She did not seem to notice as he began dragging his body across the parquet floor toward her.
She did not seem to notice that his face looked as if a dozen razors had slashed it.
She did not seem to notice the soft, almost prayerful name-hers-he uttered as he now started to lose consciousness for sure…
No, she was too busy looking at what was left of the creature on the staircase, the creature that had once been a woman named Mindy.
Breasts no more than bloody holes, head torn off at the shoulders, and blood coming in geysers from the trunk, the creature grasped uselessly for the banister and then came tumbling down the stairway as, upstairs, Jeff began pleading for mercy and then pleading for help.
That was the last thing Clark remembered.
A robin sat on the window ledge. Diane, pouring milk into a clear, tall glass, said, 'That's all you're going to eat?'
Patting her stomach, Jenny said, 'Let's see. That's one egg, a bowl of oat bran, a piece of toast, a glass of orange juice, two vitamins, and now a big glass of milk.' She grinned. 'I'd say that's a pretty healthy breakfast.'
Diane laughed. 'You caught me at it again, didn't you?'
'Overcompensating,' Jenny said decisively.
'Overcompensating,' Diane agreed, and sat down. On a talk show they'd both seen together a few weeks before, the host had talked about how people overcompensated for things that worried them. In Diane's case, this meant overcompensating for all that had happened to Jenny. These days, Diane overprotected her shamelessly.
A robin sat plump and sassy on the window. Cool May air glided into the kitchen. Outside, you could see blue and red and yellow flowers blooming on the new grass of the hill.
Diane said, 'Better hurry, honey. Only five minutes for the school bus.'
Jenny, dressed in a white blouse, blue-denim miniskirt, and black flats, turned away from the counter and said, 'I heard you arguing last night, Aunt Diane. You don't have to stick up for me that way.'
Diane felt her cheeks go warm and red. 'Honey, we weren't arguing. We were just having a discussion. And I'm sorry if you woke up.'
It seemed such a waste, discussing all this on a morning when birds were singing their fool heads off, when green things were sprouting up so quickly you could practically hear them, and when the air itself was as soft and sweet as a child's kiss.
'He wants to tell, doesn't he? Chief Clark, I mean.'
Diane sighed. There was no sense in being evasive any longer. 'He…just thinks…we should talk to some people at the state university. Some…parapsychologists who used to work with Dr. Rhine at Duke University. He was a very famous-'
'You know what they'd do to me.'
Diane could not meet Jenny's gaze.
'I heard you say it yourself last night, Aunt Diane. They'll start examining me and studying me and questioning me and they'll make me tell what happened that night when-'
Diane put her hand up. Knowing the kind of traumatic response talking about that night still imposed on Jenny, Diane avoided the subject whenever possible. 'You're right.'
'Then you won't let him take me to the university?' Diane held out her hands. Jenny came into her embrace. 'No, honey, I won't let him.'
Nuzzled against Diane's neck, Jenny said, 'You promise?'
'I promise.'
Jenny put herself at arm's length from Diane. 'We can be a family, can't we, Aunt Diane, you and I?'
'We are a family, honey.'
'And we don't need…him.'
'Honey, he's a-'
'I know, I know. 'Honey, he's a good friend of mine.' But I heard the way you cried when you went to bed last night. I was so worried I started saying prayers for you. That doesn't sound like he's a very good friend of yours, Aunt Diane.'
Taking the frail girl back in her arms, Diane held her so tightly she was almost afraid she was hurting her. There had never been time for children in her first marriage, and then her husband had died and the prospect of having a child had grown even dimmer. Perhaps that was why she felt this incredible need to nurture and protect Jenny…
Holding the girl, Diane felt tears well up in her eyes. 'Thank you, honey,' she said, her voice shaky.
'For what, Aunt Diane?'
'For caring about me enough to say prayers for me.'
'But I say prayers for you all the time, Aunt Diane.'
'You do?'
'Yes. I say prayers for both of us-that we'll always be together.'
A big horn blared outside.
'Oh, my gosh!' Diane said. 'The school bus.'
The next thirty seconds was a mad rush around the kitchen grabbing sweater, lunchbox, milk money, and books.
Then Diane was hurrying her down the walk to the bus.
'Look, Aunt Diane,' Jenny said, and pointed to a beautiful orange-and-black admiral butterfly. 'Isn't it beautiful?'
'It sure is.' Diane laughed. 'But the school bus is beautiful, too.'
Jenny, squeezing her hand, said, 'Someday when I'm all grown up, I can stay here all day with you. We'll be like sisters. We'll have a great time.'
Then she skipped the rest of the way to the bus, a few kids behind windows waving to her.
Feeling like a real mother-feeling that Jenny was in fact her real daughter-Diane watched until the bus pulled out of sight around the bend and then walked back to the house, the admiral butterfly still perched on the mailbox.
She was trying very hard not to think about what was to take place three hours from now. Lunch with Robert…
Amy's was a holdover from the seventies, when restaurants tried to disguise themselves as terrariums. Diane and Robert sat near the back of the crowded place, placing their orders with a young waitress who looked overwhelmed by the sheer number of diners.
Diane decided on a roast-beef sandwich on rye with a small salad and a glass of iced tea. Robert chose the same sandwich but asked that it be served with French fries and coffee.
The waitress gone, Robert said, 'You look great.' She smiled. 'A quick man with the compliment.'
'A quick, sincere man.'
'Well, thanks, I guess I kind of needed that.' Obviously sensing the troubled quality of her tone, he said, 'Still angry with me?'
'Angry isn't the right word.'
'What is the right word, then?'
'More like…confused'
Sitting back in his chair, he said, 'Maybe it's just the cop in me, Diane, but I can't help thinking we did the wrong thing.'
'Even if it means sparing a little girl's sanity-maybe even her life?'
He stared somberly at her and said, 'Are you sure she's a little girl, Diane? There's a very real possibility she's something very different. That's why I'd like the people at the university to-'
Diane reached across the table and touched Robert's hand. 'Do we have to have the same argument we did last night?'
Robert sighed. 'The fact is, Diane, that two people were murdered. Neither of us saw Jenny do it-but we have a strong suspicion that she did.'
