Bobby the Butcher's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Bobby drove home from Jessica's step with her words sitting on his chest. Take the ring off her hand. Simple to say. Impossible to do. Desmond watched Jessica the way a dog watches a bone. The moment Bobby reached for that hand, Desmond would feel it and strike her down before the ring cleared her knuckle. Bobby needed a way in that Desmond couldn't sense. He drove past town and out to his grandfather's cabin. His mother was on the porch, sleeves rolled, beating a rug over the rail. She stopped when she saw him and set the rug down. "You look worse than yesterday," Iris said. He sat on the top step. He told her about the dentist. About the ring. About Jessica saying it was the only way. Iris listened without interrupting, the way she always had. "He'll feel me coming," Bobby said. "He feels everything around her. I can't get close enough to touch her hand." Iris sat down beside him. "Then don't get close to her. Get close to him." Bobby looked at her. "He watches her," Iris said. "He doesn't watch himself. If you're the thing in front of him, he isn't feeling for what's behind him." Bobby thought about it. Desmond in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes on Bobby every visit. Eyes on Bobby, not on Jessica. If Bobby stood in that doorway loud enough, Desmond's attention would lock forward. He needed someone else to take the ring while he held Desmond's stare. He drove back to town and stopped at the shop. Mrs. Smith was on the sidewalk with her handbag, waiting for him to open. He unlocked the door and let her in. "You're not open," she said, pleased. "I need a favor," Bobby said. "Not today. Soon. I need you to sit with Jessica while I speak with Desmond in the next room. Ten minutes. Hold her hand if she'll let you. Slide the ring off while I keep him looking at me." Mrs. Smith's eyebrows lifted above her glasses. She did not ask why. She studied his face for a long moment. "That ring is trouble," she said. "I've seen the way she rubs it." "It's worse than trouble." "I believe you." She adjusted her handbag. "Tell me when." Bobby drove to Jessica's house that afternoon with Mrs. Smith in the passenger seat. He knocked. Jessica opened the door and saw them both. Her eyes flicked to Bobby. He gave her one small nod. "I brought company," Bobby said. "I need to speak with your husband." Desmond appeared behind Jessica's shoulder, arms crossed, cape dark against the hall. "Say what you came to say," Desmond said. Bobby stepped inside and turned his body toward Desmond, blocking the line of sight to the couch where Mrs. Smith was already guiding Jessica to sit. He had his plan. Now he had to hold Desmond's eyes long enough for it to work.