Dead Man's Song полностью

“Right,” said Weinstock. “That’s power, as far his worldview goes. He has power over companies that make your little shop look like a street-corner pretzel stand. So, measuring himself against you on a daily basis he’s the alpha and you’re way in the back of the pack. Then what happens? Karl Ruger breaks in and roughs everyone up. Does what he pleases, touches what’s not his to touch, proves to Mark that anything he wants is his for the taking. Mark suddenly sees that no amount of corporate muscle is going to mean a thing…and when Ruger goes after Connie, there is nothing Mark could do to stop him.”

“In fairness, Saul, he was tied up!”

“You think that matters? Do you really think that Mark hasn’t thought of what would have happened if he’d been untied when Ruger tried to rape Connie?”

Crow looked at his fingernails.

Val said, “Ruger would have beaten him up again, maybe crippled him, he would still have raped Connie, and would then have killed both of them.”

“Right,” Weinstock said emphatically. “He’s probably mad at Val because she, at least, escaped from him out in the fields, and then was able to come back and attack Ruger in such a way as to save Connie.”

“He’d have killed me if Crow hadn’t gotten there. He was strangling me outside. I couldn’t fight him any more than Mark could.”

“Yeah, but Mark didn’t see that. He was still inside tied up, and you were outside. By the time he’d been freed Crow had shown up and had done what Mark could never have done—he fought and defeated Ruger. Mark, being tied up, could not even so much as hold his wife to comfort her. He had to just lie there, helpless. Essentially impotent. And Connie—she shares the same kind of warped perceptions of the world as her husband. She saw her husband fail to protect her. That she wasn’t actually raped doesn’t much matter, because she knows—she knows—that Ruger would have done it and Mark would not have been able to stop him. Imagine that rattling around in your head.”

“No White Knight anymore,” Val agreed, nodding.

“Great,” Crow said glumly.

Weinstock sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m keeping Connie in so my counseling staff can tag-team on her and try to break through at least the initial layers of the gunk that’s formed over her perception of herself and of her husband.”

Val looked skeptical. “You think you can do that in a couple of days?”

“Sadly, no. I think Connie’s going to need a lot of therapy for a long time. As for Mark? In a way he’s lucky he had some teeth knocked out because it gives me a tenuous medical reason for not kicking him loose. Between us, though, I’m keeping him in for ‘observation’ mainly because I’m hoping the therapists will help him realize that this was beyond his control—and that its okay because some things are beyond our control. All in the hopes that he and Connie will reconnect in a way that will rebond them and start some mutual healing.”

“That’s a lot to expect,” Crow said. “You might have to knock a few more teeth out.”

“Also, to send him home now, without Connie, would mean that he would have no choice but to interact with you two. I don’t know if he can handle it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Val said. “We’re family.

Weinstock looked at Crow. “What about you, sport? You up for being there for Mark and Connie?”

Crow reached over and took Val’s hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the engagement ring he had given her. “Like she said…they’re family.”

Weinstock cleared his throat, finished his apple, and walked into the adjoining bathroom to wash his hands. When he came out he pulled his chair over closer to Val, his face composed. “Your turn, missy.” Val had a bandage wrapped around her head and a thick gauze pad covering her right eye. Weinstock removed the wrapping and examined the bruising. He shined a light in her eye and asked her to follow it as he moved it around. “Hmm,” he said. “Some good news for a change. The eye is fine, no loss of motor function, pupils dilate correctly, visual acuity appears to be unimpaired, tear ducts seem to be functioning normally. As you know, there is a hairline crack of the orbit but that’s not as bad as it could have been. What did he hit you with, anyway?”

“Just his hand,” she said.

Weinstock whistled.

“You wouldn’t believe how strong that son of a bitch was,” Crow said.

“Overall,” Weinstock said, “I’d say that you’ll be fine and with no lasting ill effects. Headaches for a while, of course, and I’ll leave you some stuff for that. Bruising looks bad, but that’s in the nature of bruising—it looks bad and then it looks worse and then it goes away.”

“Do I have to keep wearing that bandage over my eyes? My depth perception is so crappy I keep walking into walls.”