“You come back at your designated visitation time. You’ve got one on Monday after school.”
I wanted to scream. “Why are you being like this?”
“If we are to establish any order in young Rachel’s life, we have to maintain a schedule that she can depend upon and-”
“Susan!” Without warning, Rachel surged past him. He reached for her, but she was too fast for him. She threw her arms around me and hugged tightly. I buried myself in her lovely auburn hair. “Susan! God, I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you, too, honey.” I stared at her, long and hard. “You look great. Is that a new dress?”
“Yeah.” She whispered in my ear. “I think they’re trying to buy my good graces. Of course, it isn’t working.”
That was my Rachel.
“Where have you been?”
“I’ve been chasing this killer, sweetie. Have you read about it?”
“Are you kidding? They don’t talk about anything else on television. Have you seen the guy?”
“No. But I’ve talked to him.”
“Really!”
“Yup. Called me on the phone last night.”
“Get out of here!” She was so pretty, so pure. God, but I loved this girl. “All my friends are jealous that I know the famous Susan Pulaski.”
“Famous?”
“Don’t you know? Everyone watched that press conference.”
“Swell. All of it?”
“Yes. Even when that cow attacked you. My friends are boycotting her show now.”
“Well… don’t be too hard on her. She’s lost her only daughter.”
She gave me another squeeze. “Susan, how long till I can come home with you?”
Above us, I saw Ozzie’s frown intensify. “My lawyer is working on it. We’re supposed to have a hearing in a few days.” I pulled her away a bit and addressed her captors. “Mind if I take her to my car? I’d like to talk to her privately for a moment.”
Ozzie was succinct. “No.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“You step off the front porch, I call the police.”
I sighed heavily. He was probably bluffing. But given the current delicate circumstances, I couldn’t take the risk. “Rache, I’m sorry I haven’t been by. But it’s important that I work on this case.”
“I know. He’s so sick.”
“It’s more than that, honey. I have to be able to tell the court that… that I’m working. That I have a steady income. That I’m gainfully employed. I need good references.” I could see she didn’t really understand. But that was okay. Just so she knew I hadn’t forgotten about her. “But as soon as I get you back home, we’re going to spend some major time together.”
She looked at me carefully. “Just the two of us?”
I didn’t know what she meant. Well, I couldn’t be sure. “Just the two of us.”
“You’ll come by again soon?”
“Sure. How about tomorrow night?” Which of course was not my next scheduled visitation.
I heard the tiniest hesitation in her voice. “Oh-geez. I have church tomorrow night.”
“Church?” I gave Ozzie and Harriet the long look. “Trying to bring her to Jesus?”
“They’ve got a big youth group,” Rachel explained. “It’s kind of cool, actually.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s real queer banana,” she added hastily. “Corny like you wouldn’t believe. But I’m tolerating it.”
Uh-huh. I gave her foster parents another once-over. They were more dangerous than I realized.
“You won’t let that crazy man hurt you, will you, Susan?”
I stood and smiled. “Are you kidding? I’m going to put him behind bars where he can’t hurt anyone. Just a matter of time.”
It was well past dark, but he continued reading, reading and rereading, poring over the prose-poem that for him held all the keys to understanding. The answers were there, buried beneath its cryptic passages. They had to be.
Had he erred? Had he somehow misinterpreted the prophecies? Why had the Golden Age not begun?
All along, he had been buoyed by an innate confidence, an ineffable sense of rightness. He had always been an edacious reader, but for years now he had perused nothing but the texts, reading them over and over, subjecting them to the most intense lucubration. He had discovered the truth and he would use it to work miracles. But the offerings had been made, the triumvirate had been sacrificed. Each of them-Helen, Annabel, and the lost Lenore-in turn had been translated in a manner prescribed by the texts. But there had been no passage to Dream-Land. No Golden Age.
No Virginia.
Why had it not happened as prophesied? The final globe of globes will instantaneously disappear, and God will remain in all.
There must be something he was missing, something he had yet to do. But what was it? What could it be?
He staggered away from his reading table, his hand pressed against his brow, his heart filled with sorrow. Why did it have to be so hard? Was this despair that the prophet had felt? Was this why he had ultimately failed? Why he had drunk himself to a crapulous demise on the streets of Baltimore?
He threw his arms up toward the heavens. Why must the road to redemption be strewn with thorns? Would he never find peace?
Don’t go near the ocean, Ernie. Nana told you not to go near the ocean.
He closed the door to his bedroom and entered the living area, then turned on the television and began scanning channels. It was a little early for the news broadcasts, but perhaps there would be something to transport his mind for a brief time…
In only a few moments, he had found a program of interest. That woman. The mother. And another man, prematurely gray hair, bulge around the center.
They were talking about him. His work.
That part didn’t interest him much. The media attention had ballooned to such an extent that he had almost tired of hearing about himself. Idle speculation, repetition, sidebars on other cases not remotely similar to his own. It was all the same uninformed claptrap, over and over again, signifying nothing.
But this woman had something very different to say.
“Dr. Spencer,” the host said, “you’ve been caught in the eye of the hurricane. After building a career based upon helping others, including those bereaved by violent crime, you find yourself crime’s victim. To the rest of the country, perhaps even the world, this is a fascinating, gruesome murder mystery. But to you-it’s personal. How are you dealing with the loss of your daughter?”