Shadowfires

never imagined that Eric knew
about Benny.
    His face seemed to harden in the hot sun, cracking with more deep
lines of anger. “How long was he fucking you before you finally
walked out on me?”
    “You're disgusting, she said, immediately regretting the harsh words because she saw that he was pleased to have broken through her cool facade at last.
    “How long?” he demanded, tightening his grip.
    “I didn't meet Benny till six months after you and I separated,” she said, striving to keep a neutral tone that would deny him the noisy confrontation he apparently desired.
    “How long was he poaching on,the Rachael?”
    “If you know about Benny, you ve had me watched, something you've no right to do.”
    “Yeah, you want to keep your dirty little secrets.”
    “If you have hired someone to watch me, you know
I've been seeing Benny for just five months. Now let go. You're still
hurting me.
    A young bearded guy, passing by, hesitated, stepped toward them,
and said, “You need help, lady?”
    Eric turned on the stranger in such a rage that he seemed to spit
the words out rather than speak them, “Butt out, mister. This is my
wife, and it's none of your goddamn business.”
    Rachael tried to wrench free of Eric's iron grip without success.
    The bearded stranger said, “So she's your wife-that doesn't give
you the right to hurt her.”
    Letting go of Rachael, Eric fisted his hands and turned more
directly toward the intruder.
    Rachael spoke quickly to her would-be Galahad, eager to defuse the
situation. “Thank you, but it's all right. Really. I'm fine. Just a
minor disagreement.”
    The young man shrugged and walked away, glancing back as he
went.
    The incident had at last made Eric aware that he was in danger of
making a spectacle of himself, which a man of his high position and
self-importance was loath to do. However, his temper had not cooled.
His face was flushed, and his lips were bloodless. His eyes were the
eyes of a dangerous man.
    She said, “Be happy, Eric.
You've saved millions of dollars and God knows how much more in attorneys fees. You won. You didn't
get to crush me or muddy my reputation in court the way you had hoped
to, but you still won. Be happy with that.”
    With a seething hatred that shocked her, he said, “You stupid,
rotten bitch. The day you walked out on me, I wanted to knock you
down and kick your stupid face in. I
should've done it. Wish I had. But I thought you'd come crawling
back, so I didn't. I should've. Should've kicked your stupid face in.” He raised his hand as if to slap her. But he checked himself even as she flinched from the expected blow. Furious, he turned and hurried away.
    As she watched him go, Rachael suddenly understood that his sick
desire to dominate everyone was a far more fundamental need than she'd realized. By stripping him of his power over her, by turning her back on both him and his money, she had not merely reduced him to an equal but had, in his eyes, unmanned him. That had to he the case, for nothing else explained the degree of his rage or his urge to commit violence, an urge he had barely controlled.
    She had grown to dislike him intensely, if not hate him, and she
had feared him a little, too. But until now, she had not been fully
aware of the immensity and intensity of the rage within him. She had
not realized how thoroughly dangerous he was.
    Although the golden sunshine still dazzled her eyes and forced her
to squint, although it still baked her skin, she felt a cold shiver
pass through her, spawned by the realization that she'd been wise to leave Eric when she had-and perhaps fortunate to escape with no more physical damage than the bruises his fingers were certain to have left on her arm.
    Watching him step off the sidewalk into the street, she was
relieved to see him go. A moment later, relief turned to horror.
    He was heading toward his black Mercedes, which was parked along
the other side of the avenue. Perhaps he actually was blinded by his
anger. Or maybe it was the brilliant June sunlight flashing on every
shiny surface that interfered with his vision. Whatever the reason,
he dashed across the southbound lanes of Main Street, which were at
the moment without traffic, and kept on going into the northbound
lanes, directly into the path of a city garbage truck that was doing
forty miles an hour.
    Too late, Rachael screamed a warning.
    The driver tramped his brake pedal to the floorboards. But the
shriek of the truck's