|
|
|
|
|
|
|
chair. The container, the box, everything was identical to the package he had received from the Caron woman. "Stop right there," he ordered. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kristen looked at the jar and then at her lover. Her eyebrows were arched in a questioning expression of disappointment. "Why?" she challenged. "What is it?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Leave it alone," Charlie hissed. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"You're serious, aren't you?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He moved quickly from the sofa and was down on his knees staring into the contents of the jar. It was identical to the one he had mailed to Ruthie's last known address in Texas. The cloudy gray-green fluid, something not quite distinguishable seemingly suspended within, and the warm, almost alive feel of the container itself were all there. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Whatever you do, Kristen, don't open it," he warned. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Why? What could be so terrible about a ridiculous glass jar full of dirty water? What is this, Charlie, some kind of joke?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Call it anything you want, Kristen. I know something about this. It's a joke all right, but a sick joke." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kristen continued to study the glass jar, now more curious than ever. "Well, if you're not going to let me open it, what are we going to do with it?" |
|
|
|
|
|