CHAPTER 19
ANN PACES AROUND HER apartment. All of the paperwork is in order to file the lawsuit, but she’s asked her lawyer to wait a few days.
She has one last idea before going that far.
She tells herself that she needs to stop worrying and get it over with. She pulls on her winter coat, steps out onto the porch, and knocks gently on Roy’s door. The air is cold, and a light frost covers the trash heap in Roy’s yard.
“Roy,” she says, trying to sound unconfrontational. “Are you there? I’d like to talk to you.”
Roy’s truck is parked out front, but she hasn’t heard him working. No extension cord runs to the door, even though there is still no electricity inside.
“I don’t want to fight. I just want to—”
The door opens so fast that Ann steps back.
“What do you want?” Roy says, squinting like a person who’s just stepped out of a dark movie theater into bright sunlight.
“I want to talk to you,” she says, “about … our situation.”
“Our situation?”
It looks like it’s been months since Roy last cut his hair, and his stubble has grown into a bushy beard.
“Please, Roy. Just come out onto the porch and listen to what I have to say.”
Roy takes a deep breath and steps outside. He’s not wearing a shirt or shoes—a shocking sight in the middle of February. His chest is pale and thin, his ribs clearly visible, his stomach practically pinned to the back of his spine. His pants look two sizes too big and are held up by a leather belt pulled tight around his emaciated frame. His face looks gaunt, his eyes red.
Ann backs away, genuinely afraid of him. Where is the charming young man she met last spring? This zombie in front of her cannot be that same person.
Ann has the sick feeling that Roy’s just been sitting in the darkness inside his home.
Not working.
Not eating.
Just staring into the dark.
She tells herself she has to give it a try. She won’t feel right about suing if she doesn’t at least make the offer.
“Roy,” she says. “I have a proposition for you. I’d like to buy your house.”
Roy tilts his head and looks at her sideways, as if trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke.
“Clearly you’ve taken on more than you can handle in buying this place,” she says. “You can just walk away from it. Let me worry about fixing it up.”
Roy says nothing, so Ann goes on, explaining that she’s talked to a real estate agent and her bank. She can get a loan that would allow her to purchase the house for what Roy paid and also allow her to make the renovations it needs.
“You won’t lose any money,” she says. “I’ll give you what you paid.”
She thought this might please him. Roy must feel trapped. Unable to finish the renovations. Unable to sell the house in the state it’s in. There’s no way he could get what he paid for the place from anyone else—not with the disrepair it’s in now.
She’s giving him a way out.
The only way out, as far as she can tell.
But Roy doesn’t seem to think of it that way. His eyes narrow, and he glares at her.
“What about all the work I put into it?” he asks. “The time and money—how do I get that back?”
Ann feels helpless. If he can’t see that she’s offering him a key to the prison he’s locked himself in, she doesn’t know what to do.
“I can’t pay more than what you paid,” Ann says. “The bank loan wouldn’t just be for purchasing your house—I’ll need some money to fix it up.”
Roy smirks as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“This is a good deal for you, Roy. Let me take this place off your hands.”
“Is this what you’ve wanted all along?” he sneers. “You’ve been hassling me from the start to try to get my place for a steal?”
Ann shakes her head, frustrated.
“I don’t want your house, Roy. I want you to take care of it. But you’re not doing it, so I feel like I have to.”
“Whatever,” Roy says.
“Please consider it,” Ann says. “You’ll be able to wash your hands of this place. This is your last chance.”
As soon as she says it, Ann regrets her choice of words.
“Last chance?” Roy says, scrutinizing her face. “Or what?”
Ann doesn’t want to tell him, but she feels it will be worse if he’s blindsided when he receives the legal paperwork.
“I’m going to file an injunction against you,” Ann says.
“An injunction? What’s that mean?”
“I’m about to sue you, Roy,” Ann snaps, her patience at its limit. “I can’t figure out any other way to get you to fix this damn place up!”
Roy looks truly frightening. With his greasy hair, unkempt beard, and shirtless bony body, he looks more like someone who’s just stepped off Charles Manson’s commune than the pleasant young man who first bought the house next door nine months ago.
“Let me tell you something,” Roy snarls, his yellow teeth clenched like a growling animal’s. “Fixing up this house is my dream. My dream. You will not stop me.”
Ann looks at him sympathetically.
“I’m sorry, Roy. It’s time to find a new dream.”
With that, she walks into her residence. She hears him slam his door so hard it rattles the windows on her side of the property. A loud cacophony comes through the walls—boards falling, tools flying.
She pictures him inside, working himself into a rage.
In the dark.
CHAPTER 20
ANN SITS WITH MARJORIE and Ted in the second row of the courtroom. In front of them, the assistant solicitor sits in preparation for making the city’s case against Roy. Ann has talked to the city’s lawyer in anticipation of testifying today. He’s going to give her time to present all the information she has about Roy’s negligent homeownership.
At the other table sits a lawyer whom Ann assumes Roy hired.
So far, there’s no sign of Roy.
Ann is ready. She has a file folder in her lap with photos of Roy’s house and documentation of her interactions with the city’s building inspectors.
“Where is he?” Marjorie asks, checking her watch and turning to look at the door at the back of the courtroom.
Several people from the neighborhood are in attendance—some to testify, some to support Ann, and some just curious about what will happen. But as the clock ticks down the minutes to the nine o’clock hearing, Roy still doesn’t appear.
It would be just like him not to show up, Ann thinks. After all, it’s not as if he’s shown much interest in obeying the law when it comes to maintaining and renovating his home. She can picture him having the same disregard for an order to appear in court.
“What happens if he doesn’t show?” Marjorie asks, keeping her voice low in the hushed courtroom. “Will they issue a warrant for his arrest?”
Ann opens her mouth to say she doesn’t know what the consequences will be, but there’s no need to answer—the door to the courtroom opens and in comes Roy Kirk.