None of us ever escapes.
Perhaps his mother wouldn't escape. The things that crawled in the darkness of his mind crawled in hers.
It had been so long since they'd seen each other, but he was sure they understood each other.
He also understood Quinn.
Of course the Meredith would be a trap. He knew his nemesis, Quinn. He'd followed him, studied him. As Quinn had studied his nemesis. They'd crawled into each other's brains. He knew Quinn's mind better than Quinn himself knew it.
Quinn had his own miasma of problems, his own dark swamp. A record of harsh justice and violence, a stained reputation, an alcoholic past, a failed marriage, a troubled daughter, a woman he loved who didn't love him. An insatiable need and talent for the hunt.
None of us ever escapes.
Do we really want to?
There was no doubt in Sherman's mind that his mother was bait, an archangel of evil that had to be slain. That she was being used to lure him to destruction was fitting.
Quinn certainly had to understand that the Butcher wouldn't be able to resist the lure of the very demon he'd been trying again and again to slay, the angel demon that wouldn't stay dead. But Quinn didn't understand Sherman's mother as well as he thought. She was bait, but she was deadly bait. She wanted to kill her son as badly as when she'd tried all those years ago in the swamp, only now she'd be even more determined.
Deadly bait.
Sherman would have to plan carefully. Move carefully. He felt like a spider walking the web of a much larger, much deadlier insect. One that was waiting for him and would sense his slightest misstep. One that could paralyze him with a glance and suck him dry of life even before his heart stopped.
Mom…
Nine-year-old Sherman took a sip of Jack Daniel's and told himself things had changed and he was grown up now, an adult. With an effort of will, he ignored his fear and engaged his mind.
He was nothing if not a problem solver.
The Meredith Hotel wasn't precisely a spiderweb. There were different ways to approach it, and different ways to move within it.
Quinn's trap was a problem that could be solved. That must be solved.
It was a family matter.
59
Something new. Something exciting.
Lauri didn't get to the Upper East Side very often. She tried not to let it show that she thought Mangio's was one of the neatest places she'd ever seen. She and Joe shared a tiny round table near a wall, away from the small dance floor. A band, guys in matching jackets and ties, not like The Defendants, were playing soft syncopated music that she guessed was rumba. Other than the dance floor, the place was carpeted in plush red, contrasting with the white tablecloths and glinting silverware. The long-stemmed glass from which Lauri was sipping a vodka martini, straight up, was fine crystal that glittered in the light of the single candle in the center of the table. She supposed this was what people called class.
She looked around at the women seated at tables or dancing and was glad she'd worn the dress Joe had bought for her. It had been a gift from an exclusive shop on Madison Avenue and was obviously expensive. Since her father was busy in the evenings he hadn't seen her leave in the dress, which was a good thing, because it might have required an explanation. She really should have her own apartment. Her world was opening up like a flower warmed by the sun. If this thing with Joe continued to work well…
'You look happy,' he said, smiling across the table. 'That makes me happy.'
'The only thing that would make me happier,' she said, 'is if this-being someplace like this with you-would last forever.'
'No,' he said, 'There's something else. I know what would make us both infinitely happier.'
She reached across the table and lightly dragged her fingernails over the back of his hand. 'Joe-'
'I'm going to teach you how to rumba.'
She couldn't control the expression on her face. From the inside it felt like disappointment.
He laughed. 'Oh, you thought I meant something else.'
'I think we both know what you meant,' she said, laughing along with him but still maybe showing her disappointment.
'Maybe you already know how to rumba.'
'No.'
'You will in five minutes. I have a foolproof teaching method.'
He stood up, holding her hand gently by her fingertips and guiding her up out of her chair and toward the dance floor. She found herself having some difficulty walking, which was strange since she'd had only one drink
They weaved their way through the tables and reached the parquet dance floor, which wasn't crowded. His timing was right-the band was only halfway through the rumba number. Joe held Lauri close in dance position, her right arm bent up at the elbow, his left hand clasping her right. His right arm was around her waist, his fingers spread near the small of her back, pressing her into him.
'We'll do a simple box step,' he said, his breath warm in her ear. 'Follow my lead and you'll pick up the rhythm and hip movement.'
He was right. She was soon dancing without worrying about getting her toes stepped on. Then he held her even closer so the rhythm flowed through his body into hers. The experience as a whole was making her light- headed.
'Looser in the hips and we're there,' he whispered. 'That's good. Great! Great!'
She willed her body to relax as he held her more firmly. Now she had no choice; her body had to sway in precise syncopation with his. Fine with Lauri. She swung her hips freely, feeling his hand slip lower on her back to rest on the rise of her buttocks. She wanted so very much to please him.
'I might be slightly…'
'Slightly what?' he asked.
'I don't know.'
'You okay?'
'Oh what?'
'Kay,' he said, grinning.
'Oh. I'm that. I think.'
'Very good,' he said of her dancing. 'Just relax. Trust me and follow my lead.'
That was his best advice. He loosened his grasp on her slightly (though not on her rear, so they remained pelvis to pelvis) and she let her body respond to the gentle guidance of his hands and the subtle shift of his body against hers. Her body became even looser, her movements more fluid. She could trust him and relax.
He smiled down at her. 'Now you're an expert just like me.'
She smiled back at him. (Was he going to get an erection? She would know if he did.)
The music stopped and he kissed her.
The Hungry U, The Defendants, Wormy, were all far away and in a different world.
'Trust me and follow my lead,' he whispered again in her ear.
In the back of the cab she surprised him. It had taken only a brief kiss, the slightest fondling. He didn't think he'd slipped that much ketamine into her martini. Just enough to disorient her slightly, confuse her a little bit. He wanted her to enjoy and remember. Maybe he hadn't even needed the stuff; he'd only resorted to it because time was important here. Maybe it hadn't even kicked in yet. The stuff was actually made for veterinarians to give to cats. Pussy. There was an amusing thought.
Within a block away from Mangio's she had her arms snaked around his neck and the warm wedge of her
