Countdown - Iris Johansen [118]
“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, then 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.