Thomas Brock, 35, was thinking about his stock price when he hit the woman's dog. He'd forgotten all about jail until that moment.
Brock Accounting Systems, listed as BAcS on the New York Stock Exchange, had gone up by over 20% overnight, from $1.60 to 1.95.
The stock might hit the two dollar mark in another day or two, and this was on Tom Brock's mind as he rounded the corner in La Jolla. He had the top of his late model Mercedes down and was enjoying the stillness in these hills above the Pacific Ocean. It was a dry, cloudless day. The blue sky looked almost too blue. Tom enjoyed the Spanish-style tiled roofs and the quaint archways of residential homes. He especially loved driving under the huge, shady crowns of pepper trees. There was another landscape in the back of his mind, but you had to go through a door to get there, and the child Tom kept the door locked. That landscape was red and yellow like a sunset on another world. Sometimes, as he stood on a chair staring out the window, the child with big solemn eyes thought it was a really warm and wonderful world and he longed with a heart-breaking yearning to be in that world. At other times the child thought it was a painful and dangerous world and he wasn't sure why he wanted to be part of it. But these were not thoughts, just background.
Tom's thoughts, as he turned the thick ivory wheel of the Mercedes and turned in a nice smooth curve onto Pacifica Street barely three blocks from his home, were on his stock price and about his hunger for tuna fish on toast. He barely glimpsed a dark blur of a house on his right, the lighter green blur of a pepper tree whose lacy crown shaded a huge expanse of sidewalk before the house. He felt a lump under his right front tire. He heard a woman scream and he slammed on the brakes.
Dazed, he waited as the car swayed violently to a halt. A woman, running, appeared in a flash of beige clothing on his right. She yelled harsh words at him and then screamed hoarsely as she fell to her knees, out of sight beyond his right bumper.
A wave of shock imprisoned Tom in his seat. I've hit her child, he thought. She is angry at me. She will sue. I will be in trouble with the law. This will not be good for my company. Maybe her husband will come and kill me. He thought of the gun under the car seat. I will kill him first and it will be legally justified as self-defense. Trembling all over, and feeling weak-kneed, Tom got out and walked around the car. The walk seemed endless, and now other people gathered around. They stared angrily at him and said harsh things.
The woman fell to her knees. Tom saw the splatter of blood and brains clearly. Bluish entrails lay twisted amid a red catsup of gore. I've really done it now, he thought as his mouth ran dry. The woman cried loudly and heartbrokenly like a big mature-voiced child. She was bent over a crushed, dead little dog.
Tom noticed her full, sturdy figure. She looked fecund, like a big shapely fruit. She wore a loose beige summer dress with tiny pears and violets all over. It was a strapless dress, exposing the smooth hay-yellow waves of her back. She had some tiny brown birth marks between her shoulder blades, some bigger lighter birth marks on her shoulder blades, and some meaty cross-hatchings from sitting in a chair. Her hair, which was chopped off below the ears, was thick and dry and dark brown like tree bark.
A man and a woman helped her to her feet.
As her grieving, dripping face arose, and her wandering eyes sought him, he glimpsed the small pale breasts that hung carelessly under the light dress. He noticed that her nipples were pink and pointed slightly to the sides, like the stems of pears. She uttered a loud, harsh groan of rage. Her gaze was piercing and shocked that he would hurt her. She looked startled that the hurt had occurred so suddenly. In his dreamy state, he looked down and leaned weakly against the hood of the car with one hand, ready for anything.
If I tell her I am a millionaire, she will take a lot of money from me. Maybe, though, she will like me and I will give her money so this will go away.
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