Fuzzy Navel

She releases my hair, and I force myself to hold her gaze.

“Tell me, Jack. Did you think of me?”

I don’t know what she wants me to say. Rather than try to guess, I tell her the truth.

“Only in my nightmares.”

“And what did you have nightmares about, Jack? Of me escaping?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

“Because I’m not a killer.”

“But I am. You should have taken that into consideration.”

I don’t want her to ask another question, so I blurt out one of my own.

“Do you think this is going to make everything right, Alex?”

She narrows her good eye. The other one just twitches. “What exactly do you mean, Lieutenant?”

“You can’t get the time you did back. You can’t get your family back. You can’t get…” I force it out, “… your face back. Killing us isn’t going to change anything.”

Alex caresses my cheek, lets her fingers linger.

“I know that, Jack. I’m not doing this to make things right. The past is the past, and can’t be undone.” She winks her good eye. “I’m doing this because it’s a lot of fun.”

I don’t want to provoke her, but I can’t help whispering, “You’re a monster.”

Alex sighs. She looks at Mom, and Latham, and then at the ceiling, perhaps gathering her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice is hard and even.

“Life is all about cruelty. You know that. You’re a cop. You see it all the time. Nothing on this planet lives without something else dying. You call me a monster because I choose to accept my nature. I embrace it, rather than deny it. Here’s a bonus question, since your moral compass is so true, since you’re so sure you know right and wrong. Where has your morality gotten you, Jack?”

“Hurting others is wrong, Alex,” I say.

Alex laughs, a harsh, cruel laugh. “Look at history. It’s filled with atrocities. War. Murder. Torture. Rape. We call that kind of behavior inhuman. But maybe the terminology is backward. Maybe being human means hurting others. That seems to be what humans do best.”

I shake my head. “Our species is successful because we nurture, not because we harm.”

Alex spins the cylinder again, then twirls the gun around her finger like a cowboy.

“Let me clue you in on something, Lieutenant. Nothing is black and white. There are no universal standards that determine what’s good and what’s evil. It’s subjective. You can’t kill for money, or recreation, but you can kill during a war. Why is there a difference? Dead is dead. I set someone on fire, I’m bad. The state fries me in the electric chair, and people sell T-shirts and toast champagne. Right and wrong is a matter of perspective.”

“Your perspective is warped. Killing is wrong.”

“Yet you’d probably give up everything just to have a shot at killing me right now, wouldn’t you? Let me enlighten you about something, Jack. Human beings are just animals, and all animals are selfish. Every single thing an animal does is selfish.”

“People can be unselfish,” I maintain.

“How so? Feeding the starving? Adopting unwanted babies? Sending aid when there’s a natural disaster? Giving blood? Donating to charity? People do these things to feel good about themselves. They’re all selfish acts, and pretty goddamn stupid as well. If you’re going to be selfish, it should benefit your life, not take away from it. Now I’m asking you again – where has your morality gotten you?”

I know the answer, and hate the answer.

“Answer the question, Jack.”

“Here,” I whisper.

“Exactly. Your high regard for life, and justice, and the path of righteousness, has gotten you here. You’re dead, and the people you love are dead, all because you’re so sure that there’s a right and a wrong. Be honest. Don’t you wish that you had killed me after you tore off my face?”

I nod slowly and speak the truth. “Yes.”

Alex half smiles. “Good. I’d hate for you to die without any regrets. And let me tell you something, Jack. For all I’ve done in my life, I never put anyone that I cared about in jeopardy. Your loved ones are going to suffer, and it’s your fault.”

Alex sticks her face in mine, lets me smell her rotten breath.

“And you call me a monster,” she says.

8:30 P.M.

JACK

AS IF I’M NOT FEELING HORRIBLE enough about the unfolding events, Alex helps add guilt to the fear, pain, panic, and regret I’ve been drowning in.

She seems to notice this, and I can sense it pleases her.

“Are we done with the philosophy?” she asks.

I don’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Moving on to the next question. And let me tell you, Jack, this one is a hard one. I’ve done some clever things in my life, but this one was truly brilliant. Are you ready for it? Are you ready to see if you’re as smart as I am?”

I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready. But I make myself nod. Alex smiles her half smile and comes in closer.

“How did I find out where you live, Jack?”

I don’t have a clue. When I moved to the suburbs from my Chicago apartment, I didn’t leave any forwarding address. All of my ID still lists Wrigleyville as my home. Except for Herb, Latham, and Harry, I didn’t tell a single person that I’d moved. All the utilities here are in Mom’s name. I pay my cell bill and credit cards over the Internet, using Mom’s co

But Alex knew. She came here directly after breaking out. How?

“You hired someone,” I guess. “You had some money stashed, used a private eye to track me down.”

“Wrong!” Her eyes twinkle. “Pick someone.”

I can’t speak.

“Hurry, Jack, or I’ll shoot them both.”

“Me,” I croak. “Shoot me.”

“Your turn will come later. And trust me – you’ll be begging me to shoot you before we’re through. But now you have to choose. Or we could do eenie-meenie-minie-moe.”

I stare at Latham, my lower lip trembling, and somehow say, “Him.”

The fact that Latham nods makes it even worse. Alex spins the cylinder and places the barrel up to his forehead. Latham closes his eyes. I want to close mine as well, but I owe it to him to watch.

Click.

I taste blood. I’ve bitten my tongue.

“Try again, Jack. How did I find you?”

I throw out a guess.

“You found out my mother’s last name, called up the electric company or some other utility.”

“Wrong.”

Alex begins to pull the trigger, and I scream, “You have to spin it first!”

“No I don’t. It’s the same question, so no new spin.”

I cringe, my whole world imploding.

Click.

“Looks like you get another guess,” Alex says. “There’s a one out of three chance that Latham will die if you get it wrong. Isn’t this exciting?”

Latham’s forehead has broken out in sweat, but he stays stoic, stays calm.

Think, Jack! Think!

“You tracked the home loan somehow, knew my mother moved here.”

“Exactly,” Alex says.

I slump back on the sofa.

“I just logged onto the Internet,” Alex continues, “because they give full Internet access to the criminally insane. We were allowed two hours a day, right after our massage.”

She begins to squeeze the trigger.

“Dr. Panko’s office!” I yell. “You used her computer!”

“Sorry, Jack.”

“No!”

Click.

Alex pats Latham on the head. “Down to a fifty-fifty chance, loverboy. Better hope your woman gets this.”

How did she find me? How did she find me? How the fuck did she…

I stare at Latham, his eyes squeezed shut. Herb wouldn’t ever give my address up, even accidentally. He’s a cop, which means he’s paranoid. So is Mom. Harry is an ex-cop, plus he has just as much to fear from Alex as I do. Dumb as he is, he’s also naturally suspicious. Harry would know if someone was sniffing around for my address.