The Cove
Page 125

“He’s mad, Amabel, utterly mad.”
Amabel was rubbing her jaw. She looked bewildered. “He’s never hit me before, never,” she said slowly. “He’s always caressed me and loved me. He’s never hit me. I always thought it was Noelle who brought that out in him, like she made him hit her, like she was sick and needed it.”
“No, she hated it. He demeaned her, Amabel, and she stood for it all because he’d threatened to kill me if she didn’t stay with him, if she didn’t take his abuse. He hasn’t hit you because you’re not with him all that much and because if he did, you’d probably shoot him or just leave. Noelle couldn’t leave. She had to stay to protect me. Now that he’s got you, he’ll beat the shit out of you whenever he feels like it.”
“No. I’ll tell him that if he ever hits me again, I’ll leave him.”
“You can try it, but I bet he’ll find a way to keep you, just like he did your sister.”
“You’re wrong. You’ve got to be wrong. We’ve been intimate for twelve years, Sally. Twelve years. I know him. He loves me. The only reason he hit me tonight is because he’s afraid. He’s upset and worried that we won’t get away. And you pushed. Yes, you made him furious. It’s your fault.”
“You’re nuts, Amabel. Wake up. He’s insane.”
“Shush, Sally, here he comes.”
“Quick, Amabel, untie me. We can escape.”
“Now what’s this? My two girls conspiring against me?”
“No, dear,” Amabel said, rising to go to him. She hugged him, then kissed him on the mouth. “Oh, no. Poor Sally thinks just because you hit me this one time you’ll do it again and again. I know you won’t, will you?”
“Of course not. I’m sorry, Ammie, I’ve been under so much stress, and you were arguing with me. Please, forgive me. I won’t ever touch you again.”
“He’s lying,” Sally said. “If you believe him you’re stupid, Amabel. Yeah, come on, you lousy human being, come on over here and hit me again. I’m tied, so I can’t hurt you much. You’re safe. Come on, you pitiful excuse for a man, come and hit me.”
He was heaving with rage, the veins in his neck red and thick. “Shut up, Sally.”
“Look at him, Amabel. He wants to kill me. He has no control. He’s crazy.”
Amory turned to Amabel. “I’ll take care of her. I know what to do. I swear I won’t kill her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Trust me, Ammie. Can’t you trust me? You have for the past twelve years. Trust me now.”
“You think he won’t kill me, Amabel? He’s a filthy liar. Do you want to be an accessory to murder?” Her words swallowed themselves. God, Amabel was already an accessory to murder maybe sixty times over. Maybe she’d even killed some of the people. Sally shut her mouth.
Amory St. John laughed, low and mean. “I see you understand, Sally. Ammie belongs with me. We’re two of a kind. Now, Ammie, untie her feet. I’m taking her out of here.”
She couldn’t stand up because her legs were numb. Amabel dropped to her knees and massaged her ankles and calves. “Is that better, Sally?”
“Why didn’t you just kill me before? Why go through this charade with Amabel?”
“Be quiet, you little bitch.”
“You swear you won’t hurt her, Amory?”
“I told you,” he said, so impatient that Sally wondered how Amabel couldn’t hear it, couldn’t know that he was ready to strike out. “I won’t kill her.”
When she could stand and walk, Amory took her arm and pulled her out of the small bedroom. “Stay here, Ammie,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back shortly and then we’ll leave.”
Sally said, “While you’re waiting, Amabel, call Noelle. Tell her how you let him kill me. Yeah, tell her that, Amabel.”
He pulled her out of Amabel’s sight, then sent his elbow into her ribs. She doubled over, gasping with the pain. He yanked her back up.
“Keep your mouth shut, Sally, or I’ll just keep hurting you. Do you want that?”
“What I want,” she said when she could finally speak, “is for you to die. Very slowly and very painfully.”
“Not in your lifetime, my dear,” he said, and laughed.
“They’ll get you. There’s no way you can escape, not with the FBI after you.”