“I really expected better from you,” the onscreen Doctor Jante replied, her voice even and unfazed. “That’s exactly what Virgil Leroy Belton asked when I interviewed him. I even wrote about it, so I would have to assume you’ve read my book.”
“Actually, that isn’t exactly what he said. Belton asked if you were a ‘pussy licking dyke.’ I’m not that crude.”
“Yes, you are correct. So obviously you did read it.”
“No, but Annalise did.”
“I see. What did she think?”
“She thought it was sophomoric and speculated that your PhD came from a box of caramel corn.”
“Still trying insults? Isn’t that ploy a bit common?”
“No more common than the questions you’ve been asking me, Ellie. I’m merely slumming. As distasteful as it is, I’m bringing myself down to your level to help you understand what you couldn’t otherwise. You should really show some appreciation for the sacrifice I am making on your behalf.”
Video Jante remained silent. Eventually Miranda cocked her head to the side and grinned.
“Do you know why I wanted to know if you have children?” she asked.
“I have my own theory, but I’m fairly certain you would say I’m wrong if I were to tell you.”
“That’s because you are. I don’t even have to hear it to know that.” Miranda sighed. “I suppose I should just tell you. I asked you about children because it might help you better understand. You see, Ellie, the bond between a mother and child is unlike anything else. No love runs as deep, even the love I feel for them, and they for me. And, I imagine that when a mother sees her child take its first step, she must feel just exactly like I did that night.”
“Which night would that be?”
“The night in the motel with Felicity,” she replied. “That’s what you really want to know about, now isn’t it?”
“Motel?”
“Don’t pretend to be any more stupid than you already are, Ellie. It’s unbecoming. Obviously you don’t have breeding, so at least try to live up to your supposed education.”
“Humor me.”
Miranda sighed. “You bore me.”
“Then let me speak to Annalise.”
“You bore her as well.”
“Really.” Jante said the word more as a statement than a question.
Miranda answered it anyway. “Yes, of course you do. Unfortunately, Annalise is too damaged to know better.”
“And why is she damaged?”
“Because she’s weak, of course.”
“So you damaged her?”
“No, she damaged herself.”
“How?”
The two of them sat staring at one another in silence as the progress bar on the video player crept along and seconds ticked off on the digital counter.
“That isn’t what you are here to talk about, Ellie. You know that.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Don’t play games.”
“I’m not. You know exactly why I’m here. You’ve been directly linked to seven brutal murders, maybe even several more. I’m here to find out why.”
“That answer is so simple you should have seen it by now, which simply proves my point.”
“The answer is rarely simple in cases such as these.”
“This one is. I did it for Felicity.”
“Are you saying that Miz O’Brien told you to kill those men?”
Miranda cocked her eyebrow. “See. I give you the answer and you still miss it entirely. Try thinking before you open your mouth. What makes you think anyone could tell me to do anything?”
“I never said anyone could. I merely asked if someone did.”
“You still want to know about the motel, don’t you?”
“I think you want to tell me about it, or you wouldn’t keep bringing it up.”
An almost wistful look seemed to pass across Miranda’s features. The struggle for control between the two women had been gently teetering like a carefully balanced see-saw on a still summer day. But now the imaginary wind picked up, and the nudge it provided seemed to dip matters in Jante’s favor.
“I’m talking about the motel where Felicity took the man Annalise used for revenge,” Miranda finally said.
“Brad Lewis? Your last victim?”
“I suppose that was his name. What they call themselves isn’t important. All that matters is that they love and are loved.” Miranda shook her head again. “But, as usual, you’re wrong. He wasn’t my victim. None of them are my victims.”
“You murdered him. That makes him a victim in my book.”
“I never said he wasn’t a victim. I simply explained he was not my victim. Annalise murdered him, not me. She did it out of spite because she is jealous of Felicity. I, on the other hand, would have loved him.”
“Semantics. He’s still dead.”
“See. I told you that you were too stupid to understand.”
“All right, since I’m so stupid, educate me. What is it about that night you want me to know?”
Miranda let out a contented sigh and stared into the distance with a pleased smile on her lips. The yearning look remained on her face as she began to talk. “It was a very special night. It was when Felicity first started to understand her true capacity to love.”
“How do you mean?”
“We both loved him. Together. And, when I left she was still loving him.”
“You mean torturing.”
“Loving. She was giving him what he wanted and needed. And, in return, she was accepting his love.”
“I see. What do you mean, ‘when you left’? Were you there with her?”
Miranda continued to stare off into space. “I should have stayed longer to make sure she didn’t stumble, but Annalise was being needy and I had to leave. I should have ignored the bitch and stayed where I belonged. I blame myself for not being there for Felicity. If I had I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”
“Where would you be?”
“Where I belong, of course. And where I will be soon enough. With her.”
The video clip ended, and the player automatically paused on the last frame. Staring back at us, frozen in two-dimensional space, was the image of Annalise wearing Miranda’s almost frightening smile twisted across her lips.
The flesh and blood Doctor Jante reached over and carefully spun the notebook computer back around before leveling her gaze on my wife. “Miz O’Brien,” she said, her voice even. “I think perhaps now you can see our situation a bit more clearly.”
Felicity sighed and gave her a shallow nod.
Jante continued. “I’m afraid I need to ask you a somewhat disturbing question. Was Annalise Devereaux in the motel room with you that night before the police arrived?”
CHAPTER 16:
From the sound of Doctor Jante’s question, it appeared that I should have stuck to my guns about drawing this interview-turned-witch hunt to an immediate close. Hindsight being what it was, my earlier curiosity-induced myopia had me feeling incredibly stupid for allowing it to continue even though I’d left the decision up to my wife.
