the shit and shinola the big ol' bad ol' world dishes out. Not Willow. She was weak.'
'What was your friend's name?'
Another finger wag and lopsided smile. 'Nice try. But no. I'm not sharing that particular information right now.'
'Is it germane?'
'If I thought it would help you figure out who this future dead man is, I would tell you.'
Future dead man. It has the ring of utter certainty coming from her mouth.
'You're sure?'
'Willow made the right choice. She left us for a nice, normal life. We never spoke again, but I checked in on her every now and then to make sure no one was taking advantage of the puppy dog. One day I checked and she was gone. I used some of my--ah--resources to try and track her down, but she'd vanished. It was like she swam out into the ocean one night and never came back.'
'When was this?'
'About ten years ago.'
'Does she have any family?'
She takes a long time to answer.
'No. She was an orphan.'
'I see.'
I wait for more. Kirby smiles.
'Hell will freeze over first. She was an orphan, she disappeared ten years ago from sunny Los Angeles, she never deliberately hurt a person in her life besides herself. That's all you need to know.'
'She was hiding something, Kirby. That's how this guy operates.'
I explain the video clips to her. I watch her face as I do, looking for a tell, some crack in that Kirby-facade. She just listens, twirling a strand of blonde hair with one finger while she does.
'I understand,' she says when I'm done.
'Kirby, did Willow have any problems you know about? Drinking, drugs? Did she go to meetings, anything like that?'
'Actually, yeah. She drank. She kicked it, though. Big AA attendee.'
Bingo, I think.
'Anything else you can tell me about her?'
'Nothing that will help you.' She leans forward. Again, there's that feel of something predatory and electric in the air. 'So you don't have any idea yet who he is?'
'Nope.'
She nods. 'Well, okay then. I guess we're done here.' She stands up to go.
'Kirby. Do you want to see the clip?'
She pauses, her back to me, hand on the doorknob.
'No. I know the secret that she was hiding.'
She turns the knob and leaves.
A CIVILIAN. THAT'S WHAT KIRBY had called Willow Thomas. I understand the reference, watching the woman on the video in front of me.
She had the look. She would have been surprised by the cruel cuts of life, would never have failed to feel betrayed by them. She'd have survived on a plane of hopeful fairy tales, idealizing and dreaming until something smashed into her and brought her back down to earth.
It would have been a never-ending cycle, started as a result of some great harm done to her that she never really recovered from. She'd been beautiful, in a limpid-eyed kind of way. She had straight dark hair and she was thin, painfully so. The gauntness brought out her beauty, the way it will in some women. She had pale, pale skin, with color at the cheekbones. Her lips had been full and red.
'Tell me about the scars, Willow,' the Preacher says to her. She is shivering. Her eyes dart every which way; at him, right, left, then staring straight into the camera so that I feel like she's looking right at me. Her tears aren't constant. The corners of her eyes take a long time to fill before releasing single, huge drops that careen down her cheeks and plop almost immediately onto her naked thighs. I am hit with a wave of queasiness when I realize she is covered in gooseflesh. He must have been able to smell her horror.
'Willow,' he prods, gentle as always. 'The scars. Or I'll have to hurt you again.'
This prompts a shiver so powerful I hear the chair legs rattle against the floor.
'No!' she cries.
'Then talk, please. Tell me about the scars.'
'But, but you already know,' she whines. 'I know you do, you told me.'
'Yes, but I need you to say it on camera.'
Her shivering stops. She heaves a single, huge sigh. Then another, a lung-filling whoop of breath in, a noisy rattling out. Her head drops so that all that straight hair hangs down and tickles the top of her tear-spattered thighs.
'We used to cut each other,' she whispers.
'Who, Willow? You and who?'
'Me and Mandy. Mandy was my sister. She was two years older than me. We went into foster care together because Mom and Dad beat us so much. Mandy told me about cutting, how it could make you feel better when you hurt a lot.'
'And did you? Hurt a lot?'
'Yes.'
'Go on.'
'We used a razor. Most of the time we'd cut on the inside of our legs, above where you'd ever see it if you wore a skirt. Sometimes, we'd do it for each other.'
'That's what you were doing that day, isn't it? Cutting each other?'
'Yes.' It's the smallest voice I've ever heard. Barely audible.
'What happened?'
'She'd cut me first. It felt . . . wonderful. I can't describe it. Before you cut, you're feeling numb and hurting at the same time, it's all unreal, but then you cut and the pain is
'Go on.'
'I was feeling kind of hot and good, you know. She'd cut me pretty deep. She saw how great I felt, and she told me to cut her deep too. Real deep. So I did.'
'Did you cut too deep, Willow?'
Her face comes up and I'm shocked at how white it is. This is a corpse face.
'I cut into the artery,' she whispers. 'She was always so thin, we both were. I was pushing and I wasn't paying enough attention because I was still feeling the adrenaline rush and endorphins from when she cut me and I just cut too deep. She started to bleed so fast, so much.'
She stops talking.
'Tell the rest of it. What did you do then?'
I see the first hint that there'd been any strength in this woman; her eyes gleam with pure hate for the Preacher. If she could have, I think she would've cut him deep too.
'I told her she was bleeding bad. She looked down at it and--and--
she smiled. She smiled. She told me to get out and not to tell anyone I was the one who'd cut her. I told her no, she needed help, but she told me it was too late, she was going to die, and that it was okay, she didn't mind, kind of liked it, really, but she didn't want me to get into trouble so I needed to leave and come back and act like I found her and like it was a big surprise so I did and I counted to five and I came in and she was already going unconscious and I screamed and there was blood everywhere and--' The torrent only stops for her to draw in another one of those whooping breaths. 'I was holding her and trying to stop the blood, but it was too much. I was in a pool of it, I could have gone swimming in it.' A beat of silence. 'She died.'
'Did you do what your sister told you, Willow? Did you pretend?'
