The Sleeping Doll

own.
    Jennie froze, staring up at the wiry man, who was leaning down.
    Neither of them moved for a moment. Then he pulled the door open. “You’re the picture of delight, Jennie Marston,” he said. “Prettier than I imagined.”
    “Oh, Daniel.” Overwhelmed with emotion—fear, relief, guilt, a big burning sun of feeling—Jennie Marston could think of nothing else to say. Breathless, she slipped out of the car and flew into her boyfriend’s arms, shivering and holding him so tightly that she squeezed a soft, steady hiss from his narrow chest.

Chapter 10
    They got into the T-bird and she pressed her head against his neck as Daniel carefully surveyed the parking lot and the road nearby.
    Jennie was thinking how difficult the past month had been, forging a relationship through email, rare phone calls and fantasy, never seeing her lover in person.
    Still, she knew that it was so much better to build love this way—from a distance. It was like the women on the home front during a war, the way her mother would talk about her father in Vietnam. That was all a lie, of course, she’d later learned, but it didn’t take away the larger truth: that love should be first about two souls and only later about sex. What she felt for Daniel Pell was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
    Exhilarating.
    Frightening too.
    She felt the tears start. No, no, stop it. Don’t cry. He won’t like it if you cry. Men get mad when that happens.
    But he asked gently, “What’s the matter, lovely?”
    “I’m just so happy.”
    “Come on, tell me.”
    Well, he didn’t sound mad. She debated, then said, “Well, I was wondering. There were some women. At the grocery store. Then I put the news on. I heard . . . somebody got burned real bad. A policeman. And then two people were killed, stabbed.” Daniel had said he just wanted the knife to threaten the guards. He wasn’t going to hurt anybody.
    “What?” he snapped. His blue eyes grew hard.
    No, no, what’re you doing? Jennie asked herself. You made him mad! Why did you ask him that? Now you’ve fucked everything up! Her heart fluttered.
    “They did it again. They always do it! When I left, nobody was hurt. I was so careful! I got out the fire door just like we’d planned and slammed it shut. . . .” Then he nodded. “I know . . . sure. There were other prisoners in a cell near mine. They wanted me to let them out too, but I wouldn’t. I’ll bet they started to riot and when the guards went to stop them, that’s when those two got killed. Some of them had shivs, I’ll bet. You know what that is?”
    “A knife, right?”
    “Homemade knife. That’s what happened. And if somebody got burned, it was because he was careless. I looked carefully—there was no one else out there when I got through the fire. And how could I attack three people all by myself? Ridiculous. But the police and the news’re blaming me for it, like they always do.” His lean face was red. “I’m the easy target.”
    “Just like that family eight years ago,” she said timidly, trying to calm him. Nothing takes away the danger faster than agreeing with a man.
    Daniel had told her how he and his friend had gone to the Croytons’ house to pitch a business idea to the computer genius. But when they got there his friend, it seemed, had a whole different idea—he was going to rob the couple. He knocked Daniel out and started killing the family. Daniel had come to and tried to stop him. Finally he’d had to kill his friend in self-defense.
    “They blamed me for that—because you know how we hate it when the killer dies. Somebody goes into a school and shoots students and kills himself. We want the bad guy alive. We need somebody to blame. It’s human nature.”
    He was right, Jennie reflected. She was relieved, but also terrified that she’d upset him. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t’ve mentioned anything.”
    She expected him to tell her to shut up, maybe even get out of the car and walk away. But to her shock he smiled and stroked her hair. “You can ask me anything.”
    She hugged him again. Felt more tears on her cheek and touched them away. The makeup had clotted. She backed away, staring at her fingers. Oh, no. Look at this! She wanted to be pretty for him.
    The fears coming back, digging away.
    Oh, Jennie, you’re going to be wearing your hair like that? You sure you want to? . . . You don’t want bangs? They’d cover up that high forehead of yours .
    What