She sat down on the side of the bed. “Four eight two.”
His muscles stiffened even more.
“Lilac Drive. You once told me you didn’t like lilacs. Such a beautiful flower. I didn’t understand why.”
His hands closed into fists on the coverlet.
“Four eighty-two Lilac Drive.”
The tempo of his breathing was altering, quickening.
“Four eight two, Jock.”
He was panting, the pulse in his throat jumping crazily. But he wouldn’t open his eyes, blast it. She had to find a way to shock him out of this withdrawal.
“You kept saying ‘little,’ ‘too little.’ There was a little girl in that house on Lilac Drive. Pretty, rosy-cheeked, with fair hair. Her name was Jenny. Four years old.”
His head was thrashing back and forth. “No, three . . .”
“You should know better than I do.” She paused. He was still too withdrawn. Okay, hit him hard. Any way she could. “You killed her.”
“No!” His eyes flew open. “Little. Too little.”
“You went there to kill her.”
“Four eight two. Four eight two. Four eight two.”
“Reilly told you the address and what to do. You managed to get into the house and you went to her room. It wasn’t difficult; you’d been trained well. Then you did what Reilly told you to do.”
“I didn’t.” His eyes were blazing in his taut face. “Stop saying that. I should have done it but I couldn’t. Too little. I tried but I couldn’t—touch her.”
“But you always do what Reilly tells you to do. You have to be lying to me.”
“Shut up.” His hands closed on her throat. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. Wrong. Wrong. Reilly said I should but I couldn’t.”
She could feel his hands tightening with every word. “Let me go, Jock.”
“Shut up. Shut up.”
“What was wrong, Jock? Was it not killing that little girl? Or was it Reilly telling you to do it?” What was she doing? She should be calling for MacDuff. Her throat was so tight she was almost croaking. No, she was too close. “You know the answer. Tell me.”
“Reilly’s—always—right.”
“Bullshit. If he’d been right that night, you’d have killed that child. You realized that night how terrible he was and how many terrible things he’d already made you do. But when you walked away from that house, it was over. His conditioning might have lingered and confused you, but he doesn’t own you any longer.”
Tears were running down his cheeks. “Not over. Never over.”
“Okay, maybe it’s not over.” Jesus, she wished he’d take his hands away from her throat. There was no telling when she might say something that would trigger him. “But you were on your way back when you left four eighty-two Lilac Drive that night. Reilly can’t control you any longer. It’s only a matter of time now.”
“No.”
“Jock, it’s the truth. MacDuff and I have both noticed that you’re changing, getting stronger.”
“The laird?” He stared into her eyes. “He said that? Are you lying to me? You lied about me killing the little girl.”
“It was the only way I could think to jerk you back. You had to confront what you’d done. Or rather what you’d not done. When you broke Reilly’s conditioning, you were feeling almost as guilty about disobeying him as you would have been if you’d killed that child.”
“No, couldn’t do it.”
“I know you couldn’t. But I had to shock you into talking to me. And I did it, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“And you realize I did it for your own good. Right?”
“I . . . suppose so.”
“Then will you please take your hands from around my throat? MacDuff and Trevor would not be pleased with either one of us if they came in here and saw you throttling me.”
He looked at his hands grasping her throat as if they didn’t belong to him. He slowly released her and dropped them to the bed. “I think . . . they’d be more displeased with me.”
Was there the faintest hint of humor in his tone? His expression was bleak, tears were still shimmering in his eyes, but at least the raw violence had vanished. She took a deep breath and rubbed her throat. “As well they should be. There’s such a thing as accountability.” She sat down in the chair beside the bed. “Not only for you. Reilly has a big account coming due.”
“Not . . . the laird. My fault. All my fault.”
“The important thing is bringing him down.”
“Not the laird.”
“Then it’s up to you to force yourself to remember where Reilly is so that we can go after him.”
“Try . . .”
“No, you have to do it, Jock. That’s why we brought you here. That’s why we put you through this hell. Do you believe we’d do it if we saw any other way of jarring you into remembering?”
He shook his head. “I’m tired now. I want to go to sleep.”
“Are you trying to avoid talking to me, Jock?”
“Maybe.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I need to be alone with him.”
She felt a chill go through her. “Him?”
“Reilly.” He whispered, “He’s always with me, you know. I try to get away but he’s still there. I’m afraid to look at him or listen to him, but I have to do it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You don’t understand. . . .”
“I understand he controlled you in the most evil ways possible. But he’s gone now.”
“If he was gone, you wouldn’t be here making me try to remember. While he’s alive, he won’t ever leave me alone.” He turned his head. “Go away, Jane. I know what you want from me and I’ll try to give it to you. But you can’t help me. I’ll either be able to do it or I won’t.”
She stood up. “Do you want me to send MacDuff in?”
He shook his head. “I don’t like him to see me like this. Reilly makes me weak. I’m . . . ashamed.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed.”
“Yes, I should. Forever. Black soul. Never be clean again. But MacDuff won’t let me die. I tried but he brought me back. So if I can’t die, I have . . . to be strong.” His voice harshened. “But sweet Jesus, it’s hard.”
She hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and—” He was shaking his head. “Okay, I’ll let you rest.” She headed for the door. “If you need me, I’ll be here. Just call me.”
“You weren’t in there very long.” MacDuff rose from his chair as the door closed behind her.
“Wasn’t I?” It had seemed like an eternity. “Long enough.”
“Does he need me?”
“Probably. But he doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want anyone right now. And I don’t believe he’s in any immediate danger.”
His glance was on the paper still in her hand. “Any response?”
“Oh, yes. Is it enough to jump-start his memory of Reilly? I don’t know. From now on, it has to come from him. He seems . . . different.”
“How?”
She frowned, trying to puzzle it out. “Before, he reminded me of that scroll Mario was working on. There were certain sentences and phrases missing that Mario had to replace with educated guesswork so that he could make sense of the whole document. I think that’s the point that Jock is at now.”
“Then you must have jarred the hell out of him.” His lips tightened grimly. “I want to see that paper.”
“I want you to see it.” She headed for the kitchen. “I’ll tell you about it while I get a cup of coffee. I need it.”
“No doubt. Button up your shirt.”
“What?”
“Try to cover up those bruises on your neck. I don’t want Trevor going after Jock.”
She touched her throat. “He didn’t hurt me. Not really. And he didn’t mean—”
“Tell that to Trevor. You’re alive, and if you were too stupid to do what I told you to do, th
en you deserve a few bruises.” He sat down at the kitchen table. “Now tell me about four eight two.”
Four eight two. Too little. Too little.
She’s evil. Devil’s spawn. Kill her.
Child. Child. Child. Jock could feel the word tear him, scream from him.
It doesn’t matter. Do your duty. You’re nothing without duty. Fail and you’ll displease me. You know what that means.
Pain. Loneliness. Darkness.
And Reilly waiting in that darkness. Jock could never see him but he knew he was there. Bringing the fear. Bringing the pain.
Four eight two. Kill the child. Go to the house. It’s not too late. It will bring you my forgiveness.
“No!” Jock’s eyes flew open. His heart was pounding, hurting. He was going to die. Reilly had told him that he’d die if he ever betrayed and disobeyed him, and now it was going to happen. “I didn’t die when I didn’t kill that little girl. You can’t hurt me.”
Die.
His heart was growing bigger, swelling, he couldn’t breathe.
Die.
He could feel himself slipping, growing colder, dying. . . .
Weakness. Shame. Not worthy of living.
Die.
If he died, if he gave in to shame, the laird would also die. He would go after Reilly, and Jock wouldn’t be there to help.
Die
I will not.
Die.
He could see Reilly more clearly now. Hovering in the shadows. Not a ghost. Not a ghost. A man.
Die. Stop fighting. Your heart is bursting. It will stop soon. You want it to stop.
Reilly wanted it to stop. And Jock didn’t want to do anything that Reilly wanted him to do. That path led to the shame.
Don’t panic. Think about stopping the pain. Slow the heartbeat.
Die.
Screw you.
Jock.” MacDuff was shaking his shoulder. “Answer me. Dammit, Jane told me you were okay. I should never have—”
Jock slowly opened his eyes. “It’s not— I’m not going to die.”
MacDuff sighed with relief. “Everybody dies.” He tousled the boy’s fair hair. “But you’ve got a long way to go.”
“I didn’t think so. Reilly didn’t want—” His expression was full of wonder. “But it doesn’t matter what he wants, does it? I can do anything.”
“You can’t jump off buildings with a single bound.” MacDuff cleared his throat. “But anything within reason.”
“He’s still there, waiting for me. But he can’t hurt me if I don’t let him.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Yes . . .” He turned his head on the pillow. “I want to go back to sleep. I’m tired. . . . He wouldn’t stop. But I didn’t give in to him.”
“That’s good.” He paused. “Can you tell me where to find him?”
“Not yet. I can see pictures but there’s no connection. And he may not still be there. He moves around a lot.”
“Idaho?”
He nodded his head. “I keep thinking that it’s Idaho.”
“Where?”
He was silent a moment. “Near Boise.”
“You’re sure?”
“No. Sometimes Reilly could give me memories of things that had never happened. But I was working at an equipment shop at a ski resort near there when I first met him. He offered me a job and we went out for a drink at a bar in the town. After the third drink I passed out. At least, I suppose I did. After that it was all Reilly.”
“What ski resort?”
He was silent a moment. “Powder Mountain.”
“And the name of the bar?”
“Harrigan’s.” He frowned. “But I told you, sometimes I couldn’t be sure what was real and what was—”
“I’ll check it out.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll let you know. You just keep on trying to remember.”
“I can’t do anything else.” Jock smiled without mirth. “I can’t shut down. It just keeps going round and round with Reilly in the center.”
“We need to know everything we can about him.”
“I’ll try. But there’s too much that gets in the way. Roadblocks . . .”
“Jump over them.” MacDuff turned away. “You can do it.”
“I know,” Jack said quietly. “But maybe not in time.”
A week ago MacDuff wouldn’t have bet on it happening at all. But he was encouraged and exhilarated that at least Jock was able to weigh consequences, and he was more normal than MacDuff had seen him since he’d known him as a boy. “Nonsense. I have faith in you.”
“Do you?”
“Would I have gone through all we have together if I didn’t?” He smiled at him over his shoulder. “Do your job. Make me proud of you, lad.”
“It’s too late for that. But I’ll do my job.” He closed his eyes. “It may take a while.”
“We’ll give you time.”
“Good. He keeps getting in the way. I can’t see. . . .”
“You will. Just let it come.”
18
Well?” Trevor asked when MacDuff came out of the bedroom. “Do we have a fix on Reilly?”
“Maybe. He’s still leaning toward Idaho. Where’s Jane?”
“In the kitchen with Mario. Where in Idaho?”
“He’s not sure.” He moved toward the kitchen. “Near Boise. I’m not going through this twice. I want to make sure everyone knows that I don’t want Jock harassed.”
“May I point out that it was you who sent him around the bend?”
“With help from Jane.”
“She’s giving you a little too much help. I saw those marks on her throat.”
“And did she complain?”
“She said it was worth it. I don’t agree.”
“You would if you’d seen Jock just now. He’s coming out of the fog.”
“Good for him. It’s still not worth it.” Trevor preceded him into the kitchen, where Jane and Mario sat at the table. “MacDuff says that Jock is zeroing in on Boise as a possible location.”
“Really?” Mario’s body tensed with eagerness. “Where exactly?”
“He’s not sure. You can’t expect everything to come back to him right away.”
“Can’t you talk to him, push him?”
“No. He’s doing the best he can. I don’t want him to have a set-back.”
“How was he?” Jane asked.
“Tentative. Like a baby taking its first steps.” He smiled. “And so goddamn close to normal it was bloody incredible.”
“Then he should be able to tell us something soon,” Mario said.
“Back off,” Trevor said. “It’s what we all want.”
“How long?” Jane asked.
MacDuff shrugged. “As long as it takes.”
“That’s not acceptable.” Mario frowned. “What if Grozak and Reilly find out what we’re doing? And even if they don’t, there’s only a week left. Grozak could close the—”
“I’m not pressuring him,” MacDuff said. “And neither are you.”
“I don’t want to hurt him, but you need to—” Mario threw up his hands in frustration as he met MacDuff’s gaze. “Never mind.” He strode out of the room.
“He’s right,” Trevor said. “We can’t twiddle our thumbs and wait for time to cure Jock.”
“We’ll see. There has to be a compromise.” MacDuff went to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I’m not going to destroy Jock because Mario wants his revenge yesterday. We can afford a couple days. It will come.”
“And we don’t want Mario striking out on his own and blowing what little cover we have,” Trevor said.
“He won’t do that.” Jane stood up. “I’ll talk to him.”
“By all means,” MacDuff said. “You hold his hand. I’m not about to do it.” He glanced at Trevor. “And I don’t believe Trevor’s in a mood to do it.”
“At least I’m not going to have to worry about Mario choking the life out o
f her,” Trevor said. “It’s a step forward from the way you put her head into the lion’s den with Jock.” He glanced at Jane. “I could do it if you don’t want to deal with him.”
“Neither of you is remembering that Mario is hurting too.” Jane moved toward the door. “All he wants to know is that there’s an end in sight.”
Trevor’s brows rose. “That’s all we all want to know.”
Have you been sent on a mission of diplomacy or as a teacher to slap my hands?” Mario asked. “I’m not sorry. I spoke the truth.”
“No one sent me,” Jane said. “And you should be allowed to speak your mind.” She paused. “But not before you think it through. My first impulse was the same as yours. Jock could be the only way to stop this. Just a few words and he might be able to lead us to them.”
“Then tell Trevor and MacDuff.”
“I will. But not until we give Jock his chance. We’re not savages. We don’t want to destroy a mind if we can save it by letting Jock find his own way back.” She met his eyes. “Do we, Mario?”
He stared at her, a multitude of expressions crossing his face. He finally said curtly, “No, dammit. But there has to be a way of getting him to—”
“No pressure.”
“Okay, okay. I hear you. But what if I spent some time with him, got to know him? Just a couple days. Maybe I could get him to talk, nudge him a little.”
“No pressure.”
“I wouldn’t even mention Reilly. Unless he mentioned him first. I’m not dumb. I can be subtle.”
“When you’re not traumatized yourself.”
“I promise, Jane. I’m not cruel. I don’t want to hurt Jock. I feel sorry for the kid. Just let me help. Let me do something.”
She gazed at him thoughtfully. She could see the desperation in his expression. “It might not be a bad idea. You’d be a new voice in the mix. Trevor, MacDuff, and I have been pushing Jock. Every time he sees us, it’s a reminder. You’re close to his age. Someone else to distract him. A change of pace . . .”
“That’s right,” Mario said eagerly. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps.” She paused. “If I can trust you.”
“I promise. I don’t break my word.” He grimaced. “The priests made sure I believed in eternal damnation if I broke any of the commandments.”