“The kid can already read better than his mother. Now he’s asking for a chemistry set.”
Marsha felt a jolt of fear as it grabbed her by the throat. Slowly she raised her eyes.
“Frankly, I’m afraid to get the kid a chemistry set at age one and a half,” Josephine continued. “It ain’t normal. He’ll probably blow the whole house up.”
Marsha looked at the boy in Judith’s lap. The child returned her stare with his own piercing, ice-blue eyes.
There was an air of intelligence about him that far outstripped his cherubic baby face. Marsha was taken back in time. This boy was the spitting image of VJ at the same age.
Marsha knew instantly what was before her: the final zygote. The one VJ said he’d wasted on the implantation study. A child created from her own sixth ovum.
Marsha couldn’t move. A small cry escaped her as she realized the chilling truth: the nightmare wasn’t over.
Josephine got to her feet and stepped over to Marsha. “Dr.
Frank?” she asked with some alarm. “Are you all right?”
“I . . . I’m fine,” Marsha said feebly. “I’m sorry.
Really, I’m okay.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the child.
“So like I was saying,” continued Josephine, “this kid’s beyond all of us. Why, just the other day—”
Marsha cut her off. Doing her best to keep a quiver out of her voice, she said, “Mrs. Steinburger, we’ll have to set up an appointment for Jason himself. I really think it would be best if I saw him privately. But it has to be another day.”
“Well, whatever,” sighed Josephine. “You’re the doctor.
You’re the one to know. I suppose we can wait a few days. I just hope you can help us.”
Once they had gone, Marsha closed the door behind them and leaned heavily against it. She sighed and said aloud, “I hope so too.”
She knew she had to do something about this child, this prodigy whose villainy might match or even surpass her son’s.
But what to do?
She picked up the phone to call Joe Arnold to say she was running a little late. Just hearing his voice on the line helped calm her down.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not trying to cancel on me, ’cause I’m not letting you off the hook.” He laughed warmly. “I thought we might eat in tonight. Can’t leave a dog alone his first night home. I hope you’re up to braving my cooking. I make a mean chili. I’m working on it right now.”
Marsha hoped she was up to braving quite a lot of things, starting with the truth. And of the people she felt closest to—Valerie, Joe, Jean—Joe might be the one to confide in, the one she could count on the most. “Chili sounds great,” she told him. “And I’d just as soon eat in.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Jason, but it would keep. She didn’t want to say anything over the phone.
“Terrific. I was beginning to think I’d have to sign up as a patient to get to see you alone. Meet you at the pet shop at seven? I think they’re open until eight.”
“Seven will be fine. And, Joe . . . thanks.”
She hung up the phone and got her coat.
Marsha drove to the mall, feeling better already just knowing she’d soon be telling someone the true story behind Victor’s and VJ’s deaths. She’d bottled the whole thing up for so long. It would be a relief to finally get it off her chest. She felt all the luckier for having Joe to talk to.
Ever since he’d come into her life, he’d been a real godsend.
She drove into the mall parking lot and picked a spot near the entrance closest to the pet shop and turned the engine off. Gripping the steering wheel, she broke into soft sobs.
Somehow, she would have to face this last demon-child, and with Joe’s help, end forever the nightmare her husband had begun.
