Kevin was baring himself, and Jennifer needed him to do just that. Not because she would ever exploit him, but because she needed to understand his secrets if she hoped to help him.
And she did hope to help him. More now than a day ago, even if Slater wasn’t her brother’s killer after all.
“You’re right,” she said. “We’re all fallen, as my priest used to say. I’m not interested in your sin. I wasn’t even in favor of the initial confession, remember? I’m interested in you, Kevin.”
“And who am I?” He was desperate. “Huh? Answer me that. Who am I? Who are you? Who is anybody? We are what we do! We are our secrets. I ammy sin! You want to know me, then you have to know my sin. Is that what you want? Every little dirty secret out on the table so that you can dissect it all and know Kevin, the poor tormented soul?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You might as well have, because it’s true! Why is it fair that I should spill my guts when the pastor next-door has as many nasty secrets as I do? Huh? If we want to know him, we have to know his secrets, is that it?”
“Stop it!” Her anger surprised her. “You’re notyour sin! Who ever told you that lie? Aunt Balinda? I’ve seen you, Kevin. You asked me what my profile for you was. Well, let me be more specific. You are one of the kindest, gentlest, most interesting, appealing men I know. That’s who you are. And don’t insult my intelligence or my feminine discernment by dismissing my opinion.” She took a breath and a guess. “I don’t know what Slater’s up to, or why, but I guarantee you’re doing exactly what he wants you to do when you start to believe that you’re trapped. You’ve come out of that. Don’t go back.”
She knew by his blink that she was right. Slater was trying to pull him back to the past, and the thought so terrified him that he was breaking down. Which was exactly how Slater would accomplish his objective. He would trap Kevin in his past.
Kevin stared at her, stunned. It occurred to her then, looking back into his wide eyes, that she didn’t merely like Kevin, she cared for him deeply. She had no business caring for him; she didn’t even wantto care for him, not in that way. Her empathy had risen to the surface, unbidden. She’d always been a sucker for the downtrodden. She had always had a soft spot for men who were hurting in some way. Now her soft spot had found Kevin.
But this didn’t feel like a soft spot. She actually found him appealing, with his ragged hair and his charming smile. And those eyes. That wasn’t empathy, was it?
She closed her eyes and swallowed. God forbid, Jennifer. And when was the last time you dated a man, anyway? Two years ago? That hillbilly from Arkansas who came from good stock, so says Mom?She’d never known the full meaning of boring until then. She would prefer a man with a goatee who rode a Harley and winked frequently.
Jennifer opened her eyes. Kevin was seated on the concrete, cross-legged, head in his hands. The man never ceased to surprise her.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure where all that came from,” she said.
He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Please, don’t be sorry. That was the nicest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” His eyes fluttered open, as if he’d just heard himself. “Maybe nicestis the wrong word choice. It was . . . I think you’re right. He’s trying to pull me back, isn’t he? That’s his objective. So who is he? Balinda?”
Jennifer sat down beside him and folded her legs to the side. Her skirt wasn’t exactly dress of choice for concrete sitting, but she didn’t care.
“I need to tell you something, Kevin. But I don’t want it to upset you.”
He stared ahead and then turned to her. “You went to the house, didn’t you?”
“Yes. This morning. It took a few threats to convince Balinda to let me in, but I saw the place and I met Eugene and Bob.”
Kevin lowered his head again.
“I know it’s hard, but I need to know what happened in that house, Kevin. For all we know, Slater could be someone Balinda hired. That would fit the profile. She wants to change you. But without knowing the whole story, I’m floundering here.”
“You’re asking me to tell you something no one knows. Not because it’s so horrible—I know I’m not the only one who’s had a few challenges along the way. But it’s dead and buried. You want me to bring it back to life? Isn’t that what Slater’s trying to do?”
“I’m not Slater. And frankly, it doesn’t sound dead and buried to me.”
“And you really think this whole game has to do with my past?”
She nodded. “I’m assuming that Slater has an objective that is tied to your past, yes.”
Kevin remained quiet. The silence stretched, and Jennifer sat beside him feeling his tension, hearing his breathing. She wondered if it would be appropriate to put a hand on his arm but immediately decided it wouldn’t.
He suddenly groaned and rocked. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can’t slay the dragon without luring it out of its hole. I want to help you, Kevin. I need to know.”
For a long time he just sat there rocking. Then he stilled and his breathing slowed. Maybe it was too much too fast. He’d faced more than most could stomach these last three days and she was pushing him even further. He needed sleep. But she was running out of time. Slater was escalating.
She was about to suggest that they get some rest and consider it in the morning when he turned his face to the night sky.
“I don’t think Balinda’s intentions were necessarily evil.” He spoke in a soft monotone. “She wanted a good playmate for Bob. He was eight when they adopted me; I was one. But Bob was retarded. I wasn’t, and Balinda couldn’t accept that reality.”
He paused and took several deep breaths. Jennifer shifted and leaned on her arm so that she could watch his face. His eyes were closed.
“Tell me about Balinda.”
“I don’t know her story, but Balinda creates her own reality. We all do, but Balinda only knows absolutes. She decides what part of the world is real and what part isn’t. If something isn’t real, she makes it go away. She manipulates everything around her to create an acceptable reality.”
He stopped. Jennifer waited a full thirty seconds before prodding him. “Tell me what it was like to be her son.”
“I don’t know it yet, because I’m too young, but my mom doesn’t want me to be smarter than my brother. So she decides to make me retarded too because she’s already tried to make Bob smarter but she can’t.”
Another stall. He was switching tenses, dipping into the past. Jennifer felt her stomach turn.
“How does she do that? Does she hurt you?”
“No. Hurting is evil in Balinda’s world. She won’t let me out of the house because the world outside isn’t real. The only real world is the one she makes inside the house. She is the princess. She needs me to read so that she can shape my mind with what she makes me read, but she cuts up stories and makes me read only things she decides are real. I’m nine years old before I know there are animals called cats because Princess thinks cats are evil. I don’t even know there is evil until I’m eleven. There’s only real and unreal. Everything real is good and everything good comes from Princess. I don’t do anything bad; I only do things that aren’t real. She makes the things that aren’t real go away by starving me of them. She never punishes me; she only helps me.”
“When you do something that’s not real, how does she punish you?”
He hesitated. “She locks me in my room to learn about the real world or makes me sleep so I’ll forget the unreal world. She takes away food and water. That’s how animals learn, she says, and we are the best animals. I can remember the first time because it made me confused. I was four. My brother and I are playing servant, folding dishtowels for Princess. We have to fold them over and over until they’re perfect. Sometimes it takes all day. We don’t have toys because toys aren’t real. Bob asks me what one plus one is because he wants to give me two towels, but he doesn’t know what to call it. I tell him that I think one plus one is two and Princess overhears me. She locks me in my room for two days. Two towels, two days. If Bob doesn’t know how to add, then I can’t either, because it isn’t real. She wants me to be dumb like Bob.”