he brim of his cap and his face pointed at the floor in case there were cameras, Sunday pushed them inside a small vestibule with three mailboxes and three buzzers.
That makes things more manageable, Sunday thought. Unless…
“Roommates?” he demanded as Claudia put her key into the second door.
“What? N-no,” she stammered as she pushed the door open. “I live alone.”
“Where?”
“Right here,” Richie said, nodding at the door at the bottom of the stairs.
“Go inside,” the writer ordered.
“What are you going to do?” Claudia whimpered.
“It’s a surprise,” Sunday said.
Trembling now, the woman opened her apartment door, stepped in, and flipped on a light switch.
The writer pushed Richie forward and then hit him hard behind the ear with the butt of his pistol, watched his knees go to quicksand as he buckled to the floor. The writer turned off the light. He could see the woman’s silhouette starting to turn, held up the gun, and said, “Freeze.”
She did. Sunday stepped up directly behind her and set the gun to the back of her head.
“Please,” she said.
“I am pleased,” Sunday said, and he moved her toward a couch. “Very Mulch pleased at how you smell tonight, Claudia.”
“Oh, God,” she whined.
“So you understand you are ovulating,” he said appreciatively as he kicked her feet apart and wrenched up her skirt. “There’s only one thing you can’t deny about the absurdity of life—it’s meant to go on and on.”
“Please,” Claudia sobbed softly.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Mulch won’t hurt you,” Sunday soothed as he got out Preston’s used condom and turned it inside out. Unzipping his pants, he slid the open end of the condom over his penis, leaving the stutterer’s DNA exposed.
“Mulch will steal something from you so you don’t have to tell Richie what we’ve done. But afterward, Mulch will know what’s in your womb, Claudia, because he will be watching you.”
She was choking and weeping now.
“And because Mulch will be watching you, knowing what we share, you’re not going to the police. No, you’re going to love our little future life. You hear that, Claudia? You are going to love our future life.”
Sunday thrust a little way into her and moaned and shuddered as if in immediate climax. Then he hit her, knocked her out, and left her there, skirt up over her hips, sprawled over the back of the couch.
Excellent, the writer thought, peeling the condom off and gingerly returning it to the Baggie. I think that will do the trick rather nicely.
Chapter
28
“Alex? Wake up.”
I felt Bree shake me and opened my eyes groggily to find the lights blazing in our bedroom. It felt like I’d only just drifted off.
“Time is it?” I asked blearily. “What day is it?”
“Nearly five,” she said. “Sunday morning.”
“Five? C’mon, Bree. I need a few more hours of—”