And just as I was about to excuse myself from the delightful company—several of whom would not have noticed, judging from their concentration on the video game—the swelling notes of “Ride of the Valkyries” began to pour out of Brian’s cell phone. He pulled it from its holster and glanced at it, frowning, and almost immediately stood up and said, “Oh, darn. I’m afraid I have to leave at once, as delightful as the company may be.”
“It may be,” Astor muttered, watching Cody rack up points on the screen, “but it isn’t yet.”
Brian gave her his large and phony smile. “It is for me, Astor,” he said. “It’s family. But,” he said, and the smile got wider, “duty calls, and I have to go to work.”
“It’s night,” Cody said without looking up.
“Yes, it is,” Brian said. “But sometimes I have to work at night.” And he looked at me happily, almost as if he was about to wink at me, and my curiosity overcame my sleepiness.
“What kind of work are you doing right now?” I asked him.
“Service industry,” he said. “And I really do have to go.” He patted me on the shoulder, the one that Lily Anne wasn’t using, and said, “And I’m sure you need your sleep after all you’ve been through.”
I yawned again, which made it pointless to deny that I really did need sleep. “I think you’re right,” I said, and I stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”
“No need,” Brian said, and headed for the kitchen. “Rita? I thank you again for another wonderful meal and a delightful evening.”
/> “Oh,” Rita said, and she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “But it’s still early, and—Did you want some coffee? Or maybe—”
“Alas,” Brian said, “I really do have to leave posthaste.”
“What does that mean?” Astor said. “ ‘Posthaste’?”
Brian winked at her. “It means, quick as a mailman,” he said, and he turned back to Rita and gave her a clumsy hug. “Many thanks, dear lady, and good night.”
“I’m just so sorry that—I mean, it is getting a bit late for work, and you—Maybe a new job? Because this isn’t really—”
“I know,” Brian said. “But this job actually matches my skill set perfectly.” He looked at me, and I felt a cold nausea burble up in the pit of my stomach. He had only one skill that I knew of, and as far as I knew, nobody would pay him for it. “And,” he went on to Rita, “it does have its compensations, and at the moment I do need to do it. And so, a fond farewell to one and all,” he said, and he raised his hand, presumably in fond farewell, and headed for the door.
“Brian,” I said to his back, and I had to stop as another real jaw-creaker of a yawn took control of my entire body.
Brian turned back with a raised eyebrow. “Dexter?” he said.
I tried to remember what I had been about to say, but another yawn hammered it out of my head. “Nothing,” I said. “Good night.”
Once again his terrible fake smile stretched across his face. “Good night, brother,” he said. “Get some sleep.” And he opened the front door and was gone into the night.
“Well,” Rita said. “Brian really is getting to be one of the family.”
I nodded, and I could feel myself sway slightly, as if nodding my head might overcome my balance and pitch me face-forward onto the floor. “Yes, he is,” I said, and of course I punctuated it with a yawn.
“Oh, Dexter, you poor—You need to get to bed right now; you must be—Here, give me the baby,” Rita said. She threw the dish towel into the kitchen and rushed over to grab Lily Anne. In my sadly depleted state it seemed barely short of amazing that she could move so fast. But in no time at all she had Lily Anne tucked into her basket and was propelling me down the hall to the bedroom. “Now,” she said, “you take a nice hot shower and get into bed, and I think you should sleep late in the morning. They can’t really expect—I mean, after all you’ve been through?”
I was far too tired to respond. I did manage to stumble through a shower before falling into bed, but even though I could feel the accumulated slime and grime of the dreadful day all over me, it was hard work to stay awake under the stream of hot water long enough to get thoroughly clean, and it was with a feeling of almost supernatural bliss that I finally collapsed onto the pillow, closed my eyes, and pulled the sheet up to my chin.…
And naturally enough, once I was actually in bed, I couldn’t sleep at all. I lay there with my eyes closed, and I could feel a deep sleep welling up just on the other side of the pillow, but it would not come to me. I listened to Cody and Astor down the hall, still playing the Wii, now a little more hushed at Rita’s insistence, since I was, as she told them, trying to sleep—and I was trying, really I was, but I was having no success.
Thoughts trudged through my brain like a slow-motion parade. I thought about the four of them just down the hall: my little family. It still seemed faintly bizarre. Dex-Daddy, protector and provider, family man. Even more bizarre was that I liked it.
I thought about my brother. I still didn’t know what he was up to, why he kept coming around. Was it really possible that he simply wanted to feel some kind of family connection? It was very hard to believe—but then, it would have been just as hard to believe it about me before Lily Anne, and here I was, forswearing all Dark Delights and wallowing in the bosom of a real family. Maybe Brian wanted the same simple, human connection. Maybe he wanted to change, too.
And maybe I could clap my hands three times and bring Tinker-bell back to life, too. It was just as likely; Brian had lived his whole life on the Dark Path and he couldn’t possibly change, not that much. He had to have some other reason for shoehorning into my nest, and sooner or later it would come out. I didn’t think he would hurt my family—but I would watch him until I knew for certain what he was doing.
And of course, I thought about Samantha and her threat to tell all. Was it just a threat, an acting out of her large frustration at being alive and well and uneaten? Or would she really talk, tell everyone a vindictive version of what had happened? The moment that awful word “rape” was out, everything changed forever, and not for the better. It would be Dexter in the Docket, ground to a pulp beneath the wheels of the injustice system. It was horrible beyond measure, and completely unfair. No one who knew me could possibly think of me as a leering sex-mad ogre. I had always been a very different kind of ogre. But people believe clichés, even when they’re untrue, and the older man with the teen girl qualified as one. It truly wasn’t my fault—but who would hear that without a wink and a smirk? I hadn’t willingly taken the drugs—would she really punish me for a situation in which I had been the real victim? It was hard to say for sure, but I thought she might. And that would destroy every piece of my carefully constructed life.
But what could I do? I could not avoid the idea that killing her would solve everything—and I could even get her to cooperate by promising to nibble a few small pieces before I finished her off. I wouldn’t, of course—yuck—but if a small lie makes somebody happy, where’s the harm?
It would never come to that, anyway. It seemed like another great irony, but I couldn’t kill Samantha, as much as we both wanted it. Not that I had grown a conscience yet; it was just that it would be totally contrary to the Harry Code, and far too dangerous, too, since she was very much in the spotlight right now, much too closely watched for me to get close. No, it was too risky. I would have to think of some other way to save my life.