“Linda Gibson?” he asked her.
She nodded, her eyes glassy as she looked up at him. Her face was as expressionless as a doll’s. She pulled the shawl tighter around her.
“The police are investigating your father now.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Did he kill you?”
She shrugged weakly. “What do you think?”
Shannon found himself shaking his head. “Your mother?”
“No.”
“But your father-he did abuse you?”
“Yes, he did. Since I was twelve. He didn’t stop until I was fifteen. When I went to college he started on Gloria. There was no one to protect her after I left.”
“Is that why your mother sent her off to France?”
“No. Mom did that after I confronted her and Dad over Thanksgiving. Before that I don’t think it much mattered to her.”
“Your mother knew what he did to you?”
“She knew. I told her dozens of times, but she always acted as if I were making it up. She knew, though. It’s why she wouldn’t let me see a gynecologist until he stopped. She didn’t want anyone seeing the bruising and swelling that he caused.”
“I’m so sorry, Linda.”
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”
“I’m still sorry that had to happen to you.”
She nodded, her expression still little more than what could’ve been painted on a doll’s face.
“Linda, who killed you?” he asked.
She stared blankly at him, didn’t answer.
“Can you at least give me a clue?”
Her lips twisted into a slight smile. “Mit vergnugen,” she told him.
He woke up then. For a minute or so, he tried to hold onto the peacefulness he’d felt when he’d been floating in his dream. It was gone, though, no remnants of it remained for him to grasp onto. Grudgingly he gave it up, and instead thought about the conversation his dream-self had with Linda Gibson. He decided that she was nothing more than the manifestation of his subconscious, brought up so he could work out his thoughts about her and the events of the past day. He got up, scribbled down some notes, then went back to bed. After a long time he drifted into something close to sleep.
Chapter 11
Shannon was up before the alarm clock rang the next morning. While he’d slept restlessly most of the night, he felt physically better than he had the last couple of days-less stiff and almost no pain cutting through his ribs when he sucked in air. Still, he couldn’t shake an overall feeling of uneasiness. Before leaving, he kissed Susan on the cheek and whispered to her that he was meeting Eli. She stirred, half awake, moving so she could brush her lips against his.
“Busy day?” she said softly, her eyes barely open as she looked at him.
“I think so. How about you?”
“Mostly free. One appointment this afternoon.” She stretched her slender body in a way that reminded him of a cat. “It will give me time to shop for a pair of pom-poms. We’ll meet back here for dinner?”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” she said, her voice drowsy and tailing off into a low murmur. She rolled onto her side, her eyes closed as she seemed to drift back to sleep. Shannon reached over and kissed her forehead, then left the room.
When he got to Juiced Up, he found Eli standing in front of their usual morning haunt, his arms crossed and his eyes drooping half-closed as if he were falling asleep. He gave Shannon his typical deadpan stare and told him that the store was late opening up, then rapped a heavy set of knuckles against the glass door. A college-aged girl inside with red frizzy hair held up a finger to indicate one more minute.
“Intolerable,” Eli muttered, grimacing to show his perceived injury. “They’re supposed to open at six thirty. It’s almost seven.”
Shannon laughed. “Maybe if you weren’t decked out like a gang member she would’ve opened up already.”
He gave Shannon a quick sideways glance and flared a nostril to show that a response would be beneath him. He then asked brusquely how Wichita was.
“Flat.”
“I would expect so,” Eli said, a bare trace of a smile ruining his deadpan expression. “You know full well I was asking whether it was eventful.”
“In that case, I’d say so. Best apple pie I’ve had in years.”
Eli turned and stared at him as if he were an idiot-or worse, that Shannon was once again trying to argue that the ’04 Red Sox were a better baseball team than the ’98 Yankees. The redhead working in the store interrupted them by unlocking the door and letting them in. Shannon stopped to tell her his theory on why she left Eli standing out on the doorstep. “But once I came along, one look at my mug and you knew it was safe,” he added. She laughed at that. “That’s right. His NY Yankees jersey and baseball cap screamed gangbanger-even though I’ve been seeing the two of you here almost everyday since I took the job.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I didn’t see you around yesterday.”
“I was out of town. Spent the day in Wichita.”
“How was it?”
“Flat.”
That caused her to both smile and roll her eyes. “What can I get you two?” she asked. Shannon pointed a thumb at Eli who had taken a table by the window and was sitting with his arms crossed while he sulked. “Bucky Dent over there would like a large chai -”
“And a chocolate chip scone,” Eli interjected, his voice dripping with petulance.
“- and a chocolate chip scone,” Shannon repeated. “I’ll take a black coffee as high octane as you can make it.”
Shannon waited at the counter while she got the order together, then paid for it and brought it back to their table. Eli raised an eyebrow when he saw the coffee. “We’ve been meeting here almost three years,” he said. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you with a cup of joe.”
“Could be,” Shannon said. “I’ve been avoiding it. Supposedly it antidotes homeopathic remedies, and I’ve been letting Susan use me as a guinea pig.”
“What for?”
Shannon made a face. “Rage issues I had dealing with Winters. I think it helped, the meditation maybe more. But this morning I need a cup. Badly. And if there were a pack of cigarettes on the table, I’d be smoking them also now.” He lowered his eyes to his coffee. “I used to be a two pack-a-day man. Quit cold turkey five years ago when I was in the hospital.”
“Bill, I’ve got to tell you, you were in rare form this morning. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling a little antsy.” Shannon raised his stare and met Eli’s eyes. He was smiling, but it was a hard smile. “This whole cult business is bugging the hell out of me.”
“You could drop the case.”
“Not really, at least not if I ever want to look at myself in the mirror again. If I don’t help my client, nobody’s going to. Which would mean her daughter’s as good as lost.” Shannon stared out the window and watched as two squirrels darted across the cobblestone street and chased each other up a maple tree. When they were out of sight, he looked back at his friend. “Even without all that I couldn’t drop this-not without having to worry about those two Russians showing up at my apartment. One way or another I have to see this through,” he said.
“Any idea how?”
“A few, and they all center around finding out why a couple of Russian gangsters are acting as muscle for a cult.” He had other thoughts on the matter that he didn’t bother sharing with Eli. Once those Russians crossed the line and made it clear they’d come after him at his home, as far as he was concerned all bets were off. If he ended up having to flush them out and set them up for a long prison sentence, he’d do that. If he had to do worse, he’d do that also. He looked away and took a long drink of his coffee.
“If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“I know.”
“So are you going to tell me about Wichita?”
Shannon rubbed his jaw and could feel that the swelling was mostly gone from where he’d been hit. “I found circumstantial evidence that Linda Gibson had been sexually abused by her father. The Wichita police are looking into it now.”