She held his stare, desperate to delay whatever action she sensed he was working himself toward. "I mean, why now?"
"The papers. We do get newspapers, you know, even in lunatic asylums. So sorry. Mental health facilities. It's the one truly great curse of late-twentieth-century man--we know everything that happens and have no idea what any of it means. But when I saw that the killings had begun, I understood." His voice rose in outrage. "My brother had taken my place. Besides...he's too pretty, don't you think? Too much like her."
"Who? Who is he like?"
Silence swelled, filling the shack.
"Your mother?" She watched tension bulge beneath his fleshy jaw. "The girl, your sister," she spoke quickly. "She looks sick. She needs..."
His face moved with an oblique shifting of shadowed eyes: the sleeping girl's breasts rose and fell. "You think my mother was good, don't you?"
"I...you..."
His gaze sliced at Kit like a razor. "Everyone did." From his temples to his bulging throat, the sheen of perspiration formed rivulets. "But she never tried to stop him." Sweat beaded his chin. "Do you know what she told me? She told me to pray for strength. And the things he did--she called them punishment." Grunting, he gulped air. "But for what? My fault. Mine. Ugly me." His fist thumped against his chest. "The things he made us do." Then he rubbed his hands together with a dry rasp. "Nothing unique, of course. Quite banal, I'm afraid. I often read about people like him in the hospital library. Not at first, of course, but later, when they trusted me." He made a laughing clack in his throat. "Sometimes, he used to make me watch. When she was just little. And then after, right in front of her, he'd make me..." The bone-dry chuckle obliterated his words. "Such a close family." He slammed a big fist into a thick palm. "And--after all that--Perry gets her?"
"You wanted to help her get away from him? I could tell them that. You were just trying to help her. They won't..."
"I'm here now." His voice rasped with purpose. "And I'll take Stella away with me. Would you like that, my angel? To finally get away from Edgeharbor?"
Kit peered toward the darkest corner of the room. This can't be happening. Agony throbbed in her head. It's not real. Fear made her thoughts grow vague. She heard his voice raging on, but the words tumbled faintly into one another, dissipating like a spent wave.
"...after I've killed them all. Then we'll be happy. You'll see."
XXVIII
The boy crashed against the door.
"Look at it!" Steve grabbed him by his shirt. "Look at it, I said!" He shook him hard.
Bullet holes marred the heavy wood of the door. Long scrapes ran along the frame, the knob, the lock, and the safety glass had been cracked and chipped till only wires held the sections together.
"It was you he wanted!" He shoved the boy's face against the wood. "Now tell me! Tell me where he's got her!"
"I don't know. Don't hit me." Trying to push his face from the jagged glass, Perry gulped air. Blood branched slowly from his nose to his chin.
"Tell me!" Sputtering with rage, he hauled the boy back by the collar. "Or I'll cuff your hands behind you and toss you outside. How far do you think you'll get before your brother finds you? You think I won't do it?"
The sobs raked up from deep within him. "Stell..."
His hands circled the back of the boy's neck, and strong fingers clamped down, tightening. "Tell me!" The bones felt fragile and sharp.
Beneath the pressure, Perry bent forward until his head pointed at the floor. "I'm sorry." He choked out the words.
Steve took his hands away, and the boy sank to the concrete. Steve watched his own fingers clench and unclench; then he moved to the window and stared out at the night. Behind him, he heard the boy whimper on the floor, and his fingers dug into the grill over the window. Killer. Moisture glimmered on the glass. Monster. Wires cut into his flesh, and he felt the sting of blood. Oh, Kit. His first gulping sob emerged before he could force it down.
"There's one place."
He whirled around at the sound of shuffling movement.
The boy spoke in short gasps. "One place he might be."
"Please, you have to help me."
On a filthy cot by the heap of moldy newspapers, the girl lay unresponsive, almost inert. Again the shack rocked, one wall shivering violently as muddy water slid across the floor. The girl's head lolled, and white crescents flickered beneath her parting eyelids.
"Get up!" Kit shouted hoarsely. "Before he comes back. Listen to me. You have to help me. You have to get up! He'll kill us both. Do you hear me?"
The girl's head jerked, her gaze glittering like broken glass, and the fingers of her left hand jerked. "Perry...he'll get me again...no, please...don't let him." A rusty edge grated in her voice, as though she were unused to speaking aloud.
Kit's thoughts raced. Clearly, the girl's mind had broken--it was as though she had no will to move. "Perry's gone!" She shouted again. "Are you listening to me? It's Ramsey we have to worry about now. You have to stand up."
"He'll hurt me." One white hand floated up to cover her face.
"No! Stay with me! Keep looking at me. I can protect you from Ramsey. I'm a police officer. Do you understand me? Listen to me--if you'll untie me, I'll take care of..."
Softly, the girl began to weep. "I love Ramsey."
"Yes." Kit dropped her voice to a gentle murmur. "Of course you do. He's your brother. But he's sick. You know he's sick. He hurts people. We have to get help for him. You understand? Before he hurts you."
"You won't let Perry hit me?"
"It's Ramsey...you know he'll do something bad to you when he comes back. And to me too. You don't want that to happen, do you? Look at me. I'm your friend, Stella. The only reason I'm here is to help you. You don't want Ramsey to hurt me, do you? Well, then you have to get up now. Do you hurt anywhere? Can you walk? Did he give you something? Make you take something?" Shock waves coruscated through her body. It was hopeless. God only knew what the girl had been through, and she might well be drugged. Despairingly, Kit strained against the ropes that scored her wrists. Slow movement across the room caught her attention.
The girl wobbled to her feet with a strange fluidity. She seemed faintly puzzled as she watched her own arms and legs, and each slow gesture--the trailing of a fingertip to her face, the listening tilt of her head--melted into a profound lassitude that suffused her. "...don't know what..." As she tottered into the light, her shoulders slumped.
"No, don't collapse! Stay on your feet. Look at me! Here! Come around behind me." A trickle of hope began to course through her. "Get me out of this. Quick!"
The girl's manner still seemed dreamlike, but she stumbled closer. "I know this place."
"Hurry!"
"He hurt you, didn't he?" She staggered. "Your head's bleeding. All red in your hair. Pretty. Where's Perry?"
"Thank you." She swallowed. "You're pretty too." Fighting panic, she forced something like a smile onto her face. Perhaps the girl had been driven as mad as her brothers, or perhaps she was in some kind of shock. When she spoke again, it was as though to a small child. "The ropes. You have to..."
"Do you have boyfriends?"
"What? Sure. Why not?" She repressed a hysterical laugh. "Dozens. And a pretty girl like you--you must have a lot of boyfriends too. Now, please..."
"No!" The girl's face twisted. "They never let me. Daddy says..."
"Please, just listen, untie me before he comes back. I'll get you away from here. I'll take care of you. I promise." She felt her tenuous control slipping: already tears pooled, blurring the room. "Stella?" Footsteps sounded behind her. "What...?" She felt tugging, sharp pressure. "No! No, stop it! That's not the way!"