temples. His jaw muscles bulged, and the corner of his mouth twitched
with excitement. He seemed to be more animal than human-or something
less than both.
My hand clutched the Glock so ferociously that my arm ached all the way
to my shoulder. Abruptly I realized that my finger had tightened on
the trigger and that I was in danger of unintentionally squeezing off a
shot, though I had not yet fully adjusted my position to bring the
muzzle toward Stevenson. With considerable effort, I managed to ease
off the trigger.
“What made You like this?” I asked.
As he turned his head to me, the transient luminosity shimmered through
his eyes again. His gaze, when the eyeshine passed, was dark and
murderous. “A little delivery boy,” he said cryptically.
“Just a little delivery boy that wouldn’t die.”
“Why tell me about these dreams, about what You’re going to do to some
girl?”
“Because, You damn freak, I’ve got to give You an ultimatum, and I want
You to understand how serious it is, how dangerous I am, how little I
have to lose and how much I’ll enjoy gutting You if it comes to that.
There’s others who won’t touch You-” “Because of who my mother was.”
‘So You know that much already?”
“But I don’t know what it means. Who was my mother in all this?
Instead of answering, Stevenson said, “There’s others who won’t touch
You and who don’t want me to touch You, either. But if I have to, I
will. You keep pushing your nose into this, and I’ll smash your skull
open, scoop your brain out, and toss it in the bay for fish food.
Think I won’t?”
“I believe You,” I said sincerely.
“With the book You wrote being a best-seller, You can maybe get certain
media types to listen to You. If You make any calls trying to stir up
trouble, I’ll get my hands on that deejay bitch first. I’ll turn her
inside out in more ways than one.”
His reference to Sasha infuriated me, but it also scared me so
effectively that I held my silence.
Now it was clear that Roosevelt Frost’s warning had indeed been only
advice. This was the threat that Roosevelt, claiming to speak for the
cat, had warned me to expect.
The pallor was gone from Stevenson’s face, and he was flushed with
color-as though, the moment that he had decided to surrender to his
psychotic desires, the cold and empty spaces within him had been filled
with fire.
He reached to the dashboard controls and he switched off the car
heater.
Nothing was surer than that he would abduct a little girl before the
next sunset.
I found the confidence to push for answers only because I had shifted
sufficiently in my seat to bring the pocketed pistol to bear on him.
“Where’s my father’s body?”
“At Fort Wyvern. There has to be an autopsy.”
“Why?”
“You don’t need to know. But to put an end to this stupid little
crusade of yours, I’ll at least tell You it was cancer that killed
him.
Cancer of a kind. There’s no one for You to get even with, the way You
were talking to Angela Ferryman.”
“Why should I believe You?”
“Because I could kill You as easily as give You an answer-so why would
I lie?”
“What’s happening in Moonlight Bay?”
The chief cracked a grin the likes of which had seldom been seen beyond
the walls of an asylum. As if the prospect of catastrophe were
nourishment to him, he sat up straighter and appeared to fatten as he
said, “This whole town’s on a roller coaster straight to Hell, and it’s
going to be an incredible ride.”
“That’s no answer.”
“It’s all You’ll get.”
“Who killed my mother?”
“It was an accident.”
“I thought so until tonight.”
His wicked grin, thin as a razor slash, became a wider wound.
“All right. One more thing if You insist. Your mother was killed,
like You suspect.”
MY heart rolled , as heavy as a stone wheel. “Who killed her?”
“She did. She killed herself. Suicide. Cranked that Saturn of hers
all the way up to a hundred and ran it head-on into the bridge