He sank to the bottom of the tub and sat there. The bathroom was filled with steam. The mirror was fogged. Archie reached forward and turned off the water. The wound on his leg wasn’t very deep, but it had started to throb.
Archie pulled himself up, climbed out of the tub, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist. Then wiped the condensation off the mirror so he could see himself. His hollow reflection gave him a start. He put his hand on the edge of the mirror and waited a minute, and then opened the medicine cabinet and scanned the shelves. He didn’t see what he wanted. He looked under the sink. No pills there. He wondered if Henry really didn’t have any painkillers or if he’d just hidden them.
Archie was walking through the living room on his way to search Henry’s kitchen cabinets when he heard her voice.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Gretchen said.
He turned around and saw her sitting in Henry’s chair. She was holding one of Henry’s cats in her lap—a gray tabby he’d saved from a crime scene. Her hair was red and pulled back. She was wearing a black sleeveless cotton dress, bare legs crossed. She looked tanned. He had seen her so many times in his head that it took a minute to sink in that it was really her.
He wished that he could take that part of himself—the part that remembered her, was connected to her, the part that wanted her—and cut it out and bury it.
He laughed. “I wish I’d killed you,” Archie said.
The cat rubbed its head against her hand and purred. “I’d imagine.”
“There was no reason,” Archie said. “I’ve been looking for a reason why you kept me alive. Some humanity in you. But there was no reason.”
Gretchen frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe it was love.”
Archie smiled. He beckoned her over with a finger. “I want to show you something,” he said.
She didn’t hesitate. She nudged the cat off her lap onto the floor, stood and walked over. She was wearing high heels and her hips swung as she stepped. When she was a few feet away, he dropped the towel.
“No hard-on,” he said.
He followed her eyes down to his flaccid cock, and he marveled happily at it. “Do you know how long it’s been since I was in the same room with you, without getting hard?” he said. “Jesus, I couldn’t even look at your picture, think your name, without getting a fucking erection.” He touched it, moving it a little to prove it wasn’t stiff. “I could fill a bathtub with the semen I’ve spilled in your honor.”
Gretchen reached out and put a hand behind his head and pulled his lips to hers. He let her do it. But he kept his arms at his sides. She kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth. And he felt: nothing.
He laughed again.
She pulled away, took a step back, and smoothed her hair. “The therapy is paying off,” she said. “You’ve been a good patient. I’ve been very pleased. ”
“Stop calling Frank,” Archie said. “You’ve got him believing that you’re actually his sister.”
She smiled and arched a sculpted eyebrow. “Maybe I am.”
Henry and Claire were at the task force offices, not due back
for hours. “How did you know I was here?” Archie asked. Henry kept an extra gun in a box in the closet. Archie would have to get to it, open the box, and load it.
Gretchen leaned her elbows on Henry’s sideboard. “Where else would you go? Vancouver?” She ran her eyes over him and he realized he was still standing there, naked. “I think Debbie’s had enough of your wandering eye.” She ran a fingertip along the top of the sideboard and looked at it. “I can see Claire’s influence,” she said. “It’s much neater.” She was fucking with him. She’d never been in Henry’s house before.
Archie picked up the towel and tucked it around his waist. “Why are you here?” he asked.
She smiled her movie-star smile. “I came to save you.”
He had hoped it wasn’t true. “You called the Herald with the tip about Pearl.”
“How is Jeremy Reynolds?” Gretchen said. “I see he’s introduced you to body suspension.”
“He’s what you made him,” Archie said.
“I’m thinking of suing for trademark infringement. I don’t like being copied.”
“Yet you had George Hay gouge out Courtenay Taggart’s eyes.”
“I was copying Jeremy copying me. That’s not copyright infringement. It’s sampling.”
Henry would have the gun loaded. He didn’t have kids. He didn’t need to worry about that. Boxed, in a closet like that, the gun would be loaded.
Gretchen glanced down the hall. “Where is it?” she said. “The gun you’re thinking about using. There? You’d never get there in time.” She stepped in front of him and took one of his hands in hers and lifted it to her neck. “You could use your hands,” she said. She held it there for a moment and he could feel the thump thump of her pulse. Then she lowered it and kissed his palm.