The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [266]
“They told me later—the doctors did.”
“A long sleep can make people confused sometimes. I know if I sleep too long, I sometimes don’t even know where I am or how I got there, when I wake up.”
“I knew where I was,” Clara said, softly but firmly. “I was at home.”
“Good girl,” the Doctor whispered, craning his neck in an effort to get a look at her but not wanting to be obvious about it.
“Of course you were,” Mr. Darrow said. “But did you know everything else? I mean, as soon as you woke up, did you remember everything else?”
As if she couldn’t help herself, Clara again glanced over at her mother, who had her hands folded on the defense table like she was pleading for something, while her eyes’d filled with tears. Seeing this, Clara bobbed her head back down like she’d been jerked with a rope, and said, “I remember Mama screaming. And crying. She said that Matthew and Tommy were dead. I didn’t understand. I tried to get up and ask her, but the Doctor gave me some medicine. I went back to sleep.”
“And when you woke up the second time?”
“Mama was next to my bed. With the doctors.”
“Did your mama tell you anything?”
“She said that we’d all been attacked—by a man. A crazy man. She said he’d killed Matthew and Tommy.” Tears now slowly streaming down her face again, Clara added, “I started to cry. I wanted to see my brothers, but Mama said—I couldn’t ever. Ever again …”
“I see,” Mr. Darrow told her. Then he pulled a handkerchief—one what was a lot neater than the clothes it’d been concealed in—out of his breast pocket. “Would you like to use this?” Clara took the white piece of linen and wiped her face. “Clara, how long after that did your mama go away?”
“Soon. I think. I don’t know, not for sure.”
“But was she with you all that time before she left?”
Clara nodded. “Her and Lou, sa—our housekeeper. The doctors, sometimes, too. And Mr. Picton visited.”
“I’m sure he did,” Mr. Darrow said, looking over at the jury. “And what did your mama tell you before she went away?”
Stealing another look at Libby, Clara answered, “That she had to go find us a new place to live. So we didn’t have to live in that house. It was too sad, she said—Dada was dead, and Tommy and Matthew, too. She told me she’d find a new place, and come back to take me away when she did.”
“And did you believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Did you usually believe your mama?”
“Yes. Except—”
“Except—?”
“Except when She got mad sometimes. Then, sometimes, she would say things that—I didn’t believe her. I don’t think she meant them, though.”
“I see,” Mr. Darrow said, turning his body away from her without moving from his spot on the floor. “So—the last things you now remember about that night on the Charlton road are your mama touching you with a gun, then pulling the trigger—and after that there was a loud noise?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t remember it when you woke up?” Clara shook her head. “And you can’t remember anything about what happened to Tommy and Matthew?”
” I didn’t—I didn’t see—what happened.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“And so your mama went away, and you went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Weston—is that right?” Clara nodded. “And did you remember anything about what happened that night during the time you lived with them?”
“Not—” Here Clara worked very hard, pretty obviously to remember something. “Not so’s I could talk about it. Or show it. Only so’s I could see it. In my head.”
Mr. Darrow spun quickly to the girl, causing her to start a bit and try, without success, to look at the Doctor. “That’s quite a mouthful, for a little girl. Not so’s you could talk about it or show it, but so’s you could see it in your head. You think of that all by yourself?”
Clara looked down quickly. “It’s the way it was.”
“Did you think of that all by yourself, Clara?” Mr. Darrow repeated. Then, without waiting for an answer, he moved in closer. “Or isn’t it in fact true that Dr. Kreizler led you to see it that way, and told you to use those words when it came time to