Desert Places: a Novel of Terror by Blake Crouch

Author:Blake Crouch
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780312286446
Publisher: New York : St. Martin's Minotaur, 2004.
Published: 2004-12-23T05:00:00+00:00

19

MIST whipped my face as my boat crawled toward the middle of the lake. I could hear nothing over the gurgling clatter of the outboard motor mounted to the stern of my leaky rowboat. The evening sky threatened rain as I glided across the leaden chop, scanning the empty lake for Walter’s boat.

A half mile out from my pier, I cut the motor. The cold, darkening silence closed in on me, and I wondered if I’d make it home before the rain set in. Though I despised coming out on the lake, I couldn’t speak to Walter in my house anymore without fear that Orson was eavesdropping.

I heard the groan of Walter’s boat before I saw it. My nerves took over, and I regretted not having knocked back several stiff drinks to facilitate what I had to tell him. Walter pulled his equally powerless rowboat beside mine, tossed over a rope, and I tied us together.

“What’s up?” he asked when he’d killed the motor.

“You see the news?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights from his brown raincoat and slid a cigarette into his mouth. From a pocket on my blue raincoat, I tossed him a butane cigar lighter. “Thanks,” he said, blowing a puff of smoke out of the corner of his mouth and throwing the lighter back to me. “The media’s tickled pink,” he said. “You can see it in their ambitious little faces. I’ll bet they blew their load when they got the tip.”

“Think they were tipped, huh?”

“Oh, whoever planted those boxes knew exactly what they were doing. Probably called a dozen newspapers and TV stations after the drop. I’ll bet he told them there was a bomb behind the White House. Then that jogger called nine-one-one, confirming the story, and boom …media frenzy.” Walter took a long drag from his cigarette and spoke as the smoke curled from his mouth. “Yeah, the only person happier about those hearts than the press is the sick fuck who left them there. He’s probably sitting in front of a TV right now, jacking off, watching the nation drool over his—”

“It’s Orson,” I said. Walter took in a mouthful of smoke, attempting to look unfazed.

“How do you know?” he asked, coughing a little as he exhaled.

“He keeps the hearts. In his cabin in Wyoming, there was a freezer full of them. They’re his trophies, his little keepsakes.”

“Andy…”

“Just listen for a minute, Walter.”

A gust banged our boats together, and a raindrop hit my face.

How do you tell a man you’ve endangered his wife and children?

“The thing in Washington,” I said, “is small potatoes. My mother’s dead. Orson strangled her last night. He videotaped it.…It’s…” I stopped to steady myself. “I’m sorry. But I think I’ve put you in danger.” His head tilted questioningly. “I don’t know how, but Orson knows or suspects that I told you about the desert.”

“Oh Christ.” Walter flicked his cigarette into the water, and it hissed as he put his face into his hands.

“I should never have told you anything about—”

“You’re goddamn right you shouldn’t have.

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