Fiction: Ray's Honey Pots, Part Three

The oldest girl hasn't hit puberty. She comes flouncing into the kitchen, straight brown hair flying, followed by her sister.

"Mom, I --" she says, then notices me. There's a split-second frown before her face becomes neutral. Her younger sister sidles past the fridge to hide behind her mom.

"Hey, kiddos," Rowan says, "This is Rebecca. Her car ran out of gas nearby and she came to us for help."

"Hi," I say, crossing my legs and keeping my hands in my lap. I try to smile but I've never been able to smile at children. They worry me too much.

"Hi," the oldest replies. I glance from her to the half-hidden face of the youngest.

"Well," Rowan says, taking a step forward. I feel myself stiffen up, waiting for her to attack me, to defend her children. Then she's past me at the wall of coats by the back door. "I'm going to take her to Bob's, get her some gas. There're snacks at the table."

"Can we come with you?" The youngest asks.

"Nope. You two stay here. You've got homework to do. I'll help you with that when I get back. Shouldn't take too long."

I'm watching Rowan put on her coat and rain boots. I turn to look at her kids. Without her mother to hide behind, I see the youngest is really lovely. The kind Ray might kidnap. I stand and turn toward the back door so I don't have to look at her.

"Now, where's my phone?" Rowan says, looking past me, at the table.

"Mom, it's --" her oldest starts to speak but I cut over her.

"Oh," I say, trying to sound surprised, "I put it in my pocket." I pull it out and hold it out to her. "I was going to find that number in the car and call."

"Ah, right," she says and waves a hand, signaling me to keep it. "Make your call and then you can give it back."

"Okay," I say. I'm thinking I'll use the phone to look up the phone number for the dairy I'd been lying about and call it just to make the story seem more real. But there's not much point in carrying the ruse that far if I'm just going to pull the gun on her once we're in her car. I decide I'll keep the phone after I kill her, use it to get Ray to pick me up. I'll have to abandon the rental car, which is too bad.

"I'll just go look for that phone number in my car," I say, sidling past her and letting myself out the back door.

The rain instantly soaks whatever bits of my clothes had managed to dry out while I was in Rowan's kitchen. I make my way to the car and double-check to make sure it's empty. I leave the keys on the driver's seat. No sense making things harder for the rental company. My finger prints are all over it, of course, but that doesn't matter, since the prints link up to someone else's name and face. Poor Elsa Reddletamp, she's not going to enjoy the police questioning and she sure as hell won't understand why the jury will convict her of murder; she doesn't know Ray like I know Ray.

I jog to Rowan's car, shoulders hunched against the rain and wind. She's got it running already. I step in on the passenger's side. The gun digs into my spine as I lean back in the seat.

"You find the number for the dairy?" she asks as she puts the car in gear and backs out of her driveway.

"Yeah. I'll just call right now if that's alright."

"Sure," she says.

Thinking I'll dial Ray before I pull out my gun and direct her to the center of the nearest cornfield, I unlock the phone, enter his direct line, tap "call," and hold the phone up to my ear. Instead of a ring tone I get a loopy sound that makes my ear tingle. I can't move. I can't take the phone away from my ear. I can't reach for my piece, I can't turn my head to look at Rowan. I can't even piss myself, which, I quickly realize, is what I really want to do.

"It wasn't the lie about the dairy that tipped me off," Rowan says, her voice even, "It was the lie about calling your boyfriend. If you really had dialed that phone, you'd have been in The Loop a while ago. You might as well stop struggling; you'll be in that position for another fifteen minutes or so and your muscles will be awfully sore if you're fighting against it that whole time."

I take her advice. I will myself to relax despite the fact that I can't move. I tell myself I need to be ready for the moment this crazy thing, this "loop," ends and I can blow the fucking bitch's head off.