I sent you a postcard
Thought it would be funny
I would have sent a souvenir
But they took all my money
It's pretty warm down here
But it ain't sunny
And I'm having a hell of a time my dear
Wish you were here.
(Alice Cooper--Wish You Were Here)
The little bitch had been gone for over two months now and he felt surprised at how much he missed her. It wasn't like he would have seen her at all if she'd still been in town, but just knowing she was near, available, any time he wanted, was a comfort in its own right. Now that she'd gone, embarassing as it was, he had to admit, she meant more to him that he'd thought.
He crushed his cigarette out into the overflowing ashtray and ran his fingers through his thick, black hair. He looked at the paperwork piling up on his desk and knew he ought to be doing something about it, but he just didn't want to. He didn't know what he wanted: No, that was wrong, he did know exactly what he wanted. He just didn't know how he would make it happen.
"Vic, can ya come in my office for a moment? I wanna talk t'ya."
He looked up at the older man with grey hair, studying him with obvious concern. Fighting back a sigh, Victor Black rose to his feet. "Sure thing Sheriff."
Victor shut the door behind him when he walked into the office. The Sheriff was sitting on the edge of the desk; his hands folded in front of him, wearing one of his "concerned" looks.
"What's up Bob?" Victor sat down in the worn leather chair across from the desk. They were in the office now, away from prying ears and eye, so the formality of boss and employee dropped.
"You've been awful edgy lately Vic," Bob Hurley said. "D'ya wanna talk about it?"
Your concern is so damn touching, Victor thought sarcastically. He looked away for a moment to compose himself then back to Bob. "Nah, Ah'm fine. Sorry if I've been screwing up on the job. Was it Mrs. Johnson? Did she complain?"
"Well, yeah," Bob confessed, looking almost guilty. "Vic, Ah know she's an old biddy who thinks we have nothing better to do than come and get that cranky old cat of hers off the roof. But tellin' her to stuff Muffin up her ass was a little harsh wasn't it?"
Victor fought the urge to explode into laughter as he thought of the look on the old woman's face as he made the suggestion. Getting Muffin off the roof had been one of Victor's first jobs when he'd joined the Jericho sheriffs department. He'd hated it then and four years of it hadn't changed his opinion.
He looked up at Bob, hoping his expression was the proper mixture of chastised sorrow. "Ah'm sorry, that was wrong. If you want, Ah'll call her or drop down her place and talk t'her.. smooth things over."
"Nah, it's all right, I spoke to her," Bob said. "But Vic, it ain't just Mrs. Johnson. The last month or so you've been edgy as hell. You're like a coiled snake, ready to strike and that worries me."
"Why?" Victor scowled. "Afraid ah'll loose it or something?"
"No, it ain't that!" Bob defended himself. "Vic, you're like a son t'me, you know that. You never really had a daddy. After your mother died..."
Yeah, and wasn't that a tragedy? Victor thought with a mental sneer. The whore had herself a heart attack while bangin' Jim Stuart's gong. Too many diet pills and booze for ole' Mommy. That and a little cocaine thrown in just for the kick of it all. Sure shattered that "poor lost widow" image she built herself so carefully after she got herself knocked up wit' me and moved here from Atlanta.
"...and Beth an' I took ya int' our house," Bob continued, completely ignorant of the thoughts going on in Victor's head. "Well, I know you were a little to old t'start over, but Beth an' Ah love you. You reminded us so much of Billy..."
Your only son who bit the big one in Nam' yeah, I know the whole damned story. God knows you told it to me enough those five years I lived in your house! Victor thought, mentally trying to hurry Bob along. It wasn't that Victor didn't like Bob Hurley.. he liked him okay he guessed, but when the guy started strolling down memory lane, it could take him forever to get back to reality.
"...and you made us so proud when you decided you wanted t'come t'work with me."
Bob paused to wipe one eye quickly. He tried to make it look casual, but Victor knew the truth. Any time Hurley thought about his dead son and how Victor came along to take his place, he got all weepy. At least he didn't pull an Alan Alda and start bawling. Victor didn't believe in these new theories of caring, sensitive men, unafraid to show their "feminine" side. In his world, men were men, women were women, and both sides ought to know their place.
"...well, I care about you Victor. Not just as an employee, but as family too." Bob straightened out suddenly, the moment of sensitivity forgotten. Standing straight, he didn't look like a man in his fifties who'd just been about to cry over his dead son. He looked like the proper Sheriff of Jericho, having a little talk with one of his favorite deputies. "So, why don't you tell me what's bothering you an' maybe we can get to the bottom of it?"
"Nothin's botherin' me that I can't handle," Victor crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly dying for a cigarette. Bob quit smoking two years ago, under orders from his doctor, and while he still allowed people to smoke at their desks, he asked they refrained from lighting up in his office.
"Then why are you so edgy?" Bob asked. "What is it that you can handle?" He paused, waiting for Victor to answer. When several seconds of silence passed, he sighed. "It's the Miller girl, isn't it?"
"What about the Miller girl?" Victor scowled. Damn that bastard for knowing me too well! "She's gone for good. You heard her parents, she's gone with Brother Magnus and Brother Devany, to be cured of the demon possessing her." His scowl turned into a sneer as he thought of how gullible the Millers were. They never even asked for ID from "Aaron and Logan," just let them take her out of the basement away from Jericho, away from him.
"Ah know you used to drop in t'see her every so often," Bob said gently. "At first Ah thought it was maybe because- because.."
"Because she raised me from the dead?" Victor interrupted, deciding to get right to the point. He couldn't understand why it was such a delicate subject with people. It wasn't a big secret by any means; the whole town had seen Justine raise him. Someone being brought back from the dead with a lot of glowing grey light had a tendency to make people stand up and notice, even in a backwater place like Jericho. And it wasn't like anyone knows what happened to me when I was dead, he thought. Except maybe Justine.. if she can even remember half the stuff I told her, crazy bitch. That nicotine itch was getting stronger now.
"Well yeah," Bob admitted almost reluctantly. "Because she brought you back. Ah thought maybe you felt drawn to her... cause of that."
"She owns part of my soul Bob, can you think of any way t'get closer t'someone than that?" Victor asked, his voice dripping sarcastic venom.
"How do you know that for fact Victor?"
Victor rolled his eyes. "Maybe Ah can't explain it for fact, maybe it's just a feeling Ah have. Shit Bob, you were there, you saw what she did. She called my soul back from He.." he paused, gulping, realizing he'd almost said to much and backtracked. "..from wherever it was and put it back int'me. She's the only person who probably has a clue as t'what happened t'me. Too bad she was too freakin' crazy t'tell me."
"Ah don't think she knew," Bob confessed. "If you wanna know my opinion Victor, Ah don't think Justine is any more evil than anyone else in this town an' probably a lot less than some."
"What?" Victor shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Then how do you explain her?"
"Ah can't," the Sheriff admitted. "But Vic, you knew Justy b'fore she brought ya back. Did she really seem like the type of kid who was in league with the devil?"
Nope. She certainly wasn't that, Victor thought, resisting the urge to chuckle. She could stare evil right in the face and not know what she was looking at. He answered Bob with a hesitant, "No," thinking that's what the Sheriff was looking for. "But, if she ain't evil, then why did ya allow the Millers' t'lock her up?"
"Because Ah didn't know what to do," Bob confessed, looking almost regretful. "Hell Victor, messin' around with the dead is not only dangerous, it's illegal! Some'd call it necrophilia an' that carries some pretty stiff penalties. Not t'mention the fact that she was givin' the town the creeps. Some were wonderin' if she was Christ come back, the others thought she was just the opposite. Either way, it spelled nothin' but trouble. Ah don't think Justine coulda handled being Christ any easier than she handled being the anti-Christ. So.. even though Ah didn't think it was right t'lock her away, Ah didn't know what else to do. So Ah jess let it happen. Ah turned the other way when the Millers' locked her up. Maybe part of me thought it would buy me time t'think of another solution, but as the years passed, it got easier an' easier t'just forget about her. Ah think most of the town forgot about her.. except f'you." He sighed and shook his head. "Ah guess Ah just thought as time went on, you'd forget about her too, but that didn't happen, did it?"
Victor shrugged. "Ah stopped goin' as much." he admitted. "But maybe there was somethin' bout just knowin' she was close." He laced his fingers together, squeezing them, almost tasting his longed-for cigarette. Gesh, I oughta quit those damned things, he thought. They got more control over me than I do over them.
He didn't like the way the conversation was going and he wanted to stop it. "Look, Bob, Ah'll get used to it," he said. "It's just takin' a little longer to adjust." He smiled at Bob, one of his award winning smiles that showed off the years of dental care his mother made sure he had. "An' heck... Ah gotta admit, Ah kinda.." he paused, lowering his eyes a bit in an effort to look almost bashful. "Ah kinda thought Justine liked it when Ah visited her. Ah thought we were... maybe... friends. It hurt when she jess left with those folks so easily."
"She didn't have a choice," Bob said kindly. "From what the Millers told me, Aaron Magnus jess took her."
Bob didn't know about Victor pulling them over before they got out of town. He didn't know Justine had looked at Vic and told him flat out she was going with Mr. Magnus and Mr. Devany; insisting she wanted to go with them. Victor didn't want to tell him either. "Maybe you're right Bob." He said. "An' yer probably right bout' the edgy stuff too. Maybe Ah need t'get away for awhile."
"Now that's an idea!" Bob agreed cheerfully. "You've got two weeks comin' to ya. Might do ya good t'get out of Jericho. Why don't ya make some plans?"
"Ah think Ah will," Actually, it wasn't a bad idea; he needed some time to do some things. "Let me make some arrangements, an' maybe Ah can leave the end of this week, if that's okay with you."
"It's a bit short notice, but Ah think Ah can arrange it," Bob grinned, thinking his problems with Victor were over. All the boy needed was a little time away; a chance to rest and get rid of some of the stress he'd been building up.
Victor rose to his feet. "Thank you Bob. Ah really appreciate it. Ah'll make sure all my paper work is done b'fore I leave, Ah promise."
"I know you will." Bob patted him on the shoulder, walking over to the door with him. "Any idea where you're gonna go?" he asked.
"Ah think ah'll head for the bright lights," Victor said, grinning. "Away from the small town life for awhile."
Bob nodded. "Atlanta?"
"Nah." Victor shook his head opening the door. "Gonna go whole hog. Ah think Ah'll go t'New York."