“What?” he said, voice breaking.
“She went to an expert in Multiple Personality Disorder. A real expert, you understand. Someone who’d been there herself. Because, the way that pure-hearted daughter of yours had it figured, her father could never be a traitor. It had to be that you were a multiple. Like an evil twin, you know?”
“Maybe I . . . I mean, part of me always—”
“Save it. Christ, you’re a slimy maggot, aren’t you? Right to the end.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Me? Nothing. It’s what you’re going to do, Kevin.”
“I don’t under—”
“Shut up. I’ll tell you when to talk. How much of this does your wife know?”
“Mo was . . . there with us. At the beginning.”
“Yeah. That’s the way it scanned to me, too. Good. Makes it easier. What you’re going to do is this, Kevin: you’re going to sign some papers that make Rosebud an emancipated minor.”
“A . . . what?”
“And some more papers,” I went on, “that give custody of Daisy to Dr. Dryslan and his wife.”
“Daisy?! What are you—?”
“It won’t matter to you, Kevin. You’re never going to see either of them again. Because I’m going to give you something you never gave the poor bastards who trusted you all these years. A head start.”
“Please. Can’t you under—?”
“Kevin, it all happens. And right now. You’re going to sign these papers,” I said, taking them out of my inside pocket. “They’re all back-dated. Notarized. And tonight, while you’re packing, you can tell your wife she signed them, too. Forging her signature wasn’t much work,” I said. Thinking, even as I spoke, about how much I had counted on Gem for all this.
“Packing . . . ?”
“You can take all your money. Even your car, if you’re fool enough. But not the house—you’re signing that over to Rosebud, so she can sell it and have enough to take care of Daisy until they’re both out of school. You can tell your handlers that now it’s time to see if the Witness Protection Program really works. Or you can try the underground for real; it’s up to you. And, Kevin . . .”
“I’ve still got friends in the—” he muttered.
“They were never your friends,” I cut him off. “You think, because they were willing to put a couple of men in the street looking for your daughter, they were with you? Don’t make it worse. You send your tame G-men after me, somebody may get dead. Might be them. Might be me. But you do that, no matter how it comes out, you are for damn sure dead. Play it wrong now, and every single man, woman, and child you’ve fucked with your games all these years will know the truth. It’s all ready to go. Newspaper ads, the Internet, fax chains, word-of-mouth . . . everything. You’ll be hunted down the same way they were . . . only the hunters won’t be carrying badges. You wouldn’t even be safe in prison.
“But do it right, you can just disappear. People will wonder, but so what? Besides, your wife will want it this way. You’ll still have a nice, luxurious life.”
“You don’t know her. You can’t judge—”
“If you’re still here tomorrow night, Kevin, it won’t be me doing the judging.”
“Can you tell Buddy . . . ?”
“What?” I asked him, despite myself.
“Tell her I always loved her,” he said, sobbing, trying to manage his own pain the same way he’d manufactured it. “Tell her I understand what she did. Tell her I’m proud of her. Tell her to take care of Daisy. Tell her she did the right thing.”
“She still loves you, Kevin. She’d rather you were on the run than dead.”
“I’m . . .”
“Kevin, listen good. Me, I don’t care if you live or die. I think you know that. But I know a checkout promise when I hear one. Don’t do it. If you go to ground—and you sure know how to do that—you’ll still be able to see Buddy. Not a visit, but you can . . . watch from afar, you understand? Watch over your kid. You do that, I promise I’ll tell her what you said. Fair enough?”
“Yes,” he said, sniffling.
“Here’s your blood diary,” I said, tossing it at him. “And, yeah, I’ve got a few copies. You keep your deal, and no one will ever see them. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Kevin, this is simple. Yes or no. Live or die. Tomorrow night, you be fucking gone.”
It took four days for me to make sure Kevin had done it all. That he was really gone for good.
Twenty-four hours after that, so was I.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andrew Vachss has been a federal investigator in sexually transmitted diseases, a social services caseworker, and director of a maximum-security prison for youthful offenders. Now a lawyer in private practice, he represents children and youths exclusively. He is the author of numerous novels, including the Burke series, two collections of short stories, and a wide variety of other material, including song lyrics, poetry, graphic novels, and a “children’s book for adults.” His books have been translated into twenty languages, and his work has appeared in Parade, Antaeus, Esquire, the New York Times, and numerous other forums. He lives and works in New York City and the Pacific Northwest.
The dedicated Web site for Andrew Vachss and his work is www.vachss.com.
Also by Andrew Vachss
Flood
Strega
Blue Belle
Hard Candy
Blossom
Sacrifice
Shella
Down in the Zero
Born Bad
Footsteps of the Hawk
False Allegations
Safe House
Choice of Evil
Everybody Pays
Dead and Gone
Copyright © 2001 by Andrew Vachss
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Pain Management b-13 Page 30