Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [111]
"I don't know," I said. "I don't know enough about love. It came so late to me."
"It's come again, darling. I asked the Prof."
"About what?"
"Love. He knows about love. Blood love. I remember what he said: Life ain't dice—they don't roll nice, you can roll 'em twice."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nobody's stuck. Me and Sissy were walking back of the house one day. When I was just a little girl. This old coon was down by the water. Hunting. I saw he only had one front paw. Sissy told me he must have been caught in a trap. Bit his own paw off to get out. It costs something to be free." A tear welled, rolled down her cheek. "I didn't know what she meant then."
I kissed the tear track. She slid on top of me, reached down, fitted me inside. "The way people talk, it's not the truth," she whispered. "You can't make love. It's there or it isn't."
Her hips flicked against me, slow–sliding, one arm around my neck, her face buried against me. "I know it's there. You know it's there. Take it."
"Belle…"
"Take it!" Grinding hard, her teeth against my neck.
134
BELLE WAS getting dressed. I was watching television with Pansy. The late–morning news. Some people tried to escape the Dominican Republic in an overloaded wooden boat, heading for Puerto Rico. The boat went down in shark–infested water. Another boat came alongside. Somebody had a video camera. The TV showed some of the footage. Living color. Blood thick in the water, like pus from a wound. Screams. Chunks torn out of humans. Sharks hitting again and again. Sound of shots fired. Belle stood behind me, hand on my shoulder.
"God! How can people watch something like that?" Right then I knew. Why the Ghost Van hunted.
135
WE WAITED until almost noon.
"Ready to go?" I asked Belle. When she nodded, I took the grenade out of the drawer, rolled up my sleeve. "Come over here; give me a hand with this."
She took the grenade from the desk, bounced it up and down in her hand. "Let me hold it."
"Forget it."
"Listen to me… just for a minute?"
I said nothing, feeling the stone in my face.
"I'll carry it in my lap. Cover it with a scarf. You can carry your gun. If it happens… if he comes too soon… you get two chances."
"He's too fast, Belle. I'd probably never get a shot off. You want a gun, I'll give you one."
"I'm no good with a gun. Never shot one. I could stab him, but if he's too fast for you…"
"No."
"Listen to me! I'll get out of the way. He gets past the gun, puts his hands on you, I'll toss it."
"You'd toss it right at me? Blow me up too?"
"He gets to you, you're going to die anyway. I wouldn't let you go alone."
I watched her face. "You don't have the heart for it—you'd never pull the pin."
"I would!"
I lit a smoke. "Stay here, Belle. I'm going to the junkyard."
"I thought I was going with you."
"You were going with me. Not now. Stay here."
"You can't make me."
"Don't make me laugh."
"I'm telling the truth. You can't make me. You'd have to hurt me to do it. Really hurt me. And you can't do that."
I walked away from the desk. Belle stood, arms folded over her breasts. I snapped my fingers. Pansy's head came up. "Watch!" I said, pointing two fingers in front of me. I turned to the door. Belle stepped forward. Pansy bounded between us, an ugly snarl ripping from her throat, teeth snapping. "Pansy!" Belle said, like her feelings were hurt. "Don't try her," I warned.
The muscles stood out across Pansy's shoulders, hair rigid on the back of her neck. Belle snatched the grenade from the desk, cupped the blue handle, pulled the pin. She tossed the pin in a gentle arc over Pansy's head. I caught it in