Red Dragon - Thomas Harris [105]
She took his arm and went with him down the hall.
“I can find my own way back.”
In the bathroom she patted her hair and ran her fingers along the top of the basin, hunting toothpaste or mouthwash. She tried to find the door of the medicine cabinet and found there was no door, only hinges and exposed shelves. She touched the objects on them carefully, leery of a razor, until she found a bottle. She took off the cap, smelled to verify mouthwash, and swished some around.
When she returned to the parlor, she heard a familiar sound - the whir of a projector rewinding.
“I have to do a little homework,” Dolarhyde said, handing her a fresh martini.
“Sure,” she said. She didn't know how to take it. “If I'm keeping you from working, I'll go. Will a cab come up here?”
“No. I want you to be here. I do. It's just some film I need to check. It won't take long.”
He started to take her to the big chair. She knew where the couch was. She went to it instead.
“Does it have a soundtrack?”
“No.”
“May I keep the music?”
“Umhmmm.”
She felt his attention. He wanted her to stay, he was just frightened. He shouldn't be. All right. She sat down.
The martini was wonderfully cold and crisp.
He sat on the other end of the couch, his weight clinking the ice in her glass. The projector was still rewinding.
“I think I'll stretch out for a few minutes if you don't mind,” she said. “No, don't move, I have plenty of room. Wake me up if I drop off, okay?”
She lay on the couch, holding the glass on her stomach; the tips of her hair just touched his hand beside his thigh.
He flicked the remote switch and the film began.
Dolarhyde had wanted to watch his Leeds film or his Jacobi film with this woman in the room. He wanted to look back and forth from the screen to Reba. He knew she would never survive that. The women saw her getting into his van. Don't even think about that. The women saw her getting into his van.
He would watch his film of the Shermans, the people he would visit next. He would see the promise of relief to come, and do it in Reba's presence, looking at her all he liked.
On the screen, The New House spelled in pennies on a shirt cardboard. A long shot of Mrs. Sherman and the children. Fun in the pool. Mrs. Sherman holds to the ladder and looks up at the camera, bosom swelling shining wet above her suit, pale legs scissoring.
Dolarhyde was proud of his selfcontrol. He would think of this film, not the other one. But in his mind he began to speak to Mrs. Sherman as he had spoken to Valerie Leeds in Atlanta.
You see me now, yes
That's how you feel to see me, yes
Fun with old clothes. Mrs. Sherruan has the wide hat on. She is before the mirror. She turns with an arch smile and strikes a pose for the camera, her hand at the back of her neck. There is a cameo at her throat.
Reba McClane stirs on the couch. She sets her glass on the floor. Dolarhyde feels a weight and warmth. She has rested her head on his thigh. The nape of her neck is pale and the movie light plays on it.
He sits very still, moves only his thumb to stop the film, back it up. On the screen, Mrs. Sherman poses before the mirror in the hat. She turns to the camera and smiles.
You see me now, yes
That's how you feel to see me, yes
Do you feel me now? yes
Dolarhyde is trembling. His trousers are mashing him so hard. He feels heat. He feels warm breath through the cloth. Reba has made a discovery.
Convulsively his thumb works the switch.
You see me now, yes
That's how you feel to see me, yes
Do you feel this? yes
Reba has unzipped his trousers.
A stab of fear in him; he has never been erect before in the presence of a living woman. He is the Dragon, he doesn't have to be afraid.
Busy fingers spring him free.
OH.
Do you feel me now? yes
Do you feel this yes
You do I know it yes
Your heart is loud yes
He must keep his hands off Reba's neck. Keep them off. The women saw them in the van. His hand is squeezing the arm of the couch. His fingers pop through the upholstery.
Your heart is loud yes
And fluttering now