Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [49]
"They didn't tell the truth," I said.
"Yeah, you understand. They didn't tell the truth. I got a free pass out of it—no testimony, just the names. And one of the feds, he looked up my father for me. He's doing a ten–year jolt for manslaughter; he gets out this Christmas."
"How come he's still in on a ten–year hit if it happened fourteen years ago?"
Belle's face twisted—I saw her teeth flash, but it wasn't a smile. "He never did a day for killing my mother. He shot a man in a dispute over some gator hides."
She pointed her toe in the air, flexing her thigh, drawing my eyes to the tattoo.
"Look close," she whispered. "Look real close. What do you see?"
"A snake."
"When I was running through the swamp that first night, I stopped in a clearing. A snake hissed at me. Cottonmouth, maybe. I couldn't see him in the dark. He had me rooted—too scared to move. Then my mother's spirit came into me and I knew I had to go. No matter what. I threw a branch at the noise and it stopped. A gator wouldn't stop. I was dancing in this club in Jersey. All of the girls had tattoos. Butterfly tattoos. Their boyfriends' names. A rose on their butt. They told me where they got it done. I had the man do a snake. Right on my thigh, pointing at my cunt. A poison snake—that's all the men saw."
I looked hard at the tattoo, knowing there was more. Seeing it. "The snake, it's the letter 'S'."
"Yes. For 'Sissy.' For my mother. It's the only gravestone she'll ever have."
I lit a cigarette. "That's where your dance comes from."
"Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me you see it."
"I see it. There's worse things than gators out there," I told her. "But not as bad as what's in the house."
She kissed my chest. "That's what I wanted," she said, talking fast now, like I'd cut her off before she finished. "That's what I wanted from you. Marques told me he wouldn't meet you without a cut–out. He told me you were a dangerous, crazy man. Said you used to be a hijacker and now you're a hired killer."
"Marques doesn't…"
"Ssssh…" she said, putting her finger to my mouth. "He said you killed a pimp just because he had a little girl on the street. He said everyone knows you lose your mind when people fuck kids. He said you took money to bring back some runaway girl. You got her away from the pimp, then you shot him anyway."
"And you wanted…"
"I wanted you to rescue me. I told you the truth, honey. I told you the truth. It's my soul that's lost. My spirit. My mother saved my life—I need someone to save the rest."
"The hijacking…"
"I deserve to have my ass beat for that. I played it wrong. I wanted a hard man. I knew I couldn't hold you with sex. I wanted you to rescue me—I wanted to be your partner. I thought if I brought you a solid–gold score, handed it to you on a platter…you'd know I was worth something. I didn't want the money."
"Damn."
"Burke. I don't care if you take off the back room. You want to do it, I'll drive the car. And I'll leave the engine running until you conic out the door, I swear it."
"And if I don't?"
"I'll go inside and pull you out."
I took a deep drag. "I mean, if I don't want to pull the robbery?"
"I just want you to want me," she said, her voice grave. "I never meant anything more in my life."
I took another drag, feeling so tired.
"I can't rescue you, Belle."
"You let me help you. Help you with your friend. Find that van. Then decide."
I sat quietly, watching the shadows.
"Please, honey."
"Go to sleep, Belle," I said, stroking her back. "If the Prof's okay, you can help."
She closed her eyes on the promise.
50
SHE SLEPT with her face against my chest. I brought the Prof's face into my mind, keeping him alive. Seeing the Prof made me see prison. Where we met. I never knew what sent him down that time. Any time the subject came up, the little man made it clear what he was about. "I didn't use the phone, and I came here alone," is all he'd say. It was enough.