Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [136]
“Actually, I don’t think your mother abused you.” She tried frantically to remember what little family history she had found on Father Keller. Of course, his mother had been a single parent just like the victims’ mothers. But she had died when Keller was young—a fatal accident. Why couldn’t she remember the details? Why was it so hard to think? It was the smell, the pressure of the knife, the feel of her own blood.
“I think she loved you,” Maggie continued when he remained silent. “And you loved her. But you were abused.” A twitch told her she was right. “By a relative…perhaps a friend of your mother’s…no, a stepfather,” she remembered suddenly.
The knife slipped, only a quarter of an inch, but she could breathe again. He was quiet, waiting, listening. She had his attention. It was her move.
“No, you’re not homosexual, but he made you doubt yourself, didn’t he? He made you think that maybe you could be.”
The arm around her waist loosened. She felt his breathing grow rapid, a steady movement against her back as his chest moved laboriously.
“You don’t kill little boys for kicks. You try to save them because they remind you of that scared, vulnerable little boy from your past. They remind you of yourself. Do you think that by saving them, you might be able to save yourself?”
His silence continued. Had she gone too far? She tried to concentrate on his hand with the knife. If she jabbed her elbow into his chest, perhaps she could grab the knife before it cut her. She needed to keep him distracted.
She continued. “You deliver these poor boys from evil, is that it? By inflicting your own evil, you transform them into martyrs. You’re quite a hero. You might even say yours is a perfect evil.”
His arm squeezed tight and jerked her back against him. She had gone too far. The knife shot up to her throat, this time lengthwise so that the sharp blade pressed full against her skin. In one quick motion, he could slit her throat.
“That’s a bunch of psychological bullshit. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The low guttural sound came from someplace deep inside him. “Albert Stucky should have gutted you when he had a chance. Now, I guess, I’ll have to finish the job. We need more light.” He dragged her to the tunnel’s entrance and extracted a lantern. “Light it.” He shoved her to her knees, keeping the knife at her throat and throwing a matchbook into the dirt. “Light it so that you can watch.”
“I want you to watch,” she heard Albert Stucky say, as if he stood in the dark corner, waiting. “I want you to see how I do it.”
Her fingers felt as though they belonged to someone else. There was no feeling in them, but she lit the lantern on the first attempt. The yellow glow filled the small space. Her entire body felt numb. All the blood had drained from her veins. Her mind was paralyzed, preparing for the pain by disconnecting. She recognized all the familiar signs. It was Albert Stucky all over again. Her body responded to the overwhelming terror by simply shutting down.
It was hard to breathe the thick air, now filled with the smell of spoiled meat. Even her lungs refused to work. The knife blade continued to press against her throat. There was a slight tremble in his hand. Was it from anger or fear? Did it matter?
“Why aren’t you crying or screaming?” It was anger.
She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Even her voice had abandoned her. She thought of her father, those warm brown eyes smiling at her while he put the chain with the medallion around her neck. “Wherever you go, it’ll protect you. Don’t ever take it off, okay, Mag-pie?” But it didn’t protect you, Daddy, she wanted to tell him. And it didn’t protect Danny Alverez.
The stranger grabbed her by the hair and