a cup to John and poured one for herself. “Did they—?” she asked.

The doctor looked at her. “No,” he said.

“She’s still a virgin?”

“If that’s all you’re worried about,” he answered edgily, “yes, she’s still a virgin.”

“Then nothing happened,” she said in a relieved tone.

“Nothing happened,” he said sarcastically. “If you don’t count the violent beating and almost third-degree burns on her breasts and pubis, besides a broken nose and teeth marks that look as if they’d been made by a wild animal.”

“I’m going to call the police,” John said. “They can’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“No,” Veronica said firmly. “The best thing to do is to forget it. We still don’t know what she did to provoke them. And even if she did nothing, you know what people will think. It’s always the girl’s fault.”

“Do you believe that, Dr. Baker?” John asked.