Protector - Laurel Dewey [63]
Emily was taken aback by Jane’s voice. “I just wanted—”
“I don’t care! You never touch my gun! That’s rule number two! Understand?” Emily nodded. “Let’s just sit down and wait for the pizza.”
Emily took a seat. Jane lit another cigarette off the ember that was dying and crushed out the old one in the sink. She took a deep drag and sat across from Emily. “I need to ask you a question,” Emily said quietly.
“What?” Jane said, sucking in another good drag.
“Did you ever kill anybody?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Well, did you?”
“No,” Jane stressed.
“Could you kill somebody?” Jane sat back in her chair, surprised by the question. “I have to know when they come back to get me—”
“No one is coming to get you!”
“But they are—”
Jane was incensed. “Who told you that? Martha?” “Nobody told me. I . . . I just know.”
Jane leaned forward. “No one is going to get you,” she stated with conviction. Emily remained silent, not buying Jane’s reassuring statement. “Look, you’ve got two cars out front and a black-and-white out in the back circling the alley every half hour—”
“You didn’t answer my question? Could you kill somebody? ”
“That’s not a question a nine-year-old should ask!”
“Nine and a half.”
“Oh, shit—”
“You’re not gonna answer my question, are you?”
“No, I am not.”
After about a minute of silence, Emily spoke up. “How old are you?”
Jane took a drag on her cigarette. The smoke curled out of her nostrils as she leaned across the table toward Emily. “I’m 35 . . . and one-quarter.”
“You’re older than my mommy,” Emily replied reflectively.
Jane felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. She sat back in her chair, nervously filling her lungs with more smoke. “Look, kid,” Jane said in a subdued voice. “You’re safe. Okay? No one is coming to get you. I would never let anything happen to you . . . Ever.”
Emily sized up Jane and liked what she saw. “Okay.” A thought crossed her mind. “Do you know what Venus looks like in the sky?”
Jane wasn’t prepared for the sudden shift in conversation. “Do I . . . huh?”
“It’s real pretty,” Emily said, standing up and taking Jane’s hand. “Come outside. I’ll show you!”
“We’re not going outside.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so. You stay in the house with me unless I say differently.”
“But I can’t show you Venus from in here—”
“I said you’re not going out and I mean it!”
“My mommy lets me go out on my bedroom roof and look at the sky—”
“Well, that’s not right. I saw that roof back there. You could slip and fall!”
“I never slipped.”
“Listen to me, Emily. You do not go outside of this house unless you are with me. That’s rule number two.”
“No, it’s not. Rule number two is don’t touch your gun. Rule number three is don’t go outside.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. You’re not going outside. Understand?”
Emily appeared genuinely defeated. “You say ‘understand’ a lot.”
“I said don’t be a smart-ass!” Jane felt her nerves fraying.
Emily leaned closer to Jane, speaking in a whisper. “Are you scared?”
“You already asked me that question. I told you I’m not scared. What’s to be scared of?”
“Things,” Emily said quietly, almost in a confidential way. “Like when people yell at each other but you can’t see them. And they yell louder and louder . . . and you can’t make them stop.” Emily turned away from Jane and looked off to the side as if her words triggered a mental picture in the distance. The front doorbell rang and Emily jumped, grabbing instinctively on to Jane’s arm. She quickly came out of her daze. “The pizza’s here.”
Chapter 11
“Stay here,” Jane instructed Emily. “I’ll get the pizza.”
Emily slipped into the chair and watched Jane leave the kitchen.
Jane pulled her wallet out of her leather satchel and opened the front door. There was Chris, holding the pizza. “What the hell are you doing?” Jane said, irritated.
“What are you doing ordering a pizza, for Christ’s sake? It’s a fucking crime scene!