“Then what?”
“Her father phoned her twice. Then she saw his face at her window in the middle of the night.”
“And you found her father’s footprints on the ground the next morning. Her father’s dead, murdered. Jesus, Quinlan, what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got to find her. Someone was trying to scare the hell out of her-make her believe she was crazy-and that aunt of hers didn’t help a bit, kept telling her in an understanding, tender voice that she’d be hearing things and seeing things too if she’d been through all that Sally had, and she had been in that sanitarium for so long, and that would make her think differently, wouldn’t it?
“Then the two murders. I’ve got to find her. Everything else is nuts, but not Sally.”
“When you feel well enough, you and I will go see her aunt. I already spoke to her, but she just said that she hadn’t seen Sally, that she was staying with you at Thelma’s Bed and Breakfast. We searched your tower bedroom. Her duffel bag was gone and all her clothes, her blow dryer, everything. It’s like she was never there. Look, Quinlan, maybe when she saw you unconscious, she got really scared and ran.”
“No,” James said, looking David straight in the eye. “I know she wouldn’t leave me, not if I were lying there unconscious. She just wouldn’t.”
“It’s like that, is it?”
“God only knows, but she has a thick streak of honor and she cares about me. She wouldn’t have left.”
“Then we’ve got to find her. Another thing-I’m an officer of the law. Now that I know who she is, it’s my duty to report her.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d wait, David. There’s more at stake here than just Amory St. John’s murder, lots more. Trust me on this.”
David looked at him for a long time. Finally, he said, “All right. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Let’s go see Aunt Amabel Perdy.”
Dr. Alfred Beadermeyer was enjoying himself. Sally didn’t know the small new mirror in her room was two-way. No one knew, at least he didn’t think so. He watched her sit up slowly, obviously trying to coordinate her arms and legs. Since her brain was fuzzy, it was difficult for her, but she just kept trying. He admired that in her, and at the same time he wanted to destroy it. It seemed to take her several moments to realize she was naked.
Then, very slowly, as if she were an old woman, she rose and walked to the small closet. She pulled out a nightgown she’d left here when she escaped before. She didn’t know it, but he had bought it for her. She slipped it over her head, teetering a bit but managing finally. Then she walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. She held her head in her hands.
He was getting bored. Wouldn’t she do anything? Wouldn’t she start yelling? Something? He had nearly turned to go when at last she raised her head and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.
This was better. Soon she would be ready to listen to him. Soon now. He would hold off on another shot for an hour or so. He turned away and unlocked the door of the tiny room.
Sally knew she was crying. She could feel the wet on her face, taste the salt when it trickled into her mouth. Why was she crying? James. She remembered James, how he lay there, blood streaming from the wound over his left ear. He’d been so still, so very still. Beadermeyer had promised he wasn’t dead. How could she believe that devil?
He had to be all right. She looked at the soft silk gown that slithered against her skin. It was a lovely peach color with wide silk straps over her shoulders. Unfortunately it bagged on her now. She looked at the needle marks in her arm. There were five pinpricks. He’d drugged her five times. She felt her head begin to clear, slowly, so very slowly. More things, memories, began to filter through, take shape and substance.