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"Hi, Art," she said, trying for a casual tone. Despite her best efforts, there was a quiver in her voice, but she went on as though it were perfectly normal for him to be here at this time of the night with that angry look on his face. "I didn't hear you come in. You surprised me, I thought I locked the door."
As she spoke, she was trying desperately to remember. Had she locked the front door? She didn't think so. It was the type that locked automatically when a little lever was pressed. Jessie couldn't remember doing so herself, and she didn't think Mr. Sweeny had on his way out. And the bell on the door was broken. Jack had been saying he had to get it fixed for two months, but he hadn't done so. He should have; this was twice Art had been able to sneak up on her.
"Where's Val?"
"Val?" His question caught her off-guard; that wasn't what she was expecting. "I don't know, home, I guess. I haven't been there since this morning. Why?" As Jessie spoke, she remembered Val's announcement that morning that she was tired of school. Maybe what she'd meant was she was tired of Art. If Val had split, Jessie wouldn't blame her, but it left her in an awkward position right now.
"I've been looking for her all afternoon," he said. He looked as though he was barely hanging onto his temper, but he hadn't lost it yet. "We need to get some things straight."
"Well, I haven't seen her," Jessie said. Despite his anger, she relaxed slightly. If he was searching for Val, he might not bother with her. She was acutely aware of the photos only a few feet away from Art's elbow, pictures that would provoke a roar of anger if he saw them. And possibly a much more dangerous reaction.
"Damn!" He was swearing more to himself than at her, and she relaxed further. His next words caused her to tense back up. "She'd better not--I found something she'd better be able to explain."
Found something. Jessie's thoughts leaped to the lens cap and she stiffened. Slight as the motion was, he noticed it. "What do you know about it?" he snarled.
"Know about what?" she asked, thinking as the words came out that her voice was wrong, the words were wrong, she sounded guilty. She got a grip on herself, but it was too late.
He took a step into the small room. "About that break-in at my apartment," he said. His face was twisting once more into the expression of rage she'd seen before, but it had never terrified her so badly before. Her chest felt paralyzed, as though it didn't intend to ever draw another breath. And if she didn't get out of here, she might not.
"The one last night?" Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears, and she fought to control it.
"How many do you think there've been?" he said through clenched teeth.
"I don't know," she said. It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all Jessie could think of.
"You know more than you're saying, that's for sure. Now tell me what it is." He seemed bigger than ever in the narrow space between the counters.
She took a step backwards, and he took another toward her. It was like a dance, she thought, a very dangerous dance, but it couldn't last long. The far wall was only a few feet behind her.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. He took another step. The door was clear, if she could get around him, but she'd never make it. The room wasn't that big, and she'd seen Art move on the football field. For all his size and bulk, he moved with the speed of a striking snake.
"Damn you, answer me," he said. His voice was thick and his face darkened as he took another step forward. In another moment he would explode. His right hand reached toward Jessie and she shrank back. She knew the damage those hands could inflict. If he got them on her, he'd kill her.
She bumped against the counter as they took another step in their deadly dance and her hand fell on a metal-foil envelope. Fixer. It was the chemical used to stop the developing process and fix the image so it wouldn't continue to change. They mixed it with water, and she hadn't used this envelope. Jessie picked it up, her eyes never leaving Art as he took another step forward. In a single movement, she ripped the top open, then brought her hand up suddenly, dashing the contents of the envelope into Art's eyes.
He let out a roar and grabbed for her, but the harsh chemicals transformed his face into a mask of tears and whitish powder and he stumbled, unable to see her as she dodged around him and out the door to freedom.