The Face of Death

HE VISITED HER ONE DAY AT THE KINGSLEYS', ABOUT A YEAR later, when the house was empty except for her. The family had gone out, she hadn't felt well (so she'd said--she just didn't feel like socializing with people who might be dead before too long). Michael had already begun abusing her. She was afraid, at first, of how she'd respond. She had to stay here, for Theresa's sake. She had to wait. But what if he touched her and she just . . . went insane?

It wasn't that bad. She hated Michael, it was true, but it made a difference that he wasn't an adult. She didn't know why, but it did. It also made a difference that The Stranger would probably kill Michael. This made her smile. One time, she was smiling after they'd had sex, and Michael had noticed.

'What's so funny?'

Just thinking about you dying, she'd thought.

'Nothing,' she'd said.

She didn't think about Dean and Laurel if she could help it. Laurel wasn't exactly an awesome mom, she was no Desiree as a fostermother, but she wasn't bad. There were moments of genuine care, times when Sarah could feel Laurel's interest in her well-being. So Sarah kept to herself as much as she could.

She was in her room, on her computer, when he appeared. It was early afternoon. He had the stocking over his face. He was smiling. Always smiling.

'Hello, Little Pain.'

She said nothing. Just waited. That's what she did, these days. She said little, felt less, and waited.

He'd come over and sat down on the bed.

'You got my note, and you believed me. That's very good, Sarah, because I told the truth. Theresa is alive, and you've kept her that way.'

She found her voice. 'Did you hurt her?'

'Yes. And when we're done here, I'm going to go home and hurt her some more. But as long as you do what I tell you, I won't kill her.'

Sarah felt something new clambering through the wreckage inside her. It took her a moment to identify it, and then she did. Hate. She felt hate.

'I hate you,' she told him. Her voice didn't sound angry to her ears. It sounded normal. It sounded like someone speaking the truth.

'I know,' he acknowledged. 'Now listen to me. I'm going to tell you what to do. When I am done, you'll give me your answer.'

55

SARAH HAS LIFTED HER FACE FROM HER KNEES AND IS NOW looking at me. I see an exhaustion that dismays me. This is the face of someone who's already given up.

'What did he tell you?' I ask. I'm careful to keep my voice free of anything--anything--that she might misconstrue as judgment. She looks away from me.

'He told me he needed the password from Michael's computer. He told me that he was going to lead the cops to the wrong man, and that I was going to help him. By writing my diary. By asking for you.'

'He wanted you to ask for me specifically?'

Her voice is toneless. 'Yes.'

'What did he mean by the wrong man?'

'He told me that he had more work to do. I don't know what he meant by that. He said that at one point he was planning to give himself up, but then he changed his mind.'

I digest this. Two thoughts:

One: James was right about him.

Two: It's not Cabrera.

Then, a question:

Why is Cabrera involved?

'Did he tell you anything else?'

She looks at me now, and the look is speculative, calculating. Someone with a huge truth to tell, but someone weighing the risks of telling that truth.

'Sarah. I understand what he did here. He did the same thing to you that he did to your mom, to Cathy Jones, to all the others. He took someone you loved, and used them to force you to do things, to agree to things.' I catch her eyes. 'It's not your fault. I don't blame you. You need to look at me, listen to me, and believe that.'

Her face begins to redden. Whether with grief or anger, I don't know.

'But--but, I knew! I knew he would come do things to Dean and Laurel and Michael. And'--she takes in a huge breath, a whoop--

'when he made me slit Michael's throat, all I could think of was how I'd smiled when I thought about him d- d-d-d-dying, and then you, lying to you, and--and--and the man blowing up things at your building today, people got hurt, people got killed and'--her face goes white now--'I could have led him here. He could have hurt Bonnie and Elaina. I knew.'

'He wanted you to know, Sarah,' I say.

She stands up and walks, back and forth, back and forth, tears running down her face.

'It's more, though, Smoky. He told me if I did what he said, he'd let them go.'

'Who?'

'Theresa and another girl, he said her name was Jessica.'

I sag, angered and dismayed at the same time. He'd made Sarah responsible for the lives of many, given her an impossible burden and a sack of impossible choices to go with it.

I think of the footprints found at the Kingsley scene and of my earlier question about Cabrera. Perhaps he was involved because he had scars on his feet too. Maybe he had his own score to settle?

'Was the other man there, Sarah? At Dean and Laurel's?'

'Not that I saw.'

Maybe Cabrera was there but you just never saw him. Maybe he only had one job--to stand barefoot on the tile.

'Is there anything else, Sarah? Anything you think I need to know?'

Again, that look. Calculating.

'He wanted me to do one more thing, after you killed the wrong guy. One last thing and then he'd let her go.'

'What?'

'He wanted me to fuck him.'

I stare at her, unable to speak for a moment. Here it is, I think. The cherry on the top of his pain-is-pleasure sundae. A new look, now, on that young-but-old face. It's a look of determination, mixed with a coldness that it takes me a moment to place. Kirby.

That's what Kirby looks like when she doesn't hide her real eyes.

'He said whatever was going to happen was going to happen in a week or so. I was going to do what he wanted, make sure Theresa was safe, and then I was going to kill him and then kill myself.'

She says it with such certainty that I can't doubt her.

'Theresa has to live, Smoky.' She sits on the bed again, puts her forehead back down on her knees. 'I'm sorry. For what I did. It's my fault that Dean and Laurel and Michael are dead. It's my fault about your building. I'm bad. I'm a bad person.'

She begins to rock now, back and forth, back and forth. The door opens. Elaina.

'I was listening,' she says to me, unapologetic. She walks over to Sarah, who tries to back away from her. Elaina ignores this, and grabs on to Sarah, hugging as best she can while the girl fights her. 'You listen to me,' Elaina says, her voice fierce. 'You're not bad. You're not evil. And whatever happens-- whatever happens--you've got me. Understand? You've got me.'

Elaina isn't trying to tell her that things aren't bad. She's just telling her she's not alone.

Sarah doesn't hug Elaina back, but she stops fighting. She keeps her head down and shakes as Elaina strokes her hair. A

I sit at the old-fashioned Formica-top kitchen table with Kirby and Callie. AD Jones and Alan are on my cell,