The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [585]
“Whore, naked in bed. Letting him touch her, touching him. I didn’t mean to see.”
“What did she do to you?”
“Put the cloth over your eyes. Tie it tight. Little prick, got no business spying on me when I’m working. Lock you in again. Lock you in the dark. Maybe I’ll poke your eyes out next time, then you won’t see what you’re not supposed to see.”
Chains rattled as he struggled in the chair. “I don’t want to be in the dark. I’m not weak and puny and stupid.”
“What happened in the park?”
“Just playing, that’s all. Just playing, me and Shelley. I just let her touch it. It hurts, it hurts when Mommy hits it with a stick. Burns, burns when she scrubs it with the powder. Pour acid on it next time and see how you like it. In the dark, can’t see, can’t get out.”
He fell against the table, weeping.
“You got strong, didn’t you, John? You got strong and paid her back for it.”
“She shouldn’t have said those things to me. She shouldn’t laugh at me and call me names. I’m not a freak. I’m not good-for-nothing. I’m a man.”
“And you showed her you were a man. A man who can rape whores when he wants to. You shut her up.”
“Shut her right up.” He lifted his head, and madness rolled in his eyes even as tears streamed out of them. “How do you like it now? She only sees what I tell her to see now. That’s what. I’m in charge now. And when I see her again, I know what to do.”
“Tell me where she is now, John. Where the rest of her is.”
“It’s dark. Too dark in here.”
“Tell me so I can turn the lights back up.”
“Buried. Decent burial, but she kept coming back! It’s dark in the ground. Maybe she doesn’t like it there. Put her outside, put her in the park. Make her remember! Make her sorry.”
“Where did you bury her?”
“Little farm. Granny’s farm. She liked the farm. Maybe she’ll live there one day.”
“Where’s the farm?”
“Upstate. Not a farm anymore. Just an old house. Ugly old house, locks on the doors. She’ll lock you in there, too. Maybe leave you there for the rats to eat you don’t do what she says, when she damn well says it. Granny locked her in plenty, and that’ll teach you to mind your p’s and q’s.”
He was jerking on the chains as he spoke, rocking back and forth in the chair, teeth bared, skin shining with sweat.
“But she won’t sell it. Greedy bitch won’t sell it and give me my share. She won’t give me anything. Not giving her hard-earned to some freak. Time to take it, take it all. Bitch.”
“Lights on full.”
He blinked against them, like a man coming out of a trance. “I don’t have to say anything to you.”
“No, you’ve said enough.”
Chapter 22
She ordered droids and dogs, a search unit, and the equipment necessary for multiple-remains location, identification, and removal.
And knew it would be a very long, very difficult procedure.
She requested Morris personally, and asked that he select a team. She expected and was unsurprised when Whitney and Tibble arranged to make the trip upstate.
For the moment, for a small window of time, they would keep the media at bay. But it would leak soon enough, she knew, and the ugly carnival would begin.
Because she wanted time to prepare, to think, without the distraction of cop chatter or questions, she traveled upstate in one of Roarke’s jet-copters, with him in the pilot seat.
They flew through a steady, dreary rain. Nature’s way of weighing in, she thought, to make a hideous job more so. She saw a little burst of lightning bloom on the horizon, far to the north, and hoped it stayed there.
Roarke didn’t ask questions, and his silence throughout the flight helped steady her for what was to come. This sort of procedure would never be routine. Never could be routine.
“Nearly there.” Roarke glanced at the comp map highlighting their destination, then nodded toward the windscreen. “At two o’clock.”
It wasn’t much of a house. She could see that from the air as they started the descent. Small, ill-kept, poorly maintained, if she was any judge. It looked to her as if the roof sagged—probably leaked, and the lawn fronting the steep, narrow road was weedy