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- Dearly Devoted Dexter (Vintage Crime_Bla Jeff Lindsay
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same coffee can. Outside, a fine snow continues to sift down,
covering the hood of the van. Then we re spooning again
beneath the covers. I hold Rob while he sleeps, listening to
his mumbles, sighs, and snores, and wonder where I will be
sleeping tomorrow, what I ll find when I get home.
185
chapter thirty-nine
I WATCH THE dawn s slow seep, and I watch Rob sleep.
The windows of the van are coated with snow, creating a kind
of cocoon, muting the light, as if we were still back in the
cove, encapsulated inside its wintry pearl of fog. It s com-
pletely silent here, except for the cheep of birds somewhere
out in the pines.
I pull back the covers, despite the deep chill, prop myself
on one elbow, and look over Rob s nakedness for the last
time: the snowy skin, the bloodstained bandages, the bruises
and tattoos. Time to say goodbye. I finger his nipples, swollen
from my violent attentions. I stroke the curves of his pecs,
the ridges of his belly, the sinewy lines of his arms, the flaccid
length of his dick, his curly pubic hair. When I nudge him,
he rolls over, muttering in dream, and I play with the hair in
the crack of his ass, I run my tongue over his tattoos. Al? he
sighs. Is it morning?
Shhh, I say, beard-nuzzling his back. Onto your belly.
Just keep quiet and keep still.
186
fog
My heart s pounding; my throat s tight; my head s swim-
ming. I cover him with panicked kisses. His head, the nape
of his neck, his shoulder blades, his spine, his buttocks, his
thighs, his calves, and the soles of his feet. He lies beneath
me, complaisant, heaving sighs. Roll over, I order, nibbling
a toe. When he does, I continue: deep kisses upon his brow,
his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his pecs and nipples, his belly,
the tip of his cock, his thighs, his feet. I finish with an arm
around his waist, a finger up his ass, and his cock down my
throat. He grips my head with cuffed hands, whimpering and
thrusting, and soon he s cum again, a final load filling me. I
hold his semen in my mouth, savoring it, before regretfully
swallowing. His taste lingers faintly on my tongue.
I sit up and put my face in my hands, thankful for the tape
over Rob s eyes. Sobs are gathering in my gullet. One slips
out; the rest I choke back.
Al? Dude? Are you all right?
We re three hours from where I intend to leave you,
I say, standing, trying to steady my voice, reaching for that
gruff façade I used to muster in the first days of his captivity.
The sun s just risen; bright light slants over the snow-smoth-
ered windshield, diffusing through the van. I dress, shivering
violently. When we get there, I ve got to gag you with that
ball again. I know it hurts your jaw, but I need to be sure that
you don t manage to get help before I m long gone, okay?
You re going to leave me bound? How m I going to get
loose? I don t want to freeze to death. Rob s breath rises in
a cloud.
You ll see. You ll be fine, I promise. Want some breakfast
first? Need to piss?
Rob nods. After we use the piss-can, I pop open a can of
Vienna sausages. We lie side by side on the mattress; I feed
him with my fingers; we chew in silence. Outside a cardinal is
cheering; chickadees are arguing. After our makeshift break-
187
Jeff Mann
fast, I dress Rob s shaking nakedness in the sweats and socks.
I m about to gag him again rip of duct tape, sharp in the
morning quiet when he shakes his head.
Wait, okay? I need to ask you something.
What is it, kid?
So, will we get to talk again?
Yes. Before I leave you in the place I have planned.
O-okay. So we ll never meet again? I ll never see your
face?
Nope. That would all be unwise on my part, obviously.
Even if I swear& that I d never& ? Okay. Yeah. Makes
sense. Go ahead. I want to get home. Rob s swollen lips are
trembling. I kiss him before applying the tape and the hogtie
tether.
Not much left to do. Scrape the windshield; clear my
vision; let the light in; start the van. It fishtails a little bit in
the snow and mud. For a second I think we re stuck, but then
the wheels gain traction, and soon we ve left behind the pine
grove, the place where we lay together for the last time.
188
chapter forty
THE BARN S ABANDONED, isolated, set in a snow-crust-
ed field near a stand of leafless locusts. It s a mile from a back
road gas station.
I leave Rob in the van. Inside the barn, it takes me only
minutes to arrange things the way I want: spread the blanket,
set out the food, hang up the key.
Now I cut Rob s feet loose, cuff his hands behind him, help
him from the back of the van, and lead him into the trees to
relieve himself. The sun s disappeared again, behind clotted
clouds, and light snow s begun, drifting like goose down from
the Nebraska sky. Now I guide his limping blindness across
clumps of dead field grass and into the barn. There I help him
sit on the blanket I ve spread over the straw-strewn floor. I
slip on my mask before unwrapping the feet of tape over his
eyes.
After so many sightless hours sunk in darkness, he blinks
and squints at me, obviously stunned by the light, even these
dim, snow-dulled beams that slant through the otherwise
shadowy barn. Gently I pull the tape off his mouth.
189
Jeff Mann
Here, I say, giving him a sip of bottled water. Look here
now, boy. I point to two paper bags I ve left on the floor near
him. In one are wrapped sandwiches, one pimiento, one balo-
ney; in the other is the book of Shakespeare s sonnets.
A little lunch for when you get free. No fingerprints on
the wrap, by the way. I ve used gloves. There s also a little
farewell gift. And look over there. I point to a support post
on the far side of the barn. Do you see it? The key?
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