And she had tried to take care of me, to warn me.
If only I had listened.
Chapter 37
Taking a deep breath, I adjusted my skirt one last time and knocked on the plain hotel door.
“Who’s it?”
“It’s me. Kit.”
Silence. Then shuffling noises, clicking noises – deadbolt thrown back, chain removed.
The door opened.
David.
He stood there, cold eyes raking me up and down, wearing sweats. He smiled. “I knew you’d come.”
He held the door open wider so I could slip in, then locked it behind me. Dead bolt, chain, the works. He tested the door a few times, nodding while he did it. I noticed he favored his left leg. A surge of pleasure shot through me. About time something went my way.
After he finished locking me in, he turned and limped to where I stood. “Please, have a seat.” He pulled out one of the straight-backed chairs. I sat down, removing my coat and carefully arranging my purse on the table next to a lamp with a light blue shade.
His eyes crawled all over me. Although I desperately wanted to cover up, I forced myself to relax, to smooth my hands over my hips, cross my legs. I wore a black mini-skirt, black pumps, and a tight red sweater with a scooped neck. Courtney had made an emergency stop at the mall. She had insisted on driving us back to Minneapolis, said we both looked like we were going to keel over.
“So.” He sat on the rumpled bed, covered with a blue and beige striped bedspread. “What can I do for you?”
I gave him my most charming smile. “Just want to talk, that’s all.”
“Talk.” He studied me. “Just talk, eh?” His eyes continued to creep over me.
Suddenly he leaped to his feet and grabbed my purse.
I stood up, knocking my chair over. “David, what are you doing?”
“Talk. Yeah, right.” He limped to the far corner, unzipping the purse.
“Don’t, David,” I said, sounding panicked. “That’s my personal property. You have no … ”
He pulled out a small tape recorder. My voice trailed off.
“So, Kit.” He turned the tape recorder over in his hand. “You thought you could trick me.”
I didn’t answer.
He snapped it off, dropped it on the bed where it bounced a couple of times. “Kit, Kit, Kit. When will you ever learn?”
I eyed the door, trying not to let him see. How much time would I need to undo the locks?
He saw my glance and limped to the edge of the bed, effectively placing himself between me and door. “Kit, why don’t you sit down?”
I stood for a second longer, fidgeting, before bending over to straighten my chair. I lowered myself into it. He plopped down as well.
Locked in with a madman.
Two murdered daughters. One psychopathic son. And me. What a fun bunch we were.
“Kit, it would be so much easier if you’d quit fighting it,” he said kindly. “You know we’re meant to be together. I can read you like a book. Our destinies are intertwined. We have no choice in the matter.”
I broke into a coughing fit, the fever burning through me.
His expression didn’t show any alarm or concern. Not like Tommy’s did. Instead, he looked a little turned on.
Oh, God. Courtney was right. This was so twisted. I’ve got to be in the middle of a David Lynch movie.
But, no. That’s not the way to look at it. It’s something I can use.
I leaned forward. “Let me hear you say it.”
He looked delighted. “Say what?”
“You know what I want to hear.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, David,” I smiled at him again. “You know it’s just us talking. Say it. Just for me.”
He shrugged. “Can’t say what I don’t know.”
I coughed a little. “If you care about me as much as you say you do, you’ll say it.”
“I care about you.” The teasing was gone. He began to get agitated. “I care about you!”
“That’s what you keep claiming. But, how can I believe it when you won’t admit one little thing to me?”
His eyes started bulging. “You’re the one who should be apologizing to me. Stabbing me. Sneaking around behind my back. Worrying my mother. How dare you do those things to me?”
“You left me no choice when you refused to be honest. How can we have a life together when you won’t be truthful?”
He pointed his finger at me. “You’re the one in the wrong here.”
“Then talk to me, dammit.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
This wasn’t going as I had hoped. The sheen of madness was back in his eyes. Definitely the wrong approach. Maybe I could brazen it out somehow.
“You tell me we’re meant to be together, but then you turn around and lie to me … ”
“Lie to you?” Now he jumped off the bed. “When did I ever lie to you?”
I made a point of getting huffy. “Well, for starters, about Cat.”
“Cat?” He froze. “What about Cat?”
“You knew her and you didn’t tell me. Don’t you think I would’ve liked to hear you talk about her?”
He relaxed, sinking back onto the bed. “Cat was wonderful. Beautiful. And so full of life. I miss her so.”
“So, what happened to her that night? Why would she be driving alone on that road?”
The guarded look was back in his eyes. “How would I know?”
Shit. Too fast. Courtney had told me it would be easy, that he wanted to talk about it. Obsessed with it. Yeah, real easy. “Why wouldn’t you know? You were her brother. Probably the closest person in the world to her.”
The faraway look replaced the guarded look. “Yes, we were close.” Then his look changed again, became craftier. “Finally figured it out, huh?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “Couldn’t believe it when I met you and you didn’t know. All that talk about being kidnapped by the fairies when all along she had been adopted by the Terrys. God, are you gullible.”
I hung my head. “I know. So, tell me more about her.”
He smiled. “She was so wonderful. So wonderful. Kind of like you. You reminded me a lot of her, especially in the beginning,” he laughed a little. “Oh, and she talked about you a lot, especially at first. But eventually that stopped. It had to stop, you understand. But … ” his expression became confused.
“But what,” I prompted gently.
“She … didn’t fit in. Didn’t do the right thing. Mother was never very happy with her. Said your parents ruined her. But I don’t understand how. I mean, you’re a lot like her.” He shook his head. “She just didn’t fit in.”
I coughed some more. Blood. I made a point of smearing some on my face. “What did your mother do about it?”
He saw the blood, stared at it hungrily. “They fought. A lot.”
“And, what did you do?”
He edged a little closer. “Tried to make peace between them. Keep them together.”
“Did it work?”
“Sometimes.” His eyes focused back on me. “But sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes … things got out of control.”
I started rubbing my leg, slowly, sensuously. The blood on my fingers left a trail. “Did Cat get hurt when things got out of control?”
His eyes followed my fingers. I could feel the longing burning in him. “You have to understand. Mother didn’t mean it to happen. It was an accident.”
I kept my voice soft. “Accident.”
“Yeah.” His voice was getting higher, more childlike. “One time, she accidentally pushed Cat’s face through a window. She didn’t mean it, but Cat made her so mad. And another time
, she accidentally burned her with a cigarette. She gave up smoking after that. Mother did, I mean. But you have to understand, Cat made her do those things. Just like Cat made her push her down the stairs.”
It was all I could do to keep my face composed, to not rush at him, attack him, claw out his eyes. Courtney said the abuse was never physical. Dear God. What sheer hell had Cat gone through?
I bit down hard on the inside of my mouth, drawing blood. Focus on the pain. The pain in my lungs. The pain in my mouth. “Cat got pushed down the stairs?”
“Mother didn’t mean it. Really. Cat just made her so angry, she had to. Just had to. But Cat just laid there. She wasn’t breathing.” He sounded exactly like a little boy tattling. “She wasn’t breathing. So I had to take care of it. Mother was depending on me. That detective, he never would have understood. He wouldn’t have seen that Mother had to do it. So I made it look like an accident. Like Cat had been drinking and had run into a tree.”
He looked down at his lap. “It was an accident.” His voice was so quiet, so pitiable. I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Suddenly he put his hand to his mouth. “I shouldn’t have called her that.”
I coughed again. Blood trickled down my face. “Called her what?”
“Cat. Mother hated that. Her name was Bethany. But when we were alone, I always called her Cat.” He looked a little shy. “It was my pet name for her. My special name. Our secret. I could never think of her as a Bethany anyway.”
“Why not?”
He shot me a quick look, and now I saw David the adult. “You know who Bethany was. She’s the reason why our destinies are intertwined. Why our paths must merge.”
“Ah,” I said softly. “My sister.”
He nodded. “Your sister.”
“The one who died of Cystic Fibrosis.”
A pause, a hesitation. “Yes. The one who died of Cystic Fibrosis.”
I cocked my head, touched the blood on my face. “Did she get sick? Like me?”
He frowned. “She got sick. A lot. Thin too, like you. Actually, thinner. Coughed a lot. But … .”
“But … ”
“She was sick.”
“How?”
His eyes narrowed. Drummed his fingers against his thigh. “What do you mean, how?”
“Exactly what I said. How? One day I’m going to die of Cystic Fibrosis too. Maybe I’m dying now. I want to know first-hand what you saw so I’ll know when the time comes.”
“No,” he half-shouted. “No. I can take care of you. You won’t the die the way she did. No. I’ll take good care of you.”
“But I will die the way she did. I have the same disease.”
He shook his head violently. “No. I’ll take good care of you.”
“But what about Bethany? Didn’t your mother take good care of her?”
“Mother … ” he paused, fishing for a word. “Mother tried. But it didn’t work. I learned from her mistakes.”
“What mistakes?”
“Her medicine.” His voice was childlike again. “It made her throw up. Mother said it’d be good for her, but it made her throw up. How could it be good for her when all it did was make her throw up?”
I swallowed. “Then what, David?”
He shook his head hopelessly. “She got thinner and thinner. Always sick. Wouldn’t eat, when she did, she’d throw up. Coughed more. Got more colds. Fevers, infection. And always the medicine. But it didn’t seem to work. Do you understand? It didn’t work.”
He straightened. “I won’t make the same mistake. I learned. The medicine I give you won’t make you throw up. I’ll take good care of you, Kit. That’s why we’re destined to be together.”
So many emotions ran through my head. Locked in a room with a monster. A monster who had stalked me, terrorized me, tried to kill me, who would try again no doubt.
And yet he had watched his mother kill both his sisters. Without being able to stop it. He had been forced to live day in and day out with a murderer. A murderer who had nursed him. Raised him. Twisted him. Destroyed him.
David, the perfect son.
“We have enough, Kit.” The voice in my ear said. “It’s getting too dangerous in there for you. We’re coming in.”
“Kit?” David was watching me from the bed, lust radiating from him. Leaning over, he reached out a finger and barely stroked my face.
Where the blood was.
The fairies are evil. Pure evil.
Moving so slowly, ever so slowly, he sat back, staring at blood on his finger. He raised his finger to his face, ran the tip down his cheek.
Smearing his face with my blood.
It was all I could do to not scream.
The fairies are evil. Pure evil.
Both of my sisters were dead because of his family. Because they weren’t perfect.
And after telling me, instead of showing remorse, he wanted to have sex.
Because I was sick.
He hadn’t shown this much interest when I was well.
He had stalked and terrorized me until I became sick. Sent me threatening notes. Killed a helpless cat. Stabbed Tommy.
All for sex.
I stood up, smiling my most bewitching smile. “David, you’re right. We are meant to be together. I can feel it. Let’s not wait another moment.”
He grinned, started to get up, but I waved him down. “Let me do this for you.”
He leaned back, his grin turning into a leer.
I pirouetted, my hips moving suggestively. Kicking my chair over, I brought my leg up, resting my foot on the edge of the seat, posing seductively. I ran my hands down my leg. Then slowly, oh so slowly, brought my fingers up, catching the hem of my skirt and tugging it up.
His eyes were mesmerized by my movements. Even the muffled sounds outside the door couldn’t break his concentration.
Smiling, I eased my skirt up further.
And exposed the transmitter taped to my inner thigh.
For a moment, he looked confused. Lust had fogged his brain, so he couldn’t immediately comprehend what he was seeing.
Then he understood.
He jerked to his feet. “You bitch.”
I dropped my leg. “Ha, ha, David. Guess I’m not so dumb after all.” I began to laugh.
He limped toward me, rage engulfing the shock and confusion in his eyes. “But I didn’t admit to stalking you.”
A crash from the door made me jump. The cops to the rescue. I laughed in his face. “I don’t care about that. I got exactly what I wanted. And you’re going down for murder. Now who’s the idiot?”
He slapped me just as another thump rattled the door in its frame. I kept laughing. “Is that the best you can do?”
Fury exploded on his face. I suddenly realized I had gone too far.
Why hadn’t the police gotten in yet? They kept banging away … why weren’t they breaking the door down?
I tried to back away as he lunged toward me, knocking the lamp over. It smashed against the wall. “We belong together, Kit. And if I have to kill you to prove it, I will.”
My back hit the wall. Trapped. He pounced. Foul breath against my cheek.
“Nowhere to run, Kit.” He grinned, lust and madness mingling together. “Told you we were gonna to be together.” His hands closed around my throat.
I couldn’t breathe, coughs straining my chest. I clawed at his face, his hands. Blackness swirled at the edges of my vision. Must breathe. My already sore chest roared with pain.
From outside, I could hear the muffled shouts from the police in between the thudding. “David. Open up. There’s no where for you to go.”
David grinned wider, leering closer to me. “No one can help you now,” he whispered and licked my face. I shuddered, the warm stickiness of his tongu
e jerking me closer to consciousness for one horrifying second. The pain was unbearable. Agonizing. David was death. My dream was right all along.
“David,” the police yelled. “Open up.”
Blackness was closing in. My lungs were filling up. I was drowning in my own fluids. My chest wanted to explode with coughs. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. David’s grin started to fade away. The last thing I would see on this earth. God, I hated him.
Dimly, from far away, came an even bigger crash. I tried to focus, see what it meant, but the darkness swallowed me whole.
Chapter 38
Tommy pulled into the driveway, turned the car off. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “So, this is where you grew up?”
I glanced at the three-story cream-colored, turquoise-trimmed house. “Yeah.”
He nodded, eyes on the neat, subtle lines of the house, the manicured yard. “Nice house.”
“Yeah.” Even on this miserably gray February day, the house still radiated understated elegance.
I studied it. So many secrets. So many words left unsaid. The house was bursting with unexpressed thoughts and emotions. How could I walk back in there?
Tommy, as if reading my thoughts, put his hand over mine. “Do you want to go in alone or should I wait out here?”
He was so good to me. I leaned against his shoulder, absorbing his strength. “No, I should do this alone.”
Over the past few months, as I lay in the hospital fighting death a second time, I had come to depend on his strength. He was there with me, through it all, including when the cops stopped by to let me know that, finally, justice had been served. David and his dysfunctional, murderous mother were both in jail. Kayla had been adopted by a new family. Both my sisters could finally rest in peace. And finally, I too, allowed myself to let go, to let myself be carried away by Tommy’s warmth, his caring, his love.
Tommy had saved my life in more ways than one. For the first time, I realized what it was like to want to live, really want to live. With everything I had, I fought the pneumonia and a secondary bacterial infection ravaging my body.
And I won. We won.
He leaned over to kiss me. “I’ll be here.”
I nodded, opening the car door and getting out. A cold gust of wind greeted me, whipping my black dress up. Pulling it back down, I made my way to the house.
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