Regine’s mouth was somewhat compressed by his grip on her chin and jaws, so her voice was slightly distorted. ‘How would I know?’
‘You would have known,’ he insisted. ‘One way or the other, you would have sensed a thing like that, even if Hoffritz didn’t talk to you much about what went on in Studio City. He might not have talked about what he was trying to achieve with the girl, but he would have bragged about his control of her. I’m sure of that. I never met him, but I know him well enough to be sure of that.’
‘I don’t believe there was anything sexual about it,’ Regine said.
He squeezed her face, and she winced, but he saw (with dismay) that she liked it nonetheless, so he relaxed his hand, though he didn’t let go of her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Almost certain. He might have liked … to have her. But I think you’re right: He would have told me that, if he’d done it, if he’d been with her like that…’
‘Did he even hint at it?’
‘No.’
Dan was profoundly relieved. He even smiled. At least the child hadn’t been subjected to that indignity. Then he remembered what indignities she had endured, and his smile quickly died.
He let go of Regine’s face but stayed beside her on the couch. Gradually fading red spots marked where his fingers had pressed into her tender skin. ‘Regine, you said you hadn’t seen Willy in more than a year. Why?’
She lowered her eyes, bent her neck. Her shoulders softened even more, and she slumped further into the corner of the sofa.
‘Why?’ he repeated.
‘Willy … got tired of me.’
That she should care so much about Willy made Dan ill.
‘He didn’t want me any more,’ she said in a tone of voice more suited to announcing imminent death from cancer. Willy not wanting her any more was clearly the worst, most devastating development that she could imagine. ‘I did everything, anything, but nothing was enough …’
‘He just broke it off, cold?’
‘I never saw him after he … sent me away. But we talked on the phone now and then. We had to.’
‘Had to talk on the phone? About what?’
Almost whispering: ‘About the others he sent around to see me.’
‘What others?’
‘His friends. The other … men.’
‘He sent men to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘For sex?’
‘For sex. For anything they wanted. I do anything they want. For Willy.’
Dan’s mental image of the late Wilhelm Hoffritz was growing more monstrous by the minute. The man had been a viper.
He not only brainwashed and established control of Regine for his own sexual gratification, but even after he no longer wanted her, he continued to control her and abuse her secondhand. Apparently, the mere fact that she continued to be abused, even beyond his sight, gratified him sufficiently to maintain an iron grip on her tortured mind. He had been a singularly sick man. Worse than sick: demented.
Regine raised her head and said, not without enthusiasm, ‘Do you want me to tell you some of the things they made me do?’
Dan stared at her, speechless with revulsion.
‘I don’t mind telling you,’ she assured him. ‘You might enjoy hearing. I didn’t mind doing those things, and I don’t mind telling you exactly what I did.’
‘No,’ he said hoarsely.
‘You might like to hear.’
‘No.’
She giggled softly. ‘It might give you some ideas.’
‘Shut up!’ he said, and he nearly slapped her.
She bowed her head as if she were a dog that had been cowed by a scolding master.
He said, ‘The men Hoffritz sent to you — who were they?’
‘I only know their first names. One of them was Andy, and you’ve told me his last name was Cooper. Another one was Joe.’
‘Scaldone? Who else?’
‘Howard, Shelby … Eddie.’
‘Eddie who?’
‘I told you, I don’t know their last names.’
‘How often did they come?’
‘Most of them… once or twice a week.’
‘They still come here?’
‘Oh, sure. I’m what they need. There was only one guy who came once and never came back.’