were old. You've robbed them. You've buried them in the cemetery-what? Oh, I see. You buried them two to each grave. Only you used just a man's name. Does one of you have a list identifying who's really in each grave?'
'No, but we left identification on the bodies. Don't sound so appalled, Sally. We were dying here. We desperately wanted to survive. We have. We've won.'
'No, everything's coming down on your heads now, Amabel. There are three FBI agents here, and Sheriff David Mountebank knows everything they know, maybe more. You kill the agents, and you'll all be in the gas chamber. Don't you understand? The FBI is involved!' 'Oh, Sally, here you are, going on and on about something that really doesn't concern you. What about yourself, baby? What about your Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
father?'
'He's not my fucking father, thank God. At least I found that out.'
'Good, there's anger there. I was afraid you were still trying to believe he was a nightmare come back to haunt you.'
'You're saying he's here with you, Amabel? You want him here?' She knew the answer. But she didn't want to hear it.
'Of course, Sally.'
She stared beyond her aunt to the man illuminated in the doorway. Her father. No, not her father, thank God. It was the bastard who'd raised her, the bastard who'd beat the shit out of her mother and locked her away in Dr. Beadermeyer's sanitarium, the bastard who'd beat her just because it pleased him to do so.
'So how does our little bastard feel, Ammie?'
Ammie? What was this?
'I'm not the bastard. You are.'
'Sally, I hesitate to hit you in front of your aunt. It bothers her, even though she knows what a vicious mouth you have, even though she knows I've got to do it to control you.'
'Amabel, why do you have him here with you? He's a murderer. He's a traitor to our country.'
Amabel sat down beside her. Her fingertips were light and soft as they drifted over Sally's forehead, pushing her hair behind her ears, lightly smoothing her eyebrows.
'Amabel, please. When I was here before, I know it was him on the phone to me. He admitted that he'd looked in through the bedroom window.'
'Yes, dear.'
'Why was he here, Amabel?'
'He had to come here, Sally. He had to take you back to the sanitarium. He hoped to make you doubt your sanity with the phone calls and his face at the window.'
'But how could he possibly know I was even here?'
'I called him. He was staying at a small inn in Oklahoma City. He took the next plane to Portland, then drove here. But you knew even as you asked that question, didn't you, Sally?
'Ah, but you didn't doubt your sanity at all. That was due in part to Quinlan. That man. His being here made everything more difficult. Isn't it strange? Quinlan made up that story about coming here to try to find a trace of those old folk? All he wanted was you. He didn't care about any missing old people. Just you. He thought you'd either killed your father or were protecting your mother.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
'I've always been amused by the ways of fate. Well, I'm not amused now. There are big problems now.'
'Now, Ammie, do you think it was fate that brought all those nice old people here to buy the World's Greatest Ice Cream so you could then kill them and steal all their money?'
Amabel turned and frowned at him. 'I don't know, and neither do you, Amory. Now, I don't care what happens to Quinlan and the others, but I don't want Sally hurt.'
'He doesn't agree with you, Aunt Amabel,' Sally said. 'He hates me. You know he's not my father. He has no latent tender feelings for me. As for my mother, did you know that he forced Noelle to stay with him?'
'Why, of course, Sally.'
Sally gaped at her. She couldn't help it. On the other hand, why was she so surprised? Her world had flipped and turned more times in the past seven months than she could cope with. It seemed she'd never known who she really was or why things were the way they were. And she'd hated her mother for her weakness. Oh, God, she'd felt contempt for her, wanted to shake her herself for letting her husband knock her around.
'Who's my father?'
'Now she wants to know,' Amory St. John said, as he strolled into the small bedroom, his hands in his pants pockets.
'Who?'
'Well, dear,' Amabel said, 'actually your father was my husband. And yes, he was my husband before he met Noelle and the two of them fell in love-'
'In lust, you mean, Ammie.'
'That too. Anyway, Noelle was always rather stupid, and Carl wasn't all that much of this earth himself.
Knowing both of them as well as I did, I had difficulty figuring out who got whom into bed. But they must have managed it. She got pregnant. Fortunately she was seeing Amory at the time, and things got worked out to everyone's satisfaction.'
