23 SNAPSHOT

23

SNAPSHOT

A live rattlesnake—a beheaded bird, a pile of excrement—would not have alarmed Vida more than do the roses on the kitchen table. They constitute a smug announcement of a courtship to which she'll never consent and as well declare that Deacon already has power over her that cannot be resisted.

Having entered by the front door where both deadbolts had been engaged, she goes now to the back door and confirms those two locks are likewise secure. He can't have entered through one of the narrow casement panes. Nevertheless, Vida tours the house, checking windows one by one; all are intact.

She doesn't expect to find him lurking here. He's not going to be rash and force himself on her this soon. He enjoys psychological games and believes that by such torment he can, over time, unnerve her, break her spirit, and take control of her. Judging by all the available evidence, he has practiced his techniques on other women, and he's one of those men for whom having power over his partner is perhaps more satisfying than the sex itself.

The bathroom window is louvered and small, eighteen inches wide and a foot high, offering no ingress to anyone, but she finishes her search there.

On the counter next to the sink, she keeps a convenient dental-care organizer that holds her toothbrush, a stack of paper cups, and a small bottle of mouthwash. This white ceramic piece is designed to accommodate two brushes, and for the first time since her uncle's death ten years earlier, a second one is upright in its slot.

In the sink are thick gouts of brittle green foam, spat-out toothpaste that has been there long enough to dry. Vida's brand is white, not green. She opens the mirrored medicine cabinet. The only item he's added is a tube of his toothpaste.

From the cabinet under the sink, she extracts a roll of paper towels and a can of Lysol. She washes away the green foam. As she disinfects the sink, countertop, and toilet, a warmth rises in her face exceeding what she felt while digging for gemstones.

He has not only violated her house. He has also staked a claim to territory in her mind from which he can't be easily evicted. He intends to deny her peace, to undermine her self-confidence and self-respect. He won't succeed.

After wrapping his toothpaste and brush in used paper towels, she drops them in the waste can beside the vanity. In the morning, she'll collect trash from throughout the house and make her once-a-week drive to the county dump.

She returns to the entrance to the kitchen and stands staring at the flowers on the table. She is trembling not with fear but with indignation.

She should have anticipated this. Deacon is a deputy sheriff. Police agencies have battery-powered devices that can open the best deadbolts in an emergency; there are laws defining when such lock-release guns can be used, but Deacon is not a lawman who abides by the law.

A small white envelope is fixed to a plastic stake inserted in the floral arrangement. She wants to throw it away without opening it, but if he's been foolish enough to leave a handwritten note, it's evidence that she should preserve.

Instead, the envelope contains a snapshot. It's a picture of Belden Bead, alive and grinning, he who in fact lies in the grave that she dug with the backhoe eight months earlier, that Lupo found just last night after being offered Bead's scent on the white fedora.