PART ONE
ONE
The Prager home stood alone on several wooded acres, two miles outside the small town of Deerfield, Michigan. Julie and John had painted it brown in the fall; nature had since shrouded it with snow and added the icicles.
Inside, Julie Prager strapped her daughter, Jessica, into the highchair. It was nearly lunchtime, and the baby would be safe there while she ran down to the end of the drive for today's mail. Grabbing her boots and snowmobile jacket from the front hall, she pulled open the door and stepped out into the weather.
Snow had been falling since early morning, adding to the year's heavy accumulation. The driveway had been plowed at six a.m. and was already drifted over. Mail on a day like this was an iffy proposition, but Julie walked the two hundred feet regardless. It was one of her few excuses to leave the house these days.
The galvanized mailbox was empty.
It was a common disappointment this time of year. The Deerfield post office was cautious when it came to bad weather, at least where their rural route customers were concerned. The road didn't look too bad yet, but the wind was picking up. The weather channel had indicated a blizzard for this afternoon and apparently they were right.
Julie hurried back inside, shook off the snow and pounded her boots. A cry for attention sounded from the kitchen, letting her know Jessica was out of patience.
Cherubic and bubbly, their first child sat by the table, slamming a chew-ring into the plastic top of her tray. Julie cooed at her while she checked the pot of vegetable soup simmering on the stove and bent to pull a frying pan out of a lower cupboard.
It was after twelve-thirty. Julie opened the fridge and gathered up a pound of bacon, a large tomato, and a head of lettuce. She set these on the table, then reached over the sink and parted the curtains to look for John in the expansive backyard. No sign of him yet, so she decided to hold off on the BLTs.
"I guess you get to eat before Mommy and Daddy," she told Jessica, and tied a bib around the little girl's neck. She popped open a four-ounce jar of mashed peas and pulled up a chair to spoon the food into her baby's mouth. Jesse spit half of it out again and spread it around with her hands. Soon there was green paste everywhere.
When the jar was empty, Julie wiped up the excess and checked outside again. Still no John, and the snow was growing worse. Refusing to worry, she continued with Jesse, opening a jar of bananas for dessert.
The clean up was more involved than the meal itself. She started with the tray table, then took a damp cloth and stooped in front of Jessica to wash her face. The lively green-eyed girl hated this, so she squirmed and fussed, grabbing a fistful of her mother's long dark hair. "Shhh, it isn't so bad," Julie soothed, prying the tiny hand loose. As soon as the washing was over, Jessie's smile returned.
The peaceful moment died suddenly when the back door flew open and bounced off the refrigerator with a crash. A blast of cold air rushed in when John stepped through the doorway.
Julie was about to scold her husband for not being more careful with the door, but when she caught sight of the expression on his reddened face, the words stuck in her throat. John had left the house this morning in a dismal mood, looking haggard and worn. She had expected him to return from his walk in much the same condition. But now John's stressed look was gone. In its place was an expression of malice. His eyes were as wild and cold as the snow blowing in around him, and his face bore a feral grin she did not recognize. If he'd been wearing a mask he could not appear less like himself.
The baby started to cry. John's gaze passed over the child in her high chair without notice. His attention settled on Julie and his grin widened.
"Cl ... close the door," Julie stammered, stepping back.
John closed the door--slammed it with all his strength--then launched himself across the room and pressed Julie back against the counter. She imagined he was feeling better; trying to be playful but getting carried away. "Not so rough," she said as he grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts. She tried to pull away from the pressure, but he would not let go. He slammed a fist up under her chin and her head banged against the cupboards.
Quickly becoming afraid, she cried out, "John, stop it!" and struggled to pull away. When he would not release her or stop pawing her, she tried to fight back, but hitting him was useless. She swung her arms and his down-filled coat absorbed the blows. She couldn't kick because his legs were against hers. She screamed.
He wrapped one strong hand around her throat and choked off the sound, his grip so tight Julie felt her stockinged feet rise off the linoleum floor.
They were near the stove. Julie tried to grab the pot of soup off the glowing burner to scald him or hit him, but he jerked her away before she could grip the handle, and the soup spilled down the front of the appliance. He yanked her across the room and slammed her up against the refrigerator door so hard that when he released his grip she slumped to the floor.
Four years they had been married, and John had never treated her with anything but gentle respect. Now he grabbed the collar of her blouse and used it to drag her away from the refrigerator, until she fell flat on the hard floor. She tried to sit up and he backhanded her so hard she tasted blood.
Julie gasped for air and tried to speak, but he dropped onto her and slapped her again. He tore back her blouse, yanked her bra down out of his way, and ignored her cries as he tore off his own coat and threw it aside.
Julie was there. She was present. This was happening to her, but her mind didn't know what to do with it. This is John? John is doing this to me?
He was. He fumbled to get the fly of her jeans open and when her hands got in the way he nearly broke her wrist pinning her arms under his knees. To bare her pubis he wrenched her panties down.
The kitchen was not large enough. When John lay down on her his feet tangled with the legs of Jessica's high chair. He kicked backward and the chair and the baby crashed to the floor.
Julie screamed and tried to get up to reach her baby. Her husband punched her in the jaw and she swirled into unconsciousness...
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