Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [110]
“Ahhh, patience, Kendra. That can wait.”
“Where’s the real Joe Clark?”
“I don’t think you really want to know.”
She turned back to mixing the batter so that she did not have to look at him.
Whoever this man is, he’s severely unbalanced. But is he my brother?
How to gain the upper hand?
“Did you poison Selena’s dog?” The thought had not been considered until the words fell from her mouth.
“Well, I tried to.” He grinned sheepishly.
“Why?” Kendra’s fists clenched. “Why would you do such a thing to such a sweet animal?”
“That dog was a pain in my ass,” he stated coolly. “Every time I came around, that damn dog was here. Barking and running along the back of the stream, sometimes I couldn’t even get out of the canoe.”
“Where did you get the canoe?”
“From Father Tim’s.” He grinned again. “You know that he highly recommends communing with nature. He thinks it soothes and relaxes. Not that I doubt anything he says, mind you. I’d have been nowhere without Father Tim. Everything I’ve been able to accomplish, I owe to him.”
“And what, exactly, have you accomplished?”
He smiled serenely. “The stuff dreams are made of, Kenny.”
“Dreams, or nightmares?”
He shrugged. “One man’s dream is another man’s nightmare.”
“You raped and killed all those women.” The words slipped out past her lips.
“Yes.” His blithe admission shocked her.
“Why?”
“I had to get your attention in a meaningful way.”
“You murdered seven women to just get my attention?” she whispered in horror. Her stomach lurched and she fought back another wave of nausea, bit back the urge to scream.
“Eleven.” He corrected her pointedly. “I killed eleven women to get your attention. There were four on the West Coast, would have been more, but you moved, and then I had to go to the trouble of finding you all over again.”
Knees knocking together, legs weakened beyond their ability to support her, Kendra slumped over the side of the counter, leaned over the sink, and lost her lunch.
He sat, watching calmly, until she had finished gagging. Choking and coughing, she ran the water in the sink until the mess went down, then soaked paper towels to wipe the sweat from her face.
“Are you finished?” he asked without emotion.
When she didn’t respond, he shifted in his seat and said, “I asked you a question. Are you finished?”
Still leaning against the sink, she nodded.
“Did you clean up your mess like a good girl?”
She nodded again.
“Sit down, Kendra.”
She slumped into the nearest chair, speechless.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to talk about this after all, aren’t we? You know, I really hadn’t planned on it, at least not yet. Not today. I’d really just hoped for a pleasant reunion in my ancestral home.” He stretched his legs out to one side and rested his shoulders against the back of the chair.
“You just remember, this was your idea, okay? So if any of it bothers you, you have no one to blame but yourself. Then again,” he smirked, “all those cases you worked on with the FBI, I guess you’re not very squeamish, are you?”
He was mocking her and she knew it. He’d just watched her throw up in the sink.
“I mean, I’ll bet it takes a lot to gross you out, doesn’t it?”
“No,” she told him, shaking her head. “Anyone with a conscience—”
“Now, see, I just don’t think I have one. I guess that’s something you need to understand right up front.”
She looked confused, and he laughed.
“Hey, I don’t know why.” He shrugged. “Must have been something that happened to me when I was a kid. Maybe it was genetic, who knows? Maybe that was something that me and Sierra had in common. Nothing she did ever seemed to affect her either.”
His face hardened for a moment.
“But I can tell you,” he went on, “that I’ve never felt the least bit sorry for anything I’ve done. I can’t help it, Kenny. And it isn’t as if I haven’t tried. I mean, every time, I tried to feel something. Anything. But I don’t.”
“Nothing at all?” She barely recognized her own voice.
He shook his head. “Nope. Not sorry. Not upset. It didn’t even make me particularly happy.”
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