Dead Harvest

  'That's it.'

  I don't know why, but I believed her. 'Kate, there's something you should know.'

  'What?'

  I snatched the remote up from the coffee table and clicked on NY1. No surprise, we were the top story.

  '… the hunt continues for seventeen year-old Katherine MacNeil, prime suspect in the brutal slayings of her mother, Patricia Cressey-MacNeil, her father, real estate magnate Charles MacNeil, and her eleven year-old brother, Connor. MacNeil was under guard at Bellevue Hospital Center Tuesday when she escaped with the help of an unidentified white male, age unknown. Anyone with information regarding MacNeil is urged to call…'

  The anchor was replaced with a picture of a smiling Kate, clearly taken from her family's apartment, and a sketch of me that could've been any skinny white guy in the Tri-State area. Beneath us ran a number. I turned off the TV.

  Kate stared at the blank screen for a while. Not blinking, not speaking. When she finally did speak, her voice was thin and frail.

  'I… I don't understand.'

  The look on her face said otherwise. 'Yes, you do.'

  'There has to be some sort of a mistake.'

  'There's not.'

  'Why would they think I'd done such a thing?'

  'The cops found you at the scene, Kate. They saw you…' slit your mother's throat, I thought. 'They saw enough.'

  'But why? How?'

  I remembered the light that enveloped me as I'd clutched tight her soul. I remembered her song ringing loudly in my ears as I crumpled to the ground. 'I don't know,' I replied.

  'That's why you tied me up,' she said. 'You were afraid of me.'

  'Yes.'

  'Then why'd you help me escape?'

  'That's complicated.'

  Kate eyed me a moment. 'Yes,' she said, 'I imagine it would be.'

  She fell silent for a while. I let her sit in peace. What could I say to her, really? Her family was dead. Dead by her hand. Words weren't going to change that.

  I set about cleaning up the mess from breakfast. I was halfway through the dishes when she found her voice.

  'This place,' Kate said. 'It's not yours, is it?'

  'What makes you say that?'

  'Doesn't seem like you, is all.'

  I smiled. 'It belongs to a friend of mine. He wasn't using it, and we needed a place to stay. I figured we'd be safe here for a while, while I sorted things out.'

  'And have you? Sorted things out, I mean.'

  'I'm working on it,' I said.

  'Yeah,' she replied. 'Me too.'

6.

'I need to use the bathroom.'

  Kate hadn't said a word in hours – she'd just sat and stared at nothing. Of course, it's not like she had a lot of other options, being tied to a chair and all.

  'I'm not sure that's such a good idea,' I replied.

  'I'm serious. I've really got to go.'

  'Then I'll get you a trash can.'

  'What's the matter – you scared to untie me?'

  'Something like that.'

  'Well, it's got to happen sometime,' she said. 'You can't keep me here forever.'

  She had a point. Of course, she'd left three solid counterpoints cooling at the morgue. Still, I'd snatched her for a reason. There was something sour about this collection, and I sure as hell wasn't going to figure out what by playing babysitter all day long. Besides, maybe I untie her and Kate tips her hand. She goes postal and my little moral dilemma gets resolved in a hurry. That happens, I finish the job, and to hell with the light show.

  Man, I hope she tries to kill me, I thought. I could use a happy ending.

  'All right,' I said, fetching a chef's knife from the kitchen, 'I'll let you go. But you're gonna get out of that chair and head straight to the bathroom. When you're done, you're to get back in the chair – no argument, no