Dallas asked, "Can I read it?"
"I think you should because he didn't wait just to catch a glimpse of me. He waited because if I hadn't shown up, he'd have come in here and butchered you."
She tried to laugh it off, but there must have been something in my face that choked the laughter and made her reach a shaking hand out for the letter. She read it and said, "Who is this?"
"Olaf," I said.
"But he was so nice."
Bernardo made a harsh sound.
"Trust me on this, Dallas. Olaf is not nice."
She looked from one to the other of us. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"He's a serial killer. I just don't think he's ever killed in this country."
"You should turn him in to the police," she said.
"I don't have any proof of what he's done."
"Besides," Bernardo said, "what if he was one of the vamps?"
"What do you mean?" Dallas asked.
"He means wouldn't you protect one of the vamps from the police because you'd know that the vamps would take care of it," I said.
"Well, yes, I guess."
"And we'll take care of this," Bernardo said.
She looked from one to the other of us, and for the first time she looked afraid.
"Will he be back?"
"For you, I don't think so," Bernardo said. He looked at me. "But I bet he'll find a reason to come to St. Louis."
I'd have liked to say he was wrong, but the cold tight feeling in my stomach agreed with Bernardo. I'd be seeing Olaf again. I just had to decide what I'd do when I met him. He hadn't done anything wrong on this trip. Not only couldn't I prove he was a serial killer, he hadn't done anything worse than I'd done this time round. Who was I to throw stones? Yet, yet, I hoped he stayed away from me. For more reasons than I wanted to admit, maybe. Maybe for the same reasons that I'd kill him if he came. Because maybe there was some truth to what he wrote. I had over fifty kills. What really separated me from people like Olaf? Motive, method? If those were the only differences, then Olaf was right, and I couldn't let him be right. I just could not accept that. Growing up to be Edward was a problem. Growing up to be Olaf was a nightmare.
EPILOGUE
MARKS TRIED TO PRESS assault charges, but Bernardo and I said we didn't know what he was talking about. Doctor Evans said that his injuries were inconsistent with being hit by a person. It wouldn't have worked except that Marks was in the doghouse about how he'd handled the case. He was in on the press conference where the public was assured that the danger was over, but Ramirez was standing up there beside him, along with Agent Bradford. And me. They put Ted and Bernardo up there, too. We didn't get to answer questions, but we got our picture in the papers. I'd have rather not, but I knew it would please Bert, my boss, and they did print it in several national papers that I was Anita Blake of Animators, Inc. Bert loved it.
Edward caught a secondary infection from something that had been smeared on the stake. He took a relapse, and I stayed. Donna and I took turns sitting by his bed. Sitting by Becca's bed. It got to the point where the little girl cried when I left.
Peter spent a lot of time playing games with her, trying to get her to smile. But his eyes had that hollow look you get when you're not sleeping well. He wouldn't talk to me or Donna. The only thing he'd admitted to her was the beating. He hadn't told her about the rape. I didn't betray his secret. First, I wasn't sure she could handle another shock. Second, it wasn't my secret to tell. Donna actually rose to the occasion. She was like this incredible pillar of strength for the kids, for Ted, even though he couldn't hear her talking to him. She never once turned to me in tears. It was like this new person had risen from the ashes of the person I'd first met. It saved me having to hurt her.
Ten days after the accident, Edward was awake and talking. Out of danger. I could finally go home. When I told them I was finally going home, Donna hugged me tight and cried and said, "You have to tell the kids good-bye."
I assured her I would, and she left us alone, to say our good-byes.
I pulled the chair up to the bedside and studied his face. He was still pale, but he looked like Edward again. That cold bleakness was back in his eyes when no one but me was looking.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It couldn't just be because you nearly died," I said.
"No," he said.
I smiled, but he didn't smile back.
"Bernardo came to see me, but Olaf never did," he said.
I realized then what he thought I'd waited around to tell him. "You think I killed Olaf, and I've been waiting for you to get healthy enough to give you the same choice you gave me after Harley died," I laughed. "Sweet Jesus, Edward."
"You didn't kill him." I watched him relax against his pillow, visibly relieved.
"No, I didn't kill him."
He managed a faint smile. "It wouldn't have been the same choice. But if you'd killed Olaf, you wouldn't have wanted to owe me another favor."
"You were afraid I'd press the point, make it the gunfight at the OK Corral?"
"Yes," he said.
"I thought you wanted to see which of us was better."
"I thought I was dying on the stairs. All I could think of was that Peter and Becca were going to die in there with me. Bernardo and Olaf were there, but you'd gone up the stairs and hadn't come back. When you came back around that corner, I knew you'd get the kids out. I knew you'd risk your life for theirs. Bernardo and Olaf would have tried, but the kids wouldn't have been their first priority. I knew they would be yours. When I passed out in the cave, I wasn't worried. I knew you'd see it right."
"What are you saying, Edward?"
"I'm saying if you had killed Olaf, I'd have given you a pass on it because Peter and Becca mean more to me than that."
I took Olaf's letter out of my back pocket and handed it to him. He read it while I watched his face. Nothing moved but his eyes. He had no reaction. "He's a good man at your back, Anita."
"You're not suggesting I date Olaf?"
He almost laughed. "No, fuck no. Stay as far away from him as you can. If he comes to St. Louis, kill him. Don't wait for him to deserve it. Just do it."
"I thought he was your friend."
"Not friend. Business associate. It's not the same thing."
"I agree someone needs to kill Olaf, but why are you so adamant all of a sudden? You trusted him enough to bring him here to your town."
"Olaf has never had a girlfriend. He's had whores and he's had victims. Maybe it's true love, but I think if he shows up and finds that you won't be his little serial killer pin-up girl, that he'll turn violent. You don't want to know what he's like when he's violent, Anita. You really, really don't."
"You're scared he'll come after me."
"If he shows in town, call me."
I nodded. "I will." I had other questions. "Riker's house sprang a mysterious gas leak and blew to Kingdom Come. No survivors, no bodies, no evidence that we did shit, or that Riker and his men did shit. Was it Van Cleef?"
"Not him personally," Edward said.
"You know the next question," I said.
"I know," he said.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"I can't tell you, Anita. One of the conditions to leaving was to never talk about it with anyone. If I break that, they'll come after me."
"I wouldn't tell anyone."
He shook his head. "No, Anita, trust me on this one. Ignorance is bliss."
"That is incredibly frustrating," I said.
He smiled. "I know, and I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You love keeping secrets."
"Not this one," he said. There was something close to sadness in his eyes, and for the first time I realized for sure that once there had been a kinder, gentler version of Edward. He hadn't been born this way. He'd been made like Frankenstein's monster.